It took several more minutes for the other contestants to regain their senses, though a few dwarfs still appeared dazed and disoriented. However, Zeke hardly noticed. The remnants of his own experience lingered vividly in his mind, commanding his full attention.

    [Notice]

    Host has been in a hallucinatory state for exactly 4 minutes and 33 seconds.

    Zeke let Akasha''s words wash over him as he continued to contemplate.

    This had been no mere hallucination—of that, he was certain. Furthermore, the sensation felt oddly familiar. For a moment, he couldn''t quite place where he had experienced anything like this before. Then, it struck him. It was the unmistakable feeling of absorbing a fragment of someone''s Soul.

    The memory came rushing back: the time in Tradespire when he had unintentionally ripped the Soul from that spy, experiencing flashes of the man''s life. However, that incident had been less intense than this—less vivid. The method he''d used back then had been crude and unrefined compared to the precision of the Mnemosyne Devourer, which had been distilled into the brew.

    "Akasha," he called softly in his mind. "Have there been any abnormal changes to my Soul?"

    For once, the Spirit didn''t respond immediately. Her usual, almost instantaneous answers were absent, a sign she hadn''t anticipated the question.

    [Answer]

    It appears that Host''s Soul underwent significant growth during the brew''s period of effectiveness. This growth ranks among the most remarkable on record. Notably, there were no signs of rejection or instability, indicating an almost flawless integration.

    Akasha''s answer confirmed many things for Zeke, not least among them that the devourer could indeed grow a Soul.

    Zeke''s initial reaction to this realization was a deep sense of regret, quickly followed by a wave of shame—and then, finally, relief.

    Regret came first. He understood at once that choosing the Mnemosyne Devourer as his familiar would have allowed him to expand the size of his Soul at an exponential rate. With its help, it was entirely possible that he might have achieved the level of Archmage within a few years.

    Shame followed swiftly, stemming from two reasons. The first was the thought of abandoning Akasha. While Zeke would never truly entertain the idea of giving her up, the momentary consideration made him feel profoundly guilty. Akasha wasn''t just a tool or a familiar—she was a trusted friend and loyal ally who had saved his life on more than one occasion.

    The second source of shame was tied to the Devourer''s method of growth. Zeke recoiled at his own willingness to feed on the Souls of humans to fuel his power. This wasn''t just ending a life—it was about consuming everything they were, every achievement, every memory, every spark of their being.

    It wasn''t just taking a life; it was appropriating their very existence.

    Zeke wasn''t quite sure what happened to Souls after death, but devouring them felt like a violation on a far deeper level than killing someone. It felt wrong in a way that words couldn''t adequately convey—a fundamental transgression against the essence of life itself.

    And finally, there was relief—relief for the choice he had made that day. Zeke knew himself well enough to recognize the danger: had he chosen the Mnemosyne Devourer as his familiar, he doubted his ability to resist its temptations. The allure of rapid growth would have been overwhelming, and more likely than not, he would have succumbed, becoming something monstrous in the process.

    The announcer''s voice cut through his swirling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

    "Ye''ve all had a taste o'' th'' brew, young ones," the man said, his voice resonating through the amphitheater. "Now, fer those still bold enough t'' carry on, stay in yer seats. Th'' rest o'' ye, stand up an'' step away. Remember this—there''s no shame in knowin'' yer limits, only in thinkin'' ye''re tougher than ye are."

    The words were uncharacteristically cautious for a dwarf, but Zeke understood the reasoning behind them. It was in no one''s interest to foster an environment where the dwarfs felt compelled to push past their limits, risking their sanity for pride''s sake. Offering them a dignified way to withdraw was the right call.

    As expected, his words swayed some of the less prideful contestants. Roughly a third of them rose from their seats, their faces shadowed with defeat as they left the stage.

    Now, only ten contestants remained—among them, Zeke, Eldrin, and Drogar.

    "Quite th'' ride that was, eh?" Drogar said with a strained chuckle, though the weariness in his voice was impossible to miss.

    He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light filtering through the narrow tunnel. The weight on his shoulders felt unfamiliar yet natural. A sturdy leather chest plate encased his torso, and a sword hung at his hip. The metallic tang of sweat and blood lingered in the air. He glanced around, finding himself surrounded by five other figures—their faces illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted torches.

    "Eyes sharp, everyone," a gruff voice called out from ahead. The speaker was a broad-shouldered man with a thick, gray-streaked beard. His axe rested casually on his shoulder, but his sharp eyes darted around the tunnel. "This place gives me the creeps."

    "Relax, Durrek," a lithe woman beside him teased, her bow loosely gripped in one hand. "You say that about every cave we''ve been in."

    "And I''m usually right," Durrek retorted, his tone carrying a hint of humor. "Nothing good ever comes from places like this."

    "Except our coin," Bram, the jovial man with the crossbow, chimed in from the rear. His crooked grin flashed in the torchlight. "Big paydays come from big risks, aye?"

    "Only if we live to spend it," Helena, the armored woman, cut in sternly. She glanced at Finn, the wiry youth with twin daggers, who smirked in response.

    "Details, details," he quipped. "What''s life without a little danger?"

    "How about we focus on the danger in front of us instead of cracking jokes?" Mara''s tone was light, but her eyes stayed fixed on the shadows ahead. "What do we know about this thing?"

    Durrek sighed, his free hand scratching at his beard. "Not much, to be honest. The villagers only saw it in glimpses—too fast, too big, and too quiet."

    "Quiet?" Bram echoed, cocking an eyebrow. "That doesn''t line up with the marks we saw outside. Whatever left those wasn''t exactly subtle."

    Helena nodded, her brow furrowed. "It doesn''t make sense. The tracks look like they belong to a predator—a big one. But if it''s a beast, why would it leave most of the villagers untouched?"

    "Fear," Mara offered, her voice steady. "Predators do that sometimes. A display of power. Keeps the rest of the herd in line."

    "Maybe," Finn said, spinning one of his daggers idly. "Or maybe it''s not a predator at all. What if it''s something... smarter?"

    The group fell silent at his words, their expressions grim. Zeke, or rather Cal, felt the weight of their unease, and his own thoughts churned. He''d been piecing together the fragments of information, and an unsettling possibility had started to form in his mind. Something about the erratic behavior, the strange mix of violence and restraint, didn''t sit right.

    But he couldn''t voice it—not yet. The idea was too disturbing. He wasn''t even sure it was possible.

    "Whatever it is," Durrek finally said, breaking the silence, "we''ll deal with it like we always do. Stick to the plan, watch each other''s backs, and don''t do anything stupid."

    "So," Bram said, his grin returning as he loaded a bolt into his crossbow, "All in a day''s work, eh?"

    Helena rolled her eyes but didn''t respond. The group pressed on, their banter fading as the tunnel widened into a cavern. The air grew colder, carrying a faint, metallic tang that set Zeke''s teeth on edge. The silence deepened, broken only by the soft crunch of their boots on the rocky floor.

    Zeke''s heart pounded as they reached the edge of a deep pit. The enchanted torches barely illuminated the far side, where a jagged opening yawned into darkness. A distant sound—a shrill, high-pitched scream—echoed from within.

    Everyone froze.

    "That''s not encouraging," Finn whispered, his grip tightening on his daggers.

    "Stay sharp," Durrek murmured, his axe at the ready. "It''s here."

    The noise grew louder, reverberating through the cavern. Zeke''s blood ran cold as a massive shadow began to emerge from the darkness, its silhouette shifting and unnatural. His worst fear took form, the thought he hadn''t dared to voice now standing before them.

    The monster had arrived.