Fin moved through the mass of beasts like a force of nature given malevolent purpose, his kusarigama singing its song of death in notes composed of severed arteries and crushed skulls. The chain whipped out to wrap around a direwolf's neck, and with a sharp yank, the creature's head separated from its body in a spray of steaming blood that hissed against his superheated armor. The blade followed through without pause, opening the belly of a charging direbear from sternum to pelvis, spilling organs that cooked instantly against his lightning-wreathed form.

He was beauty and horror combined, a dancer performing steps choreographed in violence, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next with mechanical precision that left no energy wasted. A pack of three wolves tried to coordinate their attack, lunging from different angles with the kind of tactical awareness that spoke to disturbing intelligence. The kusarigama's chain became a whirling barrier, the electrified links catching the first wolf mid-leap and reducing it to charred meat before it hit the ground. The blade found the second's throat while his armored fist caved in the third's skull with a sickening crunch that sent fragments of bone through what remained of its brain.

Blood painted the ground in abstract patterns, so much of it that the earth had transformed into red mud that squelched with each step. Ash from dissolved bodies drifted through the air like snow, mixing with smoke from burning fur to create a choking haze that would have blinded normal vision. But Fin's Electromagnetic Synchronization didn't rely on sight, it painted the battlefield in signatures of life and death, showing him exactly where each threat lurked before it could materialize into danger.

His Lightning Armament responded to his will like an extension of his body, shifting and reshaping with fluid grace. The kusarigama dissolved back into pure energy, reforming as a spear that he drove through a charging beast's skull before the weapon became twin daggers that he used to shred through a wolf pack with surgical brutality. Each transformation took microseconds, each kill executed with maximum efficiency.

A particularly large direbear, easily ten feet tall and massing as much as a small wagon, bellowed its challenge and charged with ground-shaking force. Fin dropped a Plasma Compression Core at his feet almost casually, then activated Quantum Leap. Reality folded around him as he teleported to a knife thirty yards away, materializing in the center of another cluster of beasts. Behind him, the core detonated with the fury of a captive star achieving freedom, the direbear and everything within fifteen feet exploding in a expanding sphere of superheated plasma.

He didn't pause to admire his work. His daggers became a greatsword that cleaved through two beasts with a single swing, then reformed as a war hammer that turned a wolf's ribcage into powder with one overhead strike. Blood soaked into his armor, only to vaporize instantly against the superheated surface, creating clouds of rust-red steam that made him look like some demon emerging from hell's foundries.

While his body moved on autopilot, kill, pivot, strike, dodge, kill again, his Electromagnetic Synchronization swept across the entire battlefield, checking on his temporary allies. Daryl's signature moved steadily along the eastern wall, his progress slower than Fin's but consistent, each movement precise and economical. The man was mowing through his section with methodical brutality, never wasting a single motion or joule of energy.

Vance and Triana worked in tandem along the southern approach, their complementary fighting styles creating a defensive barrier that nothing seemed able to breach. Vance's massive form served as an immovable object, his greatsword rising and falling with devastating regularity, while Triana's wind magic provided ranged support that kept beasts from overwhelming him through sheer numbers.

Onrio and Harbour dominated the western wall, their combined assault making impressive progress. But Fin noted with growing concern that they were moving incrementally slower than the others, their electromagnetic signatures showing subtle signs of fatigue that suggested they were operating closer to their limits than they'd admit.

He dropped three more Plasma Compression Cores in a triangular pattern, then leaped away as the beasts closed in on what they thought was an isolated target. The synchronized detonation created overlapping kill zones that erased everything within a hundred-foot radius, the triple explosion briefly turning night into day and sending a pressure wave that rattled windows in the distant city.

But what concerned him was what his Electromagnetic Synchronization was showing him from the southern wall.

Triana's signature had stopped moving. Completely still, while Vance's frantic movements suggested he'd been forced into a purely defensive posture, trying to protect her while fending off the relentless assault.

Cursing under his breath, Fin threw himself into a killing frenzy that would have been reckless if he were anyone else. Ten cores went into the ground in rapid succession, creating a minefield that would detonate the moment he was clear. His weapons became a whirlwind of death, spear, axe, sword, hammer, back to kusarigama, each form chosen for maximum lethality against whatever beast was closest. He carved through the remaining northern forces like a hot knife through rotten butter, leaving nothing but cooling corpses and ash in his wake.

The moment the last beast fell, he was moving, sprinting along the top of the wall toward the southern approach with speed that made the world blur. Behind him, the cores detonated in sequence, turning the entire northern killing ground into a miniature hellscape of fire and plasma.

The southern wall came into view, and what Fin saw made his jaw clench beneath his helm. Triana knelt against the battlement, one hand pressed against her chest as her body rocked with deep, shuddering breaths that looked agonizing. Her face had gone pale, sweat pouring down her temples, and her mana signature flickered like a candle flame in a hurricane.

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Vance stood over her like a guardian statue, his greatsword rising and falling with metronomic regularity, but the big man was bleeding from a dozen wounds. His armor hung in tatters, exposing fresh cuts on his arms that wept crimson. A particularly nasty gash across his chest suggested something with very large claws had gotten past his guard. He was running on pure willpower and muscle memory, each swing slightly slower than the last.

Fin didn't announce his arrival. He simply landed in the middle of the remaining beasts and became a storm of violence incarnate. His Lightning Armament blazed with renewed intensity, the kusarigama's chain wrapping around throats and legs while the blade found every vital point with surgical accuracy. He moved like liquid death, flowing from one kill to the next without pause, giving the beasts no time to react or coordinate.

A direwolf lunged at his back. The chain caught it mid-leap and slammed it into the ground hard enough to crater stone. A direbear tried to capitalize on what it thought was an opening. The blade opened its throat to the spine in a spray that painted nearby walls crimson. Three wolves attacked simultaneously. Fin's armored fist caved in one's skull, the chain strangled the second, and the blade impaled the third through the eye socket.

In less than two minutes, the southern approach was clear. Cooling corpses littered the ground in heaps, their blood forming pools that reflected the lightning still crackling across Fin's armor.

He turned to face Triana, his helm retracting to expose a face that held no sympathy, only cold. When he spoke, his voice was flat.

"You're putting your entire team in harm's way by dragging them through increasingly dangerous dungeons when something is clearly, catastrophically wrong with your core." His eyes bored into hers. "I'm not actually part of your team. If it comes down to a choice between your life and mine, between saving you or saving myself, I will leave you to die without hesitation or regret. Consider this your only warning."

Triana's mouth opened, rage and shame warring across her features as she prepared to launch into a tirade. But Fin didn't stay to hear it. He simply activated Quantum Leap, teleporting back to a knife on the wall's top, and took off running toward the western approach where his Electromagnetic Synchronization showed that Harbour and Onrio had nearly cleared their section but were flagging badly.

The western wall presented a different kind of chaos. Harbour and Onrio had maybe thirty beasts remaining, but both fighters moved with the heavy, sluggish motions of people operating on fumes. Harbour's daggers still found vital points, but her usual fluid grace had degraded into something more mechanical. Onrio's light orbs flickered with diminishing power, their brilliance fading as his mana reserves approached critical depletion.

Fin and Daryl arrived at almost the same moment, the older fighter appearing from the eastern approach with the kind of timing that suggested he'd also been monitoring the overall situation. They exchanged no words, no elaborate coordination, just two warriors who understood violence.

They hit the remaining beasts like a matched set of scythes harvesting wheat. Daryl's knife found throats and spines with economical brutality, while Fin painted arcs of lightning and blood across the killing ground. Harbour and Onrio fell back gratefully, their labored breathing audible even over the sounds of combat.

The last beast, a particularly stubborn direwolf that refused to acknowledge it was already dead, fell with Daryl's knife through its skull and Fin's blade severing its spine simultaneously. The creature dissolved into the ground in the shimmer of dungeon mana, and suddenly the battlefield was silent except for the crackling of dying fires and the ragged breathing of exhausted warriors.

Daryl and Fin simultaneously sat down on the blood-soaked ground, their backs against the wall, both too tired to care about dignity or appearance. Fin reached into his dimensional storage and pulled out a cookie, one of the few remaining treats he'd been hoarding. The simple pleasure of sugar and butter seemed absurdly important in the aftermath of industrial-scale violence.

"Hey, got one of those to spare?" Daryl asked, eyeing the cookie with the kind of longing usually reserved for lost loves.

Fin took a deliberate bite, savoring the flavor, then shook his head with exaggerated regret. "Sorry, running dangerously low on supplies. Can't afford to share, even with such distinguished company."

Daryl barked a laugh that held genuine humor despite everything they'd just endured. "You're an absolute bastard, you know that?"

Before Fin could formulate a suitably witty response, a notification blazed across everyone's vision simultaneously:

Wave 2 Cleared Next Wave Commencing in Thirty Minutes Current Survival Rate: 100% Warning: Final Wave Difficulty Significantly Increased

Daryl stared at the notification with the expression of someone who had just been told their execution date. "This is officially the worst dungeon I've ever been part of, and I've been doing this shit for decades. Decades, and I've never seen escalation this aggressive."

Fin laughed. "Really? This is only my second dungeon run. I thought this was normal."

Daryl's head whipped around so fast Fin heard vertebrae crack, his expression cycling through disbelief, horror, and grudging respect before settling on something closer to existential despair. He muttered something that sounded like "freaky powerful elves" while shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the information like water from his ears.

Harbour and Onrio sat down beside Fin and Daryl without ceremony, Harbour's usual predatory grace completely absent as she simply collapsed against the wall like a puppet with cut strings.

"You got any more of those cookies?" Harbour asked, her void-like eyes fixing on Fin.

Fin pulled another from his storage without hesitation. "Here."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Daryl's voice cracked with indignation, his eyes going comically wide. "She gets a cookie and I don't? What kind of sexist bullshit is this?"

Before anyone could respond to that particular accusation, heavy footsteps announced the arrival of Triana and Vance. The big man looked like he'd been through a meat grinder, his armor hanging in strips and fresh blood seeping from wounds that should have required immediate medical attention. But what held everyone's focus was the fact that his greatsword, that massive blade of condensed mana, was pressed firmly against Fin's back.

"How dare you threaten her," Vance rumbled. "How dare you speak to our leader that way after everything she's sacrificed for this team."

The reaction was immediate, everyone jumping to try to calm the situation. But Fin didn't move at all beyond taking another bite of his cookie.

Then his body began to crackle with lightning. Not the controlled, shaped energy of his armor, but raw electrical discharge that arced across his skin in chaotic patterns. The temperature around him spiked dramatically, and the smell of ozone became overpowering. His voice, when he spoke, carried no emotion whatsoever.

"You should move that sword, Vance. Right now. Before you make a mistake that gets someone killed."

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