Lyra’s screams tore through the tunnel, bouncing off the walls like a dying animal’s last cries. I ran—sprinted–perception boosted by my flickers. I would catch sight of her–

  “Set!”

  But she would disappear, taken around a bend, her body crashed against passages that were too narrow.

  “Lyra!” I called, catching sight of her.

  A flicker of movement—Lyra’s limp hand, fingers still twitching–vanished around another bend.

  “LYRA!”

  No answer–just the sound of a shadow slithering and retracting. I rounded the corner, and ran down the twisting passage, happy that it was one single path now. Then, I rounded one more corner and slid to a stunned stop.

  The passage opened into a slightly more open, oily cavern. Veins of dim ore lined the cavern, illuminating the Shadow Beast that waited on the other side.

  The thing’s face—if you could call it that—was a sunken void, a pit where its mouth should’ve been, ringed by jagged bone spurs. From the back of its head, cable-like tentacles writhed, flicking the air or slapping the wall behind it.

  Its upper body, was gaunt and stretched, like someone had been starved but not allowed to die. Its flesh was paper-thin, wrapped around a warped humanoid’s skeletal frame.

  Shadowy veins ran across its skin, spewing wisps of shadow in slow, unnerving rhythms. Its arms were thin and long, only expanding when reaching the palms, which themselves ended in clawed, multi-jointed fingers.

  A whimper caused my gaze to travel downward.

  A pod-like bed on centipede legs that held a pool of writhing tentacles–that was what its wasting torso was joined to. The tentacles spilled out of the bed, writhing like their juices were constantly sloshing within them, deforming their form.

  Within that mess of tentacles, whimpers escaped Lyra’s throat–she was wrapped in tentacles, those cursed things trying to further drag and trap her in the tangle. So many places, the tentacles had constricted her. I could only see parts of her body–her teary eyes that screamed for help, portions of her thigh, her outstretched left hand trying to reach for me.

  Her whimpers seemed to excite the tentacles. The one in her mouth throbbed and entered further. Her pained groan echoed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she teetered on the edge of consciousness.

  Cautiously, I summoned the God Arm.

  The Shadow Beast tilted its head—silver eyes opening on its shoulders—and the tentacles beneath it rippled, tightening around Lyra further.

  A thought occurred to me–banishment. But knowing how that ability worked, would Lyra be dragged with it? I couldn’t risk it.

  “Screw it,” I pointed the God Arm at the Shadow Beast.

  Mouths sprouted from beside its head, and they began to laugh as Lyra’s muffled cries intensified. Black spittle dripped from its gaping mouth, spreading more than one would have thought, further drowning the floor in muck.

  I quickly raised my free hand and fired a Water Glaive at its chest. The crooked mouths suddenly stopped. That was when I rushed in, driving one hand into the pool.

  “Lyra, hold on!”

  I had a few seconds. I gripped the glaive by its water body and twisted it, causing a whirlpool of shadows and water as I utterly obliterated the thing’s chest. I was shocked–the Shadow Beast’s body was gooier when interacting with the glaive, strands of shadow flesh sticking to the watery surface like webs.

  The glaive destabilized, but I had done enough damage–the upper body was hanging on by a few threads of flesh. Tentacles furiously writhing, I twisted and ripped them off with the combined power of New Arm and my Levels. Calling her name, I ripped her away from the pool of tentacles, unable to ignore the squelching that accompanied the tentacles, losing their grip on her body.

  Holding her close, I fired a few shots of the God Arm at the Shadow Beast’s body and took great pleasure in the pained hisses of the shadow mouths.

  Lyra barely stirred in my arms. She was limp, skin glistening with slick remnants of that damned creature’s embrace. Every breath she took was shallow, wheezing. Multiple spots around her body were bloodied like the tentacles had managed to burrow into her body by a few centimeters.

  The Shadow Beast let out a final, gurgling sound as its ruined torso caved in further. The strands of blackened flesh that had barely held it together sagged, breaking apart and falling into the bed of writhing, slowing tentacles below. The centipede legs twitched violently before crumpling with a thud.

  The shadowy mouths were all that showed signs of life. They coughed up gouts of black fluid, choking on their own deaths. Then, one by one, the silver eyes that had sprouted on its body burst with wet pops, and streaks of silver smoke left them.

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  So, that was what a Shadow Beast dying looked like.

  I thanked all that was good in the world that I didn’t have to waste more resources and turned my attention back to Lyra.

  I adjusted my grip, shifting her to get a better look at the damage. My stomach twisted.

  Her body—riddled with more holes than I expected. Tiny, shallow ones where the tentacles had eaten away at her flesh, dissolving the outer layer as they tried to get in deeper. The wounds were raw, faintly smoldering as if some corrosive substance had soaked into her skin. Her arms and thighs were the worst, the skin there eroded enough to expose the raw pink beneath, twitching as though the nerves were still screaming.

  But her face—

  A wave of nausea slammed into me.

  Her face was covered in tiny spiral shells. They clung to her cheeks, her brow, the soft skin below her eyes, even one latched to the side of her left eyeball, which made it impossible for her to close her eye, even with her going in and out of consciousness.

  The shells were black, oily things. They looked hard on the outside, but their surfaces bulged like they were just thin flesh, with something beneath their surface.

  I reached out instinctively, fingers hovering over her cheek. The shells twitched at my proximity.

  That was when one of them cracked open.

  A slit, barely visible at first, then widening to reveal a spot of silver within. It was a silver eye–a silver eye was peeking at me, with something else wriggling along its contours. Slowly, a wriggling, shadowy thing, spilled out, its form worm-like and thin.

  Then it screeched.

  A sharp, piercing sound echoed violently in the cavern, rattling inside my skull like a physical force. Lyra jerked in my arms, her body trembling weakly as more of the shells split, more of the leech-like creatures emerging.

  Another screech, then another—dozens. A chorus of writhing parasite-leeches wriggling from their shells screeched in unison, their shadowy bodies vibrating in resonance with their sound.

  I acted without thinking but with great irritation. My metal fingers wrapped around one of the leeches, and I squished it.

  Suddenly, everything changed. The damn things shut up pretty quickly. They all closed up immediately, but the soft sound of gurgling became more noticeable. I quickly peeled off the one I had killed, inspected the wound, and just saw incision marks, and then I gripped the next one.

  Curious about how these things worked, I pulled at it. It peeled away with a wet, sickening schlick, resisting as it clung to her flesh. The second it fully detached, a dozen thin lashes came out to slap my fingers—then it let out another screech, this one directed straight at me to a degree that surpassed earlier.

  Pain exploded behind my eyes, a jagged, grinding sensation that burrowed straight into my skull. I gasped, nearly dropping the damned thing as I almost fell back. It wriggled madly, as more of a black, fleshy form came out, shifting in ways that made my stomach twist.

  It twisted toward my finger and clamed down with its tiny teeth.

  “Heh. Sucker.”

  Idiot tried to penetrate my metal fingers.

  A single, vindictive squeeze, and the thing burst in my grip—no blood, just an awful puddle of black goo that began evaporating almost instantly.

  Two down, I set my sights on the rest.

  Lyra whimpered weakly, the remaining leeches still nestled against her face, and very clearly trying to burrow deeper. The shells were trembling now, the creatures within agitated, as if sensing their kin’s death.

  Gritting my teeth, I quickly pulled out the one latched to her eyeball, ignoring the uncomfortable degree with which that organ stretched.

  Lyra screamed. Not just a whimper—an actual scream, hoarse and broken, her back arching as the thing peeled away.

  “I’m sorry, Lyra…”

  Her eye was reddened, with juices leaking out, but that was it.

  I went for another shell. The second I touched it, the leech inside twisted violently, reacting to my touch. It screeched, the sound rattling through my bones—

  —but I was ready this time.

  I ripped it free.

  The moment it left her, I could see what it had done—a small, hollowed-out indentation in her cheek, the flesh beneath it raw and pitted, as if the thing had changed to chewing on her and eating what it could.

  I crushed this one faster.

  Then the next.

  And the next.

  They fought back each time, and each time, they failed to penetrate New Arm. Their dying screeches lashed at my skull like physical blows.

  All throughout, I focused on “facts.” My HP was not going down. I knew there were status ailment-like things in this world because of my deep dive on Signature Weapons. The screech would sometimes fail, too. The screech was hitting me with some kind of ailment, but if my HP was untouched, then I was free to continue.

  They couldn’t stop me.

  By the time I reached the last one, Lyra was sobbing weakly, her body shuddering in my arms. I hesitated for a breath, but there was no choice. With one last, brutal tug, I tore the final parasite free.

  Having a thought, I tossed it into the air, and punched it, sending it into the dirt and smashing it beneath the weight of my downward punch.

  The cavern went silent the moment it died.

  No more screeches. No more writhing things. Just the sound of Lyra’s ragged breathing and weak cries, and my own heart hammering in my chest.

  "Lyra," I rasped, throat dry, voice hoarse from everything that had just happened. “Do you have another one of those healing gems?”

  She nodded weakly and patted her pouch. I dug through and pulled out the gem, breathing a sigh of relief when I did. I carefully put it in her mouth and she chewed, the sound of it crumbling a sweet sound for my ears.

  “I’m sorry, Lyra,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry for letting them take you.”

  Lyra closed her eyes and quietly sobbed.