Veil’s entire body ached under the crushing weight of exhaustion, but he fought to ignore it—he couldn’t afford to weaken now. Every passing second made the battle more difficult.

  His gaze remained locked on the Hydra’s two serpentine heads, swaying above him.

  He knew the second head—the more dangerous one—would only become vulnerable once the first was neutralized. But targeting one while the other was free to strike made the situation perilously complicated.

  Think... How do I reach it? Time’s running out, he muttered, breath ragged.

  Before him, the Hydra reared up to its full height, its massive body stretching until it nearly brushed the ceiling of the chamber.

  Both heads shifted into an eerie, synchronized posture—unnaturally still, as if frozen in time.

  Scales along the creature’s torso opened like shutters, releasing tendrils of bluish smoke that drifted slowly into the air.

  The second head began to open its maw.

  Pale blue light pulsed beneath its translucent skin, like veins filled with boiling mana.

  The air around it compressed, sucked inward, creating a vacuum that made its neck swell ominously.

  Veil’s eyes widened. Something was coming. Something different.

  He searched for Alynia—he needed to see her, to know if she’d noticed too. This wasn’t like any of the Hydra’s previous attacks. There was no way to predict what would happen next.

  He finally spotted her—sheltered behind a pillar near the chamber’s entrance, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, her face frozen in deep concentration.

  He sprinted to cover, taking refuge behind another, thicker column. If that second head unleashed something like before, shielding themselves was their only option.

  A deep, guttural sound rumbled through the air.

  The second head was nearing its limit.

  Its jaws snapped shut with a sharp crack.

  Veil peeked out, just barely, from behind the pillar.

  Across the chamber, the first head suddenly recoiled, curling in on itself as if bracing for impact.

  “What the hell are you doing now?” he muttered, tension sharp in his voice.

  Alynia, still hidden behind cover, had noticed the shift as well.

  Her eyes scanned the Hydra’s body, focused, searching.

  Its whole body’s pulsing… but I still can’t tell what that point is trying to show, she murmured.

  She knew one truth: every monster had a weakness.

  This wasn’t her first encounter with strange creatures. But this time, her knowledge wasn’t enough to give her a clear answer.

  Some monsters existed only in legends or half-forgotten tales. She had read about them, but never faced them. And those stories were often vague, offering few details—nothing useful here.

  But this Hydra was very real.

  And the third head—the one missing from its body but clearly depicted on the mural—kept tugging at her thoughts.

  Is that the key...? Or a warning?

  Her train of thought was suddenly shattered.

  The second head dropped, aiming straight at Veil.

  The glow beneath its scales pulsed one final time… then went dark.

  At the far end of the creature’s body, near its tail, a sudden blue light flared to life—pulsing violently.

  Scales in that area began to tremble, quivering like hatches on the verge of opening, as though the beast’s body were preparing to expel something building inside.

  Hissing bursts of vapor escaped through widening vents along its flanks.

  The light slithered forward, rapidly ascending the Hydra’s body. A bright blue filament trailed behind the glowing surge, snaking upward as if it were being awakened for the first time.

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  It traced the length of its spine, each segment lighting up in turn until it reached the base where the two heads split.

  There, the intensity erupted.

  The glow surged toward the magical head, which jolted upward in response.

  Its throat swelled grotesquely.

  And with a low, rumbling growl, a frigid breath began to seep between its jagged teeth...

  The light pulsed harder—brighter—like it was reaching the brink of collapse.

  Electric-blue threads flickered between the beast’s fangs, crackling in the air.

  Then everything froze.

  An absolute silence fell over the chamber. So heavy, it sent chills down their spines.

  Veil and Alynia stood motionless, watching without a word, their bodies taut with tension.

  Veil’s breath was shallow, his heart pounding in his ears. He hesitated.

  Should I take the chance...? he wondered, voice trembling in his mind.

  His grip tightened around his dagger, knuckles whitening with the pressure.

  This could be his only opening. He had to strike while it was still motionless. But... what if it was a trap? What if the creature was luring them in?

  He hesitated—fear gnawing at him. Because he knew: one wrong move, one mistake... and everything could end right here.

  The Hydra remained still, its eyes closed.

  But just as he began to move—steeling himself to act while the monster wasn’t watching—everything changed.

  The Hydra’s eyes snapped open, violently.

  Its iridescent pupils flared with such blinding light that Veil instinctively staggered back a step.

  This time, its gaze was different.

  Sharp. Intentional.

  Murderous.

  A thunderous explosion rang out through the chamber.

  The next second, the Hydra’s jaw split wide open.

  Veil and Alynia immediately dove behind the nearest pillars, pressing their bodies against the cold stone for cover.

  The temperature in the room dropped sharply, as though the air itself had been torn apart.

  Then came the deep, resonant hum.

  A beam—a ray of pure blue energy, flawless and terrifying—erupted from the second head’s gaping maw.

  Everything in its path was obliterated.

  Slowly, deliberately, the Hydra swept the ray across the room.

  Its neck twisted, its serpentine body undulating with an unnatural tension, like a beast being wrung to its breaking point.

  Frost crept along the walls and pillars like an invisible brushstroke slowly painting the room with ice.

  The columns glazed over with a shimmering frost, their edges groaning, their surfaces cracking under the pressure—forcing Veil and Alynia to pull away from the stone they had been leaning on.

  Veil clenched his teeth, shaking uncontrollably.

  The cold was inside him now—deep, relentless.

  Each breath sliced like a blade.

  Every inhale turned his lungs to ice.

  Alynia, curled up behind her own shelter, trembled as well.

  The chill seeped into her bones, awakening every wound with vicious precision. It felt like a frozen dagger was stabbing through her entire body, ripping everything apart from the inside.

  Then, at last, the ray lost strength. Its glow dimmed, then vanished completely.

  Silence returned.

  Only the ragged breathing of the magical head echoed—harsh, uneven.

  And then it screamed.

  A guttural, soul-wrenching howl—bursting with rage and strain.

  Veil and Alynia barely had a second to catch their breath, lungs still gasping.

  The ice...

  It began to crack.

  A strange sound, deep and almost alive. As if the frost was straining under immense pressure, threatening to break at any moment.

  Veil felt it—something wasn’t right. He staggered back, legs heavy, moving on instinct.

  But Alynia... was too weakened to react in time.

  The ice exploded.

  The pillars shattered one by one, each bursting apart with sharp, deafening blasts.

  Shockwaves flared out from the blasts, short but savage, launching shards in every direction.

  Alynia was caught in the blast.

  Her body was flung through the mist, slamming hard onto the frozen floor—right in front of the doorway.

  Dead center.

  She let out a groan, shaking her head, then forced herself onto her knees, struggling to breathe.

  Her vision blurred, unsteady.

  When she finally lifted her gaze, she realized where she’d landed.

  Right in front of the right-hand pillar.

  The inscription carved into its surface was still there—untouched.

  “The heart of ice… beats to the rhythm of death,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracked and trembling.

  She frowned.

  “The heart...?”

  The words rang strangely now.

  She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, trying to focus—trying to see the words more clearly.

  Something wasn’t right.

  That sentence had been there from the beginning. They’d both seen it when they first entered.

  Those letters had always been there. And yet, neither she nor Veil had paid them any real attention. They’d passed by without stopping to understand.

  “Why didn’t I think of it sooner...?” she murmured, her thoughts clouded, confused.

  While Alynia continued analyzing the inscription, the Hydra suddenly stirred.

  The first head—until then curled in on itself—snapped upright with a shrill, ear-splitting scream that made the walls tremble.

  Its roar ricocheted through the chamber, filling every corner with piercing echoes.

  Veil, still slightly dazed, stumbled for a second before regaining his footing.

  He stepped forward, ready to rejoin the fight.

  But then the creature’s gaze locked onto Alynia.

  “Oh no. Not again. This time, you’re staying with me!” Veil shouted, teeth clenched.

  He wouldn’t let the Hydra take her from him—not again. Not while he still stood.

  He opened his mouth, about to scream and draw its attention.

  But before he could, the first head shifted toward its twin.

  It snapped its jaws sharply—as if they were... communicating.

  The second head swayed gently in response.

  Beneath its skin, the glowing blue light surged back to life, weaving through its veins and under its translucent scales.

  Veil stepped forward, firm and defiant.

  “I won’t let you. Not this time,” he roared, voice ringing with resolve.

  But before either of them could act, the Hydra’s body erupted once more.

  The scales along its sides parted, releasing a chilling mist that surged outward, forming a thick, frozen barrier that kept Veil at bay.

  While the creature's body cloaked itself in cold, the blue filament intensified again, racing up toward the magical head.

  Its jaw opened wide—this time not to inhale, but to gather mana.

  Several orbs of water formed between its fangs, hovering for a heartbeat before being hurled across the length of the chamber.

  Veil hesitated, unsure of the attack’s purpose.

  But then he looked down—and understood.

  The water was spreading across the floor… solidifying as it moved, forming a smooth sheet of ice.

  The Hydra slowly pulled back, sliding effortlessly across the freezing surface until its tail struck the far wall.

  The first head lowered, eyes locked on Alynia.

  Like a predator marking its prey.

  A low, menacing creak echoed through the chamber.

  The Hydra’s tail coiled tightly against the stone wall, its scales grinding from the pressure.

  Even the thick stone surface cracked under the force.

  “ALYNIA! GET OUT OF THERE!” Veil screamed, panic ripping through his voice.

  The Hydra roared in unison.

  The second head dropped low as well, hovering just above the ice.

  Veil sprinted forward, racing toward Alynia as she finally turned.

  But he was too far.

  A sharp crack split the air.

  With explosive power, the Hydra released all the tension in its tail—launching its entire body forward in one devastating burst.

  Propelled by the frozen floor, the Hydra shot forward with terrifying speed—jaws wide open, heading straight for Alynia.

  Veil had only one option.

  He surged mana into his dagger and threw himself directly into the beast’s path.

  As the first head came within reach, he swung with everything he had.

  The blade struck true.

  It pierced flesh—shattering scales and slicing through muscle with a sickening, wet crack.

  The head lurched violently from the impact, but the momentum still carried Veil along. He skidded across the ice and slammed into the heavy doors, crashing down just beside Alynia.

  “Little Wolf… Are you okay?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  Veil tried to move.

  His mind swayed, his vision blurred and spinning—but somehow, he managed to lift his head.

  The Hydra loomed, just a few meters away.

  And it wasn’t moving.

  Then the second head suddenly reared back—and unleashed a scream so piercing it felt like it was tearing their eardrums apart.

  It thrashed violently, jerking the upper body and revealing the first head—still attached to the trunk.

  Limp.

  Flesh torn, muscles twitching, blood dripping—but the head remained.

  Veil’s face twisted in frustration.

  He had failed. Deep down, he knew he hadn’t finished the job. But part of him had still hoped—hoped it would be enough to stop history from repeating itself.

  “What have you done...? Little Wolf... you cut its head again…” Alynia whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

  The second head slowly pulled back.

  It slithered toward the far end of the room, growling with a low, guttural rage.

  And its aura... changed.

  Something was building.

  And this time, both of them could feel it—this wasn’t like before.