It took all of the dungeon divers’ utmost coordination just to take on a single slime wraith on floor 4. Just to wrest one slime in the vague, ever-shifting shape of a person to the ground and dodge their spikes, their whips, their ever-shifting elemental flurries, just to keep things steady enough that another diver could pinpoint the soul and destroy it. Not even that part—the finding and destroying of soul gems—was simple anymore. The slimes here knew their own bodies thoroughly and could dissolve, hide, or even eject their own souls. Only Linzy and Dulcen, closing their eyes and sinking into deep focus, could use their personal soul magic to crush them.

If they’d gotten here fresh and early, if this had been the first and only floor, then maybe the job would’ve been relatively clean and efficient. Instead, they were slow, groggy, dispirited, taking the full brunt of ice spears and electric shocks that ordinarily would’ve been misses.

The five remaining adventurers had crammed themselves and a slime wraith into a single “hut.” The hut was no doubt a replica of one of the huts of Farander—same furniture, only it was pure stone and ore, and immovable. What an intriguing anthropological curiosity. Too bad the whole facsimile-village was run by monsters who could enter this hut any minute now.

“What’s up?” said Ragnorre.

Ethel howled in fear. She was pretty busy pinning down the slime wraith next to one of Hue’s two tan ocelots, so not in a particularly good mental state for greeting guests.

“You’re back,” said Linzy, relieved. Sadly, replying made him break his concentration, ruining the soul attack he’d been charging.

Dulcen noticed this and sighed. Noticing and sighing made him break his concentration too. He cursed.

Hue snatched the sword out of Dulcen’s hand and beat the slime wraith’s head in—which did virtually nothing, but did raise his morale.

Lark raised her head and looked at Ragnorre with a face of terror. “You’re both back?”

Yes! It was Ragnorre and Athalie. Not ony had they disappeared and come back to tell the tale, they also looked fresh as daisies. Meanwhile, the slime wraith continued to lash out. One well-aimed flaming lash smacked Lark on the leg, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Ragnorre stuck her tongue out and rubbed the back of her neck. “Oops, guess we came at a bad time!”

“Uh,” said Nyx-as-Athalie, looking beyond awkward, “yeah, yes, we got...somewhat...lost...tempted, I suspect, by a demon. It was horrible. But we’re back now. Tell us what to do.”

Lark cringed. “Tempted by a demon, you say. You would, I guess.”

“Fuck you, alright?” said Nyx.

“Listen!” shouted Lark. The slime wraith was trying to tear itself free from her grasp, but she pressed down harder. Sweat glistened on her forehead. “Listen to me! If you don’t activate your worst, your most hiddenest powers, we might not make it.”

Ragnorre’s eyes sparkled, literally. Maybe “sparked” is a better word. “DO YOU REALLY MEAN THAT!?” she cried.

“Yes, honey.”

“Well, I take it back,” said Nyx. “What an affront. Accusing me of hidden powers? How dare you!” Behind Athalie’s facade, though, Nyx was assembling a plan to do exactly what Lark said.

“YOU FUCKING IMMORTAL BRAT!” shouted Lark. “IF YOU DON’T PULL OUT ALL THE STOPS, WE ARE GOING TO DIE!”

“Yeah,” Ethel wheezed, losing her voice. “You might be right.”

Ragnorre began to wind up one fist, but Nyx stayed her hand. They watched as Linzy landed a decisive blow of soul-destroying magic against the slime wraith’s torso—only for that torso to slip sideways and dodge.

Nyx gently pushed Linzy aside and extended their hands. They became pincers, larger than their head but with thousands of little superfine razors along their whole length. They were intimidating, even downright ghastly, and in the light of a peaceful day, they could have shocked even some of the seasoned adventurers standing right here. But would they be the right tools for the job? The slime was clearly slippery, capable of gliding out from the wide gaps in these pincers.

That’s why Nyx used shadow magic at the same time. Snaring the shadow didn’t completely immobilize the slime wraith, but it drained the wraith’s life bit by bit. Nyx didn’t stand around draining it for long, though. Soon they clamped hard with both transformed hands. The pincers grew. They seemed to be devouring the slime wraith from both ends. In a sense, this was a devouring, since Nyx finally had a chance to siphon off some of a monster’s power.

Linzy and Dulcen weren’t the only ones able to find a soul in this monster. When Nyx’s pincers found it, they knew it immediately. It shocked them into a new level of consciousness, almost—it was far more power, and far more directly, than they’d ever taken in before.

Nyx’s resulting seizure was short. Their subsequent collapse onto the hut floor could not last long—but if it did, the divers could always chance it on Ragnorre’s wacky powers.

The power levels on this floor were huge, and Nyx’s sensation-addled mind was just now realizing how huge they were.

Suddenly they were filled with a euphoric determination to reach the next one, the next threshold of power, as soon as possible.