“How much further to the lake?” TJ’s eyes drifted toward the mountain like it was a promised land.

  “Not far now,” Dawn said, her tone brittle, like she was holding it together by sheer force of will. Joe could almost hear the countdown to her snapping if TJ asked again.

  Joe wiped his knives clean of marmot guts, the gooey mess clinging stubbornly to the blades. The fight had at least broken the monotony of their trek and, mercifully, TJ’s endless stream of commentary. At least he’d increased a couple of levels, and his butterfly knives were finally at the tier, making their fire affinity edges sharper and capable of dealing more damage.

  “You missed a spot.” TJ nodded toward the sticky hilt of Joe’s blade. He casually flipped his machete, its pristine edge gleaming like a trophy.

  “How do you keep yours so clean?” Brian raised his brows, clearly impressed.

  “It’s a perk of the weapon’s elite tier level-up.” TJ’s eyes remained locked, admiring the blade. “Handy, but I kind of miss cleaning blood and guts off BK. It’s almost therapeutic. Those furry little bastards, though? Messy as hell.”

  “Alpine Marmots,” Brian said, sounding like a field guide come to life. “Level five. Normally docile, but this is their territory.” He pointed skyward, his brow furrowing. “At least those bone eaters are too busy with the ascenders scaling the east ridge to bother with us.”

  “Bone eaters?” Rose’s voice pitched upward as her pace quickened. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all. What are they?”

  “Dragon-bearded vultures,” Brian said, his tone all grim professionalism. “Native to mountain ranges, level ten. Blanche Brigade and Bruiser Battalion are lucky they’re on the west ridge. The screamager herd over there is keeping the vultures at bay.”

  “Take your blessings where you can find them.” Dawn glanced over her shoulder, a mischievous look in her eye. She bumped Rose with her elbow and dropped her voice. “I’d rather listen to those goats than hear ‘Are we there yet?’ one more time.”

  Rose snorted, glancing at TJ. “You’ve got the patience of a saint.”

  “A paladin,” Dawn corrected, flashing a rare smile. Joe caught it, and for a second, something warm flickered inside him. Then her eyes met his, and the smile vanished like smoke.

  “Storm’s brewing.” TJ pointed toward the mountain peak.

  Joe followed his gaze. What looked like dark storm clouds were churning over the summit, blotting out the sun’s rather cheerful glow. The bright alpine colors of the mountain dulled, swallowed by a monochrome shadow.

  Rose frowned, her head tilting. “I don’t sense it. The air’s too dry for a storm. I don’t think those are clouds.”

  Joe activated Quick Wit. His vision zoomed, sharpening like a camera lens.

  Rose was right—it wasn’t clouds.

  Joe’s stomach turned.

  Through the swirling black and violet mist, something massive slithered, its glowing red eyes cutting through the gloom like lasers. Shafts of sunlight pierced the darkness, momentarily illuminating a creature that looked like a serpent made of living shadow. Its massive, bat-like wings flapped with a sluggish menace, glowing crimson veins streaking through them like molten rivers.

  “That’s a big bad,” Brian kept his voice low. “But he’s not the boss.”

  Joe’s gut twisted as he squinted, trying to make sense of the scene. The shadowy serpent wasn’t alone. Another massive form loomed, locked in what looked like a brutal battle. Whatever it was, Joe was grateful there was plenty of mountain between them and that nightmare.

  Joe caught Brian’s attention and gestured toward the aerial battle. “The ‘big bad’ has company. Can you confirm whether it’s the titan boss from this distance?”

  “With enough mana, sure.” Brian pressed two fingers to his temple, going full sideshow mentalist. All he needed was a sparkly cape to complete the act. Joe half-expected him to pull a rabbit out of his pocket or yell abracadabra.

  The smoky haze thinned as the massive wings beat the air, each movement deliberate, heavy, and eerily beautiful. The creature wasn’t just big; it was absurdly delicate for something that size. Its wings had the pearlescent shimmer of fine silk, catching the sunlight with every slow, deliberate flap.

  Joe squinted, catching the way the veins crisscrossed like glowing threads, a living quilt stitched with menace. It reminded him of the silk moths his sister’s friend Emma used to obsess over. Cute Patootie, she’d named hers, though there was nothing cute about this one.

  With every wingbeat, Lunara unleashed a shimmering cloud of dust, glittery and lethal, that turned the sky into a swirling neon storm. Lightning—if that’s what you could call the sideways flashes of pink energy—streaked through the clouds like an unhinged rave strobe.

  “Let’s move.” Dawn didn’t wait for a response, already striding ahead. “Last thing we need is to get caught in that moth’s death ray. Die here, and it’s back to respawn purgatory.”

  Joe didn’t need to be told twice. “That’s Lunara, right?” He jogged to catch up, his eyes darting back to the glowing chaos above.

  Brian nodded, still staring upward. “Level 50. You saw her stats back at the common room. And her nemesis? Balegros. Shapeshifting dragon. Level 55. The guy woke up cranky when climbers disturbed his lair. Now he’s duking it out with Lunara because she’s defending her egg.”

  TJ scratched his head. “Why the big showdown? Doesn’t this just make it easier for us to off her?”

  Brian shrugged. “The system’s not about making sense. The Lich wants a show.”

  “That’s… comforting,” Joe said, not comforted at all.

  Rose glanced at her map. “There’s a large body of water nearby. We’re close.”

  “How close?” TJ shot a hopeful look at the horizon.

  “Five minutes. Maybe.” Dawn pointed ahead to a valley shrouded in shadow. The mountain loomed like a giant, the flashing pink light carving out stark silhouettes of jagged peaks. Any trace of the cool alpine air vanished, replaced by waves of oppressive heat radiating from the battle above.

  Rose stopped mid-step and raised her hand, palm up. A light, greyish flake landed in it. She frowned. “Snow?”

  Joe caught a flake on his tongue out of reflex and instantly regretted it. “Not snow.”

  Rose sniffed her hand and wrinkled her nose. “Dust pollen. From Lunara.”

  “Smells awful.” Joe tried not to gag. Whatever moths were supposed to smell like, this wasn’t it.

  The greyish flakes thickened, falling faster until the valley looked like it had been hit with dirty sleet. Dawn’s wind skill pushed the worst of it back, giving them room to breathe, but Joe noticed Rose coughing, her breath coming in shorter gasps.

  “You okay?” Joe’s mana dropped by a few points. Something in the air was leeching their stamina, and it wasn’t subtle.

  Rose shook her head. “Short on air. Feels like my lungs are shrinking.”

  Brian handed out potions, their effects minimal but enough to keep them moving. “Let’s make this quick. The longer we stay, the more this dust saps our strength.”

  They pressed on, the faint sound of water lapping against the shore growing louder. The lake came into view, coated with a grimy film of dust and what looked like ash. Dawn’s wind cleared a path to the water’s edge, revealing something massive and eerily still.

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  “Look.” TJ pointed to the lake. “Wild swans. Those things are huge. Imagine one roasted over a fire.”

  Joe was too busy staring at the enormous birds to think about dinner. The swans were monstrous, their sleek white bodies the size of pedal boats. Their beady black eyes locked on him, unblinking and way too intelligent for comfort.

  “Don’t make eye contact,” Brian whispered. “Artificer’s Eye.”

  Too late.

  The lead swan tilted its head and let out a rumbling honk that sounded more like a warning than a greeting. Its massive wings unfolded, revealing the full span of its frame, and it began to glide toward them, the water churning in its wake.

  “Uh, guys? Distraction. Now,” Joe edged back.

  “Anyone got bread?” Dawn asked. “Swans love bread.”

  Robyn pulled out a chunk of what looked like fossilized bread. “Found this in the red zone. Too much fiber for me.”

  TJ took the loaf with enthusiasm. “Let’s see if this works.” He hurled it like a discus, aiming for the swans.

  The bread smacked the smaller swan—an awkward, scruffy thing—square in the head. The impact sent it flopping into the water, limp. The lead swan let out a mournful honk, breaking off its charge to nudge the fallen one.

  The scruffy swan vanished in a blink, leaving behind a single loot item: a quill feather.

  “Holy crap,” Brian blurted. “You killed it.”

  TJ scratched his head. “Didn’t think bread could be a weapon.”

  Joe’s interface pinged with a new message.

  Ryan: Reached the peak. Beat Andras to the boss. Salt worked on the screamagers.

  Grizzle: Can’t lick and scream at the same time.

  Gaia: Thanks, Captain Obvious. Back to Lunara. She’s not typical.

  Joe: What’s happening?

  Ryan: Two fairy envoys are offering a choice: save or destroy Lunara’s silk egg. Can’t agree. Need your input.

  Joe squinted up at the sky, watching the swan bob under the murky water like it was playing an enthusiastic, albeit morbid, game of hide-and-seek with its dead cygnet. A flash of neon pink cracked through the heavens, followed by a thunderous bellow that sent chills down Joe’s spine.

  His chat interface blinked.

  Ryan: That was a direct hit on that dragon-bat monster.

  Joe’s head snapped up in time to see the hulking form of Balegros plummet from the sky. The beast’s shadow stretched wide, swallowing the valley as it fell with terrifying speed.

  “Uh, guys?” Joe barely had time to shout before it slammed into the earth with a bone-rattling BOOM. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the massive creature rolled downhill, carving a trench the size of a football field straight toward them.

  “Move!” Joe barked, but they weren’t fast enough.

  Rose thrust her staff forward, summoning a shimmering wind barrier that rippled like a mirage under the strain. The monstrous bulk slowed but didn’t stop until it finally ground to a halt, its snout embedded in the dirt just a stone’s throw from the lake. Steam rose from its battered body, and Joe’s stomach clenched as he spotted its chest rising and falling.

  Not dead. Just unconscious.

  Joe’s grip tightened on his daggers as he turned back to his alliance chat, trying to focus.

  In his world, Mothra had been a symbol of balance, guided by twin fairies who brokered peace more often than chaos. The system here? A far cry from benevolence. It had thrown not one, not two, but three boss titan mothers at them in a twisted escalation.

  The Time Hacker’s cryptic words back on the last floor echoed in his mind: You don’t have to kill her. Maybe they didn’t—but the system rarely handed out freebies without a hidden cost. If Lunara was anything like the legendary Mothra and her twin beauties, there might be a chance to turn this situation into an advantage. Cooperation wasn’t their usual play, but this might be the time to try.

  Joe: Save the egg. Earn the fairies’ blessing. Take whatever boon you can get and use it. If Lunara turns on you later—and she probably will—you’ll at least have an edge.

  A sharp, furious honk dragged him back to reality. The lead swan had abandoned its search for its fallen baby and was now hurtling toward them, wings flapping like massive sails. Water churned in its wake as it picked up speed.

  “Whatever you do, don’t kill it,” Robyn said from behind, his voice calm but insistent. “It has a key you need to open the loot box.”

  “Any idea where the key is?” Joe regretted asking as thoughts filled his mind. Please don’t let it be its ass.

  Brian stepped in, crossbow at the ready, his sharp gaze locked on the swan like it was a target at a carnival game. He pulled the trigger, the alchemy bolt zipping through the air.

  “Don’t worry.” Brian caught Joe’s skeptical look. “Won’t kill it. Bolt’s tipped with a fast-acting sedative.”

  The alchemy bolt flew true, sinking into the swan’s thick neck just as its webbed feet hit the shallows.

  Its beak hung open, wide enough for Joe to see jagged edges that looked more shark-like than bird-like. The smell hit next—a wave of rancid, corpse-level stench.

  Joe gagged and took a step back.

  The sedative worked fast. The swan wobbled, took a few more unsteady steps toward Joe, and crashed into the mud with a loud squelch. Rose was ready, wrapping her water whip around its legs to keep it from flailing, and it landed just inches from Joe’s boots, its beak snapping at the air.

  Up close, the thing looked worse than Joe had expected. Its throat was a horror show, riddled with swollen, white pustules that oozed something Joe didn’t even want to think about.

  TJ sheathed his machete as Rose tightened the water whip around the swan, pinning its wings securely. Dawn’s hand glowed faintly, her magic on standby in case things went south.

  “So… where’s this key?” TJ stepped closer with a wary look.

  Robyn, chewing his lip like he was about to deliver bad news, hesitated. “It’s… uh… a little tricky to reach.”

  TJ squinted at the swan’s enormous bulk, then immediately narrowed his focus to the back end. “Up its ass?”

  “No, no!” Robyn waved his hands. “Not there. It’s… uh, in the stone-like pustules at the back of its mouth.”

  TJ stepped back and looked into the swan’s snapping beak. “Eh looks like a job for hands more delicate than mine.”

  And more patience.

  TJ’s eyes brightened. “I know who’s perfect.”

  TJ: Hey Nick, we need help with removing infected lumps from the mouth of a giant bird. Can’t you give us a hand?

  Nick: Eh, I see your pin, but by the time I get there, you could’ve done it yourselves. You’ve got this, TJ.

  Rose: TJ loves ducks.

  TJ: I like fluffy yellow ducks. This thing’s a feathered monstrosity. I kill these things, not heal them. We’ll wait for you.

  Nick: I’m a ranger, not a healer. I’ve had enough with screaming goats. I draw the line at oral hygiene.

  TJ sighed. “Fine. I’ll hold its mouth open. Joe, you’re the sneaky rogue. Go grab the keys.”

  Joe took a cautious step forward, the swan’s rancid breath hitting him full force. He gagged. “Uh… needs a breath mint.”

  Rose waved her staff and sprayed a lavender-scented mist around the swan’s head. “Better?”

  “A little, thanks,” Joe said. “Okay, TJ, hold it steady. And for the love of everything, don’t let go.”

  Rose sprayed a scented mist around Joe, the sharp, minty aroma barely masking the swampy, gut-churning stench emanating from the swan. He wrinkled his nose. "If this mist wasn’t here, I’d probably pass out."

  Dawn crossed her arms. “Should’ve had Merv do this. That useless lump could’ve earned his keep for once.”

  Joe sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. “He’s busy making sure the red zoners who bet on me during the battlebox don’t get gored.”

  Dawn arched a brow so high it could’ve touched the ceiling. “You convinced that selfish prick?”

  Joe avoided her gaze, rolling up his sleeve as if the task at hand required all his focus. “Which tonsil stone has the key?” He hoped he’d divert the inevitable interrogation.

  Robyn shifted on his feet, avoiding eye contact. “Uh, about that… turns out it’s keys, plural.”

  Joe’s stomach sank. “How many?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Before Joe could process that, the swan let out a low, ominous groan, its massive body twitching as if it was about to wake.

  Joe sighed. He activated Glitch Flick ability and slipped his hand past the swan’s jagged tongue into the back of its throat. Slime coated his fingers as he reached the swollen stones. One by one, he pulled them out, passing each to Brian, who dropped them into a bubbling alchemical solution. The stones fizzled and dissolved, revealing small, gleaming keys.

  Each key extraction left Joe’s skin stinging worse than the last. By the time he grabbed the final stone, his hand felt like it was on fire. He yanked it free, his instinct screaming to plunge it into the lake’s cool water.

  “Don’t,” Rose said sharply, cutting him off. A jet of clean water sprayed from her staff, washing over his blistered hand. “That lake water’s filthy. You’d probably lose the whole arm.”

  “Thanks,” Joe muttered, flexing his fingers. His skin was raw, but at least it wasn’t melting anymore.

  Brian handed him a healing potion, which he downed in one gulp. Relief spread through him as the burning sensation faded.

  “Man, that potion tastes amazing.” He flexed his newly healed hand.

  Brian didn’t answer. He was staring at the sixteen keys laid out in his hands, each one etched with a glowing letter.

  Finally, Brian looked up, his grin wide. “Your hard work paid off. Each key has a letter. When we arrange them, they’ll spell out a word that leads us to the final clue.”

  For the first time in what seemed like hours, Joe felt like things were actually going right.

  Then a shadow passed over them, and a low rumble filled the air. The swan stirred, but it wasn’t the beast that made Joe freeze. It was the massive fallen titan. Its single, glowing eye cracked open, locking onto him with unnerving intensity.

  “Well.” Joe took a slow step back. “Guess it’s time to run.”