The four massive slabs got closer and closer, but before they could crush them into red paste, Astensia pushed her arms out.
Her gauntleted palms slapped flat against the collapsing stone walls. Her shoulders bunched under the silver armor, veins standing out like cords.
The slabs weren’t just ordinary stone; they were being controlled by magic so there was a stronger force pushing them in.
Nevertheless, Astensia had held back things that were a thousand tis much stronger.
KRRRAA-KOOOM!!
The slabs at her sides stopped, then exploded outward in a storm of dusty rubble. For the remaining two, she struck thunderous punches that shattered them before they got any closer.
Chunks of rock the size of fists rained down harmlessly around them. And once the slabs were destroyed, a new sight was revealed to them.
Along the upper rim stood twenty of them. They were in a perfect circle with barely any gaps in between them.
These weren’t the at-wall brutes they’d been hacking apart. These Orcs were thin—almost skeletal—and draped in robes stitched together from dried skin and bleached rib cages that clacked softly when the wind moved them.
Their skin was dullish green, barely thick enough to cover their bones. In their long, spindly fingers they held gnarled wooden staffs that hissed and popped with live magic.
So of the staffs were weeping liquid fire, others rid with frost that cracked the air around them, others sizzled with violet lightning.
They didn’t bellow like the other two kinds of Orcs. They kept snarling in this disgusting manner; a sound that crawled under your skin and stayed there.
Renan adjusted his grip around his longsword hilt. His silver eyes flicked from one skeletal face to the next. "Lancet, what did you say these were again?"
"Orc Shamans," Lancet repeated. He edged closer until his back almost touched Astensia’s armored plates. "They’re like Elentalists but as Orcs. Heck, so of them even have powers like Enchanters."
Up in the Dungeon Hall, everyone was watching with intrigue. They completely ignored the other First Years — both those in the Basic Dungeons and others in the Higher ones — as their focus was locked on Lancet, Astensia and Renan.
"They’re boxed in completely," the Head Dungeon Instructor muttered, arms crossed so tight the leather of his coat creaked. "Orc Shamans. The real bastards of this floor. Tricky doesn’t even cover it."
"Tricky how?" soone asked from the side.
"Astensia’s built for raw power, iron will and unbreakable defense," the Head Instructor explained grimly. "But defeating a circle of Orc Shamans requires more of tactical intelligence. Brute force alone will only get them killed."
Ms Maecil pressed her palms together hard enough as she watched with anxiety. Phiodor stared at the screen like a kid waiting for fireworks.
Yes, Phiodor thought, a dark smile tugging at his lips. Burn them to ash. Let the entire Academy see this Dull Rank fail.
At the center of the dais, Dean Ordenance slowly stroked his trimd beard as he watched, intrigued to see what would happen next.
Back in the Dungeon, one of the Orc Shamans pointed its staff straight at Lancet. A roaring column of fire spiraled out of the wood like a dragon’s tongue, screaming down toward him.
Astensia briskly stepped right into the path and blocked the inferno with her shield. The fla split sideways, splashing harmlessly into the dirt in molten ropes.
She retaliated by whipping her sword upward in a vicious arc. A crescent of condensed golden Grace tore toward the Shaman like a guillotine blade.
The Orc tapped its staff once against the ground.
A swirling wall of pure fire snapped into existence in front of it. The holy crescent slamd into the shield and burst apart in a shower of useless sparks.
The Orc Shaman stood untouched. It let out a mocking, rattling hiss that sounded almost like laughter.
Astensia’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. A thrill ran down her spine. Finally!
The mindless slaughter of the lower tier beasts in this Dungeon had bored her, but this... this was the exact challenge she had been looking for.
She half-turned to Lancet without dropping her guard. "I must take you to a safe position, Master. Their magic is potent."
"No!" Lancet barked, planting his boots in the red dirt. "A Summoner doesn’t abandon his summon! And defeating these Shamans is going to take more than just raw power. We have to find their catalyst!"
Hearing the boy’s defiant shout, the entire circle of Shamans raised their staffs in unison.
All six of their eyes widened as they realized what was about to happen. Each of the Orc Shamans were about to hit them with their elents!
"Holy Cross Shield!" Astensia roared.
She drove the tip of her greatsword into the earth and raised her shield high at the sa ti.
In response, a colossal, glowing golden cross materialized above them. The four points of the cross stretched outward, slamming into the ground around the trio.
Instantly, a brilliant, translucent force field erupted along the edges, connecting the points and forging an impenetrable, dod sanctuary of holy light.
The elental barrage hit the do a fraction of a second later. The earth violently shook, the colors of fire and lightning washing uselessly over Astensia’s ironwill defense.
"What’s a catalyst?!" Renan yelled over the roar of clashing elents, awed by what Astensia just did but trying to remain focused.
"They are physical beacons that connect unawakened beings to the flow of magic!" Astensia said as she made sure the do held strong. "Humans or intelligent beasts can use them to control the elents, and without them, they possess no magic of their own!"
"But Orc Shamans take it one step further!" Lancet quickly added. "They link their actual souls directly to their catalyst! You can cut their heads off, burn their bodies, but as long as the catalyst is unhard, they’ll just reform from the ashes!"
Renan let out a frustrated growl. "How are monsters like this even in an ordinary Higher Dungeon?!"
Lancet shot the protagonist an exasperated look. "Why do you think they tried to talk us out of coming here in the first place?!"
Lancet quickly scanned the shadowy figures that continued to bombard the shield.
"Astensia!" Lancet commanded, a strategy hitting his mind. "Focus your strikes on the jewelry on their bodies! The staffs are way too obvious to be the catalysts, but destroy them anyway. Renan, you do the sa! I’ll stay here in the center and keep an eye out for whatever glows strangely on their bodies. It’ll likely be the true catalyst, and I’ll point it out for you to strike!"
Astensia glared at the Orcs, her eyes hungry for battle beneath her helm.
"I will obey your command to the letter, Lord Lancet," she vowed.
Renan looked at Lancet and they both nodded at the sa ti, accepting they had to work together.
Lancet raised his hand. "Ready."
Renan dropped low into his fighting stance, blade gleaming.
"Set."
Astensia gripped her greatsword with both hands, the muscles in her legs coiling like springs.
"Go!"
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