Utopian System

"The magical damage!" he exclaimed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the approaching Locus. "The emblem doubles it!"

This revelation came just in time to lift their spirits. Hope flickering to life in their eyes.

As they retreated, cornered by the horde of seemingly invincible monsters, the last of the second round of attacks from the front line was fired. And then... It finally happened.

The Locus began to fall.

Six attacks. That was the cost to bring down one of these enhanced monsters.

A victory, yes, but one that came at an alarming price. The group exchanged glances, their brief elation tempered by the realization of the challenge that still lay ahead.

The euphoria of seeing the first Locus fall was ephemeral.

Two-thirds of the monsters still remained, and the group found themselves retreating towards the narrower part of the cavern.

Each step backward meant fewer monsters affected by their area attacks. The walls seemed to close in around them, amplifying their sense of impending doom.

Panic began to take hold of them again.

With six attacks needed to eliminate each Locus, their mana was depleting at an alarming rate. The air grew thick with the acrid smell of monsters and the group's own fear-induced sweat.

In a desperate attempt to keep the monsters at bay, they began to launch attack after attack, without thinking about the efficient management of their resources.

The cavern lit up with a constant barrage of magical energy, each blast momentarily illuminating the advancing Locus.

Desperation clouded their judgment.

The mana accumulation cycles, so carefully practiced, became erratic. The cadence, which should be 4 to 6 attacks per accumulation, was reduced to 2 or 3. Their movements became frantic, coordination faltering under the pressure of imminent doom.

The Locus were upon them.

So close that using combos became a risk; one wrong move and they would damage themselves.

They were forced to resort to individual shots, a tactic that, although safer, was terribly inefficient against these enhanced monsters. The air sizzled with the near-misses of their attacks, the monsters' hot breath almost tangible on their skin.

A Locus, luckier than the others, stretched its claws towards one of the challengers.

Time seemed to slow down.

The group watched with horror as their companion was about to be reached. The monster's eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence, its claws mere inches from him.

It was then that the emblem of power demonstrated its true value.

When he tried to use magic, the emblem was absorbed into his book. The bearer acted on instinct, a surge of power coursing through his veins.

An explosive combo, powered by the emblem, shot from his hands. The damage, doubled by the magical artifact, was devastating.

But it didn't stop there.

With a fluid motion, he erected a carbon wall just in time to contain the explosion, maximizing its effect on the Locus and protecting the group. The barrier shimmered with residual energy, a testament to the power he now wielded.

This maneuver gave them the respite they so desperately needed.

Taking advantage of the temporary barrier, the group managed to retreat and regroup. Those precious seconds allowed them to start reaccumulating mana, preparing for the next wave of attacks.

They positioned themselves further back in the cavern, where they would have more room to maneuver. When the carbon barrier finally gave way, they were ready.

This time, the attack was more calculated.

Knowing they could count on the carbon barrier as a last resort, they allowed themselves to be more methodical in their offensive. The emblem bearer led each attack, his doubled damage providing the decisive blow they needed. The cavern echoed with the sounds of their coordinated assault, a symphony of destruction.

Little by little, the Locus began to fall.

One after another, the monsters succumbed to the group's renewed offensive. The battle was still fierce, but now they had hope. Each fallen Locus was a small victory, fueling their resolve to see this through to the end.

The last Locus fell with a screech that resonated throughout the cavern.

The five challengers remained on guard, panting, waiting for another wave of monsters to appear from the shadows. The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by their ragged breathing and the occasional crackle of residual magic.

But no attack came. They had done it.

Slowly, they began to relax, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion. It was then that they could truly assess the cost of their victory.

The mana expenditure had been astronomical. Thirty combos, most of them within the narrow tunnel, had only managed to impact five or six monsters at a time. To this were added about ninety individual attacks.

Among the five, they had spent approximately 150 mana points.

It was a high price, but necessary. They had survived what seemed to be an impossible battle. The weight of their achievement settled over them, a mix of pride and bone-deep weariness.

"That was too close," one of them murmured, expressing the thought they all shared.

The others nodded silently, still processing what they had just experienced. The cavern, now silent, seemed to observe them with malevolent attention, as if waiting for their next move.

They knew they couldn't let their guard down. This level of the challenge had proven to be much more dangerous than they had anticipated.

With just under half of their mana remaining, they knew they had to proceed with caution. The immediate priority was to collect the cores left by the fallen Locus.

A routine task, but one that could relax them after the chaos.

However, as they approached the remains of the monsters, something caught their attention. Something was... out of place.

One of them, the most observant of the group, was the first to notice. "Wait," he said, his voice a mix of confusion and amazement. "These cores... they're not normal."

The others approached, intrigued by their companion's statement. As they examined the cores, realization hit them one by one.

After spending days in the tunnel, tirelessly building and in constant contact with the cores, they had developed an expert eye for these spheres of power.

These cores were different.

Slightly larger than conventional ones. Their color was distinct, deeper and more vibrant, as if they contained more concentrated power.

The group exchanged glances.

What did this mean? What other surprises did this mysterious challenge hold for them?

After a moment of silent deliberation, they made a decision. One of them, the bravest or perhaps the most reckless, volunteered to absorb one of these unusual cores. The others watched carefully, ready to intervene if something went wrong.

The challenger extended his hand, touching the core cautiously. The moment he made contact, his eyes widened, an expression of pure amazement taking over his face. The air around him seemed to shimmer, charged with an energy they could almost taste.

"It's... incredible," he whispered, his voice laden with emotion. "Each of these cores... is worth ten normal ones."