Veil advanced, each step resounding like the tick of a countdown. His heart weighed heavy, every beat colored by tension, pain, and resignation.

  There was no room for mistakes.

  Not here. Not now.

  This creature had to fall—no matter the price. Yet his body screamed for surrender. His mana was draining fast, and every muscle strained past its limit.

  “Come on, focus! One well-placed strike and this ends,” he muttered, voice firm.

  But the Hydra had no intention of letting him act so easily.

  The newly-formed third head turned its gaze toward him. Its eyes gleamed with fierce intelligence—mocking, almost. Then it snapped its jaws shut with a sharp, sinister crack, sparking a chain reaction.

  The second head obeyed instantly, lifting its maw toward the ceiling. Between its fangs, a familiar blue glow gathered. A frozen sphere, small but deadly, spun slowly into existence, humming with menace.

  Veil’s breath caught. All the columns in the battlefield had already been reduced to rubble. There was nowhere left to hide—no cover, nothing.

  The Hydra’s body exhaled another veil of mist. In an instant, it thickened, cloaking the chamber in its freezing shroud.

  Then, with a roar, the sphere launched—tearing through the fog, freezing the air in its path. A pale-blue streak cut through the haze, racing straight toward Veil.

  He rolled hard to the right, a desperate dive, just in time. The blast struck where he had stood, freezing the ground into cracked, glasslike shards.

  Panting, he pushed himself back to his feet, moving in careful steps, eyes locked on the dissipating veil of frost.

  “Tired of hiding behind tricks yet?” he spat through clenched teeth.

  But he had no time to straighten. Another sharp snap of jaws rang out.

  The third head—imperious, commanding—had issued a new order.

  The first head obeyed instantly, unleashing a piercing roar. The Hydra’s entire body lunged forward, skull-blades lowered, poised to skewer.

  Veil leapt aside, sliding across the snow to dodge.

  But the Hydra anticipated him. Another mental command, another snap—and the head swerved with terrifying precision. The redirected strike hurtled straight at him.

  In a desperate reflex, Veil funneled what little mana he had left into his feet. The surge exploded, propelling him backward just far enough to escape the lethal thrust. A jagged, scale-like blade whistled past, cutting the air where his throat had been a heartbeat earlier.

  From the rear, Alynia watched—frozen, horrified.

  “This isn’t just another head!” she gasped, eyes wide. “She’s giving them orders—controlling the others!”

  Veil kept his focus razor-sharp. Every movement calculated, every breath labored—but he pressed on. He had to.

  As long as the Hydra’s body remained uncovered by mist, this was the only chance to strike.

  He closed in, eyes fixed on the base of the heads’ necks.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  But once again, the third head snapped its fangs.

  The entire body pivoted in a single, terrifyingly coordinated motion.

  The beast’s tail rose, coiling with raw power—then swung.

  It slammed into the severed head Veil had cut earlier, sending the grotesque, bloodied mass hurtling toward him at blinding speed.

  He dove to the ground, breath ragged, rolling to avoid the impact.

  The Hydra’s mutilated skull slammed against the wall with a wet crack, splattering the stone with shards of flesh and bone.

  Veil scrambled back to his feet instantly, not sparing a glance behind him. The moment was too critical—he had to keep moving.

  He charged forward, but as he neared the main body, the first head swooped low. Its serpentine neck scraped across the floor, cutting off his path and forcing him to halt abruptly. He staggered back a few steps, legs tense, narrowly avoiding its jagged blades.

  He needed an angle. An opening. But the cursed third head never wavered. Its gaze tracked him, unrelenting, piercing the mist with an almost human intensity.

  “You can’t… do this alone. I have to help you!” Alynia cried, her voice raw with pain.

  But Veil lifted his hand—a simple gesture. A command for silence.

  “I’ll handle it. I just need to find a way in,” he panted.

  As if understanding, the Hydra’s third head snapped sharply, stern and deliberate, before turning its eyes toward the second head. Obediently, it lifted its jaws, opening wide. At the same time, the first head recoiled, drawing back as though preparing to charge.

  Everything accelerated at once as Veil dashed toward the beast again.

  The blue filament pulsed violently. The second head swung down in a sudden, vicious arc, unleashing an icy orb at blistering speed. The attack was far faster than before—instantaneous.

  Veil dove aside, barely avoiding the impact as the frozen blast tore past him.

  The first head lunged immediately, exploiting his evasion to counter.

  Veil caught the deadly rush in the corner of his eye. In desperation, he unleashed his wind magic, blasting himself sideways, out of the path of its massive jaws.

  But just as he slipped past—everything shifted.

  The third head screamed.

  And the first altered its course mid-charge, twisting brutally toward him.

  It saw him. Even with its eyes closed—it saw him.

  This time, Veil was too slow.

  The first head caught him mid-motion, ripping him from the ground like a ragdoll, his arm crushed between its titanic fangs.

  The beast raised its head high, flaunting its prey, its teeth slick with his blood, his arm pierced by a brutal bite.

  “LITTLE WOLF!” Alynia’s scream tore through the chamber, her voice breaking in horror.

  She stood frozen, powerless, watching Veil dangle helplessly between the monster’s jaws, his cries of agony stabbing into her chest like knives.

  Veil fought back still—his right hand clutching the dagger, slashing wildly, trying to drive it into the Hydra’s flesh.

  But each attempt wrenched his trapped arm further, weakening him with every movement. The pain roared in his skull, a relentless drumbeat that drowned everything else.

  “LET… ME… GO!” he screamed, voice breaking apart.

  Tears welled in his eyes as the head swayed, slowly, proudly, parading its prize before the others like a trophy.

  The third head snapped its jaws in a steady rhythm—mocking, sinister. Its crimson gaze locked onto Veil, watching as his dagger slipped from his grasp and clattered to the frozen floor.

  His strength was fading. His body grew heavy, defenseless, unable to respond.

  He was at the Hydra’s mercy.

  His mind still fought, but his body refused to obey.

  “MOVE! DO SOMETHING!” Alynia screamed, her voice sharp with panic.

  She had to act.

  She saw Veil dangling like a puppet, limp, his tears catching the light before shattering on the icy ground.

  She grabbed a small vial from her pouch, uncorked it in a sharp motion, and downed it in one gulp.

  “I just need to hold on a little longer… I can’t let him die like this,” she whispered.

  The glass slipped from her fingers and shattered into fragments on the floor. She stepped forward with grim resolve toward the center of the chamber. Every movement tore a grimace from her lips, her steps staggering—but her determination did not falter. She could no longer stand by and watch. This battle had turned into something that left her no choice but to fight.

  She extended her claws—but only her right hand answered.

  Her left refused, still crippled by the pain of her fall.

  She reached the Hydra, Veil still screaming in agony, suspended in the first head’s jaws. Alynia crouched, bracing herself, ready to launch forward with all the speed she could muster.

  “Let him go! You’re facing me now!” she shouted, her fierce gaze locking onto the Hydra’s third head.

  Her words drew the crimson eyes to her, and with a sharp snap, the third head signaled the first.

  The jaws opened, dropping Veil—but as they did, the fangs tore through his arm, carving a vicious gash along its length.

  He crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, rolling in pain.

  Alynia struck the Hydra’s body, her claws scraping its scales—yet she left no mark. Not even a scratch. Nothing.

  “Tch! Tough bastard,” she hissed. “Little Wolf, pull yourself together. We need to strike it together!”

  But Veil still lay on the ground, eyes wet with tears.

  He forced himself up, clumsy, and with his good hand he tore a strip from his shirt, wrapping it tightly around his wounded arm to stem the bleeding.

  A small crimson pool already spread beneath him, making his head spin as he stared at it.

  “Damn it… what did I screw up this time to end up like this?” he muttered, breath ragged.

  His eyes rose again to the creature, which had completely turned its focus to Alynia.

  Her movements, though faltering, kept the Hydra occupied.

  Veil tried to push himself upright, but his legs wavered, nearly toppling him.

  Move… It’s your turn to protect her. She’s hurt, but she’s still saving your ass, idiot, he whispered, voice barely audible.

  Meanwhile, the Hydra’s second head unleashed its icy barrage, hurling frozen spheres at Alynia.

  Even wounded, she pressed on, striking the beast whenever she could, aiming for its heart.

  But every blow failed to pierce the monster’s armor.

  Not a single strike broke through.

  The Hydra’s tail swept in a sudden lash, brushing past Veil. He felt the sheer violence of the strike in the gust it left behind.

  Then, as always, the third head snapped its jaws, eyes turning to the other two.

  The attacks stopped instantly, the Hydra’s massive body undulating as it fixed its gaze on Alynia.

  Once more, its body released that shrouding mist, enveloping itself, then it slowly drew back from her.

  “Little Wolf, we’re going to have to hit it together. I can’t do this alone!” she called, breath ragged.

  But the Hydra was just as resolved to end things. This game had begun to wear on it, too—and it was already preparing its next strike, in silence.

  Alynia, despite her determination, had no idea what was coming.