The blast from the RPG still echoed faintly in the cave walls, fragments of bone and ash littering the ground like a desecrated battlefield. Smoke curled lazily from the scorched earth as Inigo stepped back, slinging the now-expended launcher onto his back. The others gathered beside him, cautiously surveying the ruin left behind.
"Still in one piece?" he asked, voice light.
Lyra gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. "You're ridiculous. That was enough firepower to level a gatehouse."
Serina was more composed, her crimson eyes scanning the cavern. "No ambient necromantic mana remains. That blast severed the primary anchor."
Elira, however, was not smiling. She approached the shattered remains of the minotaur general and crouched beside what remained of its skull. Her hand hovered just above the bone, and she murmured a quiet prayer under her breath.
"That wasn't just brute necromancy," she said. "Something stronger animated it. That aura… it wasn't just hate. It was purpose."
