They ran. Boots hammered the warped boards as they plunged back into the maze of hallways, Marcus's robes whispering at their heels. Otter wasn't sure what to make of the man. Part of him hoped they could reconcile when this was over, but he feared that wasn't going to happen. In the back of his mind, he started planning how they could get away from him before all was said and done. But he didn't have time to dwell on it.

The glyphwork flared erratically along the walls now, lines of blue splitting and twisting into green before collapsing into sparks. The air vibrated with a low, teeth-rattling thrum, as though the whole building were one giant instrument strung too tight.

They didn't use stealth. There was no sneaking quietly through the dark to avoid detection. They had to find the Spell Lord and figure out how to help.

Back down the hallway and through the door they'd seen the magic user disappear through. On the other side, they came to an intersection.

Erin swiveled her head in all directions, desperately looking for any sign. "Which way?"

Otter's eyes were drawn to the wall, following a jagged flicker of light as it raced along the carved grooves. "The lights—trace them back to their source!"

They plunged down the right-hand corridor, their shadows dancing madly in the flare and sputter of the glyphs.

A shriek split the air ahead as another Kaosborn pulled itself free from the wall. This one was bigger than the first and vaguely reminiscent of a boar, but instead of two sharp tusks, this had four. And a line of razor-sharp spikes running down its back that terminated in a long whip-like tail.

Before they could close the distance, it arced its apparently prehensile tail in the air over its back and shot one of those spikes in their direction. Milo flicked a hand, and a shimmering barrier flared to life as the projectile struck it.

Then Erin and Jasper were on the thing, slashing and stabbing with ferocious speed. A tusk grazed Jasper's thigh, causing blood to well, before he finished the beast off. It collapsed in on itself, dissolving into oily vapor.

They barely had time to breathe before another erupted at the next junction, still bigger, its form twitching and stuttering as though it couldn't decide what shape to hold. Jasper cursed under his breath but charged anyway, steel meeting warped flesh. Marcus's voice rose behind them, an incantation that cracked like thunder, and searing light blasted the creature backward. Erin finished it with a swift strike across its neck.

As they caught their breath, Milo studied the walls around them. "Some of these glyphs are twisting the energy at certain points. Not enough to render the ward useless, but enough to corrupt its power. I can't tell if it's intentional or if they were carved incorrectly. This is already way more complex than anything I've ever seen."

"Can we just erase those glyphs? Or mark through them?" Erin asked.

"Sure. If mana wasn't coursing through them. Best case scenario if you tried now, would be having your insides cooked as that much raw power arced through you while you were making the attempt. Worst-case scenario is the whole circuit explodes, taking out the warehouse and everything within a four to five-block radius."

"Okay, so that's not an option," Erin muttered, still catching her breath.

The floor beneath them lurched again, dust raining down from the beams above. Another pulse of blue raced through the grooves, flickering green at several junctions before spitting sparks. The air vibrated with the pressure of too much power packed into too small a space.

"We have to keep moving," Sage urged. Her voice was tight, but steady. "If he's trying to stabilize this, he won't hold out long."

They bolted forward, following the brightest pulses. The corridor twisted left, then dipped suddenly. At its end yawned a stairwell, stone steps vanishing into darkness below.

The air that rose up to meet them was colder, damp, and carried the acrid tang of scorched metal and something fouler, like meat left to rot.

"Down there," Otter said, his voice low. He didn't even need to point—the glow spilling upward painted the stairwell in shifting shades of blue and green.

They descended two, three at a time. Each step seemed to vibrate beneath their boots, alive with the hum of unstable power.

At the bottom, the narrow passage opened into a vast stone chamber. Its ceiling arched high overhead, old masonry blackened in places from long-dead fires. Every surface—the walls, the floor, even the support pillars—was etched with glyphs. Lines of light crawled through them like veins in living flesh.

And at the chamber's heart, the Spell Lord fought.

He stood within a circle of glowing runes, one hand braced against the floor, the other casting volley after volley of fire and force. Kaosborn crawled and tore their way free from the wards, each new manifestation more grotesque than the last. A long-limbed thing with too many joints shrieked as it dissolved under a lance of flame, only for another, hulking and eyeless, to drag itself half-formed from the stone.

Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, his voice cracking as he chanted, each syllable feeding into the wards even as his spells lashed outward. His spectacles caught the glow, making his eyes look like blank white discs as he struggled to read the patterns and patch flaws before they ruptured.

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"By the System…" Milo whispered, awestruck and horrified all at once. "He's fighting and trying to hold the network together. That's… that's impossible."

The Spell Lord staggered, one hand shooting up to blast another half-formed Kaosborn before it could fully emerge. His gaze snapped toward them as if only just realizing they'd arrived.

"You shouldn't be here!" he roared. His voice was ragged, strained. "Stay clear of the lines—unless you want to be ripped apart with the rest of this place!"

Marcus's voice rang out immediately, booming over the clash and the shrieks. "Caelum sends us to restore order!" His raised hand gleamed with holy light, the mask flashing as he strode forward like a man possessed. "This corruption shall not last!"

The Spell Lord flinched, fury flashing across his strained features. "Fool, this is no holy trial—this is containment! You'll rupture the whole array if you—"

Otter cut across him, turning to the others. "He won't last much longer on his own. If we don't help, he's finished—and then so are we."

A fresh Kaosborn clawed its way from the floor, this one a twisted mockery of a wolf, its body half-melted, green fire smoldering in its sockets. It threw back its head and howled, the sound rattling the chamber like shattering glass.

Erin already had an arrow nocked and let it fly, the shaft striking true, but the beast didn't fall. Jasper waded into the fray, his sword singing as it sliced through the air.

Marcus unleashed a gout of holy fire, causing several creatures to shrivel and die on the spot, but more were forming, so he advanced, unhooking a vicious-looking warhammer from his belt. One face was a typical heavy hammer head, but the other face was a wickedly sharp spike.

Otter kept his distance, placing a stone into his sling and taking aim.

Then the chamber erupted into chaos.

***

Milo held his breath, deciding which of the foul Kaosborn to target. He wasn't made for combat, and he liked it that way. He preferred being a utilitarian member of the team. But here he was, wondering what his best course of action would be.

He'd already burned through most of his mana, having cast Force Armor on himself earlier and Shield just moments ago. All he could really do was harry the monsters with Mind Spike.

His eyes fell on the other Spell Lord, who seemed to have realized his words had gone unheeded, and the pressure on him was lessened. The older man was studying the walls, or more likely the etched glyphs, with a furrowed brow. He was muttering to himself.

The twisted wolf thing leaped at Jasper, and Milo hurled his spell, causing it to jerk in pain and surprise before Jasper drove his blade home. Their initial push had killed most of the Kaosborn that had manifested, but more were clawing their way free from the walls. They had to do something to deactivate the ward—or whatever this thing was. But Milo couldn't see an easy solution.

The Spell Lord's eyes fell on Milo then, and he called out. "What level are you, boy?"

"Third!" Milo answered.

The old man rolled his eyes. "That'll have to do." He waved him closer. "I have to disrupt the mana flow of this array. It is risky, and I don't have time to explain the details. But what I have in mind is the only possibility I can see. I need you to trust me."

"Um, okay," Milo said as he closed the distance. "What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to link our mana pools, an old trick we use for really nasty rituals. I need you to burn through as much mana as you can as fast as you can. Cast the highest-level spells you have as fast as you can. When I break the circuit, that mana is going to rip through us. I'll be concentrating on creating a new path for it to follow and won't be able to use the raw mana pouring in. So you have to. Can you handle that?"

Milo swallowed hard, but nodded.

"Good. Hold out your hand."

Milo did. The other Spell Lord grabbed it, traced a symbol on his palm while muttering an incantation, and Milo felt the link snap into place.

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was like his own mana pool was connected to a much larger lake by a small stream. His mana refilled instantly, drawing on the more powerful one.

"Now! Start casting!"

Milo obeyed. Unfortunately, he didn't know any second-level spells, which ate through significantly more mana than first-level ones, but he'd learned the principles behind overcharging his spells with mana to achieve greater effects. The first thing he did was start laying down large patches of slippery oil on the floor by the wall.

His mana pool dropped to just under half, but refilled before he could utter the words to the spell a second time. He cast it again and again.

The Kaosborn emerging from the walls were slipping, sliding, and falling, making them easy targets for both Erin and Otter.

He felt a surge of excitement as he realized how much power he had at his disposal. If only he knew more powerful spells.

That excitement turned to terror in the next second as the Rosner Spell Lord seized the power running through the glyph array. He could feel the mana flood into the pool above him, and the stream connecting them became a river.

Milo began another frantic casting, this time causing dazzling bursts of light to explode in the faces of the attacking creatures, both blinding and disorienting them. He wasn't dealing any damage, but he was creating opportunities for his friends to do so.

The mana continued to pour in, hotter, heavier, as if the whole glyph array were trying to force itself down his throat. Milo's hands trembled, sweat dripping down his face. He fired another flare of blinding light, another patch of slickened oil, but it was like trying to bail out the sea with a teacup.

His veins felt alight, burning from the inside. He gasped, clutching at his chest.

I can't—I'm not fast enough.

"Focus!" the Rosner Spell Lord barked, never looking away from the writhing glyphs under his hands. "Keep casting! Keep it moving!"

"I'm trying!" Milo shouted back, panic lacing his voice. He could see his friends fighting—the blurred shimmer of Otter's slingstones whipping into Kaosborn skulls, Erin's arrows cutting down beasts mid-leap, Jasper hacking and snarling as he forced back a pair of clawed horrors, Sage's light binding another in place while Marcus's warhammer caved its chest with a sickening crunch.

But the flood was rising faster. Milo's head spun, his mana pool overflowing with borrowed power. He needed to do something, anything, to burn more at once.

Think. Think!

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remember every lesson, every whispered theory in the Academy halls. And then his mind caught on words he'd heard just the other day.

A tidecall focus. Enchanted to manipulate water. Or summon it. The effects depend on the strength of the wielder.

That was it! That artifact they'd found in the elemental temple. He could channel mana through it.

He shrugged off his pack and wasted a few precious seconds digging through it to retrieve the artifact. Pressure continued to build in his chest, and he found it hard to breathe.

His hand closed around the figurine, and he held it up in triumph. He pointed it toward the Kaosborn and let his mana course into it. The pressure inside him eased a bit as water began to shoot from the figurine. He learned that it wasn't as simple as flipping a switch. He had to combine his will, intent, and mana to change its function. He focused, gathering his determination, and found the right combination.

The effect was immediate and devastating.

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