The final monster of the day was the Direflame Wyrm, an elite creature with scales that shimmered like molten lava. Its fiery breath scorched the ground around it, and I had to be careful not to be caught in its flames. After a prolonged battle, I found a weakness in its armor and drove my dagger deep into its chest, extinguishing its life.
With the last of the monsters slain, I took a deep breath, the acrid smoke stinging my lungs as I wiped the sweat from my brow with a grimy forearm. The clearing fell silent save for the crackle of dying fires, the night's chill seeping in to soothe my blistered skin. Stephen, who'd hung back at the treeline—smart man, not getting flambéed—approached with his pouch at the ready, eyes wide behind his glasses as he took in the massive corpse.
