Aether Leeches were ugly in the way useful monsters often were.
No dramatic horns. No noble silhouette. No elegant threat for painters to exaggerate after survivors became liars. Just pale, flat bodies clinging to Bloodstone ceilings, translucent skin pulsing with stolen light, circular mouths lined with teeth too small to respect.
In the game, students learned two rules on Floor Six.
Do not bleed.
Do not waste Aether.
Unfortunately, Team Seven had arrived with a shattered Void Core, a saintess, a hero, a commoner blade with anger issues, a nature mage who listened to walls, and Niko Vale, whose primary combat technique appeared to be regretting enrollment.
A balanced party, if the academy's goal was stress testing divine patience.
The first leech dropped toward Seraphina.
Liora cut it in half before Aiden finished moving.
Clear fluid splashed across the stone. The red veins drank it.
"Don't let the bodies touch skin," I said.
Aiden's sword flashed. "Poison?"
