The Lich Catacombs were never intended to be a dining hall. The air was a heavy, suffocating blanket of damp obsidian and ancient rot, illuminated only by the rhythmic, sickly pulse of purple moss clinging to the jagged stone ribs of the chamber. It felt like standing inside the ribcage of a dead god. Liam stood at the centre of this nightmare, his shredded armour straining against his fra, the only thing standing between his party and a permanent "Ga Over."
"I don’t know what that is," Liam thought, staring at the Eastern passage.
The thought arrived with a cold clarity that bypassed his chef’s instincts. He didn’t know its stats, its loot table, or if his legendary soup could even scratch its hide. The creature that stepped into the moss-light was a tectonic shift of flesh and chitin, armoured plating, too many limbs, and voids for eyes that reflected the purple glow like shattered glass.
It opened its mouth.
The sound wasn’t a roar; it was a frequency. A low-decibel thrum that bypassed the ears and vibrated the calcium in their bones. It was the sound of a mountain deciding to grind itself into dust.
In the shadows, Rogue made a noise like a tea kettle hitting a high note. Near the wall, three Ruby Eyed soldiers, hardened killers who had spent the morning robbing players, recoiled in a panic. One of them, in a mont of pure, logic-shattering terror, actually placed his empty soup bowl over his head.
"Tactical," Liam grumbled, though his own jaw was tight.
Elizabeth’s hand clamped onto Liam’s arm. Her grip was iron, her knuckles white. Usually, Liam would have filed the proximity under "User Managent," but right now, he just felt the cold weight of the unknown sitting in his chest next to his Heart. The Hearth was burning, quiet and steady, waiting for his brain to stop calculating and start fighting.
"Stay behind ," Liam rumbled.
He didn’t wait for a response. He triggered [Bull Rush].
Liam moved like a freight train. He hit the creature’s front plating at full montum, expecting the wet crunch of a successful hit. Instead, the sound was a dull, bone-jarring thud. He didn’t just stop; he rebounded.
The shockwave travelled back through Liam’s arms, rattling his teeth. He was sent skidding back ten feet, his boots carving deep furrows into the obsidian floor. The creature didn’t even tilt its head; it just watched him with the patient contempt of a cliffside watching an ant.
Then, Liam saw it. His HP bar, the one that had been a solid, unmoving block of green for days, flickered. It dropped a fraction.
"The soup helps," Liam noted, his eyes narrowing as he stood back up. "But the soup isn’t enough."
Suddenly, a series of frantic pings erupted from Rogue’s direction.
[Viewers: 12,500 and climbing!]
[Jimmy_Shim: LIAM LOOK BEHIND YOU!]
[CMurdock: THE WEST PASSAGE! IT’S A PINCER!]
Liam turned. The Western passage was no longer dark. It was moving. The vibration coming from it was faster, lighter, a skittering cacophony of dozens of points of contact.
"Rogue," Liam’s voice was level, but it cost him effort. "Are you streaming this?"
"Yeah," Rogue squeaked from the darkness.
"Good. Make sure the cara gets the West. I want people to see this," Liam said. He didn’t add: In case we don’t make it out to tell them.
The West passage answered with a wave of Nagas. They were sleek, powerful, and fast, their scales shimring with a tallic sheen under the moss-light. They moved with a fluid, terrifying grace, hissing with the sound of steam escaping a pipe.
Liam realised with a jolt of ice in his gut that his [Dragon-Slayer Aura] was silent. These weren’t dragons; they were sothing else.
"Formation!" Elizabeth scread, her sword clearing its scabbard.
But the Nagas were already inside their guard. Noir, positioned as the party’s buffer, was the first target. A Naga’s tail, thick and lined with shimring scales, whipped out from a blind spot. It caught her mid-turn.
"Nnyah!" Noir let out a sharp, choked yelp as the air was punched out of her. The impact was heavy. Noir was launched across the room like a broken doll.
"Noir!" Mirra shrieked, sprinting toward her.
Liam moved faster than the eye could follow, his 50,000% lee Resistance allowing him to ignore the Nagas currently trying to gnaw on his shoulders. He caught Noir before she hit the jagged wall. She coughed, her cheetah ears twitching feebly before her eyes rolled back.
"Heal her!" Liam barked, handing the unconscious girl to Mirra.
Mirra began to glow with a restorative light, but she was imdiately hamred back by a flurry of Naga strikes. Across the room, Barbosa’s twelve remaining n, the "Ruby Eyed" remnants who had just paid fifty gold for a final al, finally broke.
"We’re going to die! The soup was a lie!" one scread, dropping his weapon and sprinting toward the Eastern passage. He didn’t make it five steps before the armoured titan from the East simply stepped on him, ending the scene with a heavy thrum.
Liam stood in the centre of the chaos, Noir’s blood staining his arm, his HP bar ticking down for the second ti. He looked at the Eastern titan, then at the swarming Nagas to the West. He needed the Level 3 Hearth. Without it, he couldn’t process this much "ingredient" into power.
[TOOL TIP: THE "RECALCULATING" RAID]
Status:The Kitchen is on fire, and the Waitstaff is unconscious.
The "Noir" Incident: Our Cheetah-kin buffer just took a tail-whip to the ribs and issued a "Nnyah!" that definitely wasn’t in the job description. Current status: [Nap Ti].
Custor Satisfaction: One Ruby Eyed soldier decided to use his soup bowl as a helt. It provided 0% Physical Defence against the Eastern Titan’s foot. [Refund Request: Denied].
Liam’s Logic: If your HP bar finally moves, it just ans you’re finally getting a workout. If the boss is made of scales, it just ans you’re about to discover if Naga tastes like high-end seafood.
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