"What the…" Jack's eyes widened as he stared at the massive cinema-style display ahead.

The image showed a giant salamander tearing through the swamp, locked in brutal combat with a huge black lobster that darted between pools of muck and shattered trees.

"We're still trying to figure out what's going on here," the commentator's voice came in, smooth but filled with excitement. "But it looks like The Shadows somehow befriended—or gained control of—a creature from inside The Tower. I don't know how they pulled that off, but… they did. That lava salamander is clearly fighting for the Climbers and is doing serious damage to the polymorph boss."

The screen zoomed in. The lobster was slammed hard in the hind legs by the salamander's molten bite. Projectiles sliced through the air, hammering its eyes. Blood and gore burst out in messy sprays.

The Climbers moved like clockwork, squads of three weaving through the swamp, keeping up relentless fire. The boss was pinned, caught between the salamander's assault and the precise strikes of the Shadows. Each time the lobster tried to counter, a Climber was already there—blade flashing, a projectile whistling through the air, breaking its rhythm.

"Incredible coordination from The Shadows, as always," the commentator said, grinning from the small corner inset. "They've integrated their new... unusual teammate flawlessly."

Jack leaned back in his chair, but his eyes narrowed, fixed on one figure.

"Wait… there's something off about Climber Pablo Garcia."

The display refocused. Pablo's figure was highlighted, showing him guarded tightly by three teammates. His eyes... they didn't look right. Not fully lost, but distant.

"For those unfamiliar—Pablo Garcia is a Spanish-born Climber who joined The Shadows as a sort of guest. Some of you might know him as a close friend of Gen-1 Climber Alonso Shemson. And right now… there's something strange going on. First time included in a boss fight, and look at that expression. Could this be linked to the salamander? Is Pablo somehow controlling it?"

The fight surged on.

Suddenly, a javelin struck deep into the lobster's remaining eye. The beast recoiled violently, then began to change—its massive shell shifting grotesquely, elongating, warping.

In seconds, the lobster's form melted into a translucent mass bristling with long, writhing tendrils.

A giant jellyfish.

"The boss has just entered the second of its five stages. We don't expect this to pose much trouble for The Shadows. If they pull this off, they'll be the fourth group—including Gen-1's seven—to have successfully taken down this boss."

The salamander was hammered by the jellyfish's tendrils, caught in the relentless barrage. It twisted, tried to evade, but couldn't escape the assault entirely. Even so, it countered with a vicious tail strike, driving deep into the jellyfish's body and smashing one of the glowing orbs within.

As the tail tore free, acid hissed along its length—corrosive slime burning into the salamander's flesh.

"The allied creature's taking heavy damage," the commentator said, voice quickening. "It looks like it's pulling back now, which makes sense. The jellyfish has entered its damage immunity phase. That fits the pattern of a controlled beast more than a wild ally. And—just in—AI predictions now place the odds of this salamander being under Pablo's control at over 86%. That is… honestly fascinating. Just shows how little we truly understand about the potential of Climbers and the workings of The Tower."

After a delay of several seconds, the salamander recovered, straightening slowly.

One of The Shadows stepped forward. His frame seemed to bulk up in an instant, arms and legs swelling with power. From range, he hurled the javelin with brutal speed—the ground beneath his feet cracked wide from the force of his launch, dust and stone bursting outward.

The javelin shot like a cannon blast—the ground cracked wide under his feet, dust exploding around him as his entire frame coiled and snapped like a spring. It tore clean through another core, punching out the far side of the jellyfish in a spray of acid and gore that rained down over the swamp.

"And there it is—the doped-Ray strike! We've seen it before—but damn does it still look impressive! One of the five confirmed mutations within The Shadows so far. Or—if we count the mysterious Pablo and his creature control—that makes six! Just one short of the seven mutations expected. The question is… who will be the final one? Who's hiding that last surprise?"

Jack's eyes widened in surprise.

Pablo… Pablo had mutated?!

He knew from the groups that had gone before The Shadows that each batch always ended with seven climbers mutating by the end of it somehow. It had been so with the Indian team led by Bhavesh, the mixed team led by Leonhard, and Ming's Chinese team. And, of course, it had been the same with Gen-1's famous seven, including Alonso.

But for Pablo to be one of the seven in The Shadows group… what were the odds!

Not only that, but according to public knowledge available in ASCENT, he had read that the seven most active climbers in each batch were the ones to mutate.

But… what the heck had Pablo been doing?

He hadn't even fought in any boss fight before this one.

And… why were all his friends stars on TV now!?

Jack shook his head at the surreal nature of the events, yet his eyes locked on the display as the battle raged on.

The salamander stayed back now, injured but still watching. The squads handled the aggro during the immunity phase, moving like a machine—while Ray lined up each brutal strike.

One by one, the cores fell.

Soon, only two remained—glowing faintly within the jellyfish's massive, pulsing form.

Ray stepped forward again, feet low and steady, veins bulging against his skin even through the cracks in his armor. Another javelin launched—a blur in the air—and smashed the core into fragments, acid splashing across the marsh.

"And here it comes—the invisible stage! And—oh! Look at that—the salamander's moving in! It's blocking the boss! Auch! That's heavy damage it's taking, but it's holding the line, keeping that thing pinned. Can it last long enough?"

The invisible jellyfish struck fast.

Thirteen tendrils lashed out—slamming into the salamander from all sides. Flesh tore. Its legs buckled and broke beneath it. The chest cracked open, lava-like blood pouring out in rivers that hissed against the swamp water.

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"It's down! The allied salamander has fallen! But—what a stand! It bought The Shadows the time they needed—and another javelin lands the final hit! That strike came less than five microseconds after immunity dropped, folks. The best timing we've seen so far—flawless execution! Without question, the strongest performance we've witnessed at this stage!"

But the battle wasn't over.

The creature twitched—its shattered form pulling together, reshaping. The swamp glowed red as molten wings spread wide.

"The third stage… the lava dragon! They're not done yet!"

Then the commentator's voice cracked with shock.

"Wait—wait—what the… Roll that back! No way—just look at that!"

The replay zoomed in on Pablo. The moment the salamander fell, he jerked back—eyes clearing, head shaking as if waking up.

As the jellyfish died, Pablo reached into a small bag at his waist, drew out an orb, and hurled it forward.

And there—right before their eyes—a new creature materialized. Another lava salamander took shape, its molten body surging to life.

"Oh. My. God. It's him! It is him! Pablo's mutation—it's real! What are we watching right now?! This is like real-life Huntermon! Absolutely insane!"

The fight went on, the salamander lunging and twisting to restrict the dragon's movements. It did its best—biting, slamming, blocking—but took heavy hits for its trouble. Its movements, while powerful, lacked the finesse of a true combatant. There was no strategy behind the raw strength. No awareness of spacing, no sense of timing. It fought like a beast—clearly not like a warrior.

But at the front lines, another Climber stepped in. His figure danced between strikes, dodging molten blasts and claw swipes with ease. A near-miss sent a wave of lava splashing across his body—and yet, before the molten burn could even settle, his skin knit back together, steam hissing from the wounds as if they were nothing.

Meanwhile, the display zoomed in on another member of The Shadows—this one odd in nature. Four arms, not two. Each hand wielded a strange, curved dagger. Blades flashed as he weaved through the dragon's legs, slashing deep with brutal precision.

"Absolutely insane performance so far," the commentator breathed, excitement rising with every word. "Neither Otto nor Leonie have even moved yet. That's how clean this fight's been. Honestly, I feel a little sorry for the poor polymorph boss. Just look at this beating."

Minutes passed like seconds as the dragon roared and took to the sky, wings beating the air in desperation. But the salamander lunged—bit down on its hind leg like a rabid dog—jaws locking deep. It refused to let go, no matter how the dragon thrashed.

Ray and the others wasted no time. Projectiles hammered the dragon's wings again and again, tearing through scale and flesh. Blood and molten gore rained down, the wings shredded beyond use.

The dragon smashed the salamander to the ground, once, twice, until it burst in an eruption of lava-like gore. But by then, it was too late. The wings were ruined. The creature could no longer fly.

It fell. And soon after—the dragon was finished.

But the fight wasn't over yet.

The corpse twisted, bones and flesh reforming, reshaping. The dragon's remains melted into a massive sea monster. The swamp turned wider beneath it, transformed into a dark, churning sea. Spikes burst from its back as it launched them at the Climbers, tentacles whipping the water's surface to a frenzy.

And then—

"Is that—an octopus?! Pablo can summon more than salamanders! This is unreal! He's brought out an octopus, anchoring itself beneath the waterline. The Shadows are using it for momentum, bracing off its body to launch their attacks. And—Otto's in!"

The display split for a moment—showing insets of roaring crowds gathered in the streets of Germany. Fans packed shoulder to shoulder, faces lit by giant screens, fists pumping the air as Otto finally stepped forward from Leonie's side.

From his back, two large, black wings unfolded. He crouched, wings snapping once.

The air distorted from the blast of speed.

The display lost him.

When they locked back on—he was already at the boss's side, blade severing a cluster of eyes in a single, perfect stroke.

"The fallen angel—Otto Reinhardt!"

He was everywhere at once, dashing between the sea monster's spikes, slipping through the strikes of its tentacles like a phantom. Each time Pablo's octopus lashed out from below, Otto used the opening—diving, spinning, cutting deep. The team worked in perfect sync, overwhelming the boss from sea and sky alike.

"And here comes the infamous final barrage—and oh yes! Pablo's octopus takes one for the team again! Might've just become the world's biggest takoyaki, but its job's done. And here come Otto and Ray to seal the deal—just beautiful teamwork! Only one more phase left!"

The creature began to shift, the water beneath it draining away as the swamp hardened into cracked, dry earth. A giant, grotesque centipede emerged—its body coiling, chitin plates slick with gore.

"Alright, let's see what Pablo pulls out this time. Place your bets, folks!"

The display zoomed in on him. Pablo grabbed another orb, hand steady, eyes locked.

And from the light—

"Oh! A giant crab! Solid choice. That pincer strength and that thick shell—perfect for tanking the centipede's charges. Smart move!"

The battle tore on. The crab tanked hit after hit, its shell holding firm—at least for now—as the centipede coiled and lashed out, the Climbers hammering it from every side.

But then—the centipede's form warped again. Its outer shell cracked open in a burst of gore, and it rose, parts of its body shifting and unfurling long wings.

The cameras cut sharply—focusing on one lone figure.

The rest had stepped back. Even Otto descended, wings folding as he withdrew.

The commentator's voice dropped to a hush, tension crackling through every word.

"Is this it? Is she stepping in? Is she taking the stage?"

The display locked onto her. The mask. The single blade. Her posture—straight as a spear, like a storm held at bay.

She took one step… and vanished.

"YES! Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've been waiting for! The leader of The Shadows. The ultimate Climber. The broken blade. All hail the Bloody Queen—Leonie Gruber!"

The display tracked the blur—Leonie shot into the sky like a bullet, her blade carving through the creature's joints with surgical precision. The movement was so minimal it was almost imperceptible—the blade only visible after the strike had landed.

The creature shrieked, flailing midair as it tried to retaliate, launching volleys of ranged attacks. But Leonie twisted, spun—gliding through the air with effortless control. Every counter, every evasion looked more like a dance than a fight.

"We still don't know the exact nature of Leonie's mutation. Not a single member of The Shadows has fallen, so we've had no confirmation. But the leading theory? A complete enhancement—superhuman in every possible sense. And just look at this footage—and remember, folks, this is slow motion!"

The creature jerked violently, body splitting in two with a violent explosion—but Leonie was already out of range, drifting clear with ease.

One half of the arthropod boss soon fell to her blade, the other finished through the combined assault of Ray's projectiles and Otto's devastating strikes.

The display zoomed in on Leonie, black armor smooth and unblemished, her posture calm, gliding downward in total control. Her masked face turned slightly—watching something the feed didn't catch—before the image faded black.

"Well, what a display that was. Without question—the cleanest polymorph boss fight we've seen at this stage. With this victory, The Shadows officially become the fourth group to conquer the second stage of The Tower's second tier. If they climb the stairs within the next five days, we may see a merge with Ming's team—the group that cleared this boss several days ago. But for details beyond that… we'll need a returnee. And frankly—let's hope that doesn't happen anytime soon."

The commentator smiled into the lens, voice warm but edged with that familiar tension.

"Still no news from Gen-1—which, in its own way, is good news. We can only hope The Tower is kind enough to offer us a glimpse of their progress soon. After all, Gen-1 remains humanity's vanguard—the only team to have faced that mysterious seventh boss head-on. The team that carried us to this point. Here's hoping they push even farther—and that the new generation is ready when the time comes to back them up.

Stay tuned to ASCENT for updates. And from all of us here—thanks for watching, and stay safe out there."

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