Like the slicing wind, an undead's head is swiped clean off its body by a crackling whip shaped of Astrid's magic, Ayame backing her with a rain of traps and Hazel buffing the party while serving to the enemies a chilled strike of her blade, a hill of ice formed across the battlefield in countering a ball of fire shot at her by the enemy. And feeling he's on top of the world in his own moment, Nahshon blows down after shooting down his opponent from the air, watching as it gets up with fluttering feathers. By its attacker its beak aims, its yellow, glowing eyes crazed looking at the lad that had dared to challenge its freedom within the air, racing through the ones on its side in a fit of rage towards him, screeching as it giants wings set like cleavers ready to chop him up, missing Nahshon who easily dances out of its way like he's already used to it.

"Well...you ain't know chimaera," Nahshon mumbles, dodging another attempt of the monster, saved by Ayame who kicks away an undead that was about to attack him. "Thanks"

"No probs, now we're even!" Ayame tells him, getting back into teaming up with Hazel and Astrid, Nahshon sensing a chill on his neck followed with a heavy wind at his back, quickly dodging yet another attempt, closer than before as he's grazed by the wings of his opponent, into swiftly countering the beast with a hammer of lightning burns its feathers.

And on the other side of the battlefield, once again is the old man challenged, the numbing of his mana continued into this room as he clashes with the Goblin who swings his battle-axe in wanting to get his head, Garkari smiling as he hurls a ball of fire towards him, blocked by the goblin who comes out with barely any injury, a feat that startles Garkari who dashes back, his hand to his chin as he begins to examine the monster.

"I see. Not only am I being nullified by their shamans, but this one has resistance to magic? I would have surely inflicted damage just with that," Garkari figures, now heightening his voice for the goblin to hear. "Interesting! Champion of the goblins, yes? It's been long since I've come across a goblin like you. I am Garkari, a pleasure. Do you have a name, warrior?"

"I am Zok, the younger of the Ironside brothers, and we have never lost a battle to man, monster nor beast," He greets Garkari, standing proud of his words.

"I see. Mr. Zok, if I may ask, what is the purpose of all this? May I know the reason why this sacred place is being occupied by you and your allies?" Garkari challenges, Zok laughing in the face of his question. "Perhaps it shall not be so easy as I've wanted"

"Hm! If you want an answer, you're going to have to best me in battle, old one. That is the rule of the world! Only the strongest can demand the things they desire! With the fear of his power, the weak will succumb to it with their little weakling minds! Don't you believe so, my enemy?!" Zok shouts, laughing menacingly as he clashes with the old man once more, their weapons cutting against each other as now they come face to face, Zok's breath like a pot of steaming gas on Garkari's skin.

"Sadly, you were born on the wrong side of this world if you believe your words to be morally right," Garkari smirks, and with a palm, Zok is blown back into his fellow monsters, pressured by the dragon's quick strikes against his axe, his attacks like thunder that shakes the hands of the goblin who suffers at the slice of Garkari's blade across his shoulder in his stumble, the old man then lifting his sword in blocking the strike of Zok's hand, pushed back by the Champion's sheer strength, a smile forming on his face, as he witnesses as Zok is healed by the magic of the shamans, getting the Champion back on his feet more fierce.

"It seems I should not underestimate you, old one," Zok laughs, stunned by a sharp pain he feels running across that same shoulder, sensing Garkari already behind him.

"Yes, you shouldn't. That would be unwise, my young opponent," Garkari tells him, dodging the swing of Zok's hand, stooping with a fist to his stomach, the champion's spit of blood climbed up from within, the shamans unable to heal their champions as fast for Garkari's pressure grows too intense for them to keep up, the old man then feeling as something pulls at his soul, giving to the goblin a chance of redemption as he's punched across the face, running his nose with blood as he can tell of more shamans backing the champion.

And so Zok's war axe against Garkari's sword grows more violent, the old man's skin cut by the champion as his speed and power dull to even lower depths. However, still he's able to blast away Zok once more, but not without the champion quickly regaining his pressuring demeanour in this turn of tables. But calm the old man remains, as he now examines for weak spots, from head to toe, finding one he lifts his sword to strike, hit away once again by the sheer might of the champion who counters the attack going for his neck. And even in his moment of weakness, bending a knee with his head down, Garkari laughs, the goblin wondering why he still does so.

"Your time has come, old one. I have won this battle, and I hope you shall die in honour. You have given me a great battle, and I must say that I respect your strength, but it seems it could not best me, therefore I am the superior one," Zok states, lifting his axe above the dragon's head. "Farewell, my opponent. When I return to the outside world, from the many children I shall bear with your kind, one shall bear your name"

He swings his axe down in finishing off the dragon, but behold to him is the strength left in Garkari who stops his strike with only two fingers at his axe's bits, hearing a laugh that frightens him to his core, as near its sight he stands, witnessing for himself the eyes he did not know the old one possessed as he hears his laughter grow stronger, sensing within him a wave of anger like a great sea of fire that latches to his skin.

"I too also enjoyed this battle. It's been long since I've been driven to such...vile emotions," Garkari tells him, his eyes the colour of bleeding red, as a breath of fog begins to surround them, calling upon a great wind that blows away the monsters nearby, ringing to others a great power as some of the staffs in the hands of the shamans tremble, their glass heads shattering to the reveal of what appears from out the mist, Garkari in his true form, with Zok under his feet like a trapped prey with no freedom of movement, both realizing his allies had taken care of more shaman, leaving a little who could contain his power. "Take my words with comprehension, goblin. The gods did not gift strength to Allkind in the wish of their own selfish reasons. So no, you may not do whatever that you desire, or take from whoever is lower than you are, one with power is not without rules, and your kind is no different"

"A-A dragon??" Zok stammers, his yellow, hard teeth showing clearly, grinning in the face of his great doom. "Why would a mighty being like you live among those weaklings?"

"They may be weak, but they are people of my country. And with my power, I have vowed to protect them from dangers such as yourself," Gakari teaches him, hearing him laugh out loud. "This is how you use your strength, young warrior. I suggest you make peace in understanding this"

"Heh...very well! But I shall stand by my own words. Kill me now, dragon! End it!! I shall die a proud champion! Remember my name, old one! For my death will not change the course of the future to come! And my brother shall put his throne upon your people; kill your men, breed your women, burn your homes, and eat your childre-"

"Hm," Garkari sounds, his aura shaking the core of Zok in his realization of death with no chance of mercy after what he said. "I pray, for if you are allowed a life after this one, that my words will be of your reality, warrior. But very well, I shall end your life right here. Farewell"

In his last laugh, he looks to his partner fighting the knight, feeling as a great heat is washed upon his skin, his flesh and bones incinerated by the great flames of Garkari that spread like a storm onto the others nearby, washing many of the undead and alive alike, and ending the reign of the last of the shamans over their mana as well. And with one battle over, a next grows wilder, with its wings worrying Nahshon who has been dealt damage by them and its beak, the boy making sure he had returned the favour, with its skull chipped in many places and feathers plucked and burnt. And for the hundredth time, the monster takes flight, this time Nahshon's strike critical, feeling the nerves of his hand jittered by the shattering its skull with its passing attack, the boy using his bare fist that tumbles the monster. Now the boy's confidence in his skills returns, as now he ponders on what its weakness is as he looks across its body, as now it runs its way to him with its mouth opened to feast on him, killing off its allies from the boy baiting it and dodging to safety. And through its chest, a clean-cut lands, Nahshon speeding across it with then mounting its back. It gallops and gallops, wanting the boy off, but Nahshon gives to it no success, feeling as it then lifts off the ground with carrying him into the air. And with curses from his tongue, he grips its feather, the bird spinning and shaking away at wanting him to fall to his death, Nahshon feeling as his soul rocks in taking that chance of faith, getting to its belly and beneath its wings in some miracle with a proper strike to its heart he finds, the beast luckily turning around and landing through the battlefield on its back, giving Nahshon a safe landing on its now-dead corpse.

"Ahh!" One flies back with blocking an attack, turning to see her partner gone and pet dead. "No!!!!!"

"Oh!" Arwyn looks around to see what she sees. "Your pet is dead, and your champion too"

"You scoundrels!! How dare you?!" She screams.

"No, Stacy! How dare you? You shouldn't have been down here in the first place," Arywn teaches her, the witch's face twisted by his words.

"Stac- You dare call me a name that is not of mine, you inferior mongrel? How dare you?! I am a chosen sister, great warlock and commander of our army, a disciple of the dark ones, and I shall drink your blood with your head as my cup. I am-"

"Yeah yeah, you can cut the introductions now, Karen. You fucking villains...always doing this shit. Tch! I am asking you to surrender, you're under arrest for suspicion of terrorism, illegal staying within the sanctuary, and acts of necromancy. I'd tell you that you have a right to remain silent, but I'm sure you've seen a few movies yourself...so you'll be telling me every little detail of what the hell this is," Arwyn challenges her, hearing as she laughs at his words, sighing to her aura of entitlement.

"Do you think I will be defeated by the likes of you so easily? Think again, little man," She crackles, Arwyn flustered as it is true that he's shorter than she is. "You? Defeat me? Hah!!"

"Hm," Arwyn hisses, smiling as he lifts his sword. "That what I wanted to hear"

"Die!!!" She shouts, Arwyn blocking her offence of cursed flames with his sword of light, running through it with clashing with her staff, into striking his blade into her arm, the knight tilting his head to what he did not expect, hearing as she laughs.

"You think one strike alone of your holy sword can best me," She laughs out loud once more.

"Well shit, you're not bad after all," Arwyn says in complimenting her toughness, as she summons dogs of shadows to her side that pounce at him, Arwyn quickly dispelling them, his strikes like dance moves as he nears her, the warlock gritting her teeth as she once again clashes with the knight, sparks going off their weapons as he pressures her in stepping back, her hand raised as she moves to scratch his face with her nail, feeling as her flower is shaken by an aching pain that suddenly appears, her eyes going down at it, comprehending as Arwyn's knee is between her legs, dropping to the ground with groans, Arwyn scratching his chin as he watches her squeal. "Now that's funny, didn't know a woman could feel pain from getting kicked in their grind. Other than those silver stuff on you, I'm sure I didn't feel anything else dangling down there either"

She jumps up in wanting to gauge one of his eyes out, her thigh sliced by Arwyn who wastes no time, meeting his sword near her eye, the witch sweating as she looks up to him, cursing in her thoughts, smiling as her hand goes under her silverware, moaning as she begins pleasing herself.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Arwyn questions her behaviour, as she also slowly begins squeezing onto her breasts, their tips hardened to the pleasure that she gives herself.

"Forgive me, my lord. Spare me, and I'll do anything you desire," She says, breathing erotically as she draws closer to him on her knees, a sudden fright called upon her, to a sharp pain against her cheek, the blood boiling off her face as she looks up to him once more, crying from the acceptance of her defeat, cut by his sword once more.

"You're under arrest," Arwyn tells her once more, cuffs dropped to her knees, the woman looking down on them in total disorder. "Put them on"

"N-No..." She smirks, her eyes blank like she's her soul has left her body.

"What?"

Her shoulders jerking, he hears silent laughter, her hands on her head like she's really lost, as he hears that laughter growing stronger, startled by a jumpscare of her eyes meeting with his once more, this time seeing ones of total darkness, painted black as she jumps to scratch him once more, strike against the chest by Arwyn who speeds past her, her fate sealed as even her own body refuses to move any longer as her mind had given up on her, with Arwyn running his sword through her chest as his next move, watching as the warlock gauges up blood from deep within. Slowly she slides off his sword, her hands pressed against her chest, feeling as her heart begins to fade, the fear for her life increasing, as she begins to feel a heat building up from within, looking at Arwyn who shows her no last moment of mercy, as appears a great flame that rushes out her chest, the warlock screaming her throat out to the feeling like a sun rising from beneath her skin, running around as she begins praying to her dark gods, her fear going to further heights as she feels as their presence leave her, her entire skin boiling into an explosion that catches onto her spawns of dead and demon foot soldiers alike, Arwyn's magic spreading across them with none spared, ceasing to silence at its finished.

This battle now over, after searching the entire headquarter, collecting loot, killing whatever is left of them, the group set up to leave, Arwyn blowing down as he takes a look at the scene once more, upon hundreds of dead enemy soldiers, Nahshon and Garkari coming by his side in joining him.

"What's next?" Nahshon simply asks.

"The Highsword will likely be the one to advise the King on making things stricter this time around, especially hearing of this," Garkari figures.

"Yup. Unfortunate for the people who travel often, especially for the adventurers that aren't really experienced," Arwyn adds, three of them turning around to the girls trying to get the attention of the wyvern who seems to be fascinated with the sight of one of the doors.

"Guys, why is she so damn stubborn?" Ayame says as she pulls at its neck, the dragon cooing as it wipes its snoot beneath the iron door.

"Come on honey, we have no more reason to be here. See, it can't even be opened," Hazel presses on the door.

"Well, something must be in there for her to be like that. She's probably just hungry after all of this. These dame savages would have probably fed her pieces of her own flesh and she wouldn't know...or have any choice," Astrid rubs her chin to the thought of her words, her body freezing in quickly responding to a sound that has passed, looking to the others who turn to her. "Did...did you just hear that?"

"Wha-" Garkari sounds, surprised as an influx of sadness and terror washes over him, sensing it all coming from beyond the door. "There is a key nearby, find it. It's surely among the dead soldiers"

Everybody hearing his command, they return to the battlefield, turning over the dead in searching their pockets, and searching where they found loot before, Garkari returning to Zok whose body rests black and crisp as coal, finding an item beneath his ashes, a key still in perfect shape. And so everybody returns to the location, the wyvern cooing once more as Arwyn goes to open the door. And behold to their eyes, is a frightening sight, blood marked on the ground like a sketch that draws a symbol, and sitting above it, their skins bruised, dirty, trembling, and their eyes blinded with fear as they look at the group, are people of all ages they find grouped up like cattle, their tongues silent as they sit in the darkness that Arwyn casts away with his swords.

"I need one of you to go up and use my radio," Arwyn commands, his guts telling that this is more than meets the eye.