In pursuit of power

The black swamp on the border of the Bor Forest exceeded the gloomiest rumors in its scale. The "Bor Brothers" descended into the Dead Pad - a flooded ancient lowland, where the air for centuries was saturated with the poison of rotting swamps and ancient, defiled magic. ​They came here for the head of the legendary monster - the Thousand-Headed Pestilence, a colossal hybrid of an ancient giant spider and a swamp hydra serpent. ​The battle began with a deafening roar. The ground literally exploded under the heroes’ feet. Huge paws covered with bone spikes and poisonous mucus rushed out from under the swamp, tearing apart the age-old trees like dry matches. A blinding, lung-corroding green fog filled the air.

- Let's take positions! - Steiner barked, throwing up his shield.

His voice sounded as firm, collected and confident as always. ​Grisha immediately entered the battle, showing all the power of the magician of the Pochinkovsky valleys. The Tome of Three Elements flared up in his hands with a deafening crash.

- Agnis Ignium! - Grisha shouted

And straight out of the swamp mud a colossal column of roaring bright green flame shot up, burning away the poisonous fog. Without allowing the creature to come to its senses, Grisha instantly combined the elements: he hit the monster’s red-hot shell with an ice storm, causing Mor’s thick armor to become covered in cracks, and immediately fired lightning into these cracks. The rooster cut through the air like an emerald meteor. Using his insane speed, he created dozens of illusory doubles, confusing the creature's huge, bloodshot eyes. His sharp wing-blades whistled and struck sparks from the monster’s bone growths. ​The panther, dressed in camouflage, merged with the shadows of the swamp pines. A crimson haze of rage lit up in her eyes. Jumping from branch to branch with inhuman grace, she fell like a whirlwind onto the back of the creature, inflicting hundreds of lightning-fast, deep injections with her ancient daggers, filling the swamp water with black blood. ​The battle lasted more than an hour. The Bor Brothers gave their all. Their coordination was impeccable: Grisha froze the giant mouths of Pestilence, the Panther cut his eye nodes, and the Rooster drove the creature straight into the swamp mud with a crushing dive from the sky. ​The Thousand-Headed Pestilence began to convulse. He was exhausted, wounded and one step away from death. The panther has already raised the dagger for the decisive blow to the monster’s heart... ​And at that moment the ground under Dead Pad shook with such force, as if the entire Bor region had fallen into the underworld. ​From the very depths of the swamp, tearing apart rocks and centuries-old layers of mud, something burst out, in comparison with which Pestilence seemed only a small centipede. It was the Ancient Leviathan of the Abyss - a fossil underground titanium, covered not with bone shields, but with entire layers of petrified ancient magic. This creature was five times larger and stronger than Pestilence. His entire colossal body radiated a oppressive, suffocating aura of primeval horror. Before the heroes even had time to realize what was happening, Leviathan made a single attack. ​His gigantic mandibles, strewn with rows of horny fangs, closed directly on the body of the Thousand-Headed Pestilence. There was a terrible, deafening crunch of breaking bones and tearing veins. Leviathan tore the half-dead Blight into two bleeding pieces with terrifying, effortless ease, tossing the stumps in different directions like used rags. A black fountain of blood splashed the trees for hundreds of meters around. The Bor Brothers froze in absolute, paralyzing shock. The shock wave from the appearance of Leviathan knocked the Rooster down in flight - the parrot crashed into a rock with a dull crack and fell into the mud, gasping in pain. The panther was thrown back by debris from trees, her daggers were knocked out of her hands, and her broken ribs did not allow her to even take a breath. Grisha, trying to cover his comrades with an ice dome, took a direct mental blow from the titan’s aura. The Tome of the Three Elements fell from his bloody hands, and the magician himself fell to his knees, bleeding from his eyes and ears. ​They were on the brink. Before them towered an absolute nightmare, against which all their coordination and magic were no more difficult than a mosquito bite. The Leviathan of the Abyss slowly unfolded its gigantic mouth over the helpless Panther, preparing to devour the entire squad at once. ​And it was at that moment that time seemed to stop. ​Felix Steiner, who had previously stood behind his friends with a simple steel shield, slowly straightened up. There was not a single scratch on his armor. Not a drop of panic or fear flashed in his eyes. He exhaled quietly. And the air around him instantly froze. The aura around him was distorted beyond recognition. The tension was so colossal that the heavy swamp water around his boots instantly evaporated, and the ancient Leviathan of the Abyss - a creature that had not known fear for centuries - suddenly froze, subconsciously sensing the appearance of a real predator. ​The panther, through his eyes swollen with blood, and Grisha, trying to reach the tome, looked at their captain in complete, stunned shock. They never NEVER have we seen anything like this in him. This was the power of neither a warrior nor a sorcerer. It was the power of an absolute, unstoppable ruler. Steiner disappeared. ​He didn't run or jump - he just materialized right on top of the giant Leviathan's head. Without a single unnecessary movement, with frightening, surgical skill, he thrust his short blade precisely into the main artery of the titan, hidden under the shell. Instant paralysis occurred - the giant carcass of the monster collapsed to its knees, completely losing the ability to move, but remaining in a full, conscious sensation of pain. ​And then a real nightmare began, which the heroes, in their naivety, mistook for a “great salvation.” ​Steiner was left alone with the helpless, frozen titan. The same gentle, quiet, crazy smile appeared on his face. A fire flashed in his eyes, HE WAS WAITING for his perfect canvas. ​He did not finish off the monster quickly. He began to dismember him. ​With absolute, savoring calm, Steiner began methodically, segment by segment, to cut off the cartilage and bone plates of the giant. He did it slowly, with the grace of a surgeon or jeweler. Every movement of his blade was accompanied by the sound of splintering bones and splashes of boiling blood. ​Steiner leaned towards the smallest eyes of the dying Leviathan, peering at how the mind slowly faded out of them. He opened the creature's chest segments, checking every millimeter of movement of the blade, as if enjoying the vibration of dying tissue transmitted through the hilt of the sword. His movements revealed a wild, passionate love for the very act of taking life—an aesthetic of pure, concentrated torture. ​He carved out the still pulsating, gigantic heart of Leviathan with such care and trepidation as a connoisseur would take out the rarest jewel. Having plunged his fingers into the hot internal mucus, Steiner brought them to his face, deeply inhaled the smell of fresh, painful death and slightly closed his eyes from the high. ​This lasted ten minutes. Ten minutes of chilling, anatomical reprisal of the ancient horror of the swamps that made Mora a wet place. ​When it was all over, Steiner easily jumped off the mountain of smoking meat. All his armor was covered in black blood, but his face again became that same kind, caring captain. The tension and frightening aura evaporated in a second. ​He instantly ran up to the wounded Panther, carefully lifted her and handed her a healing potion:

- Quiet, Panther, it’s all behind. You did an incredible job wearing him down. I just dealt the final blow.

​Then he jumped up to the Rooster, carefully set the parrot’s broken wing and handed Grisha his Tome, smiling warmly at the magician:

- Grisha, your ice shield won me those three seconds. You are the best team.

The Bor Brothers looked at him with a combination of wild delight and subconscious, animal horror. They were sincerely grateful to him for saving them. They believed that their captain was a humble genius who was hiding enormous power for the safety of the squad. ​They had no idea that they had just seen the true face of an absolute psychopath, for whom the greatest titan of the swamps was just another, slightly larger beetle, whose legs he crushed with quiet, sincere pleasure