The moment they stepped onto the third floor, it felt like entering a different dimension.
A humid fog clung to their skin, warm and sticky. The walls of the chamber curved like the inside of a beast’s stomach, and in the center of the arena coiled a titanic white anaconda. Its scales shimmered like marble, each one larger than a dinner plate. Its red eyes were cold, calculating. It didn’t hiss—it simply existed, like a god expecting worship.
Ye-Rin clicked her tongue, hoisting her axe over her shoulder. "Big. Ugly. And definitely compensating."
Before the snake could react, she charged.
Her boots cracked the stone with every step. The snake lifted its head, uncoiling with alarming speed. Just as it went for a strike, Ye-Rin leapt—swinging her axe in a wide arc toward its skull. The edge caught the snake near the left eye, carving a shallow gash.
It screeched—an unnatural, piercing sound that rattled their bones.
In-Ji knelt down a few paces behind her, quickly loading bullets into his pistol. The ammo was crude, forged in fire and grief.
Made from goblin bones and skin, hammered into shape with trembling fingers and necessity.
"Eat this, pretty boy." He aimed and fired. One bullet buried itself in the snake’s side with a *pop*, releasing a faint green vapor.
The snake reared back, furious.
It opened its maw and unleashed a torrent of greenish venom. The acid splattered across the floor, hissing against the stone, carving steaming craters into the ground. They barely scattered in time.
Song-Woo ducked behind a pillar, panting. "That thing just melted the damn floor..."
In-Ji’s eyes narrowed. Between dodging and shooting, he noticed something.
"Wait... under its chin! That scale’s reversed! And—between its eyes! There’s a crease that isn’t part of its plating!"
"Aim for those!" Seo-Yeon shouted, her voice echoing in everyone’s head.
She wasn’t yelling—but speaking through *telepathy* now, her glowing eyes locking on each of them. All four minds connected.
Seo-Yeon’s Mind Voice:"I’ve got your backs. Don’t let it distract you."
The snake’s tail whipped through the air, cracking like a sonic boom. It slammed into Ye-Rin and Song-Woo, sending them flying.
But before they could hit the ground, Seo-Yeon snatched them mid-air with her telekinesis—levitating them gently, then propelling them back into position.
She floated above them slightly, her body crackling with unseen force. Gravitational spikes erupted near the snake’s side as she directed her focus—pushing the serpent back with invisible pressure.
"Make me a path!" Song-Woo shouted, twirling his spear.
Just before Song-Woo charged in, the snake’s body twisted like a white cyclone, its massive tail ripping through the pillars* like they were made of paper.
A section of the ceiling collapsed—chunks of stone raining down on them.
"MOVE!" In-Ji shouted, pulling Ye-Rin back just in time as a pillar crashed where she stood.
But the snake wasn’t done. It rose higher, its body coiling like a spring.
Then it dived.
Not at one of them—but *at the whole party*, aiming to *crush* them all beneath its mass.
Seo-Yeon’s eyes flashed.
"Hold still," her voice echoed in their heads.
Suddenly, the floor beneath the snake shifted—a localized gravitational field pulling its bulk sideways. The serpent slammed into the ground, carving a long trench with its own weight. Stone erupted in all directions. The ground shook.
The snake screeched, trying to lift itself.
Ye-Rin didn’t wait.
She jumped atop the monster’s snout, running along its head as if it were a bridge.
Her axe sparked against the scales as she hammered it down again and again.
"Stay the hell down!" she roared, driving the blade into its eye socket.
The beast thrashed, flinging her into the air.
Seo-Yeon caught her mid-flight, but the delay cost her—acidic spit rocketed toward her face.
She threw up a barrier, but it cracked on impact. Her shoulder burned from the spray.
"Seo-Yeon!" In-Ji yelled, unloading his bullets again and again into the snake’s gills. Green and red blood began to mix where his shots hit.
That’s when he saw it—clear as day.
That vulnerable reverse scale beneath the chin.
That’s the shot.
"NOW!" he called out. "Open the path!"
"Make it count!" Seo-Yeon shouted.
She lifted her hand, and a spike of gravity erupted beneath the snake’s lower jaw—forcing its head upward.
Ye-Rin, back on her feet, slammed the blunt end of her axe into the snake’s side to keep it still. In-Ji fired a cluster round into its eye again.
Song-Woo saw the opening.
Tightened his grip on the spear.
Breathed once.
And ran.
In-Ji laid down suppressing fire. Ye-Rin ran interference, slamming her axe at the snake’s midsection, forcing it to lower its head. Seo-Yeon pulled on its lower jaw with all her might—stretching it upward, exposing the vulnerable chin.
Song-Woo darted in with every ounce of strength he had.
"Go to hell!"
His spear struck true, jamming into the reverse scale under the serpent’s chin. There was a moment of stunned silence, then the snake screeched again—shaking the entire tower.
But then—
Its tongue flicked.
Its head snapped down.
Song-Woo had no time to dodge.
The snake’s jaws engulfed him in one swift gulp. A single crunch echoed, then silence.
The serpent reared back, a satisfied glimmer in its eyes. It opened its mouth and spat out Song-Woo’s spear, now melting, half-dissolved in bubbling acid.
"NO!!" Ye-Rin screamed, her voice raw.
Then the snake shimmered.
Its scales began to flake off, burning in white-blue fire. The flesh beneath cracked open.
From its slithering remains, a new form emerged.
Seven feet tall. Humanoid. With sinewy limbs and scales that shimmered like moonlight. Its head was still that of a serpent—elongated, fanged, with a forked tongue flicking the air.
It smiled.
And it spoke in a voice like breaking bones.
"Now... let’s see how well you fight without your little guardian."