CHAPTER 42: BURNT GOBLINS

Elius didn’t answer their question.

He stared at them, at their wide-eyed faces, waiting for his story.

For his truth. But his gaze slowly shifted away, toward the darkness where the dungeon trembled faintly under some unseen force.

"We don’t have time for that," he said coldly.

His voice sliced the tension like a blade, clean and without apology.

And then—he stood.

A sudden, sharp motion. Tension flooded his body again. His silver eyes narrowed.

The others rose to their feet instinctively, ready for battle.

Ron cracked his neck. Lina’s ethereal form shimmered with a cold glint. Shiro summoned his clone without a word. Klee clutched her staff.

Elius took one slow step forward, then another. And then—

He vanished.

A thunderous boom echoed down the tunnel.

Elius had become a blur, a crimson storm tearing through the darkness.

A horde of goblins appeared just ahead—maybe fifty strong, all screeching and snarling.

Elius didn’t hesitate.

SLAAASH!

One of his swords shot forward, spinning like a drill, drilling through the chest of a goblin and exploding out the back.

Its blood sprayed into the air as Elius punched another goblin’s face into pulp. Bone fragments flew like shrapnel.

He turned—kicked a goblin into the wall so hard its spine snapped.

Then he spun, his five swords spiraling outward, slicing in sweeping arcs—SHHRRRAAAKK!—decapitating three at once. Their heads bounced like rotten fruit across the stone floor.

And still—Elius pushed forward.

He bathed in their blood once again. His inner body cultivation technique roared to life, rotating like a celestial engine, absorbing, refining, reinforcing.

Each step forward was a kill. Each kill was a cycle.

He wasn’t just fighting.

He was racing time.

Behind him, his party joined the fight.

Ron launched forward with a scream, his velociraptor legs flashing. His claws tore into goblins like paper. A swipe. A bite. A leap. He was a savage whirlwind. No hesitation. No fear. Just movement and instinct.

But it wasn’t wild.

It was calculated.

Controlled.

Elius noticed it.

"Ron..." he muttered between strikes. "He’s starting to fight like a seasoned prehistoric predator."

The raptor boy darted between enemies, dragging a goblin into the air and slamming it into another with a midair dropkick. The impact shattered stone.

Lina, meanwhile, was something else entirely.

She had changed.

Gone was the timid girl who could only turn transparent and hide.

Now—she was a living shadow of death.

Ghostly tendrils slithered from her arms, wrapping around goblins and pulling them into walls—through walls—crushing them as she phased them into stone.

From the floor, she rose like a wraith, grabbing another goblin and yanking its soul out in a burst of flickering mist.

She split herself.

Multiple Linas—lesser echoes—phased in and out of the battlefield, ambushing and striking in unison. One moment she was solid, then intangible, then three shadows, then one again.

Elius narrowed his eyes.

"She’s forming ghost clones. Actual echoes of her will. She’s no longer just avoiding damage—she’s weaponizing intangibility."

A ghost claw extended from the ground and dragged a shrieking goblin into the floor, leaving only a smear of blood.

He turned to Shiro.

The ninja with his clone fought like clockwork. Not once did they clash or overlap. One ducked while the other struck. One jumped while the other rolled. The air hummed with the whip-crack of their synchronized strikes.

Elius could see it—Shiro’s clone had grown faster. More independent. Its swordplay was no longer an echo—it was original. They were evolving into dual fighters, two bodies with the same mind.

And Klee.

Sweet, quiet Klee.

She had become their battlefield beacon.

Light surged from her palms as she unleashed divine flares, blinding goblins before Ron took them out. Her healing orbs floated across the field like jellyfish, attaching to wounds and stitching flesh shut in seconds.

But now she added something else.

"Flashburst!"

A goblin exploded in midair as a glyph activated on its chest. Klee had marked it before anyone noticed.

"Exploding marks..." Elius muttered, impressed. "She’s using healing mana as trigger glyphs. No longer just support."

More goblins came. And more fell.

Elius finally retracted his swords.

He didn’t need them anymore.

His fists had become stronger than steel.

He punched—BOOM!—a goblin exploded.

He elbowed—CRACK!—a skull split open.

And still, he circulated his body technique. The blood soaked into his pores like molten iron into a forge. Each drop mattered. Each heartbeat was a cycle. Each kill was a catalyst.

But he was almost at his limit again.

Finally, the last goblin fell with a gurgle.

Elius exhaled.

His chest rose and fell. His arms dripped with blood. But his eyes were calm, analytical.

He looked at his team.

"You’ve all grown," he said.

They looked at him.

"Ron—your instincts are maturing. You no longer fight like a cornered animal. You anticipate. You control."

Ron nodded, grinning. "Didn’t want to be a chicken forever."

"Lina—your mastery of ghost form has tripled. You’ve moved beyond intangibility. You’re commanding it like an element."

Lina blushed faintly, phasing out of sight before popping back in with a shy smile.

"Shiro... your clone is learning independently. You’re on the edge of becoming a true dual-wield esper. Your unity is almost perfect."

Shiro gave a sharp bow.

"Klee... your healing’s evolved. You’ve added glyphs, traps, mana markings. Soon, you’ll become a battlefield controller."

Klee blinked. "You... noticed that?"

"I notice everything," Elius said flatly.

Then he turned, walking a few paces ahead into the silence.

The team followed.

But something in his tone had changed.

"You should know," he said, without turning. "This party... is temporary."

They stopped.

Ron frowned. "What?"

"You’re training us for something," Shiro said quietly.

Elius didn’t answer right away.

Then, "Yes."

"What is it?" Lina asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

Silence thickened around them like fog.

The only sound was the faint drip of blood from Ron’s claws.

Klee whispered, "Elius...?"

But he kept walking, his expression unreadable.

Then—he froze.

The others nearly bumped into him.

"What’s wrong?" Ron asked.

But Elius had already stepped forward.

Ahead, the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. A familiar stench hit them.

Goblin blood.

But not fresh.

Charred.

And then they saw it.

A group of goblins—maybe twenty—lay in pieces across the floor. Their bodies weren’t pierced. They weren’t sliced.

They were burnt.

Blackened, carbonized corpses. Some melted into the stone. Others twisted mid-scream, skin fused to bone.

The stone was scorched black for meters. The air shimmered with heat.

Elius walked forward, slowly, surveying the carnage.

No sword marks.

No blunt trauma.

Just...

Fire.

He narrowed his eyes.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"...What is this?"

Elius stared at the charred remains a while longer, his mind already churning with calculations.

The dungeon had always been predictable—waves of goblins, crude ambushes, close-quarter skirmishes.

It was meant to be a low-level grind zone, manageable, structured.

But this—this wasn’t part of the design.

He’s sure of it.

He turned sharply and faced his party, who were still standing silently by the entrance of the scorched chamber. Their expressions were tense, unsettled.

"We’re leaving," Elius said, his voice low but commanding. "Now."

Lina blinked. "Leave?"

Klee looked up nervously. "But I thought you said we had more time to train—"

"Forget that," Elius snapped. "This is a goblin dungeon. They don’t burn their own. Something else is here. Something not meant to be."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Could it be a new boss monster?"

Elius shook his head.

"No. This dungeon was calibrated. I personally cleared its goblin route and marked its monster respawn pattern. We were only allowed to stay this long because I knew what would happen... until now."

He turned away again.

"We overstayed. We distorted the dungeon’s natural flow. And now..." He looked down at the blackened goblins. "Now something responded."

He raised his hand and pointed to Shiro. "Deploy your clone."

Shiro didn’t hesitate. He pressed his palm to the ground. With a puff of gray smoke, his silent clone materialized, eyes glowing faintly with dim blue light.

"Scout formation," Elius ordered.

Shiro nodded and sent the clone sprinting ahead, vanishing down the corridor.

"Everyone—tighten up your formation. Lina, stay midline, use your ghost scouts to watch our flanks. Klee, keep a healing orb active on everyone. Ron—stay forward with me. If anything comes close, we tear it down."

Without further question, they moved.

Step by step, they walked.

The dungeon corridors, once familiar, now seemed warped by tension. It was as if the very walls were watching them. Echoes whispered. Heat shimmered across the rock.

And then—

More corpses.

Burnt.

Dozens.

Twisted goblin bodies, some still clutching crude weapons. Their mouths were open in silent agony, eyes melted into slag. Some were reduced to piles of blackened ash. The stone around them glowed faintly with lingering heat, as if a blaze had only recently passed through.

Elius crouched near one.

No blast marks. No external source. Just... combustion.

"What kind of fire burns from within?" he muttered.

Ron said nothing, crouching beside him, sniffing the air. "It’s not natural. Not even magical. It smells... angry."

Lina’s ghost clone slid through a nearby wall and phased beside her, whispering a quiet warning.

"They’re everywhere," Lina said. "More bodies. Burned in different halls. This wasn’t a single strike. It’s moving."

"Following a path," Elius said. "Or searching for something."

Klee trembled. "Us?"

Elius didn’t answer.

They kept moving, corridor after corridor, chamber after chamber. Each room told the same story—ash, fire, death.

And then...

Elius stopped.

He felt it.

A ripple in the air.

A presence.

Massive. Suffocating.

It pressed down on them like an ocean of flame, even though nothing was visible yet. The very mana in the air began to swirl, pulled by some unseen gravity.

Elius raised a hand. "Stop."

Everyone froze.

He extended his senses.

The presence was far—but closing in.

"Eyes sharp. Weapons ready. It’s hunting."

"Us?" Ron asked again, this time more tense.

"I don’t know yet," Elius whispered. "But it’s moving deliberately. With intelligence. With power."

Shiro’s clone sprinted back toward them from a distant corridor, flickering with urgency.

But just as it reached them—

WHOOSH!

The clone burst into flames.

A massive wave of heat rolled through the tunnel like a blast furnace. The clone screamed silently as its form twisted, burned, and disintegrated into a puff of cinders.

Shiro gasped.

He stumbled back—and suddenly dropped to one knee, clutching his chest.

"Shiro!" Lina cried.

Klee was already beside him, pushing a glowing orb into his back.

Elius knelt next to him. "What happened?"

Shiro’s voice was shaky, broken.

"M-my... clone..." he rasped. "It died... of fire. Not just burned... its very essence was consumed. It... it felt everything. It screamed—inside my mind. It was..."

His teeth clenched. "It was alive."

The air went still.

Elius stood slowly.

This wasn’t a monster.

This was something else.

Something that could bypass defenses. Something that could incinerate a phantom clone—something not just burning bodies but eating souls through fire.

He turned back to the blackened corridor, where flickers of ember still danced faintly in the air.

"We need to leave," Elius repeated, firmer this time. "And we need to do it quietly."

In his heart, he could feel—this is not a dungeon Master.