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As we retreated, I couldn\'t help but feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. Our group\'s survival hinged on this plan working, and I needed to ensure that Flint and Marcus got out alive.

We found a small alcove, partially hidden by crumbling stone, and carefully laid Marcus down. His breathing was labored, and his face was contorted in pain. "Stay with him," I told Flint. "I\'ll draw the Manticore away and try to blind it. When you see an opening, attack with everything you have."

Flint hesitated, his eyes filled with concern. "What about you? You can\'t take it on alone."

"I don\'t plan to," I reassured him. "But someone needs to distract it. Trust me, Flint. This is the only way."

With a final, resolute nod, Flint stayed with Marcus, readying his weapon. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead, and stepped back into the fray.

The Manticore was rampaging through the chamber, its roars echoing off the walls. I summoned what little magical energy I had left, casting a series of light orbs around the creature to disorient it. The Manticore snarled, its eyes flickering between the bright spots, momentarily confused.

"Over here, you overgrown lizard!" I shouted, waving my arms to draw its attention. The Manticore\'s blood-red eyes locked onto me, and it charged, its claws digging into the stone floor with each thunderous step.

I darted to the side, narrowly avoiding its swipe, and launched a concentrated beam of light at its eyes. The Manticore roared in agony, thrashing its head as it was temporarily blinded.

"Now, Flint!" I shouted, hoping my voice would carry over the chaos.

From the shadows, Flint emerged, his face a mask of determination. He charged at the Manticore\'s exposed underbelly, his sword gleaming with the last remnants of Marcus\'s enchantment. With a powerful thrust, he drove the blade deep into the creature\'s vulnerable flesh.

The Manticore let out a deafening howl, its body convulsing in pain. It lashed out blindly, its barbed tail swinging wildly. Flint narrowly avoided the deadly strike, rolling to the side and coming up in a defensive stance.

Seizing the opportunity, I mustered the last of my strength and fired another beam of light, this time aiming for the creature\'s eyes again. The Manticore stumbled, disoriented and in agony.

"Keep going, Flint!" I urged, my voice strained with exhaustion. "We almost have it!"

With a final, desperate push, Flint drove his sword deeper into the Manticore\'s underbelly, twisting the blade to maximize the damage. The creature\'s roars grew weaker, its movements more sluggish.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, the Manticore collapsed, its massive body hitting the ground with a resounding thud. The chamber fell eerily silent, the only sound the ragged breathing of the survivors.

Flint staggered back, his face pale and drawn. "We did it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "We did," I agreed, my voice trembling with exhaustion and emotion.

Booooom!

From the center of the room where the heart of the dungeon pulsed with energy indicating the clearance of the dungeon, a resounding boom echoed through the chamber. The Manticore\'s defeat triggered the dungeon\'s core, signaling the end of the trial and the opening of the path to the treasure we had risked our lives to obtain.

Flint and I exchanged weary, triumphant glances. "Let\'s get Marcus and claim our prize," I said, my voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Together, we carefully lifted Marcus, supporting him as we made our way toward the heart of the dungeon. The chamber was illuminated by a soft, pulsating light emanating from the core, casting an ethereal glow over the ancient stone walls.

As we approached the core, the air seemed to vibrate with a potent energy, a stark contrast to the dark and foreboding atmosphere that had pervaded the rest of the dungeon. The core itself was a large, crystalline structure, shimmering with an otherworldly light that bathed the room in a gentle glow.

The treasure, long sought and hard-won, lay at the foot of the core—a collection of gleaming artifacts, ancient scrolls, and chests filled with gold and jewels. It was a sight that would have stirred the heart of any adventurer, but at that moment, our thoughts were only on survival and getting Marcus to safety.

"We need to hurry," Flint said, his voice strained as he shifted Marcus\'s weight. "He\'s not going to last much longer without proper healing."

I nodded, feeling the same urgency. "Let\'s grab what we can and get out of here."

We quickly moved to the treasure, selecting the most valuable and portable items. I reached for a particularly ornate chest, my fingers brushing against the cool metal. As I opened it, a small, intricately designed vial caught my eye. It was filled with a luminous liquid, glowing softly in the dim light.

"This might help Marcus," I said, holding up the vial for Flint to see.

Flint\'s eyes widened with hope. "Let\'s hope it does."

Gently, I uncorked the vial and brought it to Marcus\'s lips, letting the liquid trickle into his mouth. His breathing, which had been shallow and labored, began to steady, and some of the color returned to his face. It wasn\'t a complete healing, but it was enough to stabilize him for the journey out.

"Thank the gods," Flint murmured, relief evident in his voice. "That should give us enough time to get him to a healer."

\'Now that Marcus is out of immediate danger, Let\'s get what came to get.\' I thought as I made my way into the furthest corner where no light didn\'t reach as if to avoid that particular dark corner.

My curiosity drew me towards the darkened corner, the only part of the chamber untouched by the ethereal light of the dungeon core. As I stepped closer, the shadows seemed to retreat, revealing an object partially buried in the stone floor. It was an ornate, ancient box, covered in intricate carvings that glowed faintly as I approached.

I knelt down, brushing away the dust and debris that had settled on the box. The carvings depicted scenes of battles and mythical creatures, their craftsmanship so detailed it felt as if they might spring to life at any moment. Carefully, I tried to lift the lid, but the moment I used my other hand which was wounded, The runes on the box glowed brighter, reacting to the touch of my injured hand.

Like a vacuum, It started sucking and absorbing my blood without any sign to stop. Panic surged through me as I realized what was happening. The box was not just an ordinary artifact—it was something far more sinister, something ancient and powerful beyond comprehension.

Frantically, I tried to pull my hand away, but it was as if the box had a will of its own, drawing me inexorably closer with each passing moment. The pain was excruciating, like a thousand needles piercing my flesh, and I could feel my strength draining away with every drop of blood that was absorbed.

Because this corner was furthest and some weird energy was blocking our perception, Flint and Marcus hadn\'t noticed my predicament. I struggled against the box\'s grasp, but it was no use. I was trapped, my life force slowly being drained away.

In a last-ditch effort, I summoned what little magical energy I had left, focusing it into a burst of light that enveloped the box. For a moment, the darkness receded, and the box faltered, its grip on me weakening.

Seizing the opportunity, I wrenched my hand free, stumbling backward as the box released its hold. Gasping for breath, I watched-

Where is the box?

It was here just now.

The box was gone as if it had never been there in the first place. Confusion and unease gnawed at me as I scanned the chamber, searching for any sign of the mysterious artifact. But there was nothing—only the faint glow of the dungeon core and the distant echoes of our struggle with the Manticore.

"Everything alright?" Flint\'s voice broke through my thoughts, his brow furrowed with concern as he approached. "I heard a commotion. Did something happen?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain what had just transpired. The box, the strange energy it emitted, the way it had seemingly vanished without a trace—it all felt like a surreal dream, slipping through my fingers even as I tried to grasp at it.

"I\'m... not sure," I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "There was something here, but now it\'s gone."

Flint glanced around the chamber, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe it\'s for the best," he said after a moment, his tone heavy with implication. "Whatever it was, it clearly wasn\'t something we should mess with."

I nodded, a sense of relief washing over me despite the lingering unease. "You\'re probably right," I agreed, pushing the encounter with the mysterious box to the back of my mind. We had more pressing concerns—like getting Marcus to safety and claiming our hard-earned reward.

\'Anyways, I should also take what the protagonist took from here as well.\' With that thought in mind, I quickly moved to the center of the treasure room.

Carefully, I examined the items laid out before me, searching for the artifact that had caught my attention earlier. Among the glittering jewels and ancient scrolls, there it was—a sword unlike any I had ever seen.

The blade shimmered with an otherworldly light, its surface seemingly alive with energy. As I reached out to touch it, a strange sensation washed over me, like a gentle caress against my skin.

This was the sword the protagonist had taken from the treasure trove, said to be bathed in the blood of the heavenly father himself. Its power was said to be unmatched, capable of cleaving through even the strongest of foes with ease.

With a sense of reverence, I carefully lifted the sword from its resting place, feeling its weight in my hands. It felt... right, as if it had been waiting for me all along.

\'Sword Of The Dark Light!\'

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[To Be Continued]

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