At the center of this valley of death, on top of the largest, most obscene mound of bone built from the countless remains of murdered children, stood an Altar. It was a colossal slab of polished black stone, ten meters wide. Its surface was unnaturally smooth yet marred by fine, web-like cracks that pulsed faintly with trapped violet light, like veins of corruption.

The Altar's surface glistened wetly, slick not with rainwater from the perpetual mist, but with fresh, thick, viscous blood. This blood pooled in shallow, carved depressions, trickling slowly obscenely, down its sides in dark crimson streaks, dripping onto the bone mound below with faint, grotesque plinks that echoed with sickening clarity in the valley's oppressive, suffocating silence.

"Gods have mercy" Halb stammered, staggering back as if struck, retching violently. Cole's tight grip hauled him upright, his face a mask of stony fury. Breath hissed through clenched teeth, the barbs on his chainmail-wrapped fists digging deep into his flesh and drawing blood.

Brena swayed, utterly bloodless, her hand instinctively clutching the silver cross at her throat. Her lips moved in silent, desperate prayers, tears streaming unheeded down her pale cheeks. Neil, his usual battlefield composure momentarily shattered by the sheer scale of the atrocity, simply stood stunned before his face hardened into an expression of absolute, murderous resolve.

Henry forced himself forward, kneeling amidst the sea of tiny, fragile bones. The psychic screams of the slaughtered innocents were now almost unbearable, a deafening chorus of agony in his mind. The Lifestream beneath his feet roared, a violent, turbulent conflict between its energy and the crushing weight of death saturating this place.

He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing a small, intact radius bone, ice cold, brittle as ancient glass. His Mystic Sense detected lingering residues of dark binding herbs, perhaps soul traps, mixed with the faint, stale stench of old blood. But the freshest, most potent psychic residue was pure, unadulterated terror, a child's final agonizing moments burned into the bone. Looking closer at the Altar's blood-slicked base, he saw fresher bloodstains, newer bone fragments, some still bearing grisly remnants of decaying flesh. This wasn't just an ancient sacrificial site; it was still horrifically, damnably active. The Sanctuary Seal on his chest felt as if it would burst, the urge to purify this evil becoming an irresistible, burning compulsion.

He looked back at his comrades, his voice hoarse, thick with a revulsion that threatened to choke him. "He's still doing it. The blood on the Altar - it's fresh. These bones some of them are recent."

As if summoned by his agonized words, a sound disturbed the dripping silence from the impenetrable shadows behind the Altar: a wet, obscene click, followed by the wet, muffled sound of heavy, dragging wings. Slowly, deliberately, a figure separated itself from the deepest shadows, rising like a shaped, sentient mist, Raum.

The monstrous hybrid stood revealed in the sickly, diseased moonlight, nearly twice the height of a tall man. Its form was gaunt, hideously twisted. Pale, clammy skin, like that of a corpse freshly pulled from some abyssal depth, stretched tightly over a deformed, elongated skeleton.

Tattered, sparse black raven feathers clung precariously to the damp, decaying flesh of its torso and elongated limbs, which ended in avian talons honed to a wicked point that whispered across the bone-strewn ground.

The raven skull head, impossibly large for the withered frame, twitched with jerky, unnatural, bird-like movements, its long beak narrowed to a deadly point. Deep within the empty, shadowed eye sockets, two pinpoints of crimson light burned with an insane, malevolent intensity, radiating waves of ancient, predatory evil, madness, and almost Rank 5 power. The stench from him, a cloud of decay, stale blood, ozone, and that cloying sweetness, intensified, a physical assault.

Raum tilted its grotesque head, the clicking transforming into a guttural, wet, obscene chuckle from deep within its corrupted throat. Its burning crimson gaze fixed upon the intruders, lingering on Henry a moment longer with a predatory, almost possessive look.

It let out a piercing, unearthly shriek that tore through the heavy air, a horrifying hybrid of a giant raven's hoarse caw and a venomous reptile's cold hiss. "Trespassers" Its voice, like cold metal scraping ancient stone, echoed, distorted. Dark energy around its body exploded violently outwards, no longer mere wisps but instantly forming a swirling, impenetrable vortex of black, viscous, tangible shadow. Oily black smoke billowed, carrying the overwhelming stench of ancient corpses and concentrated sulfur, nearly hiding its nightmarish shape.

"Blackwind Ward!" With a dramatic sweep of its tattered wings, the black vortex contracted, forming an invisible but palpably solid wall of scouring wind around Raum. Slicing, invisible wind blades skittered within the protective barrier, ready to shred anything that dared approach, the perfect, impenetrable defense of an ability is borderline Rank 5.

"You dare set foot upon my sacred Altar!" Its voice, hoarse and distorted, clawed up from the deepest pits of hell. "You will pay for this sacrilege! With your blood! With your souls." It spread its tattered wings wide, its deformed shadow stretching long and menacing across the white, bone-strewn ground, an image of arrogant, triumphant incarnate.

But the investigation team were not lambs to be slaughtered. They were seasoned warriors.

"Attack!" Neil's roar was a percussive blast, brutal. Facing a borderline near-Rank 5 entity of this magnitude, full force from the outset was their only conceivable option.

"Great Eagle" He poured a massive surge of aether into his intricately eagle-engraved ring, its amber stone flaring with brilliant golden light. From that dazzling radiance, a giant brown eagle with burnished gold wings emerged, its majestic wingspan momentarily covering a patch of diseased sky. Its shrill, piercing cry echoed, a challenge to the darkness. Its golden irises blazed, targeting Raum's grotesque raven skull. It dived like a golden arrow, a meteor of righteous fury, its heavy steel talons, sharp as curved swords, extended.

Simultaneously, Brena raised the silver cross on its delicate chain, unwavering determination hardened her features, and the cold, light of sacred power seemed to radiate from her. Her long black hair, usually bound with severe precision, flew wildly in the fetid wind. "Griffin" she commanded. A perfect circle of white light, edged with silver fire, appeared beside her, and from it, a majestic bronze-feathered Griffin stepped out, its piercing sight already assessing the battlefield, its proud lion head held high. It let out a resounding, defiant roar, then beat its powerful, feathered wings, launching an immediate, ferocious attack on Raum from above.

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Two Rank 4 summoned spirit beasts crashed into the swirling black wind wall. A violent, deafening collision sounded, with shockwaves rippling outwards. Golden and white feathers flew, torn as they bravely faced the invisible gale of shearing wind.

The Eagle shrieked in pain, deep gashes torn into its powerful flesh, but its steel talons still clawed furiously at the impenetrable barrier.

The Griffin snarled, a sound of leonine fury, trying to use its immense muscular strength and powerful beak snaps to break through the dark, unyielding defense.

Neil and Brena didn't stand idle. Neil charged, his heavy steel greatsword enveloped in brilliant blue aether flame, slashing powerfully, repeatedly, at the howling wind wall.

"Azure Cleave" The wind wall vibrated violently under the onslaught, fissures of light appearing and vanishing within its dark depths, but it still held, impossibly strong.

Brena, her face a mask of intense concentration, chanted continuously. "Holy Spear!" she cried, and lances of white light, solidified faith, shot from her outstretched hands like divine judgment, embedding in the black barrier, causing sizzling sounds and plumes of acrid white smoke, desperately trying to purify the evil defense.

Raum roared angrily, a sound of pure, frustrated malice. He flapped his tattered wings, and the black wind wall not only defended but pulsed outwards with renewed force. Invisible arcs of slicing wind shot out, forcing Neil to retreat, his greatsword a constant blur.

The Golden Eagle, already grievously wounded, was thrown far by a focused gust, its broken body landing with a sickening thud on the bone-strewn ground, fresh blood seeping from a terrible wound in its wing. The Griffin, agile and powerful, also had to fly higher, circling, evading the worst of the counterattack.

While Neil and Brena pinned Raum, Cole and Halb deployed their own deadly support. Cole, a silent whirlwind of controlled violence, swung his heavy, spiked chain, its barbed head whistling like a viper's fang, and with unerring accuracy, wrapped it around one of Raum's exposed, spindly bony legs.

"Iron Bind" - The chain tightened with a screech of tortured metal, faint red light from its ancient runes flaring, attempting to anchor the monster. Raum growled in annoyance, yanking his leg hard; the enchanted chain stretched taut, groaning, but miraculously did not break.

Halb, ever the pragmatist, kept his distance, his spear vibrating with concentrated energy, its polished tip glowing. "Spear Qi: Piercing Rain!" he shouted. A sustained barrage of invisible spear qi projectiles, each aimed to puncture stone and steel shot towards Raum from multiple, unexpected angles, targeting the smallest openings in his formidable defense or the vulnerable joints of his grotesque body, forcing him to divide his attention.

Henry stood at the edge of the chaotic battle, his Mystic Sense sweeping the field, analyzing intricate energy flows, predicting attack trajectories. He clearly sensed Raum's terrifying approaching Rank 5 power, felt the suffocating waves of madness and cruelty. But something felt terribly, fundamentally wrong.

The Sanctuary Seal on his chest still vibrated violently, not with fear, but with a strange, insistent urge, a faint but undeniable resonance with… the Altar.

He forced his gaze towards that obscene black stone slab. His Mystic Sense, focusing with desperate intensity, clearly showed him what his physical eyes could not: two distinct energy flows connecting directly to Raum.

One, a thin but incredibly persistent, bright red flow, wrapped around Raum's body like glistening threads of living blood, constantly healing him, mending minor wounds almost as quickly as Halb's spear qi inflicted them.

The other flow, much thicker, darker, and far more potent, surged into Raum's body like a lightless river from the blood-soaked Altar, supplying him with an almost endless source of raw, corrupting dark energy.

The Altar! That was his main power source! The key to his unnatural resilience, his seemingly limitless dark magic! "Attack the Altar!" Henry screamed, his voice raw, desperate, above the monstrous roars, the clash of steel and magic. "His weakness is the Altar! Cut off his power source!"

Neil and Brena, with the heightened senses of high-ranking, heard him. Understood him. Brena reacted instantly, abandoning her direct assault on Raum's wind wall. Her hands, steady despite the chaos, drew complex symbols in the air, white light concentrating around her fingertips with increasing, blinding intensity.

Raum, with his heightened senses, realized her intention immediately. He let out an even more furious, more desperate roar, he crimson pinpoints in his sockets flared with murderous light. He ignored Neil's frantic, renewed attacks, concentrating all his remaining dark energy into his long, armor-piercing talons.

"Shadow Claws" - a terrifying barrage of shadow blades that could strip flesh from bone, imbued with the void's chilling coldness, flew towards Brena with horrifying speed.

The Golden Eagle and Griffin, though grievously wounded, bleeding from countless gashes, faithfully, heroically, charged to intercept.

The Eagle, with a final, defiant shriek, used its broken body as a living shield, its golden plumage torn further, its lifeblood splattering.

The Griffin, roaring its grief and fury, spat desperate, compressed wind orbs, trying to deflect the deadly shadow blades.

Piercing, tearing clashes sounded continuously as light and shadow battled.

At that same moment, amidst this desperate sacrifice, Brena completed her spell. "Holy Seal!" she cried, her voice a clarion call of unwavering faith. A pillar of pure, incandescent white light, nearly a meter in diameter, imbued with overwhelming holy power, descended directly from the bruised sky, striking the profane black Altar with the force of a divine hammer.

Boom! The pillar of light, impossibly powerful, couldn't destroy the ancient, corrupted stone slab entirely. But the attack created a shockwave of purifying light that spread outwards, and crucially, the surging flow of black energy from the Altar to Raum was violently, catastrophically, interrupted.

The dark, swirling wind defense around him, starved of its primary power source, almost completely vanished, dissipating like smoke. His tangible power, the suffocating aura of dread he projected, noticeably, dramatically, weakened.

Neil, seeing his only chance, let out a final, desperate battle cry. All his remaining aether, all his will, all his grief and rage, poured into his greatsword. The blue flame surrounding the blade flared violently, impossibly, turning a dazzling, blinding silver-white.

"Seismic Fang!" - The sword, now an extension of his soul, like a seismic fang forged from light and righteous fury, lunged forward with speed invisible to the naked eye. It pierced through the significantly weakened wind wall and stabbed directly, unerringly, into the center of Raum's bony, emaciated chest. The blade sank deep. Neil gritted his teeth, ignoring the searing pain from his over-exerted body. With a final, defiant twist of his wrist, the immense aether stored within the enchanted blade exploded from within Raum's chest cavity.

Crack! Crack! CRACK! Black, diseased flesh was torn apart, ancient, brittle ribs shattered like dry twigs, creating a large, gaping, horrific wound in Raum's chest. Thick, black, viscous blood, carrying the stench of the grave, gushed out like a foul spring.

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