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Combos and individual attacks flew in all directions. Locus fell, but others took their place. It was a race against time, against desperation itself.

Behind them, their summons fiercely blocked, buying precious seconds for their masters. The sound of battle was deafening, a cacophony of roars, explosions, and screams.

Step by step, meter by meter, they approached the tunnel. The entrance seemed distant, unreachable, but they didn't allow themselves to doubt. Each step was a victory, each Locus taken down, a triumph.

But the Locus didn't give up. They jumped, attacked, launched themselves in endless waves.

The battle became increasingly desperate. The group had managed to take down some Locus on their way to the tunnel, but for every fallen monster, two more seemed to take its place. The Locus' jumps were relentless, landing in front of them and blocking their escape route.

Behind, the roar of the pursuing monsters grew louder. The elephants, exhausted, lost the last remnants of carbon they had absorbed. The situation seemed hopeless.

The circle was closing. The Locus surrounded them on all sides, drawing ever closer. The group found themselves in an impossible position: individual attacks would be useless to pass so many enemies, and the more efficient combos would harm themselves in such a confined space.

Panic began to take hold. Was this the end? Had they come so far only to fail at the last moment?

It was then that it happened.

The body of their fallen companion, the one they had to abandon in their desperate flight, began to glow with an intense light. Suddenly, all the cores contained in his book were released.

More than a million brilliant spheres flooded the chamber in a matter of seconds. It was a spectacle as beautiful as it was terrifying.

"The cores!" one of them shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

A wave of cores hit them, pushing them towards the tunnel. The Locus, confused by this unexpected phenomenon, momentarily lost their concentration.

"It's our chance!" exclaimed the bearer of the Emblem of Power. "Absorb the cores and run!"

Without wasting a second, they activated their books. The cores began to flow towards them, providing the space needed to move between the mass of glowing spheres.

The Locus fought against the current of cores, trying to reach them. But the group took every second of advantage.

With a final desperate effort, they managed to reach the entrance of the tunnel. The narrowness of the passage provided them with a momentary respite, slowing the Locus' advance.

Panting, covered in sweat and trembling from adrenaline, the group entered the relative safety of the tunnel.

But the calm wouldn't last long...

The group, reduced to four, faced a cruel mathematical reality.

With only 240 mana points available between them all, and having spent almost half, the situation seemed desperate.

"We don't have enough mana," one murmured, his voice laden with despair.

The bearer of the Emblem of Power, aware that his attacks were now more valuable than ever, calculated frantically. "We'd need to hit 10 Locus at a time to have a chance."

It was then that his eyes fell on the bearer of the Attack Emblem. A spark of hope ignited in his mind.

"The daggers," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Maybe physical weapons are our best option now."

He had barely finished speaking when the first Locus entered the tunnel, its monstrous form seeming larger in the narrow passage. With no time to debate, each one threw a dagger.

The metallic sound of the weapons bouncing off the Locus' carapace echoed in the tunnel.

Zero damage.

Desperation threatened to overtake them, but then they noticed something. The dagger of the Attack Emblem bearer hadn't bounced off.

"That's the key!" one exclaimed. "We give him all our daggers!"

Without losing a second, they retreated while handing over all their weapons to the Attack Emblem bearer. Forty daggers in total. One by one, he threw them at the advancing Locus.

Each impact seemed to make a dent, the daggers remaining buried throughout its body, but the monster remained standing.

The 40 daggers failed to bring it down.

More Locus began to enter the tunnel. Panic threatened to overtake them, but the group's strategist kept his cool.

"Let's retreat further," he ordered. "Let them pile up. We'll use magic when they're close enough together."

One of them, in an act of desperation or perhaps brilliance, created a carbon wall. "It might be a waste of mana," he said, "but it will take them time to break it. They'll group up."

When the wall finally gave way, ten Locus lunged towards them. The narrow space of the tunnel allowing only three monsters to advance at a time.

"Now!" shouted the Emblem of Power bearer.

They combined their attacks in a devastating combo, launching it over the first line of Locus to reach those behind. The energy explosion illuminated the tunnel.

When the smoke cleared, they saw that the Locus full of daggers had fallen. Three hits had been enough to bring it down.

"The daggers must have done about 400 damage," one of them quickly calculated.

"Fifty hits per monster," another added. "They must have 500 hit points."

But something didn't add up.

They had 37 magic damage.

The Locus from the previous level had fallen with 11 hits, it would be logical if they had 400 points of resistance. If these had 500 life... Why then did these require 16 hits?

"Magic resistance," one murmured, the realization hitting them all. "Of course, we gain magic resistance at level 5. It seems the Locus do too."

Not only did they have to deal with stronger and more resistant Locus, but now their magical attacks were less effective.

"What do we do now?" one asked, desperation evident in his voice.

The 40 daggers they had used now lay on the tunnel floor, useless and out of reach. They hadn't even been enough to bring down a single Locus.

The monsters continued their relentless advance, their massive forms filling the narrow passage. Recovering the daggers with magic wasn't an option; the mana cost would be too high, a luxury they couldn't afford in their precarious situation.

"The spears," one murmured, his eyes fixed on the weapons they still had. "They're our last line of defense."

With a tacit agreement, the group continued retreating through the tunnel. Each step backward was a battle against the instinct to flee.

They concentrated their efforts on launching magical attacks, constantly looking for the opportunity to hit several Locus at once. The strategy was clear: group the monsters as much as possible before unleashing their combos.

The tactic seemed to work.

They managed to bring down several Locus with each coordinated attack, maximizing the efficiency of their dwindling mana. But the victory was ephemeral; for every monster that fell, two more seemed to take its place.

The tunnel, which had once seemed endless, showed its limits. Soon, the group found themselves with their backs against the wall.

Literally.