Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System-Chapter 437: Third Floor: The Haunted Forest of Winter Deers (31)

Finally, as the battle wore on, they found their opening. Cyrus leapt into the air, his blade glowing brighter than ever as he poured the last of his aether into a downward strike aimed directly at the core. At the same moment, Athena unleashed a massive torrent of frost, encasing the creature in a glacier of shimmering ice. Sylus charged from below, his fists burning with golden energy as he delivered a final, earth-shaking punch to the frozen core.

The eldritch entity let out a deafening, unearthly wail. Cracks spread rapidly through its body, the light of its core growing brighter and brighter until it exploded in a blinding burst of energy. The shockwave threw the trio backward, their bodies battered and bloodied as they crashed to the ground.

When the light faded, the forest was silent. The smaller Winter Deers had vanished, and the oppressive aura was gone. The trio lay on the ground, their breaths ragged, blood pooling beneath them as they stared up at the now-clear sky. Every inch of their bodies ached, their clothes were torn, and their weapons were dulled, but they had won.

"Tell me that was the last one," Sylus muttered, coughing as he forced himself to sit up.

Cyrus groaned in response, too exhausted to speak. Athena let out a weak laugh, her frost-covered staff clattering to the ground beside her.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the forest was still.

The trio emerged from the dungeon, their bodies battered and their steps slow, each movement a testament to the harrowing battle they had just endured. Bloodstains marked their tattered clothing, and a faint, lingering aura of aether clung to them like the ghost of the battle's aftermath. The forest was eerily serene as they trudged out, the sunlight cutting through the trees a bittersweet contrast to the nightmare they'd left behind.

Ahead, the ravine city sprawled beneath them, its stone pathways and cascading waterfalls offering a semblance of peace. They made their way down into the bustling heart of the city, their boots scraping against cobblestone as they drew the curious and concerned stares of passersby. Whispers trailed behind them: tales of warriors who ventured into cursed lands and lived to tell the tale. But the trio barely registered the attention. They were drained, their minds and bodies screaming for respite.

The pub they chose was nestled near the city's central square, its warm amber lights and the smell of roasted meats drawing them in like moths to a flame. The barkeep looked up, his jovial smile faltering for a moment at the sight of the trio. But he quickly regained his composure and ushered them to a corner table.

Cyrus collapsed into a chair, leaning heavily on the table with a groan. "I think every bone in my body has a crack in it," he muttered, wincing as he shifted his weight.

Athena slumped beside him, setting her staff against the wall and letting her head rest on the table. "Don't talk to me about bones. I'm pretty sure my ribs are on strike."

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Sylus, the least vocal of the group but no less battered, nodded toward the barkeep. "Food. Lots of it."

Plates began to arrive in waves: steaming piles of roasted meat, baskets of warm bread, bowls of thick stew, and pitchers of spiced ale. The scent alone seemed to rejuvenate them slightly. Despite their injuries, they wasted no time digging in. Every bite felt like fuel reigniting the embers of their strength.

As the first few mouthfuls settled, something remarkable happened. Their regeneration, sluggish and almost nonexistent from exhaustion, suddenly roared back to life. Cuts began to knit together, bruises faded, and the deep aches in their muscles subsided. Their bodies drank in the sustenance greedily, aether flowing freely once more as their natural healing processes kicked in.

Athena flexed her hand, watching as the last traces of a deep gash on her palm faded. "Guess we just needed to refuel," she said, her voice lighter now.

Cyrus downed a mug of ale in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Best damn meal I've ever had," he said, already reaching for another helping.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing as his wounds closed up. "Let them stare," he said, glancing at the pub's other patrons, whose eyes were still fixed on the trio's slowly healing forms. "We earned this."

The room buzzed with quiet murmurs, admiration and awe mingling in the air, but the trio paid it no mind. For now, they were content to sit, eat, and bask in the strange yet comforting knowledge that, despite everything, they were still alive.

The pub quickly grew lively, the clatter of plates and mugs mixing with laughter and the hum of conversation. The trio sat huddled in their corner booth, their plates mostly cleared now but a fresh round of drinks still in front of them. They leaned in slightly, their voices low but firm as they dissected their latest ordeal.

Athena pushed her glass aside and rubbed her temples. "That dungeon was… something else. It wasn't just the monsters. The whole place felt alive, like it was watching us. Especially that part with the illusions." She shuddered. "I still don't know how long we were stuck in that loop."

Cyrus leaned back, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, which he had yet to stow completely. "Illusions are one thing, but the sheer number of Winter Deers? I thought we'd be fighting those things forever. Then there were those Eldritch Deers." He grimaced. "I swear, each one was worse than the last. I'm still seeing those eyeball-covered antlers in my head."

Sylus nodded slightly, his gaze unfocused. "They were designed to break us. Divide us. Make us desperate. We only made it through because we stayed together."

Athena snorted. "Barely. But even then, that wasn't the worst of it."

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. "That snake-like man… the one who used a throne world. Cyrus, that wasn't just similar to yours. It was—it was too similar." She looked at him sharply. "Who was he?"

Cyrus frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "I have no idea. He didn't feel human, though. It was like he was something... older, something alien. And his throne world—" He shook his head. "I've never felt anything like it. It wasn't just power; it was hatred. Like his entire existence was bent on destruction."

As Cyrus spoke, Sylus's posture shifted imperceptibly, his normally composed demeanor faltering for the briefest moment. His fingers tightened around his glass, his jaw clenching before he could stop it.

Athena caught it immediately. "Sylus?" Her tone was sharp, her eyes narrowing. "What's wrong?"

Cyrus turned to him as well, his gaze hard. "You know something."

Sylus exhaled slowly, forcing his hand to relax. When he looked up, his expression had already shifted back to calm, the shadow of whatever had passed now gone. "Nothing," he said smoothly, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. "Just… reminded me of something I faced a long time ago. Not worth discussing."

Athena wasn't convinced. "Sylus—"

"But that beast at the end," Sylus interrupted, cutting her off with a deliberate shift in tone. "Now that was something out of nightmares. I've fought plenty of Eldritch things in my time, but that… whatever it was, it was in a league of its own."

Cyrus sighed, his eyes narrowing but letting the topic slide—for now. "You're not wrong. I've never seen something mutate like that. Every second, it felt like it was becoming more of an abomination."

"It wasn't just its strength," Sylus continued. "It was the way it toyed with us. The illusions, the sheer malice of its attacks. It wasn't fighting to survive—it wanted to break us, completely and utterly."

Athena crossed her arms, clearly still frustrated by Sylus's earlier dodge, but she relented, leaning back in her chair. "I've read about beings like that, but they're supposed to be legends, stories to keep kids in line. Seeing it in person…" She shivered. "I don't know how we're alive."

Cyrus gave her a wry grin. "Because we're too stubborn to die. And because Sylus here doesn't know how to quit."

Sylus chuckled, but his eyes were distant again for just a moment before he drained his glass. "Maybe. Or maybe we just got lucky."

The noise of the pub filled the gaps in their conversation, but an unspoken tension lingered beneath the surface. Athena's sharp gaze lingered on Sylus, but she didn't press further. For now, they let the topic rest, though the weight of the snake-like man and Sylus's reaction to him remained heavy in the back of their minds.

The trio remained at the booth as the pub's energy continued to rise, laughter and cheers filling the room. The weight of their earlier conversation hung for only a moment longer before Athena waved down a server, ordering another round.

"Well," she said, sitting back with an exaggerated groan, "if we're going to talk about the most horrifying dungeon we've ever survived, we should at least make it fun. Let's rate the worst moments, shall we?"