A massive silhouette unfurled from the shadowed ceiling, draped in withered spores. The body lay as if embedded in the cavern itself, with hundreds of tendrils disguised as moss, vines and tree roots. Its true "mouth" was a sunken basin ringed with glowing spore sacs and spiraling thorn petals.
As it dropped to the floor, it roared once more. The sound came from deep inside the outer mouth—a gullet that opened vertically, lined with thorn like teeth, and a sticky tongue that drooled on the floor.
The tongue shot out, yanking a disciple into its jaws. He screamed as corrosive saliva sizzled through flesh and bone.
Panic crushed Ayan's chest. He couldn't breathe. Why was the "Verdant Maw" here? The floor boss was usually in a unique part of the dungeon, in its own ecosystem.
The mini-boss acted as a strategic leader, much akin to a general in the field, while the boss reigned over all like a king. They worked together, and they usually had no animosity between them. He did not know what happened. The Ravager was dead, and the Verdant Maw seemed responsible.
Another disciple, his eyes wide with terror, stumbled backward. He thrust his palms forward, unleashing a Prana-infused shockwave that reverberated through the cavern.
The Verdant Maw absorbed the blast, its spore covered flesh rippling as if in amusement, then retaliated with a slithering limb that struck the disciple down.
The remaining disciples scattered like ants from a fire. They were desperate, but determined. Ayan saw Kanshul push his way to the front of the group, a sadistic grin stretched across his face.
"Weaklings!" Kanshul roared, drunk on his own power. He began channeling his energy, building it into a dense orb of Prana that thrummed with thunder. With a mighty swing of his arm, he hurled it at the beast.
The explosion sent shrapnel and dirt flying in all directions, knocking several disciples to their knees. The Maw reeled back from the impact, smoke curling around its massive form. But when the dust cleared, it still stood. Alive. Unharmed. It loosed a deafening roar.
Kanshul staggered back in disbelief as thorny roots erupted from beneath him, ensnaring his feet and hoisting him upside down into the air. He struggled uselessly before they swung him against the cavern wall with a sickening thud.
The Maw's tongue lashed out again, this time snaring two more disciples who barely had time to cry out before dissolving into nothingness.
Amid utter chaos, Ayan moved with speed, his veins throbbing with the sharp energy of adrenaline. Instinctively, he dodged as one of the slithering limbs crashed down near him, splintering the rock where he had stood moments earlier.
He needed to think fast. The Maw shouldn't be here. Not in another boss's lair. A territory dispute was unlikely as the vegetation, atmosphere, and design of the dungeon's layout usually confined the boss to its own lair.
Another tendril, slimy and fast, whipped towards him, missing by a hair as he rolled backward, his training kicking in flawlessly.
Could the Blightfang have injured the Maw? Maybe. It wasn't exactly weak. Considering the severity of the attack, Verdant Maw was likely injured, perhaps with broken bones or deep wounds. Could they take advantage of it?
Possible, but if that was the case, why draw them in and give the victims a chance to fight? He needed more time to think.
Meanwhile, more disciples fell under the relentless onslaught; their cries echoed off the walls, mingling with the monstrous roars and crackling blasts of desperate Prana attacks.
Dread gnawed at him. Even if they escaped now, most wouldn't make it out alive.
His gaze darted over the monster again as it tried to consume Kanshul, who lay unconscious and covered in debris. Noticing this, Sharav quickly positioned himself in front of Kanshul, opening his mouth wide.
[Scorch burst]
A stream of flames erupted forth, brilliant and searing, as if he had torn a piece of the sun and hurled it at the creature.
The spore bladders ignited, causing the fire to burn fiercely across its surface. Smoke and embers trailed from its massive body as the Maw flinched and reared back like a wounded animal. The disciples, sensing weakness, closed in, blasting the beast with their most powerful Prana attacks.
Ayan's heart pounded. He clung to this brief reprieve, mind racing through the Archives he had studied so relentlessly. The boss's abilities flashed in his memory like frenzied sparks: [Root Snare], and [Venom Burst]. Each was deadly, but if they planned their attack…
He sighed. The disciples relied on their Power and Prana alone. They wouldn't listen to him. But he had to try, otherwise they wouldn't get out of this alive.
"Don't cluster in so close!" Ayan shouted to the disciples closing in. "It's drawing you into a trap."
But it was too late.
The Maw, having drawn in its victims, clustered in on itself, its many tentacles tightening and drawing closer, a sickening squelching sound accompanying the movement. Each petal seemed to pulse with life, swelling and swaying in the breeze like a pregnant belly. A sound like the tearing of countless parchment sheets filled the air as the spheres pulsed outward and then violently burst.
A thick, glowing green ichor with the consistency of a melted wax, sprayed out of the petals in all directions on the surrounding disciples. In an instant, the toxin burned through the Prana shields raised by the disciples, eroding them as it went.
The disciples caught in the blast writhed on the ground, their wails piercing the air. Eyes wide with terror, the others recoiled backward, fear etched on their faces as they stared at the moaning figures rolling on the ground. The Maw stepped forward, its acidic tongue lashing out with a sizzling hiss, gathering half the screaming disciples before consuming them.
"Gather around Sharav!" Ayan yelled again, hoping that they would listen at the mention of one of their leaders in the expedition.
Now, many of the disciples listened to Ayan, their faces etched with the grim memory of the chaos they'd witnessed after ignoring his warning. And without Kanshul in the picture and Sharav focused on the Maw, they needed someone to direct them.
Sharav eyed Ayan, but before he could say anything, the Maw bellowed in rage. Sharav turned and unleashed another fiery barrage on the creature, turning parts of its body into a smoldering pyre. Spore bulbs ignited with an explosive force, sending shockwaves that rattled the cavern and knocked tendrils loose from their prey.
Ayan ducked low, avoiding a deadly root that lashed out blindly. His mind whirled with strategy. He could do this; he had to do this—or Tanvi wouldn't stand a chance.
"The petal joints! Aim for them when it opens!" he continued to direct them with frantic urgency.
A groan escaped Kanshul's lips as he stirred back to awareness in the deafening clamor.
Surprise washed over Ayan. Despite his flaws, Kanshul showed remarkable resilience. Kanshul sneered, shaking the dust and grit from his clothes as he rejoined the chaotic fray of battle.
The remaining disciples rallied around Kanshul and Sharav, bolstered by Ayan's hasty plan. Their co-ordinated attack intensified; Prana laced attacks flew toward the vulnerable joints with newfound precision.
The Maw roared again, a sound of frustration and pain, as petals were severed and its acid glands exposed beneath its thrashing tongue. Gouts of venom spewed from its ruptured body as it staggered under their relentless offensive. But this time, the disciples had expected this and had layered their Prana shields. The acidic substance burned through the shields partially but failed to halt the onslaught.
"Keep going! It can't hold out much longer!" Ayan's voice was raw with strain.
"Shut up, Bagboy!" Kanshul yelled over the thrum of battle, and this time Ayan smiled inwardly. All he wanted was to make it through the battle and get the medicine for Tanvi, and he found the insults from Kanshul strangely comforting, almost reminiscent of home.
Exhausted but resolute, the disciples poured the last of their Prana into a desperate offensive attack crackling with energy straight into the Maw.
The Verdant Maw writhed in agony while an eerie silence hung momentarily in the air. Breathless, the disciples watched as fractures spread across its gargantuan form. The Maw's body spasmed, violent and convulsive, a grotesque dance of death echoing against the cavern walls.
With a final shudder, the creature collapsed, a mountain falling from the sky, sending tremors through the ground beneath their feet. The Maw's third eye, clouded and milky, propped open slowly, possibly in its death throes, a final, gruesome flicker of life.
They swayed in disbelief and slowly turned to each other, a flicker of triumph in their weary eyes. Many of the disciples were dead, but they had downed the boss of the lair.
Something about the Maw's eye tugged at Ayan's memory—a warning he couldn't quite recall.
"We did it," Sharav whispered hoarsely.
Kanshul looked around, nodding his head, and licked his lips. "And now… we have two cores."
Ayan's instincts were screaming at him. There was something wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it. The Maw's body twitched, faint and rhythmic like a dying heartbeat. It felt intentional. Purposeful.
"Clear the bodies around the Maw!" Ayan shouted as he realized what was happening.
The grotesque mouth of the Maw opened in a last ditch effort, jaw unhinged and terrible, and in one swift motion, it swallowed the remaining dead disciples' bodies whole, replenishing lost Prana. Those left standing reeled back as the Verdant Maw slowly drew itself up once more. A massive eye peeled open at the center of its skull—unblinking, ancient and wrong.
"No," Sharav said in disbelief. "No!"
The spores and petals regenerated with frightful speed, fresh growths replacing the remnants of charred wounds. In moments, it stood before them whole again, monstrous and full of life. The creature's third eye twitched and emitted a hissing sound before disintegrating like the peel of a decaying orange.
Frustrated, Ayan cursed his feeble memory, as this crucial information had eluded him at the right time. [Cursed Eye Bloom] was the Maw's signature, one time in a lifetime ability where it consumed copious amounts of Prana and lost its third eye permanently for fully regenerating back from certain death.
Despite its restored vitality, the revived monster's lifespan would last only a decade. With a low groan, the Maw regarded its shriveled eye on the ground; it carefully nudged the eye with its new whip-like roots, acutely aware of the sacrifice made.
Kanshul's bravado faded; his expression turned wild with frustration and fear as he realized how futile their efforts had been. "What the hell is this thing?" Kanshul's voice cracked, stripped of all swagger.
"It's over," a disciple said, in a voice thick with despair.
Only dread remained in the disciples. Their Prana was exhausted, and their bodies fragile and broken.
Ayan's mind raced. He couldn't fail Tanvi, not when they were so close to finishing up the expedition.
"Listen," he said, forcing strength into his voice despite his own fatigue. "I have one last plan." The words hung there with impossible promise as the Verdant Maw loomed over them.