The grunt came from a grove of dead trees and mossy rocks just behind the spring. The air was even heavier, saturated with a musty smell and rotten flesh. The mist seemed thicker there, as if attracted by something.
Arthur, coming back from his gratitude, was pale. "He's an Ogre. A big one. He sleeps halfway, leaning against the rock. Level 7."
A Somnolent Ogre. Level 7. It was a significant leap from goblins and slimes. These creatures, though slow, were incredibly resilient and possessed a brute force capable of reducing a man to mush.
"Are we turning around?" whispered Arthur, hopeful in his voice.
"We need this water," objected Conor, pragmatically. "And running away from a level 7 monster will not earn us any points."
Lyra studied the surroundings." Topography is in our favor. The rocks form a bottleneck. We can channel it."
Hakime quickly analyzed the situation. Fighting was a risk. But it was also an opportunity. The ether of a level 7 monster would be substantial. And that would allow them to test their skills against a real threat.
"We engage," he decided, his voice low but firm. "But we don't do that in force. We use cunning and land."
He explained his plan. They put themselves in position. Conor placed himself at the entrance of the bottleneck, his shield anchored to the ground, his mass ready. Lyra climbed silently onto a rock overlooking the area, offering her a diving view. Arthur stood on his side, his daggers shining faintly.
Hakime stepped forward alone, until he distinguished the dark mass of the Ogre. He was tall, his skin gray and pleated like old bark. Short twisted horns came out of his forehead. His big belly was moving slowly to the rhythm of his breathing. He held a huge club made of a whole tree trunk.
Hakime raised his spear and, instead of projecting a beam, concentrated his light into a single, bright, burning point in the Ogre's eye. It was not an attack, but a provocation. A pinprick for a giant, but enough to wake him up with a start.
The Ogre growled, opening bloodshot eyes. He saw Hakime, that little luminous creature that had disturbed him. With a roar of anger, he rose, shaking the ground, and charged.
As expected, he rushed into the bottleneck. Conor, taking a deep breath, activated his Ironskin. His skin took on a metallic hue as the Ogre hit him hard. The shock was terrible. Conor's shield groaned, and his feet plowed the ground, but he held on, stopping the load dead.
"Now!" yelled Hakime.
From her perch, Lyra rained a volley of sharp glass needles, aiming at the creature's eyes and neck. The Ogre raised his arm to protect himself, the needles breaking on his thick skin, but some found their way, making him roar in pain.
Arthur used his Quickstep, appearing and disappearing around the Ogre's legs, cutting his tendons with his daggers. The wounds were shallow, but they distracted the monster and prevented him from focusing on Conor.
Hakime, meanwhile, was concentrating his attacks. He didn't waste his ether on blinding flashes. He projected fine rays of light, precise and piercing, aiming at the same points as Lyra: the eyes, the throat, the joints. Each impact left a burn mark and made the Ogre cringe with rage.
The fight was intense. The Ogre, though slow, was a bulldozer. His club fell near Conor, digging a crater into the ground. The mist he exhaled weighed down their limbs, and Hakime felt his supply of ether diminish dangerously.
Suddenly, the Ogre, exasperated by Arthur's stings, swept the floor of his club. Arthur, too confident, couldn't dodge fast enough. The tip of the trunk hit him sideways, sending him waltzing against a tree with a sinister crackling sound. Arthur collapsed, grimacing in pain, his right arm hanging down, inert.
"Arthur!" cried Hakime.
The loss of their scout and their main distraction changed the dynamic. The Ogre now focused entirely on Conor, who was bending under repeated blows. His Ironskin was beginning to show signs of fatigue, cracks appearing on his hardened skin.
"Hakime!" scolded Conor, his teeth clenched. "Do something!"
Hakime knew he had to finish this, and quickly. He took a deep breath, drawing on the last reserves of his ether. He couldn't afford a specific ray. He needed power. Brute force.
He raised both hands, gathering all the light he could master. A sphere of pure light, much larger and more unstable than anything he had created before, formed between his palms. She was pulsing, eager to be released.
"Lyra!" he yelled. "Guide me!"
Lyra, instantly understanding, created a long, thin glass crystal, like a magnifying lens, which she positioned between Hakime and the Ogre.
Hakime pushed the sphere of light with all his might. She went through Lyra's crystal. And there, a miracle happened. The crystal channeled and concentrated light, transforming it from a diffuse sphere into a narrow and devastating laser, a white man so pure that he seemed to pierce reality itself.
The beam hit the Ogre in the chest. There was no explosion, but a high-pitched whistle. The light pierced the thick skin, flesh and bones, crossing the monster from side to side. The Ogre stopped short, his club falling from his fingers. He looked at his chest, where a perfectly circular hole, with charred edges, showed the landscape behind him. Then, with a grunt of misunderstanding, he collapsed heavily, shaking the ground.
The silence fell deeper than ever.
Hakime fell to his knees, exhausted, his ether supply almost empty. Conor was breathing loudly, his Ironskin dissipating to reveal a body covered in bruises. Lyra came down from her rock, her face pale but intact.
They rushed to Arthur, who was clenching his teeth in pain. "Sorry guys... I think my arm is broken."
As they examined their friend, a flood of ether, far greater than anything they had ever known, overwhelmed them. It was dense, almost sickening, but powerful. Their watches panicked. The energy of a level 7 monster shared between them was enormous.
Hakime felt an immediate change in him. As if a threshold had been crossed. His watch confirmed his sensations:
Level 2 reached.
+1 points of statistics available.
They had won. They had survived their first real challenge. But the price was heavy: Arthur was wounded, their resources were depleted, and night was approaching. Their expedition had become much more dangerous.