The dungeon ruler swung its pair of axes through a black-marble column. It crashed down on Mad, but he was spirited to safety by the teleportation—the blink spell—of his phantom companion. Meanwhile the archer fired orange-lit spectral arrows from her tall bow, which stuck fast in the cracks in the ruler’s stone body. The plate-armor knight drew the ruler’s attention by slashing at its ankles, only to be kicked aside in its pursuit of Mad.
The boom of the dungeon ruler’s running charge was diminished by a chanting robed phantom. Although no words came from her translucent mouth, she certainly incanted what Mad had first described; a ritual to cancel the dungeon ruler’s debilitating noise.
They had fought for more than three minutes, but Zenos knew their progress was slow. It was apparent by the health bar visible over the dungeon ruler’s head. What ‘stamina’ Mad referred to must have been an adventurer’s understanding of HP. The dungeon ruler would only fall when the holographic red bar was empty.
All of this and it’s only at 50%, Zenos thought. I’m sure it’s because the wizard is spending so much time protecting Mad. This kiting tactic has kept him alive, but they’re on the defensive. If the dungeon ruler won’t turn his gaze, they can’t fight properly.
Zenos was still in his crater, but his HP had already crested 90%. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, flexed his arms and extended the digits of his hand.
Painless.
He made a deep breath and stood from the rubble. Pieces of bloody stone fell from his back, ejected from his closed wounds by his regenerative flesh. The phantom priest had stayed nearby and she noticed his emergence immediately. She closed her book, which disappeared in orange smoke, and rushed to Zenos’ side. She extended her hand just inches above Zenos’ arm, and appeared ready to speak her healing words, but Zenos stopped her by taking her hand in his own.
“I look scary, don’t I?” he wondered aloud.
Zenos was shirtless, filthy with dust and dried blood. It caked over his pecs and in the grooves of his abs, and cracked away in flecks like old paint when he flexed his muscles.
“But I’m okay,” he said. “You’ve already used a lot of your mana healing Mad. Save the rest of your strength for his sake.”
The ghost looked at him, eyes round in confusion.
Zenos made a slight smile and squeezed her hand. “I recognize you from the photo, Elizabeth. You were one of the anima threads, weren’t you?” he asked, but he knew the answer. “You’ve seen into my eyes, so trust me when I say Mad is the most important person here.
“That’s what I believe, having died twice already.”
He released her hand and continued toward the thick column ahead, one of the few still standing in the hall. The dark shadow cast by a nearby brazier made the column an excellent vantage point to watch the dungeon ruler.
It’s not Balagrim, he asserted. Just before it struck me, our eyes met, and the ruler attacked me anyway. If that were Balagrim, he would have surrendered. We never were good at fighting each other.
The dungeon ruler cleaved its axes through the floor, sent chunks of marble through the air as it chased after Mad. The knight stepped in and deflected the falling rocks with its spectral kite shield. Mad was carried away again, to the other side of the colonnade, while the knight thrust its sword into the ground and appeared to challenge the dungeon ruler.
Taunts won’t work on it, Zenos thought. He watched the knight be knocked aside once again. But if we could focus its attention….
Zenos’ eyes were struck wide. This place… it’s no wonder I didn’t think of it sooner. A quiet chuckle escaped him. Mad, you’re not the biggest fool anymore.
Inventory.
The holographic screen appeared and Zenos drew forth his [Longsword of the Novice.] The item could still be called, but its blade was broken in half. [Damage: 1] read the most important stat.
And that’s better than nothing, he thought and surveyed the broken colonnade hall with his sharp eyes. Many adventurers once died here. There must be something else I could use.
He spotted something close by, hidden in the dark of a shattered column. While the dungeon ruler was preoccupied, he ran to grab it; a kite shield of red and blue emblazoned with a black gryphon. Its metal was dented down the middle, but its leather sleeve was intact. Zenos strapped it to his arm.
[Shield of the Devoted Scion,] a system notification read. [Quality: 100.] [Defense: 250.] [Durability: 50.] [Additional Effect: Increase Spirit and Charisma by 10%]Isn’t this…? Zenos shook his head and put the thought in the back of his mind. It will do. Now, to add those levels.
There were 25 levels waiting in the character menu. That would be an additional 2,500 stat points to his already considerable sum of attributes, but he had to spend them wisely. Zenos’ new stat total was as follows:
[Strength: 2,150] [Constitution: 2,250] [Intelligence: 100] [Agility: 800] [Charisma: 100] [Spirit: 100]He felt embarrassed looking at the stat screen. “There must be a better way to spend these points,” he said to himself. “But this is what I need right now.”
Zenos retrieved his survival bar and took a bite, raising is constitution to 2,750. Apart from a new maximum health pool of 2,200, the sweet taste of honey and the crunch of almond was pleasing in the moment. He finished the bar and discarded the crumpled wrapper.
The battle raged as the dungeon ruler sprinted past Zenos, kicked up a gale of wind and dust in its wake. It roared and brought its axes down on Mad, but the quick necromancer had already been blinked to safety. The ruler’s axes fell through its own throne, shattered its stone seat to pieces.
What I have in mind won’t work if I can’t communicate with Mad, Zenos thought as he watched the dungeon ruler run back to the other side of the colonnade.
He knelt down and searched the floor with his hand. In the shadow, he could only rely on his sense of touch as he groped the floor. The shield was here, so maybe…. His hand fell on something cold and wooden. It was small and its curves fit well in his grasp. He lifted the item into the light.
“I think this is it,” he said. “A con-link.”
Zenos stood and looked at Elizabeth who was close by. “Hey,” he caught her attention. “Mad has one of these, doesn’t he? Tell him to put it on.”
Elizabeth nodded and her phantasmal form turned to a smoke-like wisp. It coursed through the air, toward Mad’s hiding place. Meanwhile, Zenos left the safety of the shadows and walked to the center of the colonnade.
“Can you understand me?” he heard in the back of his mind.
“It’s just like telepathy,” Zenos said back through the con-link.
“You’ve fully healed?”
“I’m ready to fight,” Zenos said via the link between their minds. “I have a plan.”
A strong smile emerged on Zenos’ face as he turned to face the dungeon ruler that stood at the lair’s entrance. “I will taunt it.”
There was a flash behind Zenos. Mad and his wizard, the spectral Leo, blinked behind him. Wisps of smoke raced to their side, and in moments the party had gathered behind him.
“I’ll use my eyes,” Zenos said aloud. “I think I can definitely get it’s attention, and when it attacks me, the rest of you can do your best.”
“Even if that could work, you won’t survive on your own,” Mad said.
“That’s why I’m relying on you,” he said. “Didn’t they call you the Instructor? I’ll be your knight, so use me properly.”
Zenos turned his head and flashed a smile over his shoulder. The necromancer trembled; the smile he wore echoed Khelero. The phantom knight stood beside Zenos and lifted the beak of his helm. There was a smile on his face as well, but it didn’t look confident, prideful, or happy. It was an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” were the words Zenos felt by the connection he shared with Khelero. “That I’ve dragged you into this again.”
The dungeon ruler stirred from the other side of the room. It turned slowly, set its raging-red eyes on the party far behind it. Perhaps it took their pause as a sign that their energy had run out. It seemed to savor the victory that was close at hand.
“It’s okay,” Mad wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m okay. I’ll do it. Khelero, I’ll be relying on you.”
The phantom nodded.
“He’s going to mirror you, Zenos,” Mad explained. “When you block, he blocks. When you strike, he strikes. You might not be able to withstand a blow on your own, but combined, you might stand a chance.”
“It’s the only chance we have,” Zenos said.
“That’s right.” Mad closed his eyes, straightened his back, and squared his shoulders. He cleared his mind of its distractions, its fears and hesitation. His staff stamped loudly on the broken marble floor.
“I’m in control,” he said.
“Begin!”
