The moment Tyrish pulled the heavy castle door open wide enough for the whole team to move into

  position, the spiders reacted as if a silent alarm had been tripped.

  The entrance hall rippled.

  Localized rifts, tiny, sharp-edged spatial tears, shimmered across the wide stone interior like scattered

  black slashes in the air. Legs, fangs, and hairy bodies phased half in and half out, stretching and

  compressing unnaturally as the creatures shifted between spots. The distortions bent the geometry of

  the hall so badly that the ceiling looked like soft clay being pushed downward by an invisible hand, and

  the walls leaned inward and outward by inches with every pulse.

  Vanra didn’t pause long enough to breathe.

  “Ranged stay outside the doorway,” she ordered, voice sharp and steady over the rising hum of spatial

  distortion. “Do not cross that threshold. Melee rotate frequently. If you stay inside more than twenty

  seconds at a time, I cannot stabilize you.”

  Rhoen braced himself in the opening of the door, rifle raised and locked into his shoulder. Korvex

  stepped right beside him, staff angled forward, already channeling a wind dome to keep the distortion

  eddies from curling toward the ranged fighters. Bash stood just behind both of them, firearm up, fingers

  settled into a ready grip. The throwing blades at his sides pulsed faintly from the earlier activation.

  Inside the doorway, Tyrish, Kayris, and Orran surged forward.

  The distortions swallowed them before they were even four steps in.

  Stone floors rippled beneath the melee fighters. The walls narrowed. Ceiling beams folded inward, then

  straightened again. Orran’s silhouette stretched and compressed like someone was pulling him through

  a funhouse mirror. Kayris flickered for half a second as though her body was caught between two

  positions. Tyrish’s outline bent around one of the rifts, the distortion tugging at him like a rubber band.

  Vanra pushed forward just enough to keep her healing aura within range.

  “Rotation in seven seconds,” she said, already calculating the rate of distortion based on the

  fluctuations around the melee fighters.

  Bash steadied his stance. His suit pinged its internal timer.

  Twenty-five seconds started ticking down in his mind, the window for keeping his echoes at maximum

  output.

  He lifted his voice over the chaos. “Hit me!”

  Korvex struck him immediately with the back of her staff, a pulse of wind affinity snapping against his

  left arm. It resonated through his entire suit like a small electrical vibration.

  Tyrish, halfway through his first rotation cycle, passed by the door and slapped a hand against Bash’s

  pauldron. A faint discharge of lightning and a hard spike of mineral affinity sank directly into his armor

  plating.

  The echoes ignited all at once.

  It was like a switch flipped.

  Bash’s suit surged. The harmonic channels inside the plates brightened. Fire, wind, water, mineral,

  energy, all five streams laced into his core at once and synced with the feedback conduits feeding into

  his weapons. His breathing tightened for a moment as the pathways stabilized.

  Then his next shot tore through the hall with a concussive crack that vibrated the doorway.

  A streak of kinetic force pierced through a cluster of phasing spiders. Fire flickered in its wake. Mineral

  shards burst outward. Energy split from the impact like branching particles of light. Water vapor folded

  into the blast and sharpened the backend of the echo.

  Inside the hall, Orran swung his large shield in broad arcs, smashing spiders backward even as

  distortions bent the angles of his movements. Each swing landed a split-second after the visual bent

  version, making it difficult for the spiders to predict the real impact.

  Kayris was even harder to track. She darted between spatial folds, her dual short swords hitting just as

  the spiders phased into existence. Her strikes cut cleanly through the softened areas of warped

  geometry, meeting the spiders before they solidified.

  Tyrish tanked the brunt of the venom-based distortions. Every time the venom splattered the stone,

  space twisted again, tugging him dangerously off balance. His blows seemed to drift sideways or warp

  backward before connecting. But Vanra kept him upright, pulsing him with stabilizing healing waves

  that forced his footing into alignment with reality again.

  Every twenty seconds Bash called out.

  “Refresh!”

  If Korvex was nearby, she struck him with wind and water. If Tyrish rotated through the doorway, he

  hit him with energy and mineral. If neither were available, Vanra lightly tapped him with wind and

  mineral while maintaining her healing rhythm.

  No matter who struck him, the echoes surged back.

  When the echoes weakened, his bullets hit with raw force but lost their elemental follow-through. The

  difference was blatant. With echoes, each shot acted like a miniature chain reaction, layers of elemental

  force piling into one target or splitting through clusters of warped spiders. Without echoes, the bullets

  still killed but took longer to cut through the distortions.

  Rhoen fired beside him in steady bursts. His rounds acted like anchors, pulling the spiders partly out of

  phase long enough for Bash or Korvex to finish them. The rifle hummed with healing bursts as well,

  each shot weaving faint green wisps that kept Orran and Tyrish from collapsing under the distortion

  pressure.

  Inside the hall, chaos reached a peak.

  Spiders emerged from upstairs levels like falling shadows. Distorted patches of stone peeled open,

  dropping them from warped stone above. Others phased straight out of wall crevices, legs jutting out of

  impossible angles. The smell of old stone, dust, and bitter venom filled the air.

  The melee fighters wobbled with every new burst of distortion. Their silhouettes bent unnaturally as

  they forced their way deeper into the room. But every ripple in the air gave away a spider’s incoming

  location. With practice from the previous districts, they reacted before the spiders fully materialized.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Vanra’s voice never broke rhythm.

  “Tyrish out. Orran in. Kayris rotate now. Rhoen hold that angle. Bash maintain pressure. Korvex adjust

  wind barrier two steps right.”

  Her control of the battlefield was absolute, her healing field pulsing through the hall with unwavering

  strength.

  Bash kept firing, absorbing pulses at a steady pace.

  Fifteen T3G Space essence pulses every second from the teams kills.

  The sensation didn’t slam him backward anymore. It didn’t knock the air from his lungs or make his

  bones ache like it had earlier in the mission. His core had grown too much. It had strengthened. Now

  the constant absorption felt like a heavy, unyielding pressure on his chest, like someone pushing a thick

  weight plate against him continuously.

  Annoying. Intense. But manageable.

  He couldn’t afford distraction. Not when the shots needed perfect rhythm.

  Every spider killed sent another pulse flooding into his core. Every pulse added more pressure to his

  lungs and ribs. But he stayed where he was, braced behind Tyrish’s rotation point, firing shot after shot

  with precise spacing.

  Another minute passed.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  Until after nearly five minutes of nonstop fighting, the distortions began to flicker.

  The spatial pressure slowed.

  The warped architecture steadied.

  The hall’s geometry straightened.

  And silence rolled over the room like a final wave.

  Kayris stood still in the center, blades raised, scanning every angle. Orran steadied himself with his

  shield braced against the floor. Tyrish was covered in faint lines of venom splatter, leaning just slightly

  as he controlled his breathing. Vanra slowly lowered her staff as her healing aura dimmed. Rhoen only

  dropped his rifle after three extra seconds of stillness.

  Bash lowered his firearm, breath steady.

  SC’s voice rang in his mind.

  “Nine hundred thirty six T3G Space essence absorbed.”

  He let the information settle. His core throbbed with the lingering weight of the pulses, but the

  sensation, while uncomfortable, was nothing he couldn't handle.

  Vanra stepped forward.

  “Collect the beast fragments.”

  Her voice carried the same confidence it always did. The team scattered across the hall, picking up

  fragments. Bash joined them, moving mechanically, storing some fragments quietly into his relic bag

  whenever SC signaled it was safe.

  The fragments, spider legs, piled quickly. Rhoen and Kayris bundled some together with strips of cloth.

  Orran used his shield to sweep larger piles toward the center. After several minutes the hall floor was

  clear.

  Vanra called them back together.

  “We stay as one group for the rest of this building. No splitting. The distortions are unpredictable up

  here.”

  The team assembled and faced their three options.

  A staircase ascending into the main tower.

  A hallway branching into the left wing.

  Another leading into the right.

  Vanra pointed to the left wing.

  “We start there.”

  Tyrish approached the hallway door. He cracked it open carefully, expecting another swarm. Instead he

  found an empty room coated in dust.

  “Nothing,” he said. “They must have warped out for the first fight.”

  They entered the silent hall, the echoes of the earlier battle still faintly ringing in their bodies. After

  crossing the long corridor, they reached a set of thick wooden doors leading deeper into the left wing.

  Tyrish opened these more cautiously. As soon as a gap formed, his eyes widened.

  “Another swarm.”

  The team crowded behind him.

  The room beyond was a massive one-story hall. Three hundred spiders filled the chamber. Dozens

  clustered on columns. Dozens crawled across the vaulted ceiling. Dozens phased in and out of the floor.

  The distortions rippled so heavily that parts of the room blurred like heat mirages.

  Vanra assessed with one sweep.

  “No upstairs. This should be all of them for this wing.”

  She turned to Bash.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded once.

  Korvex struck him with wind and water. Tyrish hit him with energy and mineral. The echoes surged.

  His suit harmonized instantly.

  The moment the doors swung open, the team charged inside.

  This time the battle was almost clean.

  The room's open layout meant no sudden phasing spiders from above or cramped hallways that bent

  their movements. Every ripple was visible. Every distortion showed clearly where spiders would

  appear.

  The melee fighters carved a path through the front lines. Orran’s shield smashed clusters. Kayris

  dashed through weak spots, blades glinting with precise cuts. Tyrish barreled forward, breaking

  distortions through sheer physical force.

  The ranged fighters tore through the room with devastating consistency. Rhoen’s shots pinched the

  phasing transitions. Korvex’s wind bursts forced the distortions into predictable patterns. Bash’s echoes

  detonated in multi-affinity strikes that eliminated entire pockets of spiders in seconds.

  Under a minute later, the room was silent.

  Completely silent.

  Only then did the team realize what they were standing in.

  Rows upon rows of wooden mannequins filled the hall. Every mannequin wore a complete matching

  set of armor. Helmets. Chestplates. Gauntlets. Greaves. Boots. Shields. All immaculate. All made from

  Tier 4-grade metal that had not rusted, cracked, or dulled despite centuries of abandonment.

  Rhoen let out a low whistle.

  “That is a lot of armor.”

  Korvex touched a chestplate. “High-grade. Clean structure. Guild imbuers will tear each other limb

  from limb over this.”

  Tyrish lifted one of the helmets and tested its weight. “Solid. Stronger than anything I’ve seen in the

  outer cities.”

  The team spent several minutes collecting beast fragments from the fallen spiders. Bash stored a few

  quietly. They all regrouped at the entrance.

  Vanra lifted a hand.

  “We return for all of this. Nothing stays behind.”

  The weight in her voice made it clear, this find alone was enough to elevate an entire guild division.

  And the castle still had one more wing.