[Chapter 318. Dance of Steel]

The polished stone floor of the corridor splintered under the Elite's halberd, the sharp impact echoing like a thunderclap in the confined space. A web of fractures radiated from the point of contact, dust and tiny fragments dancing in the dim light. Simultaneously, the lighter, more frantic impacts of the Warriors blades followed as they struck where Iris had been standing mere heartbeats ago.

Behind them, two guttural cries cut short the metallic symphony—a wet, tearing sound accompanied by the dull thud of heavy crossbows clattering to the marble. Iris's Eldritch Zweihänder had found its mark, slicing through leather and flesh alike. She cleaved the two ranged Gatura in half, their upper bodies sliding away from their lower halves in a gruesome display of carnage.

Before the remaining Gatura could fully register the attack from behind, Iris exploded forward, her movements a blur of deadly grace. Her Zweihänder became a spear of pure destruction, the black metal piercing another Warrior's chest with sickening ease. The creature's eyes widened in shock as the blade punched through its armor and out its back, its life extinguished in a single, brutal motion.

With a swift, economical movement, Iris lifted the dead Gatura from the ground—its weight negligible to her enhanced strength—and with a sweeping arc of her blade, sent the corpse hurtling across the corridor. The body crashed into two other Warriors, sending them stumbling backward in a tangle of limbs and surprise. Before the stunned creatures could regain their footing, Iris had already dropped back into a defensive stance. Her Zweihänder was held at the ready, its turquoise energy casting an eerie glow across her determined features.

The Elite was the first to turn, its massive frame pivoting with surprising speed. As it faced her, the bladed tip of its polearm swished through the air with a menacing hiss, connecting with her Zweihänder with enough force to drive her back a full meter. Her armored boots dug into the ruined carpet, the ancient fibers tearing under the pressure as she fought to maintain her footing. Iris gritted her teeth, muscles straining as she pushed back against the halberd, her mind working frantically to find an advantage.

With a quick adjustment of her grip, she angled her sword in a way that caused the Elite's weapon to slide down along her blade, driving its sharpened tip deep into the cracked marble floor. The stone gave way with another sickening crunch, temporarily trapping the Elite's weapon and buying her precious seconds to reassess the battlefield.

The two shield-bearers lumbered around the larger Gatura, their heavy armor clanking as they took position directly in front of him. Their massive shields, emblazoned with the crude symbols of their pack, formed an almost impenetrable wall of metal. Meanwhile, the remaining Warriors began to close the distance once again, their weapons held at the ready as they prepared to overwhelm her with sheer numbers.

The larger Elite let out a deep snarl that seemed to resonate in the very stone around them. In response, the smaller beasts began to shift in unison, their movements suddenly synchronized with precision. While the Guards brought up their shields to form a defensive wall, the Warriors spread out more than before, creating a wider semi-circle that limited her options for evasion or escape.

Iris shifted her stance once again, dropping lower to the ground as her Zweihänder began to glow with an increasingly bright turquoise light. The energy pulsed along its length like captured lightning, the air around her crackling with power. She brought her foot forward, preparing to launch herself at the shield-bearers.

She swung her sword in a wide arc toward the two Guards, but something had changed—suddenly, an unexpected force seized her weapon. In the next moment, Iris flew backwards several meters, dragged along by the repelled force acting on her own sword. The sudden, backward motion sent her tumbling across the cracked marble, her armor scraping against the stone with a sound that grated on her sensitive ears.

As she flew through the air, her silver gaze remained locked on the Elite's position. Her eyes widened as she watched it pull an yellow-green glowing blade from the cracked ground—the exact same color as the shield that had shattered her Mystic Ward earlier.

Then, the remaining eight Warriors broke out into a synchronized sprint, their coordinated charge unsettling as none moved in front of the larger Gatura. Their matted fur bristled with aggression, their eyes fixed on Iris with predatory focus. The shields of the Guards began to pulse with a deep, menacing yellow that rapidly intensified, shifting through amber to a fierce orange. Her eyes widened as recognition dawned on her.

Just as she had predicted, both Guards shot forward in an impossible blur of speed, their armored forms streaking directly toward her position with the force of battering rams. Iris pushed off the ground to evade, but the ancient carpet beneath her boots tore completely under the explosive movement, its rotten fibers offering no purchase.

Caught off balance as her feet slipped, she drove her Eldritch Zweihänder vertically into the marble floor, the black metal biting deep into the stone. Using it as a pivot, she felt the ground crack and splinter under the force, spiderweb fractures radiating outward as she locked herself into a controlled handstand on her blade's hilt. With another powerful push, she launched herself upward, her body arcing gracefully through the air. The blade came free with a screech of tortured metal as she spun.

Both Guards thundered beneath her, unable to stop their momentum as they hurtled directly into the deadly fog beyond. Their guttural cries were abruptly cut off, followed by two distinct thuds.

Iris landed on the ground in a crouch, catching herself on all fours like a predator, her claws scoring the cracked stone as she absorbed the impact. She smiled, a flash of white teeth against her dark features, while drawing her blade across the floor with deliberate slowness. The sound of metal grinding against stone created a provocative, challenging symphony. She kept eye contact with the Elite, her silver gaze unwavering as she challenged its authority.

The Gatura Elite snarled—a sound that rumbled deep in its chest—and dashed forward with impossible speed, overtaking the smaller Warriors within a second, its massive form a blur of armor and muscle.

In a heartbeat, Iris and the Elite were trading blows and parrying attacks, their movements a deadly dance of steel and skill. Each wide swing of her Zweihänder drew blood from one of the smaller Gatura, her precise attacks exploiting openings in their coordination. Once, she deflected the halberd with a perfectly timed counter, using its own momentum to guide its blade into one of his own Warriors. The weapon sank deep into its ally's chest with a sickening crunch of bone and armor.

Moments later, only the Elite was left. Its massive frame was silhouetted against the dim corridor light as the last Warrior collapsed in a heap of steaming viscera, its severed artery painting the cracked marble with crimson rivers.

For a breathless minute, it seemed like they were evenly matched, blocking and countering each other with a rhythm that spoke of centuries of martial tradition clashing against brutal, calculated efficiency. Her Zweihänder, a ribbon of turquoise death, met the Elite's halberd again and again in showering cascades of sparks that illuminated the sweat-dampened fur of her muzzle and the intelligent fury burning in the creature's eye.

Then they separated with a synchronized leap backwards. The distance between them expanded to three meters as both combatants settled into defensive stances, their heavy breaths mingling in the damp, blood-scented air. The Elite brought its bladed polearm to the ground, the weapon's tip biting into the fractured marble with a sound like breaking pottery. Iris angled her Zweihänder before her, its pulsing energy casting dancing shadows across the walls.

In the next moment, the Elite's form shimmered as it ran its weapon across the ground in a wide arc. The metal scraped against the stone with a piercing shriek that set Iris's teeth on edge.

Blindingly fast, it scooped up chunks of shattered marble and flung them at her in a deadly shotgun blast of shrapnel, simultaneously closing the distance with terrifying speed. Each of the stones impacted her Mystic Ward with percussive thuds, the barrier flaring violently as it absorbed the kinetic energy.

The Elite ran right into the tip of her blade in a desperate gamble. Its forward momentum carried the sharpened point deep into its armored chest with a sound like splitting timber. The creature's forward charge faltered, its eye widening in disbelief as its lifeblood pumped from the grievous wound, the yellow-green glow of its halberd already beginning to fade like dying embers.

"You expected me to block the shrapnel with my blade," she spoke in a quiet tone as she exhaled deeply, the sound barely audible over the gurgling gasps of the dying Elite. Her gaze fell on the fading yellow-green glow of its halberd, recognizing the energy signature. She closed her eyes and gave a soft nod, a gesture of respect for a worthy adversary that she knew Searanox would find inefficient. "A valiant effort. And a good fight."

The Elite's massive frame slumped forward, its weight finally giving way to gravity as it collapsed onto its knees, the halberd clattering from its nerveless fingers. With a final, shuddering breath, it pitched forward onto the blood-slicked marble, the sound muffled by its own armored bulk.

Iris stepped over and along the disappearing corpses of the lesser Gatura, their forms already beginning to dissolve into motes of light that drifted upward like reverse snowflakes. The marble beneath her boots grew increasingly treacherous, slick with the dark blood that pooled in the cracked flagstones, forcing her to adjust her balance with each careful step as she made her way down the hallway toward whatever lay beyond this corridor.