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The heat was oppressive, sweat pouring down their faces, but still they fought on. Despite their fierce assault, Fathoran\'s soldiers stood firm, their formation an impenetrable wall of steel and defiance.

Tarec felt a cold stab of desperation as he watched the summoners around him begin to falter, their mana reserves depleting rapidly.

The once-vibrant salamanders on their shoulders now seemed to flicker and dim, mirroring their masters\' mana exhaustion.

"We\'re running out of mana!" a soldier cried out, his voice cracking with panic. "We can\'t keep this up much longer!"

Tarec\'s eyes darted around, taking in the dire situation. They had expended nearly all their mana, yet hadn\'t managed to fell a single enemy.

The corridor ahead still teemed with Fathoran\'s forces, over 500 soldiers, their armor gleaming defiantly in the dying light of their attacks.

"Fall back!" Tarec ordered, the bitter realization of their failure weighing heavily upon him. "We need to get out and request reinforcements! This is beyond our mana capabilities!"

As the summoners began their desperate retreat, Tarec held the rear, ensuring no one was left behind. The sounds of their ragged breathing and stumbling footsteps echoed off the walls.

But just as they were about to reach the exit of the entrance hall, a dark figure plummeted from the ceiling, landing with inhuman grace to block their path.

Tarec felt his heart stop as he recognized the imposing silhouette.

Fathoran.

The Founder stood before them, his armor radiating an aura of unparalleled power. His face bore a cold, calculating smile that sent chills down Tarec\'s spine.

"Leaving so soon?" Fathoran\'s voice echoed through the hall, dripping with mockery and menace. "The party\'s just getting started. I had so hoped you\'d stay for the main event."

Tarec stepped forward, placing himself between Fathoran and the exhausted summoners.

His legs trembled, every instinct screaming at him to run, but he stood his ground. Knowing full well that their chances of winning were practically non-existent, but he couldn\'t abandon his duty.

Fathoran\'s laughter rang out, a sound so chilling it seemed to drop the temperature of the room. "Brave soldiers, but oh so foolish," he sneered. "Do you truly believe that you pathetic, low-level summoners can hurt me?"

Before Tarec could blink, Fathoran was upon him. The Founder\'s fist connected with his face, the impact so devastating it sent Tarec hurtling through the air. He crashed into the wall, pain exploding through every nerve in his body.

"Tarec!" several summoners cried out in horror, but they were rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear and the loss of their leader.

Fathoran advanced slowly, savoring their terror. "Tell Elio I\'m waiting for him," he said, his voice laden with threat. "It\'s time the boy learns his place in the grand scheme of things. Of course I\'ll be taking almost all of your cores... I only need one messenger."

With a fluid motion, Fathoran unsheathed his sword. The blade gleamed with a sinister radiance under the flickering light of the salamanders.

Without warning, he lunged forward, his inhuman speed catching the summoners off guard.

The first blow fell upon a young soldier who barely had time to raise his arm in a desperate attempt at defense. Fathoran\'s sword cut through the level 3 armor as if it were paper, severing the arm from the body in an instant. The soldier\'s scream of agony never came as the blade continued its trajectory, separating his head from his body.

Tarec, recovering from the initial impact, shouted, "Defensive formation! Use your salamanders!"

The summoners, momentarily overcoming their shock, began hurling fireballs at Fathoran. The air filled with fiery projectiles, illuminating the lobby with an infernal glow.

But Fathoran moved as if he were dancing between the flames. His cloak billowed around him, completely negating some attacks, while his sword cut through others. The few that managed to impact the exposed part of his armor seemed to barely affect him, his magical resistance absorbing most of the damage.

"Impossible!" exclaimed one of the summoners, terror evident in his voice.

Fathoran laughed, a sound that chilled the blood of all present.

He extended his free hand, and a black wall began to form at the entrance of the lobby, rapidly growing until it almost completely sealed the exit. Only a small hole remained at the top, barely enough to allow air in.

Panic seized the summoners. Some continued launching fireballs in a desperate frenzy, while others ran towards the newly formed wall in an attempt to break it.

Tarec, seeing the situation becoming increasingly desperate, shouted, "Concentrate your attacks on the wall! It\'s our only way out!"

The summoners obeyed, directing all their firepower towards the carbon barrier. For a moment, it seemed they might escape when the wall shattered under the rain of fire.

But Fathoran, without missing a beat, created another wall right behind the first. "You can try all day," he mocked.

As if on cue, Fathoran\'s soldiers who had been watching from the hallway launched their attack. Armed to the teeth and protected by their maximum level armor, they charged forward.

The summoners, with their level 3 armor and limited resistance of 30 points, fell one after another under Fathoran\'s precise blows.

Tarec managed to bring down the second barrier before seeing another erected and feeling the sharp pain of a sword piercing his armor. He fell to his knees, his vision blurring.

"You\'re brave," said Fathoran, appearing behind him. "Will you be the one to deliver my message to Elio?"

The memory of Mordred taking his son\'s life flooded Tarec\'s mind.

"No, rot in hell. You can go tell him yourself, you damned coward!"

With his last ounce of strength, Tarec launched a fireball directly at Fathoran\'s face.