Pyro didn't slam into the ground the way Don and Charles had earlier.
At the last instant before impact, he twisted.
Hard.
Fla sheared outward as he tore through the air in a vicious arc, redirecting his entire descent sideways—straight at the creature.
The heat spike rolled across the chamber, stone cracking under the sudden pressure.
The creature's head snapped toward him.
The little girl's face—still streaked with tears and blood—went wide. Fear flashed across it, raw and unfiltered. It jerked its gaze back and forth—Pyro, then Don—
Too late.
Don was already there.
He'd closed the distance in a blur and leapt, body coiling as he rose, fist drawn back overhead. The creature reacted on instinct, four arms snapping up to guard while the remaining two lashed out in wild counterstrikes.
Don didn't dodge.
Didn't pull.
Just before his fist ca down, he released it.
A concussive blast detonated from his knuckles—BOOOOM~—air tearing apart in a violent ring.
The explosion hurled him backward, but he rode it, landing low in a crouch as stone skidded beneath his boots.
The creature was driven back as well, feet carving trenches through the floor—but it stayed upright.
Its gaze locked on Don, fury boiling through the child's features—
Then its eyes widened again.
Pyro was already there.
He hit it full-force.
No finesse. No restraint.
Pyro's burning body tore straight through the creature's torso, fire ripping flesh and vine apart as he passed clean through.
The upper half sheared away and flew skyward before slamming into the ground in a wet, thunderous crash—while the lower half remained standing for a mont… then slumped.
Pyro didn't stop cleanly.
Montum carried him into the far wall, where he hit like a teor—the expanse rumbling hard as fla scattered outward. He dropped to one knee amid falling debris, fire dimming to a smaller but still fierce blaze as he sucked in heavy breaths.
Don didn't spare him more than a glance.
The upper torso was moving.
The two largest arms were already digging into the ground, dragging the ruined half upright, pulling it toward its fallen lower body. The child's head twisted, face contorting as it saw Don land squarely in its path.
"No—no—no!" it shrieked, voice cracking. "I won't fail Mother! I won't fail because of you damned wor—"
Don burst forward.
His kick landed flush against the side of its head.
CRACK~!
The head snapped back—and tore free entirely.
It spun through the air and hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop amid rubble and blood.
Headless, the body still reacted.
The lowest hands crackled as electricity gathered at the fingers—arcs snapping violently as it reoriented toward Don.
Don shifted.
Just enough.
He lifted his posture like another kick was coming, baiting the reaction. The creature bought it, arms snapping toward the feint—
Don spun.
His other leg ca around and smashed into the creature's chest—sending the ruined mass tumbling away in a violent roll.
As it went, Don caught sight of it.
Half a spineworm.
Jutting from a torn spinal structure fused with vine-flesh, bloody and writhing, its segnted body twitching as it tried to pull back inside sothing that no longer existed.
The creature skidded, then stopped itself, hands digging into the stone. It straightened toward Don again, body coiled as if bracing for another rush.
Don didn't move.
He allowed himself a small smile.
If it still had a face, he imagined it would've been glaring holes through him.
It never got the chance.
Two flaming fists punched out through the front and back of its ruined chest—BOOOM~—fire ripping through green flesh and vine alike. The body convulsed, letting out wet, choking sounds as it twisted, trying to look back at what had done this to it.
Pyro stood behind it.
Flas were already climbing higher again, crawling back over his shoulders and arms as he straightened. His voice was rough, spent—but steady.
"Die," he said, then spat the rest with anger, "you fucking abomination."
Fire swallowed his fists.
Then the creature.
Red and orange replaced sickly green as the flas filled every cavity, every seam, every last trace of it—
BOOOOM~.
The creature's upper body ca apart in a violent bloom.
The weaker sections tore free first—at and vine flung outward in wet arcs—while denser chunks ripped loose more slowly, scorched black and glowing at the edges as they separated from the rest.
Fire roared through what remained—and the shockwave rolled outward again.
Don turned his head away as debris splattered across the chamber.
Pyro did the sa, but it barely helped him. Gunk slapped against his arms and chest and stuck, sizzling against his still-hot skin with sharp pops—before burning away in places and clinging stubbornly in others.
Don exhaled slowly.
He wiped a sar off the side of his face with the back of his hand, flicked it aside, then straightened.
Pyro glanced around, chest still rising and falling hard. "You guys okay?"
"I'm fine," Don replied without hesitation.
His eyes had already moved.
The head lay nearby now.
No vines. No distortion. No wrongness left to hide behind.
Just a little girl's head.
Don walked over.
No pause. No ceremony.
He raised his fist and drove it down.
BOOM~.
Another contained explosion ripped outward, pulverizing what remained into ash and fragnts that scattered across the stone. When the dust settled, there was nothing left but scorched residue.
Pyro watched him for a second longer than necessary, then turned toward the lower half of the creature. It no longer moved—just burned weakly in places where fire still clung.
He lifted one hand and sent a steady stream of fla into it—keeping the heat tight and controlled. Whatever remained blackened, curled, and finally collapsed inward.
Don gave him a nod.
Then he turned away from the wreckage and toward the rest of the chamber.
"Let's help free Frostbite and Silverwing," Don said, already moving. "Before anything else shows up."
Pyro followed, keeping a contained fla around himself to light their path. "Yeah," he muttered, "hope that doesn't jinx it, man."
Starboy was still at the ice when they reached him.
Cracks ran deep through it now, whole sections sloughing away as lted channels spread. His hands shook slightly as he kept the beams going, jaw set tight.
"I'm close," he said without looking back.
Pyro stepped up beside him. "Lem help."
He placed a hand against the ice and let the fire flow—not a blast, not a surge. Just heat. Even. asured.
The ice didn't last—fractures appearing across its surface as steam rolled outward.
Don stayed back.
He could've broken it at this stage.
But he didn't want to risk it.
Instead, he turned outward, senses stretched wide, tracking every vibration in the stone, every shift in air, every distant echo, looking for sothing that didn't belong.
Just over a minute later, the ice gave up.
It shattered in on itself with a heavy crash—and Frostbite and Charles fell forward as the support vanished beneath them.
Starboy moved instantly, catching Frostbite before she could hit the ground. She was stiff, skin paler than normal from the cold, but conscious—eyes heavy rather than panicked.
Charles wasn't as lucky.
Before he could drop, Don caught him with telekinesis, guiding him down gently before helping ease him back against the wall. Pyro knelt nearby, fla lowering just enough to radiate warmth.
Charles let out a shaky breath and managed a weak smile, teeth chattering. "Thanks…"
His gaze flicked to Pyro. "Mind staying close to for a bit? I'm freezing."
"Yeah," Pyro said without hesitation, shifting closer. "I got you."
Frostbite said nothing.
She sat there, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on the distance—where scattered remnants of the creature still burned faintly against the darkened stone.
Starboy finally stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked between them, then toward Don.
"What the hell happened down here?"
Don rested a hand on his shoulder. Firm. Grounding.
"How about we get out first," he said evenly, "and ask questions later? We're all tired, so another fight won't do us any goo—"
The expanse shuddered before he could finish his words.
Not a tremor.
A violent roll that tore through the stone beneath their feet—dust spilling from above as the ground answered with a deep, ugly groan.
Don slowly lifted his head.
Sothing else was still moving down there.
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