Not far from the smoking ruins of the Ogre camp, a figure stood motionless atop a high sand mound, silhouetted against the rising moon. He was a massive, tan-haired warrior with the head of a Dire Wolf. A jagged white scar cut across his left eye, a permanent mark of a battle survived.

  He stood upwind, his nostrils flaring as he tasted the air. Amongst the scent of ozone, burnt ogre flesh, and copper blood, he caught a familiar trail—a scent that made his fur bristle.

  Below, the battle was a symphony of destruction. He watched as Ann tore through the ranks, her blade growing to the size of a tree trunk, her eyes glowing with the fury of a giant. The figure’s hand twitched toward the hilt of a weapon at his side, his muscles tensing as if to join the fray.

  Then, he forced himself to relax. He settled back onto his haunches, his golden eyes reflecting the fires of the dying camp.

  “Not yet,” he rumbled, his voice like grinding gravel. “Not yet, they're not ready.” A rough voice said slowly.

  He took one last look at Ann, a flash of something—regret or perhaps pride—flickering in his scarred gaze before he turned and vanished into the desert shadows as if he had never been there at all. “I will see you soon, mother.”

  Stepping through the portal was like shedding a heavy skin. The suffocating heat of the volcano vanished, replaced by a damp, biting chill. Scott took a breath of the mist-laden air, feeling a wave of relief as the skittering of thousands of spiders faded into silence.

  They had emerged into a wasteland of muck and skeletal, charred trees that stretched toward a bruised purple horizon. Scott limped over to a blackened stump, sniffing the air. "Smells like a forest fire that never went out," he noted calmly.

  “Must be nice to have a view! I'm still staring at your sweat-stained backpack, partner!” Ret barked from behind.

  “Right, sorry.” Scott chuckled, unhooking the straps and propping Ret up against the stump so the construct could survey the gloom.

  A System message popped up not soon after.

  **Find out what's hidden in the wasteland,

  And defeat the one that resides there**

  0/1

  “Great. Another 'kill the big bad' mission,” Scott mumbled. “Let’s hunker down for a few minutes, get some healing in, and then—”

  **You have two hours to finish the dungeon. Time 2:00:00**

  “Are you kidding me?!” Scott cried, watching the seconds immediately start ticking away. 1:59:59... 1:59:58... “What is it with the System and two-hour deadlines? It’s like it wants us to have a heart attack.”

  “Less complaining, more mending!” Ret urged.

  Scott sat cross-legged, funneling his mana into his damaged leg, watching the skin knit over the skin on his thigh while Ret worked his own internal nanites to re-fasten his arm servos. They were halfway through their field repairs when a voice, cold and heavy as a gravestone, echoed directly into their minds.

  “You shouldn't be here... No one enters the domain of Nyxrah the Shade and lives to tell the tale...”

  Scott didn't even look up from his leg. “You wouldn't happen to be a dragon, would you?”

  The voice faltered, the ominous aura flickering. “I am... but as I was saying, you won't li—”

  “Ha, I’ve got this,” Scott said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Listen, do you happen to know a white dragon named Amarwrath?”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Then, the shadows in front of them began to coil and knit together, forming the massive, translucent shape of a dragon draped in tattered obsidian scales. Nyxrah leaned in close, her eyes like dying embers staring into Scott’s soul with a puzzled look.

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  “Amarwrath?” she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and annoyance. “I haven’t heard the name of my kin in ages.”

  **Find out what's hidden in the wasteland- Finished**

  **Defeat Nyxra the shade 0/1**

  **Time left- 0:58:21**

  “Well, you’re in luck,” Scott said, standing tall with a surge of pride. “I happen to be carrying him around. Amarwrath? Would you do the honors?”

  “Little one, you shouldn’t have,” Amarwrath’s voice boomed from Scott’s throat, vibrating through his very ribs. “Hello, Nyxrah! I see you’re still rotting in this dreary little prison.”

  Nyxrah’s head tilted, her shadow-claws digging into the muck. “Amarwrath, Amarwrath, Amarwrath... I don’t even have to ask. You botched another one of your high-tier spells, didn’t you? You always did have more ambition than focus.”

  “You know me too well,” Amarwrath boasted, ignoring the insult. “But I have freed myself from my dungeon! Though... I will admit the circumstances are somewhat unusual.”

  “Unusual indeed,” Nyxrah murmured, her hostile aura vanishing as she sat back on her haunches, deep in thought. “If you are free... could you break my chains as well, Scott?”

  “Well, I can’t say that I could, but I can’t say that I can’t either,” Scott explained plainly. “See, we messed up the link. The plan was to connect our minds so I could find a way to free him. Instead, his whole body and soul got sucked into my head. Now we’re kind of stuck like this for the time being.”

  “To be honest,” Nyxrah mused, her tail twitching through the muck, “our sister might be able to untangle that spell. But you’d have to find where she’s been locked up first. Given the predicament, merging with you may be the only way for me to leave this place.” She leaned in, her eyes glowing. “Though, can your fragile form actually hold more than one dragon without exploding? That is the real question.”

  “Hey! Don’t I get a say in this?” Scott interjected, hands raised. “I’m really not comfortable with the 'exploding' part of the plan. How about this? Instead of me, you merge with Ret?”

  “Whoa, partner!” Ret’s lights flickered nervously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Besides, I’m barely held together by prayer and duct tape as it is.”

  “I can fix that,” Nyxrah purred. “Lay his frame before me. I shall use my magic to mend what is broken.”

  “I agree with her,” Amarwrath’s voice echoed from Scott. “Nyxrah was always a finer healer of forms than I. Trust her, Scott. Do as she says.”

  Scott nodded, carefully laying Ret’s shattered torso and disconnected legs onto the dark earth. Nyxrah began to hum, a low, vibrating sound that seemed to pull the light right out of the sky.

  Darkness rushed in from the edges of the wasteland, swirling into a localized cyclone. The shadows poured into Ret’s chassis like liquid ink. Scott watched in awe as the loose wires inside the construct began to writhe like snakes, reaching out and snagging the legs. With a series of mechanical clicks and hisses, the limbs were hauled back into place. The shadow-matter acted as a magical solder, fusing metal and spirit until the gloom finally dissipated.

  “It is done,” Nyxrah said, her form looking slightly more translucent.

  “Go ahead, Ret,” Scott said, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Try to move.”

  Ret sat up slowly, rotating his ankles and flexed his new shadow-knit joints. He stood up, taking a few tentative steps before breaking into a confident stride. “Wow... partner, I feel better than new. Your magic is divine, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “You’re too kind!” Nyxrah chirped, her glowing eyes shimmering with a hint of moisture. For a dragon of shadows, she seemed remarkably human in her hope. “Now, stand back. I shall begin the ritual.”

  **Defeat Nyxra the shade 0/1**

  **Time left- 0:30:00**

  “Uh, guys? We need to move,” Scott said, his eyes glued to the ticking clock. “We’ve got thirty minutes to pull off a miracle.”

  They worked in a frenzy. Setting the ritual stones took twenty agonizing minutes of dragging heavy obsidian markers through the muck. By the time Ret and Nyxrah stepped into the center of the circle, the countdown was a blur of red light in Scott's peripheral vision.

  The air began to scream. Shadows and gale-force winds lashed out from the circle, gaining power as the seconds evaporated.

  **10... 9... 8...**

  Scott dropped into a low crouch, his [Gravity Manipulation] flaring as he anchored his mass to the planet's core so he wouldn't be sucked into the vortex.

  **3... 2... 1...**

  An explosion of pure void-energy white-washed Scott's vision. In a heartbeat, the damp chill of the wasteland was replaced by a blast of furnace-like heat. The world tilted. Scott opened his eyes to see the orange glow of the lava lake rushing up to meet them.

  Ret was falling like a stone, tumbling straight toward the magma.

  “No!” Scott roared. He ignited his mana shield, a shimmering aura of force-fields wrapping around his body as he tucked his arms and dove. He was a streak of light against the smoke. He caught Ret under the arms just as the construct’s boots began to smoke from the radiant heat.

  Scott’s hands erupted in flames as he fought the downward momentum, his skin blistering under the intense heat. He gritted his teeth, his vision blurring from the pain, and heaved upward. They rocketed toward the jagged hole in the cavern wall, crash-landing onto the stone ledge in a tangle of limbs.

  Scott rolled away, desperately slapping at his burning sleeves and hissing as he looked at his charred palms. “Ret!” he gasped through the pain. “Did... did it work?”