The shockwave rolled through the chamber like a physical thing, bending metal, rattling fractured stone. Dust rained from the ceiling in long, trembling streams. Lira braced herself against a pillar, vision swimming as the whole Temple lurched sideways for a heartbeat.

When the rumbling steadied, she saw Yuri locked with the creature mid-charge, the two forces clashing in a violent, grinding stalemate. The creature pushed forward with raw pressure, its form expanding and contracting like a lung inhaling too much air. Yuri's boots carved lines into the stone as he held his ground, blade braced between them.

"Move!" Lira shouted, her voice cracking through the chaos.

Yuri didn't budge.

The creature's hands wrapped around the blade—its fingers warping around the metal like molten tar, bending its shape without heat. The steel groaned under the pressure. Yuri tried to pull back, but the creature held the weapon in place effortlessly, pinning him in the center of the chamber.

Lira sprinted at an angle, closing on the thing's flank. She slashed, aiming for a joint, for anything solid enough to cut. Her blade passed through its ribs—and caught nothing. The creature's body rippled, briefly hollow, letting her strike fail without resistance.

Its head rotated toward her, unnaturally slow, as though it needed extra processing to decide if she mattered.

Then it ignored her and focused back on Yuri.

That slight dismissal enraged Lira more than any attack could.

She struck again. This time she aimed for its leg. The blade hit something solid, sank in halfway—

—and got stuck.

The shadow-flesh locked tight around the metal, swallowing it like quicksand. Lira tried to wrench it free, feet braced against the floor, but the creature shifted its weight and she lost her grip. The sword sank deeper.

"Yuri!" she snapped, grabbing his arm. "Let go!"

"Not yet," he spat through clenched teeth.

The creature leaned in, forcing him back an inch at a time. The blade between them bent further, warping into a shallow curve. A ringing crack split the air as the metal began to fracture.

"Yuri," Lira said sharply. "It's absorbing your blade. You stay here, you're done."

He finally tore himself free, releasing the weapon before the creature consumed it entirely. Yuri staggered back, breath ragged, hands trembling with the residual shock of the force he'd just been resisting.

The creature straightened. In its hand, the stolen remnants of Yuri's sword melted into its palm and vanished inside its shifting body. It regarded him—its face still warped into that unsettling mimicry of his own—then the air distorted behind it again, the familiar outline of a tear beginning to form.

Lira felt her stomach drop. "It's trying again."

Yuri's eyes narrowed. "Not letting that happen."

He grabbed her wrist. "North hall. Now."

She didn't argue. They ran.

As they sprinted through the archway, the chamber behind them vibrated violently, the creature's roar echoing off the walls like a distorted version of Yuri's own voice. The sound carried a resonance that scraped the inside of their skulls.

The north hall was narrower, built for defense rather than ritual. Thick walls, reinforcement beams, carved channels in the floor designed to redirect energy flows during overflow events. It was their best chance to pin the thing down.

"Plan," Lira demanded, panting as they ran. "Tell me you have one."

"I do."

"Does it involve dying?"

"Eventually, everything does."

She glared. "Try again."

Yuri skidded to a stop at a junction where the hall split into two paths. He grabbed a loose sigil tablet off the wall—an unanchored focus node used to stabilize barrier constructs. He slammed it onto the floor, activating the glyph manually.

Golden light surged outward in a circular pattern.

Lira blinked. "A trap glyph? That's unstable."

"Only needs to hold for eight seconds."

"You don't know that."

Yuri didn't look at her. "I know exactly how long it will hold."

The hall behind them trembled.

The creature was coming.

The distortion at the far end of the corridor grew, shadow rippling like water at the surface of a pond. The air warped, bending inwards, and the creature stepped out of the distortion—moving faster than before, its mimicry of Yuri's form more accurate, more solid. As if every second it grew stronger, more defined.

"Return," it said, voice sharper, clearer.

Lira drew her backup blade. Yuri didn't bother reaching for one—he had none left.

The creature lunged.

Yuri sprinted straight toward it.

Lira swore under her breath and followed.

At the last second, Yuri dove to the side, sliding across the floor and letting the creature overshoot him by inches. It planted a hand on the ground to pivot, and the moment its palm touched stone—

The trap glyph activated.

The floor erupted in a lattice of golden chains, binding the creature's limbs, torso, neck—an electrified net of sigil light designed to anchor unstable entities. The creature jerked violently, shadows spasming as the glyph pulsed.

Lira exhaled. "Eight seconds?"

"Seven," Yuri corrected. "It triggered late."

The creature strained against the chains, twisting its limbs in ways no humanoid shape should allow. Cracks formed in the glyph structure. Veins of purple energy ran through its shadow-body, burning through the restraints.

"Yuri," Lira warned. "It's breaking faster than—"

"Five seconds," he muttered, ignoring her, moving closer.

"What are you doing?!"

"Looking for its core."

"That thing doesn't have a core!"

"It does. Everything that mimics has an anchor."

The creature snapped one arm free. The glyph flickered.

Yuri stepped in close enough to touch it.

"YURI!" Lira grabbed his shoulder but he shrugged her off, eyes fixed on the creature's chest—on the faint, pulsing knot of darker shadow swirling there.

"Found it."

He drove his hand toward it.

The creature reacted instantly—it seized Yuri's wrist, squeezing so hard the bones creaked audibly. Its face distorted in fury, half-Yuri, half-nightmare, its mouth opening too wide as it screamed:

"RETURN!"

Yuri shoved his other hand against its chest, fingers sinking into the shadow like thick tar. He clawed downward, tearing at the swirling knot. The creature convulsed, shadows flaring outward like exploding ink.

The glyph shattered.