Elara sprinted after Darius, breath sharp and ragged as the wind howled through the trees. Leaves tore free, swirling violently around them. The scent of damp earth mixed with something colder—something metallic.

  The thick mist that had clung to the forest broke apart, swept away in chaotic bursts. For the first time since entering the dungeon, they could see farther than a few meters ahead. Trees stretched into the distance, their skeletal forms stark against the shifting gray. The deeper they pushed, the stronger the wind became, resisting every step, an unseen force trying to drive them back.

  Darius moved with intent, though his steps weren’t as effortless as usual. His fingers brushed the knife-carved notches in the trees, marking their path forward. He glanced back. “These lead us.”

  Elara barely nodded before another gust howled through the trees, forcing her to brace herself. The wind wasn’t just strong—it was erratic, surging in bursts that sent branches whipping against each other. She fought for every step, boots sliding on the damp earth. Darius pressed on, steady despite the shifting ground.

  A sudden wall of wind slammed into her. Her foot caught on an exposed root, and she stumbled. Twigs snapped beneath her boots as she reached for anything to stop her fall. A hand caught her arm. Darius. She looked up, heart pounding. He pulled her upright, his grip warm even through her sleeve. His gaze scanned the trees, wary, searching.

  “We need to move,” he said, voice barely cutting through the wind. “It’s getting worse.”

  She swallowed her unease. She didn’t know if he meant the wind or what was lurking in it, but either way, she wasn’t arguing. They pushed forward. The wind roared above, scattering leaves and debris in wild spirals. Shadows stretched between the trees, shifting unnaturally, blurring the line between real and imagined. Then, ahead of them, a massive tree loomed.

  It stood apart from the others, long dead, its bark blackened as if scorched. The trunk, twice as wide as those around it, held a hollow large enough for shelter. She slowed, eyeing the space cautiously.

  Darius stepped behind her. “Sorry.”

  His arm wrapped around her. Before she could tense, he kicked off the ground. A jolt shot through her as they lifted. He climbed, gripping the dead wood as though it were a ladder carved for him. Within moments, they reached the hollow. He set her down inside, then climbed in after her.

  The space barely fit them. Shoulders brushing, backs against the wood, they sat in rare stillness. The wind still roared outside, but here it felt distant.

  He adjusted his position, glancing at her. “You good?”

  She exhaled. “Yeah. Just... wasn’t expecting that.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Figured as much.”

  She huffed, but didn’t push further. Her gaze drifted past him to the swirling leaves outside. This storm wasn’t natural.

  He followed her stare. His expression hardened. “This isn’t just wind.”

  She frowned. “Then what is it?”

  “I was hoping we could pass through without drawing its attention.” He muttered.

  She turned to him, frowning. “Its?”

  He exhaled through his nose, his fingers drumming once against his knee. “A windborne beast. I thought we were careful enough to avoid it.” His brows drew together in a rare moment of uncertainty. “I made sure we wouldn’t disturb its territory, but it still noticed us.”

  He was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. “It wasn’t us. I am sure. Something—or someone—else drew its attention. But it found us.”

  Elara swallowed. Something was hunting them.

  He tilted his head as if listening. He shifted, crouching at the hollow’s entrance, fingers resting on his sword hilt. “I planned to find it after closing the dungeon.” His eyes narrowed. “But it looks like it found us first.”

  She hesitated. The wind howled, mist thinning to reveal the forest beyond. Branches twisted against the darkened sky, and between them, the air shimmered. Something moved.

  He clicked his tongue. “It’s getting closer.”

  She crept forward, peering outside. “If it’s searching for someone, maybe we can still slip away—”

  A sudden gust roared through the trees, forcing her to brace against the hollow. Darius didn’t flinch, but his stance sharpened as he tracked movement in the air.

  “No,” he muttered. “It’s too late.”

  The wind twisted, leaves forming the vague outline of a creature—limbs of swirling air, eyes glowing faintly within the storm of dust and debris. Her pulse jumped. Inspect flickered to life.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Wind Wraith [Level ???]

  Her breath caught. “What is that?”

  Darius exhaled. “A wind wraith. Fast, vicious, and exactly what I want.”

  She turned to him, stunned. “You wanted this?”

  He nodded, calm, as if discussing the weather, not facing a living storm. “I want to learn how it moves the wind. How it fights.” His gaze locked onto her. “And I need you to keep me standing.”

  A pit formed in her stomach. “That’s reckless.”

  “It’s necessary.” He turned away. “Stay in the tree. Don’t come out unless I call for you. Heal only until the bleeding stops—no more.” His voice hardened.

  Elara clenched her fists. “You—” He was already moving.

  Steel flashed as his blade met the unseen force. A sharp clang rang out—not metal on metal, but something stranger, like glass scraping bone. The wraith retaliated, a slicing gale tearing through the space Darius had occupied a heartbeat before, carrying the scent of ozone and dried blood. He twisted aside, boots kicking up loose earth as another gust carved furrows into the ground with a sound like tearing parchment.

  She sucked in a breath, the air itself tasting charged, metallic. Not just wind blades. She could see them now, distortions in the air like heat ripples off a forge, shimmering currents of pressure that sheared through bark with a sickening crack and left the soil split open like a wound.

  Another lash of wind. This time, Darius didn’t evade cleanly. A thin red line bloomed across his hand, the cut shallow but deliberate, beading blood. She held her ground, her fingers curling into her palms until her nails bit into flesh. Not yet. He hadn’t signaled her.

  He adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. His sword stayed steady—poised, patient, its edge humming faintly as if resonating with the wraith’s distorted energy.

  The wind coiled, jagged and hungry, hissing like a nest of serpents. Another razor-arc sliced toward him, and he dropped low, the attack whistling overhead so close it stirred his hair. He pressed forward, his own strike cutting through the chaos with a thrum that made the air vibrate. The wraith shrieked, a sound like rusted hinges, its form rippling unpredictably.

  Her jaw tightened, her mouth dry as dust. This wasn’t a fight to kill. He was testing it. And the creature was fast. The wind wasn’t just its weapon—it was its body.

  Darius continued weathering the assault, never staying still long enough to be trapped. He sidestepped another cutting gust, then pressed forward just enough to test its reaction. A downward slash of his sword disrupted the swirling air, but his blade met no resistance. It wasn’t physical. His attacks couldn’t land yet.

  The wraith retaliated. A gust swept out in every direction, kicking up dirt and leaves, forcing him back. Elara shielded her eyes as the wind sent debris flying past her shelter.

  The moment Darius closed in, the wind changed. No longer just razor-thin slashes—it coiled and twisted, forming a sudden updraft that threw him off balance. The wraith struck the moment his footing wavered. A blast of force shot forward, aiming not to cut, but to send him flying.

  He barely managed to twist midair, landing in a controlled skid instead of crashing outright. He came to a stop, his free hand pressing into the dirt for balance. His brows furrowed slightly. The wraith was adapting, shifting its tactics. It had realized he wasn’t an easy target and was adjusting its attacks to throw him off instead.

  The wind howled again, and this time, it didn’t attack in a single direction. Instead of slicing gusts, the wraith unleashed a spiraling force—pulling, twisting, dragging everything toward its center. A vacuum.

  His blade drove into the ground, anchoring him. Muscles tensed as he held against the pull. Elara’s nails bit into the tree. How long could he keep this up? Darius exhaled, yanked his sword free, and kicked off. He dived into the spiraling wind. For a breath, the storm swallowed him whole.

  Then his sword slashed upward. The current broke. He twisted midair, landing outside the wraith’s grasp. A grin ghosted across his lips. The wraith shrieked, the wind coiling tighter. This time, the air condensed—solid projectiles forming within the storm.

  The first shot fired. Darius deflected it midair, blade flashing. A metallic clang rang out as the compressed wind dispersed. Another shot. Then another. He parried each one, but the impact drove him back. Another followed. Then another.

  He kept moving, parrying what he could, his blade striking the incoming projectiles. Each impact sent shockwaves up his arm, but he didn’t falter. His stance remained strong. Then one hit.

  A crack echoed as a bullet of air slammed into his side, denting his armor. He staggered, breath hitching. Another shot came—aimed at his sword arm. Too fast.

  The air bullet tore through his inner forearm. Blood sprayed. His fingers flexed, tightening on the hilt. He exhaled through gritted teeth. He drew his second sword. His left blade moved as fast as his right, cutting down the projectiles. Sparks flashed as steel met wind.

  He exhaled through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto the wraith as it swirled violently, gathering more air bullets. One bullet ricocheted off the flat of his blade, another sliced clean in half midair. Sparks flew as metal met compressed wind, but the sheer force of the attacks still pushed him back, his boots skidding against the ground.

  Then—

  “Elara!”

  Voidwalk pulsed, bending space. She reappeared at his side, hands already moving, pouring mana into her skill. Warmth surged through her fingertips as she cast Healing Touch, magic sinking into the torn flesh. The bleeding stopped, the gash sealing under her hand.

  The wraith didn’t care that she had entered the fight. It shrieked and unleashed another barrage of air bullets. She barely braced herself before one shot past her head. Darius, no longer burdened by his wound, moved faster. His left blade swept up, deflecting one shot. His right turned another aside.

  The wraith wasn’t adjusting. It had already landed a hit once. It would keep trying. She didn’t wait for another command. The moment his wound closed, she voidwalked back into the hollow. Shadow curled around her as she reappeared within the tree, pressing against the rough wood. She barely caught her breath before another volley of air bullets tore through the clearing.

  But Darius moved differently this time. Each dodge grew precise, calculated. Gone was his urgency. He let the projectiles sail dangerously close, a bullet grazing his shoulder without eliciting so much as a flinch. Another shot skimmed his hair, but he never tensed.

  Elara’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t merely dodging—he studied each shot, sensing the air shift, absorbing the speed and trajectory. Every near-miss told him more, guiding his movements like a silent instructor.

  The wraith screamed again, its frustration evident as it unleashed another flurry, this time firing from multiple directions.

  Darius exhaled calmly.

  He stepped forward through the barrage as if walking a familiar path. A subtle pivot, a smooth twist of his torso—each maneuver timed to perfection, the deadly projectiles slicing harmlessly past him. Darius had stopped reacting. He anticipated every attack.