Theresa checked her mana reserves and felt her stomach drop. She did not have enough left for the layered shields. She could not keep the detection ward running at full power either. What remained would only let her do one thing.

She made her choice.

Dominic.

The bond between them stretched wide open. Bond Step 2 pushed past its old limit and changed into something the system did not recognize yet. Every last bit of her amplification, every scrap of protective magic, and every piece of her focus flowed straight into him.

His body jerked hard as the power hit. Muscles locked tight and shook. It felt like someone had dropped him into boiling water and ice at the same time. The two extremes fought across his skin and made each other worse.

His heartbeat raced. It doubled, then tripled, slamming so hard he felt it in his teeth. The edges of his vision went fuzzy for a second, then snapped into sharp focus. He saw tiny dark specks swirling inside the angel’s weeping hole. He smelled ozone, sharp and electric. A bitter taste like old grief sat on his tongue.

For one clear moment he felt Theresa’s detection ward inside his own head. He knew exactly where the next beam would come from. He knew the angle, the timing, and the width.

Theresa’s final shield formed right in front of him. Not layers this time. Just one clean wedge, angled to split whatever came. She dropped forward onto her hands. Her arms shook. The gold trim on Astrielle’s Promise looked heavy on her shoulders.

Dominic sprinted forward.

The angel’s head snapped toward him. That round hole-face stretched wider and deeper. Black stuff churned inside it like thick oil. For half a second the creature stared at him like he was something that should not be running straight at it.

Then it fired.

Not the giant column from before. It had grown too weak for that. This beam was thin, no wider than a fist, but it burned with terrible heat. The air around it rippled. The stone floor under the beam turned to black glass in a straight line, then crumbled into dust.

Theresa’s wedge shield caught the beam dead center. It split with a loud crackle. Two halves of pure destruction shot past Dominic on both sides. Heat stung his cheeks. Sweat popped out instantly. The big stones next to him melted into shiny glass, cracked, and fell apart into gray powder. He ran through the narrow gap between the two burning halves, boots pounding the floor.

The angel let out a high, ear-splitting shriek. Pure fury and frustration. One of its six wings, the damaged one that had hit Florence earlier, lashed toward him in a wild swing.

Dominic dropped low and slid across the rough stone. The wing passed inches above his head. Wind rushed over him, carrying the smell of burnt leather. He popped back up at the end of the slide, boots scraping, sword already tight in both hands.

He reached the angel and jumped.

With everything he had, he drove the sword straight into the dark opening in its face.

The blade met solid resistance. It stopped for a moment, then sank in deeper as he pushed. Inside the hole, thick cold darkness twisted and fought back like a living thing. It pressed hard against the steel, trying to shove him out. Cold seeped into his hands and up his arms.

His ribs screamed with every push. A grinding pain ran down his left side. Something had definitely broken. His bad shoulder burned like fire. Still he leaned in harder.

The angel’s sobbing turned into a high keening wail. The sound made the air itself hurt. Its jagged teeth around the hole started to crack and splinter. Sharp black pieces flew past Dominic’s face. One cut his cheek. Another stuck in his forearm. He barely noticed.

The angel thrashed. Its wings beat uselessly against the air. Dominic kept both hands locked on the sword and drove it deeper.

Behind him, Theresa lay sprawled on the stone. Her hands reached out even though she had nothing left. No mana flowed through her. No shields appeared. No amplification. Yet something else still came through the bond. It felt warm and steady in his chest. Not magic. Just her refusing to let him die here. She kept the connection open with pure will.

Florence stood a short distance away, leaning on her halberd. Blood ran down her side and dripped from her elbow. She watched every move with sharp eyes, ready to jump in the second he looked like he might fall. Her breathing sounded rough, but her grip on the weapon stayed firm.

"Keep it steady, Dom," she called out, voice rough but clear. "Don’t let the bastard shake you off."

"Trying," he grunted back through clenched teeth.

The sword finally hit something solid. A core, buried deep.

The angel’s wail cut off mid-cry. The hole started to pull inward like a whirlpool. It dragged the rest of the body with it. Wings shriveled fast, membranes curling like dry paper in fire. Talons twisted and turned to ash. Ribs snapped with loud cracks. The whole creature folded smaller and smaller until it collapsed into a single dark point and vanished.

A deep iridescent gold core dropped onto the floor. It pulsed softly, once, twice, like a slow heartbeat.

Next to it fell something smaller. A dark, lumpy crystal of shadow. It gave off a sickly warmth.

The floor went quiet.

His legs gave out. He dropped onto his hands and knees. The sword clattered beside him. Every rib felt like its own separate fire. His right arm hung useless from his shoulder. His ears rang. Blood from the cut on his cheek dripped onto the stone between his hands and made small red dots.

He stared at the gold core. It pulsed again. Real. They had actually done it.

Thirty feet back, Theresa lay flat on her back. Astrielle’s Promise spread under her like a blanket. Her arms stretched out to the sides. Her chest rose and fell in quick, tired breaths. Her fingers twitched every few seconds, still trying to cast spells that would not come. She did not try to stand.

Florence stayed propped against her halberd a little closer. Head down. Blood still trickling slowly down her side. The gash on her forearm kept weeping. Each breath looked like hard work. Yet she kept her eyes open and fixed on the cores.

Dominic crawled a few feet, picked up his sword with his good hand, and used it to push himself up. The movement sent fresh pain through his ribs. He hissed but stayed upright.

"Theresa?" he called, voice hoarse.

She lifted one hand weakly without opening her eyes. "Still here. Just... empty."

Florence gave a low chuckle that turned into a cough. "You sound like you ran a marathon through hell."

Dominic limped over to the cores first. The gold one felt warm when he got close. The dark crystal made his skin crawl. He left both where they were for now.

He turned and walked toward Theresa. Each step hurt. The dungeon floor felt colder than before under his boots. The air still carried that burnt ozone smell mixed with the sharp tang of blood.

When he reached her, he dropped down carefully beside her. "You okay?"

She opened her eyes halfway. A tired half-smile touched her lips. "I will be. Once my head stops spinning. You?"

"Feels like a truck hit me. Twice." He looked down at the cut on his arm. "But I’m breathing. Thanks to you."

Theresa closed her eyes again but kept the small smile.

Florence started walking over slowly, using the halberd like a walking stick. "You two done with the soft talk? Because we still have loot to check and I want to sit down before my legs remember they’re supposed to be injured."

Dominic laughed despite the pain. The sound came out rough and tired, but real. "Yeah. Sit. We all look like we lost a fight with a meat grinder."

Florence lowered herself down near them with a groan. She set the halberd across her lap. Blood kept dripping from her side onto the stone, but she ignored it for now.

The three of them sat in a loose triangle around the two cores. The dungeon felt strangely still after all the chaos. No wind. No new threats. Just their breathing and the faint pulse of the golden core.

Dominic wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his good hand. "That thing really hated me at the end. Aimed everything right at the weak link."

"Smart dungeon," Florence said. "Too bad for it you stopped being the weak link about ten seconds before it fired."

Theresa let out a soft breath. "We need to get out soon. My mana is gone. Your ribs look bad. Florence is leaking."

"Leaking is a strong word," Florence muttered, but she pressed a hand to her side anyway. "More like... generously sharing."

Dominic shook his head, smiling despite everything. The pain in his ribs flared with the movement, but the smile stayed. They had faced something that should have killed them and they were still here, cracking weak jokes on the cold floor.

"No fears, we still got the potions"Dominic said.

He looked at the cores again. The fight had cost them a lot. Bruises, breaks, and empty mana reserves. But they had won. The proof lay right there, glowing softly in the quiet space.

For the first time since the raid, Dominic let his shoulders relax. The bond with Theresa and Florence still hummed faintly in his chest, warm and steady even with no magic left to carry.

They had survived. That was enough for now.