Arvey tightened both hands and forced one sharp inhale, kicking the mana circle alive in his core. The mandibles slammed down toward his neck as the flow snapped into motion. Heat rushed from his chest into his shoulders and flowed down into his forearms. The pressure on his throat loosened enough for one clean move.

  Arvey twisted his shoulders and dropped his head. He tore his neck out of the bite line and felt the air move. The mandibles crushed his last bent dagger with a loud screech. The metal screamed before it snapped into fragments. The shock of the break jolted through his arms and stole his leverage. Arvey used the momentum anyway and drove his left forearm up to shield his face.

  He slammed his right fist forward without thinking about form. Mana gathered in his knuckles and packed into the bone. The punch landed on a head plate with a dull boom. The Broodmaster’s head snapped sideways and its weight shifted off Arvey. Arvey used that space and slid his hips free of the wall.

  He pulled a full breath and felt the circulation keep feeding his limbs. The air still felt heavy, but it stopped pressuring him.

  He drove his shoulder into the gap and stepped into open ground. The Broodmaster tried to clamp again, but its timing broke from the impact. Arvey ducked under the head line and rolled out, then came up on one knee. He stood with both hands raised and his elbows tight, both of his daggers gone. “Kozlo, I’m fine!” Arvey shouted, keeping his eyes on the monster.

  The Broodmaster clicked once, deeper than before, and the floor answered with a pulse that shook grit loose from cracks. Arvey rode it by bending his knees and shifting weight early. He kept the mana circle going as the Broodmaster lunged, trying to re-pin him before he could reset.

  Arvey stepped left and let the mandibles snap at empty space. He still felt the heat in his fists as the skin across his knuckles tingled. His wrists felt reinforced from the inside by the mana. He glanced at the head plate and saw a spiderweb of cracks. A plate edge had chipped away and exposed a darker layer beneath the chitin.

  “They broke,” Arvey said in a low voice.

  He fixed his eyes on the damage and tightened his jaw. The left side of the monster moved a fraction slower than the right. Its damaged antenna sagged and twitched during the uneven clicks. Arvey stepped in and drove a tight punch under the jaw line. He aimed for the throat seam and felt the impact jar his arm.

  The hit forced the monster’s head to lift toward the ceiling. Arvey slipped away before the heavy legs slammed down. The Broodmaster answered with a body shove to crush him. Its shoulder plates drove forward to smash Arvey into the wall. Arvey met the shove with a sidestep and a hard palm strike.

  He redirected the mass and pivoted to punch a head seam. Mana flooded his fist on instinct and the strike landed like a hammer. The seam split wider as a plate corner broke loose. Arvey’s breath hitched because he was surprised by his own force. He backed off two steps and circled the beast, keeping the Broodmaster between himself and the back opening. The creature clicked in anger and tried to rotate its body. It kept its rear plates aligned with the cleaner slit in the rock. Arvey matched the rotation and refused to give up the line.

  “Come on,” Arvey said while watching his hands.

  The mana in his fist faded and left a hollow warmth behind. He tried to pull the feeling back but it slipped away. The Broodmaster charged again and forced Arvey to stop thinking. It slammed both front legs down and sent a pulse through the chamber. Arvey slipped to the side and evaded the attack.

  The Broodmaster lunged on the pulse window and snapped its jaws. Arvey turned his hips, letting the bite cut past his torso. The shoulder shove came right after, aimed to crush his ribs into plate mass. Arvey slid with it, keeping his feet under him, then dipped under the armor line. His elbow drove into the mandible hinge, forcing the clamp to stall for a beat.

  He used that beat and stepped into the front right leg. His fist hit the joint seam, close enough to feel the plate shift under impact. The jolt climbed into his wrist, but the joint gave ground and the leg faltered. Dark fluid pushed out of the seam, then ran in a thin line down the chitin. The Broodmaster kicked to punish the angle, and the foot grazed Arvey’s thigh. Arvey stayed upright, backed off one step, then cleared the second kick by sliding out of range.

  The Broodmaster clicked twice and surged forward with sudden speed. Arvey tried to meet it inside the head line, punching with his left hand. This time, the mana did not pool in his knuckles before contact, and the hit landed dull against heavy chitin. The Broodmaster barely reacted to the punch, then pushed in to capitalize on the weak strike.

  Arvey felt the mistake instantly as his hand bounced off the plate. He retreated with a quick slide to avoid the counterattack.

  “I need that surge,” he said in a tight voice.

  He forced the mana circle to move faster inside his chest. He stopped trying to drag the energy with thought alone and instead let it circulate, watching for the moment his body chose where it would go.

  The Broodmaster dropped its head and charged, a living battering ram intended to pin Arvey in a straight line. Arvey cut left to evade, only for a rear leg to sweep low across his path, nearly snaring his ankles. He kicked off the ground, feeling the rush of air as the limb whistled beneath his boots, then transitioned from a rolling landing straight into a sprint before the inevitable follow-up.

  As the beast’s heavy slam sent a pulse rippling through the earth where he’d stood a second before, Arvey lunged for the torn seam in its chest—the one spot where the plates flexed with every labored breath. The Broodmaster pivoted, leaden shoulder swinging around to shield the wound behind a wall of armor, but Arvey refused to be locked out. He drove his own shoulder into the gap, forcing a wedge into the plating. With his elbows tucked tight, he jammed his fingers into the split and leaned back, using his entire body weight to contest the stubborn resistance of the seam.

  The seam held for a heartbeat, groaning under his weight, just as the Broodmaster’s head snapped down to finish him. With no room for a clean dodge, Arvey braced for the impact.. but then the mana surged. Without warning, the energy flooded his left hand, thickening beneath the skin.

  In one violent motion, he ripped the seam wide. The plates gave way with a wet, sickening crack, venting a hiss of trapped heat. As the mana spiraled from his arm deep into his chest, Arvey dropped into a low slide, the beast's mandibles slamming shut inches above his scalp. He rolled through the momentum and rose to his feet, fists pulled tight to his face, his chest burning as the internal circle held its shape.

  Arvey let out a sharp, jagged breath, a grin breaking through the adrenaline. “That’s it,” he whispered.

  The Broodmaster clicked in a frantic rage and lunged, but Arvey stepped into the angle, his eyes locked on the cracked head seam. He drove a punch into the split, feeling the plate shift under his knuckles, then immediately followed with a second strike to the same jagged edge.

  Using the moment of impact as a conductor, he triggered the surge. As his fist landed, the energy forced the seam wider until a shard of plating snapped off and clattered across the floor. The Broodmaster’s head jerked violently, its coordination fracturing. Sensing the opening, Arvey dove for the throat, driving a tight, rising punch into the exposed strip of softer flesh.

  He hammered a second blow into the neck seam, drawing a spray of dark fluid that turned the beast's clicks into ragged, wet gasps. The monster slammed a leg down in a desperate retort, but the pulse came a fraction too late. Arvey used the delay to step inside the guard and hammer the vulnerable neck strip once more.

  The monster tried to shake him off, but the damaged plates ground together unevenly, failing to catch him. Staying low and moving in harmony with the beast’s thrashing, Arvey threw another heavy punch at the head. This time, the mana didn't wait for the impact, it surged into his fist a split-second before contact, turning the strike into an explosion of force.

  The plate cracked deeper and the head dipped toward the stone. Arvey backed off one step to avoid being crushed. The Broodmaster did not fall but it dragged its front legs. Arvey saw the chest seam opening where he had torn the plates. He aimed both hands there and waited for one beat.

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  The Broodmaster lunged in a final, desperate attempt to pin him, but Arvey simply shifted, letting the monster’s own overcommitted weight become its undoing. As he slipped to the side, he drove a punch into the shoulder plate, mana surged on impact, providing the raw force needed to shuck the heavy chitin aside. The beast’s stance widened, its joints buckling as it clicked frantically to compensate for its lost balance.

  Keeping his exhale long and his shoulders loose, Arvey waited for the inevitable slam. When the monster reared back on its hind legs, Arvey didn’t retreat, he sprinted directly toward the towering head. The forelegs struck the floor, sending a pulse rippling through the stone, but Arvey moved to stay stable. He drove his right fist into the cracked head seam and followed instantly with his left, the mana detonating between his knuckles until the plate shattered into two jagged fragments.

  One shard hissed against the wall while the other skidded through the slime. The Broodmaster let out a harsh, scraping wail, its head jerking to reveal the dark, soft flesh hidden beneath the armor. Arvey didn’t hesitate, driving his knuckles into the exposed strip and following with a brutal second strike that sent the beast stumbling backward, its rear joints dragging. He pressed in close, staying within the monster's guard to punish the leg joints while avoiding a terminal crush. The Broodmaster’s steps became uneven, its clicks devolving into broken, mechanical bursts.

  “End,” Arvey said, his voice flat and cold.

  He stunned the beast’s control with a snap-punch to the head, then hammered the throat line beneath the jaw, driving both hands into the chest. The Broodmaster convulsed, trying to ram him with its dying weight, but Arvey braced his boots against a stone ridge and held his ground. He pulled back just enough to gain leverage, then drove a final series of strikes into the neck strip. Dark fluid surged from the wound, hot against his arm, as the monster's clicks faded into a low, wet rattle.

  Its legs gave one final, spasming push before slowing to a stop. Mana pulled into his chest in a clear rush, sliding into his core and marking the kill.

  Only then did Arvey step back. The Broodmaster sagged forward, its massive frame slamming into the floor with a heavy, final scrape of stone on stone.

  The chamber fell into a sudden silence, broken only by Arvey’s ragged breathing. He stood over the corpse, waiting as the mana circle stabilized in his chest. His fists trembled from the mana still simmering in his knuckles and the dull ache radiating through his forearms.

  Arvey wiped the mixture of slime and dark fluid from his forearms, then flexed his hands, testing the lingering mana in his muscles. He scanned the chamber, listening for the sound of other movement. Moments later, the rhythmic beat of wings echoed from the corridor. Kozlo emerged at the chamber’s edge and skidded to a halt, eyes wide as they took in the carnage.

  “Arvey… won,” Kozlo stammered.

  “Barely,” Arvey replied, his breath catching in his chest. “Stay alert.” He tapped his shoulder once, signaling Kozlo to perch there.

  Kozlo bobbed his head, then hopped onto Arvey’s shoulder. He kept his wings half-open, ready to launch. Arvey turned his attention to the back of the chamber, where the Broodmaster’s massive body had been guarding a narrow slit in the wall. Unlike the rest of the room, the opening was surprisingly clean and free of the pervasive slime. He approached it carefully.

  “Good,” Arvey said quietly, keeping a wary distance from the opening. “This is exactly why it stayed here.”

  He slipped into the opening and moved into a tighter passage. He slowed at the mouth of the passage and listened again. “Watch our back, Kozlo,” Arvey said, keeping his voice low. “We cover both directions.” The back tunnel was narrower than the main chamber, and the air changed immediately. It smelled less sour and more metallic, like wet stone and old blood.

  He stepped deeper into the passage, keeping his right shoulder clear of the wall. The floor was less slimy here, but uneven, and broken plates were embedded like crude pavings. Arvey felt his knuckles throb when he flexed his fingers. The throbbing reminded him what had saved him.

  He tested the new sensation while walking. He let mana circulate through his arms and watched where it wanted to settle. Warmth gathered near his wrists first, then drifted toward his palms. He stopped forcing it and changed his breathing until the warmth stayed.

  Mana pooled into both hands for a short moment. His fingers felt heavier, his knuckles felt dense, his wrists felt braced from the inside. He held it there and kept walking, then the pool thinned and leaked back into the loop. He tried again and managed it once more, but the hold broke fast.

  “So it’s like this,” Arvey said quietly. “I can guide it.” Kozlo landed at the chamber mouth, talons clicking on stone. “Punch strong,” Kozlo said, voice shaky. “Yes,” Arvey replied, keeping his eyes on the passage ahead.

  “But I can’t use it all the time.” He opened his hand, then closed it, feeling the last mana fade. “Not yet,” Arvey added, voice steady. Kozlo bobbed his head once, then stared into the dark again. The passage widened into a pocket chamber.

  Thick sacks clung to the wall, swollen with fluid that pulsed faintly. Hard plates lined the floor in a rough ring, arranged like a crude nest bed.

  Arvey stepped into the chamber and stopped, his shoulders tensing as the temperature plummeted. "Colder," he whispered, scanning the shadows. "Be careful, Kozlo."

  At the center sat a single egg set apart from the others. It was larger than the fist-sized eggs in the nesting chamber, and the film around it looked cleaner. The surface held faint lines that caught his eye when he shifted his angle. Arvey did not know what it was, but his instincts treated it like something valuable.

  Arvey crouched and held his forearm between himself and the egg, watching for movement. He studied the shell for a twitch, a crack, anything that looked fresh. He listened to the air, then to his own breathing, checking for a spike in pressure. Nothing moved.

  He lowered his hand a little and stared at the egg. “If a Tier 3 monster is guarding you, little egg friend,” Arvey said quietly, keeping his voice steady, “it means you’re valuable.” He shifted his weight forward and extended his fingers. Then he reached out and touched the shell.

  He reached out and touched the shell with his fingertips. A sharp pull grabbed the inside of his left forearm the instant his skin made contact. Black tar-like veins formed on the egg and his arm, branching fast, connecting like cords that should not exist. Arvey’s stomach clenched, and he tried to jerk his hand back, but the pull held.

  The egg began to dissolve where the black veins touched it. The shell thinned in streaks, then turned to slurry, as if it was being drained into him. Arvey felt the flow travel up his forearm, then rush toward his chest. Something slammed into his core, and the mana circle inside him bucked hard.

  Pain hit like a spike under his sternum. Arvey gasped and folded forward, teeth clenched, because the absorption did not feel clean. His forearm burned along the vein lines, and his fingers locked around nothing as the egg disappeared. The black veins faded only after the last of the egg emptied, leaving his skin sore and trembling.

  “What the hell,” Arvey said in a strained voice, forcing the words out while he fought for breath. He pressed his palm against his forearm and felt heat under the skin. His chest felt packed, like something had been forced inside. He stood there for a second and tried to steady the mana loop, but the pain kept breaking his rhythm.

  A click echoed from behind. “Arvey, sound,” Kozlo shouted. Arvey swallowed hard and pulled himself upright, still breathing through the pain. He looked down at the empty plate where the egg had been and felt anger rise.

  “We don’t have time,” Arvey said, voice tight, as he forced his legs to move again, back toward the main chamber at a run. When he returned, the Broodmaster lay still, but smaller shapes moved in the dark beyond the chamber.

  Workers and Wardens did not rush into the chamber, but their clicking carried from the tunnels.

  “They’re waiting for a signal,” Arvey said. “Or they think I will leave.” He stepped back into the Broodmaster chamber and stayed near the corpse to use it as cover.

  His ribs hurt when he drew deep breaths. At the edge of the chamber, a worker skittered into view, then froze, another appeared behind it, mirroring the hesitation. They clicked in disjointed, aimless patterns.

  They did not charge, and that told him the Broodmaster’s control was gone. “Good,” Arvey said, voice low. “They don’t have rhythm now.”

  Arvey took one step toward the egg chamber, then stopped. He looked at the eggs again, at the scale of them, at the wet film, and at the way the clusters filled every line. He did not have time to destroy them without being swarmed. He also did not want to be trapped deeper with fatigue.

  “We leave,” Arvey said firmly. “We return later to burn this nest to the ground.” “Leave,” Kozlo repeated.

  Arvey moved to the corridor. The workers clicked and backed away, slipping into cracks and cuts. Arvey did not chase them. He moved through the junction where the two Wardens had died, then toward the hidden root entrance.

  A few workers tried to test them near the end. One crawled from a cut and snapped at Arvey’s boot. Arvey stepped over it and drove his fist down once, ending it.

  He did not let the tunnel slow him. The hidden root crack appeared as a darker line ahead, and the forest air leaked in, the first clean breath he’d tasted in hours. He pushed through the tangle of roots and tumbled into the night, his chest expanding with the deep, cool relief of the open woods.

  The night air tasted clean compared to the nest. His hands trembled, but his grip stayed solid. He refused to stay near the hill, because he did not trust the silence. He looked up through the branches and chose the tallest tree he could see.

  “Up,” Arvey said, keeping his eyes on the dark slope. Kozlo hooted once and flew first, scouting the trunk and landing higher. Arvey climbed after him, using bark ridges and thick branches for leverage. His forearms burned as he pulled himself up, and his ribs complained with every breath.

  He kept climbing until the crown thinned and the wind reached his face. The height made the forest feel smaller, and it gave him space to listen. When he reached the highest stable branch, his legs shook under him. He lowered himself into the crown and collapsed against the trunk, chest rising fast.

  Arvey stared up into the sky, blinking through sweat and strain. Kozlo threw himself down beside him, feathers spread. “Danger, but fun!” Kozlo said, voice bright, as his eyes stayed alert. “Yeah,” Arvey said quietly, still looking upward.

  He saw the sky clearly for the first time tonight, because the canopy no longer blocked it. Three huge moons hung above the forest, each one different in size. Arvey stared at them and felt his exhaustion deepen. “Three moons,” Arvey said softly. “I never saw them before, not through all these trees.”

  His eyelids grew heavy, and his body finally took the rest he had denied. He turned his head slightly toward Kozlo and forced the words out. “Kozlo, keep watch, please,” Arvey said, voice low. Kozlo hooted once and stayed upright, eyes scanning, as Arvey fell asleep.