The Hydra’s head crashed down on the pillar where Alynia had taken cover. With a pained reflex, she threw herself to the side, barely dodging the devastating impact and the collapse of the stone structure.

  Veil had seized the moment.

  The Hydra, its head pinned to the ground by the weight of its own momentum, had left itself open—a rare opportunity he might never get again.

  Without hesitation, he channeled mana into his hand, surging it through his dagger. But he didn’t aim for the crystal on its head like Alynia had suggested.

  No. He went straight for the creature’s massive throat.

  The wind enveloping his blade amplified the strike. With a sickening sound, the dagger tore into flesh, shattered the monster’s scales, and cracked through the embedded frost plating. The throat gave way beneath the impact.

  The Hydra let out one final guttural cry. Its head, still buried in the ground, released a last icy breath as its entire body—stripped of consciousness—convulsed in savage death throes. Its massive tail whipped through the air, smashing into pillars with a monstrous crash.

  Then, in a deafening collapse, the headless body fell.

  A few last spasms rippled through the enormous carcass before all life drained away.

  Thick, dark blood oozed slowly across the frozen floor.

  The tail, the only part still twitching, dropped heavily in a final shudder.

  Veil remained motionless for a moment, his hand clenched tightly around his dagger’s hilt. His eyes, lost in the haze, stared at the Hydra’s fallen head.

  He had done it. The monster lay dead.

  After all the struggle, all the effort, his shoulders finally loosened, and a wave of relief washed over him.

  He scanned the ruins for Alynia, searching among the shattered remains of the pillar.

  She was trying to get up, her face contorted in pain.

  Dodging the Hydra’s strike had reignited her wounds.

  Veil stepped toward her, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

  “We did it,” he said gently.

  Alynia raised a weak hand, her eyes hardened by pain. She tried to speak, but her breathing was fast, uneven, and shallow.

  Veil sheathed his dagger quickly and rushed to her.

  “We need to treat your injuries. Now,” he said, voice laced with panic.

  But Alynia locked eyes with him—eyes filled with fear.

  Veil froze, unsettled.

  “It’s… not…” she began in a strained whisper.

  Her gaze shifted slowly toward the Hydra’s head.

  “…over, Little Wolf,” she finished weakly.

  Veil gave her a reassuring smile, trying to calm her. He turned toward the beast’s head.

  “Alynia, its head is down. The body’s lifeless. It’s over,” he said softly.

  He turned back to her.

  “We need to deal with your wounds,” he added, his throat tightening with concern.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Alynia opened her mouth to reply, but a strange sound interrupted her.

  A wet, slithering noise—barely audible at first—rising steadily.

  Then, a gust of wind swept across the chamber. Sudden. Brutal. So sharp it pushed the dust on the ground away.

  A coldness swept over them—just like the one they had felt when the dungeon doors first opened.

  Veil froze. A chill ran down his spine, sharp and paralyzing.

  It was as if an invisible force was trying to hold him in place.

  With stiff movements, he turned his head toward the Hydra’s corpse.

  The head lay motionless.

  But when his gaze shifted to the body, horror struck.

  The blood spilled across the floor was being drawn back toward the cadaver.

  Each drop slithered slowly, winding over the ice like black rivers.

  Veil’s stomach churned.

  He couldn’t understand.

  The body was lifeless.

  The head severed.

  This was impossible.

  He wanted to call out to Alynia, to ask what was happening.

  But his voice died in his throat, strangled by the horror of what he was witnessing.

  The blood—once pooled across the frozen floor—had been completely reabsorbed into the Hydra’s corpse.

  As if nothing had ever happened.

  A suffocating silence fell over the chamber.

  The wet, slithering sound had stopped… yet a dull, vibrating tension still hung in the air.

  Then, slowly—like a puppet pulled upright by unseen strings—the Hydra’s body began to rise. Muscles tensed, its spine stretched.

  It rose, lengthening as if preparing to charge again.

  But it froze in place, neck fully extended, its severed stump aimed toward the ceiling. A crushing silence blanketed the chamber.

  Veil took a few steps back, unable to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Alynia remained frozen, throat tight.

  Never—never had she seen anything like this.

  Not even in the oldest legends, not in the most ancient tales.

  Then the silence broke.

  A revolting noise erupted from the corpse.

  Blood burst forth from the Hydra’s body—but it didn’t fall.

  It rose, climbing upward in viscous threads, like inverted roots reaching for the sky.

  The strands split, multiplied, weaving together into a pulsating, shifting mass.

  Veil watched in stunned disbelief.

  The tendrils aligned and shaped themselves—slowly forming the outline of a head.

  No… two heads.

  A double maw, woven entirely of veins and blood.

  Each one hung in the air, swaying slightly—disconnected, yet waiting.

  Once the shapes stabilized, a blinding blue light surged from the Hydra’s main body.

  It shot through the tendrils, illuminating the grotesque structure.

  Feeding it.

  The glow funneled into one of the heads, forming a pulsing heart nestled deep within what now resembled a twisted, malformed maw.

  At the base of the severed neck, the flesh began to writhe.

  Massive bubbles of tissue swelled, burst, then slid along the network of veins—reforming a neck, coils of muscle, and new skulls.

  A shrill, sickening noise filled the air.

  So sharp, so grating, it made Veil and Alynia clench their teeth against the sheer discomfort.

  The flesh was rebuilding at an unnatural speed.

  Then, with a final snapping sound—like shards of stone crashing together—the raw meat was devoured by erupting waves of scales.

  They burst out in rapid succession, embedding themselves violently into the fresh tissue, gradually covering the still-lifeless heads.

  Teeth followed next—long, thin, and razor-sharp—piercing through the living matter with a wet crunch.

  As the mutation advanced, scale-blades extended from the skulls, slowly unfurling to reform that deadly, jagged crown.

  The heads, now fully sheathed in armor, floated in the air—undulating with a slow, macabre rhythm—ready to be reborn.

  When the process finally ended, the two heads hovered motionless, suspended in a grim, weightless silence.

  Alynia lowered her gaze toward Veil.

  “What did you do, Little Wolf?” she asked, her voice broken with panic.

  Veil stood frozen, still trying to grasp what he was seeing.

  How was this possible?

  The Hydra’s head was still lying on the ground—near Alynia—and yet the body was growing two more.

  What kind of abomination were they up against?

  A deep thump reverberated through the chamber.

  The Hydra’s body pulsed violently, releasing a blinding light.

  A wave of glacial air spread across the room, biting at their skin, stealing the breath from their lungs.

  The eyes of both heads lit up simultaneously—blazing with a blinding blue glow.

  Alynia staggered, catching herself against a shattered pillar.

  She opened her mouth, trying to warn Veil.

  “Don’t… CUT… the heads!” she screamed.

  But her cry was drowned out.

  The Hydra roared.

  And the second head echoed it—amplifying it instantly.

  Veil clenched his jaw, turning toward Alynia.

  He gave a small nod.

  Then, eyes back on the creature, he muttered under his breath:

  “Alright… I’ll cut deeper. Got it.”

  Alynia, seeing the gesture, thought he’d understood her warning.

  She leaned back against the pillar, her chest tight with dread.

  The Hydra’s twin heads swayed slowly in the air, menacing.

  And both of them were now fixed on Veil.

  He had already moved away from the pillars—careful not to draw danger toward Alynia.

  Alone, once again, facing the nightmare reborn before him.

  As Veil prepared himself for the assault of the two heads, they suddenly froze mid-air.

  The first kept its eyes locked on him, menacing and unblinking, while the second slowly raised its mutilated neck.

  A faint blue glow pulsed between its fangs—weak at first, like a breath being held.

  But the light grew steadily, vibrating, intensifying until its entire maw was bathed in a supernatural gleam.

  Thick wisps began to seep from between its teeth, drifting toward the ground like rivers of icy mist.

  The fog didn’t dissipate. It slithered over the stones, creeping forward in silence, moved by some ancient, unsettling magic.

  As it touched the floor, a sinister cracking sound echoed out.

  Frost spread.

  The ground glazed over, smooth and glistening under the flickering torchlight.

  The first head, until then perfectly still, snapped its jaws shut with a sharp clack.

  It turned toward the second and gave it a harsh blow, as if snapping it back into focus.

  Veil watched, tense.

  The mist crept steadily toward him, blurring the edges of the world, stealing detail and depth before freezing everything in its path.

  A frigid cold settled across the chamber.

  Even Veil—and Alynia, though she had remained in the background—shivered under the sudden chill.

  Alynia understood immediately.

  She turned toward Veil.

  “Little Wolf… it’s using magic. Be careful—it can attack you from a distance,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Veil nodded back.

  That cold, that mist… he had felt it before—when he tried to approach the Hydra’s body.

  But this time… it was worse.

  The two heads lowered slowly, letting out low, rasping growls.

  Their eyes—frozen blue—locked onto Veil with a feral hostility.

  Just one head had been enough to push them to the brink.

  Now there were two… and Veil had no idea how he was going to survive.

  But he couldn’t afford to fail. And he couldn’t walk away.

  He had to give everything he had.

  For Alynia. For both of them.

  He clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on the creature.

  The first head rose, unleashing a guttural howl—ready, now, to finish the job.