The sound of metal on flesh rings through the room. Macille slides back, the heels of his greaves biting into the stone beneath his feet as he is pushed away from the Red Jailor. I see the strain on Macille’s face, the shaking of his fingers on his shield arm; he grunts and releases a shuddering breath as he comes to a stop.
In front of him, the Jailor laughs, its voice like a high-pitched cacophony of clinking chains and strings. It steps forward with the same foot it used to launch Macille across the platform, crushing its discarded finger like an afterthought, hefting its ax to bring it around in an arc.
Two of its eyes stay on Macille as he recovers from the kick he just took on the shield while it dedicates two to keep track of Dovik and I. My fire flashes forward, an explosion blossoming over its face, my dragonfire trying to bury into the six menacing eyes it looks down on us with, each eye pointed in a different direction. The fire is gone in an instant, hardly any trace of damage left on its face as the monster continues to smile down at us.
Cold snakes up my back, and I vaguely hear Dovik shout something. My eyes are trained on the Red Jailor’s arms though, the strength running through its coiled muscles as it tugs on the massive weapon in its hands. I realize the cold running across my skin is the sensation of death; I’ve felt it before when the Desert Spearman would turn its eyes on me.
I fall. My feet don’t give out from under me like they would a girl facing a true monster for the first time–that wouldn’t be fast enough. I propel myself into the floor with all the speed I can muster. Before my back can even slap into the harsh stone of the platform, a keening splits the air in front of my face, metal racing through the spot I just stood too fast for me to really see. I finish falling as the Jailor completes its swing, air tugging at my hair and clothes from the vacuum its ax made as it ran through where I just stood. I roll backwards, jumping to my feet before a horrible red foot slams into the stone where I just was, cracking the stone.
Dovik is there in the next instant, his twin weapons stabbing into the leg of the monster, a charge of mana flowing from his hands toward the monster. Surprise roils across Dovik’s face as his pulse of magic stops against the monster’s skin, some force preventing it from entering the Jailor’s body.
A shadow collides into Dovik’s body a second before the Jailor’s ax would have. Macille stands next to the man, his body already glowing with a set of ephemeral armor before I can recognize that the Jailor is swinging its ax again. I haven’t even finished taking three steps back from the monster before its weapon whips through the air, the blow of its ax lifting Macille off his feet for the barest moment as it glances off his shield. The terrible sound of metal scraping against metal pierces through the room, all of Macille’s strength just barely enough to redirect the monster’s weapon. As the Jailor’s weapon cuts upward through the air, both men jump away.
It has been two seconds.
“High Magical Defense,” Dovik says before disappearing again. I continue charging a Dragonfire Bolt and see the man reappear behind the Jailor’s leg, slamming the flat ends of his weapons into the back of the monster’s knee. Even with all of his strength put into the strike, he barely manages to wobble the Jailor’s leg.
“Stay far back,” Macille commands me as he starts to run forward again, his sword glowing.
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I am well aware that I am not experienced enough in close combat to keep up with what is happening in front of me. I keep my face to the pitched battle in front of me as I back towards the edge of the circular platform, trying to put as much space between me and those three as possible.
The Bane Crystal slaps against the floor for a moment. Touching the head of my staff to the softly glowing crystal changes the collecting mass of orange at the head of my staff to green in an instant. My fire barely effected this monster, just like when I was trying to kill that catfish before. Dovik’s attack where he pours his mana directly into his opponent didn’t work either. Maybe the green fire will be different, but I don’t have high hopes. I slip the Bane Crystal back into my inventory.
The Jailor continues to bring its weapon down again and again, but Macille and Dovik don’t give it any room to generate a powerful swing. Every step it takes away from the two, trying to put distance between itself and its opponents to make the most out of its outrageous reach, is met with Macille charging it and Dovik disappearing, teleporting to wherever it has stopped so that he can attack it from behind once more.
Every swing of the monster is powerful enough to strike fear into my heart. The sound of its ax cutting through the air like Golidar’s scythe, the way that Macille gasps every time he catches the edge of the weapon on his shield, seeing Dovik vanish just as an ax head as big as his body swings through the spot he was just a fraction of a second before, all of it drives the nails of fear deeper into me. What am I even doing here? I can’t dance with death as easily as those two do.
My fingers start to tremble on my staff. This monster swings its weapon too fast for me to keep up with the dance. It might not be as strong as the Desert Spearman, but there is no doubt in my mind that it is deadlier. Despite the wounds that Dovik and Macille continue to put into its legs, the monster shows no sign of noticing them. The wicked smile across its face only grows larger and larger as the battle rages on.
Green fire springs away from me, and I only realize a moment later that I was the one to throw it. The ball of dragonfire explodes on the Jailor’s chest, the collision of my magic causing it to stumble backwards for a moment. The clinging fire that tries to crawl over its red skin is snuffed out in an instant, but a black scar is left across its chest, melted and blackened skin evidence that my magic isn’t completely useless.
A set of baleful eyes turn in my direction, and the hate I see in the monster’s eyes breaks the fear out of my heart. It hates me because I can hurt it. This isn’t a hopeless fight.
Magic, invisible to everyone but me, snakes up the chain extending out of the Jailor’s back, a wave of menacing red that surrounds the cage carrying the crane like a jealous fist. The instant the magic washes over the cage, a different aura, a pale blue, explodes around the Jailor’s feet. With an eruption of magic, the Jailor springs into the air, its body sailing forty feet straight up before its momentum begins to run out. A second wave of red aura sprouts out of the Jailor’s back, encircling the cage with the captive monkey-monster inside. A boulder manifests in front of the Jailor, a stone easily as large as a horse and carriage put together.
With a roar, the Jailor slams the head of its ax into the floating stone in front of it, splintering the rock into jagged shards that spray down at the three of us like deadly rain. There is no time to hope that Macille is close enough to save me as the shards of stone come racing out of the sky towards me. My hand flashes forward, the window of my inventory appearing in front of me. I barely manage to touch the spot where one of the iron-bound chests that I have collected throughout this competition rests, making it instantly appear in front of me in the air.
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An unseen shard of stone pierces through the iron of the chest from behind but fails to penetrate all the way through. The chest is sent spiraling from absorbing the deadly attack, hitting me in the chest like a cannonball before spinning away and over the edge. My back bounces once off the stone of the platform, but I know how close I am to the edge, and my hands reach out, trying to grab anything.
The cold feel of iron scrapes against my hand as my body sails away as I grab the huge steel chain link with all the strength I can muster. I hear and feel several parts of my arm groan and pop in agony as I hold onto the chain for dear life. My stomach collides with the edge of the stone platform just in time to feel the rumble of the Jailor landing from its jump. Macille and Dovik continue to stand around the monster, but both men sport superficial cuts across their shoulders and sides, unable to escape the epicenter of the Jailor’s stone rain unscathed. My staff rests on the platform just in front of me, but I forcefully turn my mind back to my own situation.
The muscles in my arm threaten to give up on me as I scratch my free hand against the surface of the stone platform, trying to find any kind of purchase. With ten full seconds of straining and grunting, I just manage to pull myself back onto the stone platform. My right arm screams at me, torn muscles complaining and trying to take my attention away from the fight. I push the pain aside, death is still smiling down at me and my party, its ax swinging back and forth through the air. That ax is too dangerous.
I grab my staff in my left hand, the sensation strange, and begin to pour dragonfire into the head of the weapon. I can see the aura building around Dovik as he continues to beat his weapons against the Jailor’s legs like they were drumsticks, the sound of the strikes growing louder and louder with each blow. I think I notice at the same time as the Jailor that Dovik’s right eye is closed, the wound on his forehead having somehow reopened, blood running down his face.
The Jailor brings his ax arcing down at Dovik, but the man cannot see that it is a feint. Macille shouts to Dovik, but his warning comes too late. Like a whip, the Jailor’s leg cracks through the air, its shin ramming into Dovik’s right shoulder like the charge of a bull. Dovik is sent into the air like a missile, sailing clear past the edge of the stone platform, sailing into darkness. Dovik disappears from the air, reappearing over the platform, where his body crashes down and rolls across the stone.
Delight flashes across the Jailor’s face as it turns, all three sets of eyes staring down at the man shaking on the ground, trying to regain his feet. My feet are already in motion, sprinting in the direction of the monster as Macille runs to cover Dovik. I feel the magic running through my staff hit its apex, and I don’t have time to marvel at how quickly I managed to over channel the dragonfire this time.
The ax of the Jailor climbs into the air as the monster coils all of its strength into a single strike aimed at crushing the two in front of it. It has no time or will to notice me as I run forward. This is the third time that I have seen it swing this way. It seems insane to me to use the same attack that many times against the same opponent; perhaps intelligence is the weakness of this particular monster.
Pushing my speed for all that it is worth, I streak forward like a green bolt of lightning, seeing the tension run up through the Jailor’s abdomen that marks it starting to swing. I have to be close. There is no other way that this works.
The contraction of muscles continues its race against me, spiraling up through the Jailor’s shoulders and then its arms like the uncoiling of a spring. I know my timing is perfect as I release the Dragonfire Bolt. Only a few inches into its swing, my fire explodes against the Jailor’s hands, and the monster roars as its grip loosens. Its swing continues, but the massive ax is gone from its hands, tumbling away through the air as all of the monster’s strength is poured into an impotent strike.
A quake shakes up through my feet as the massive ax clangs to the platform, but I ignore the shaking, my legs already propelling me towards the weapon. Behind me, I can feel the Jailor already turning in my direction, trying to recover from its swing, trying to get to the weapon before I can, but it has no chance to do so.
“I win,” I say as my finger touches against the weapon, my inventory window still alight as I command my storage ring to steal the Jailor’s ax. I feel the same pooling of magic that races across my fingers every time I have stored an item before, but as the magic touches against the pommel of the weapon, an invisible force I have never before experienced prevents me from storing the item. I failed. I cannot steal the ax.
My smile vanishes as a cold wind brushes against me. I have only an instant of time to turn and see the Jailor’s fist splitting the air as it arcs down at me. I’m dead. Dovik appears in front of me holding his weapons up to intercept the fist, but with the rage I see on the Jailor’s face, I know that neither of us will survive this.
Purple light flashes through the chamber, and the Jailor’s fist collides against a barrier of amethyst that hovers in the air in front of Dovik. The cracking of bone shatters the air as the Jailor’s fist distorts against the crystalline shield, its fingers splintering, finger bones pushing their jagged breaks through the Jailor’s red skin. The monster leaps away, cradling its hand, and in the space it left, I can see our savior.
Adrius slumps to his knees on the walkway, sweat pouring down his pale face, weakness shaking through his outstretched hand that continues to glow with amethyst light. There is nothing weak in the man’s eyes however. He glares at the Red Jailor with a hate so barren that it contorts his face. The crystal barrier in the air shatters as Adrius pitches forward, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“Don’t lose the momentum!” Dovik commands, teleporting again, his twin weapons striking into the Jailor’s knee with enough force to knock the monster sideways. Seeing the monster sway from Dovik’s strike spurs something to life deep in my soul, and I find myself running forward, the head of my staff erupting in violent green flames. I can see fear in the Jailor’s eyes, weakness, and I want to eat that up.
I forgo channeling a Dragonfire Bolt and pour corrosive flame into the monster’s leg as I near it. The reach of my belching flame is barely six feet, and using my dragonfire in this way dissolves my mana like sugar in tea, but the charring of the Jailor’s skin beneath my biting fire pushes me to keep going.
It tries to strike me down with its unwounded hand, but Macille is there, his monstrous strength able to absorb its punches with ease. The sound of Dovik beating the monster’s right leg as I pour corrosive magic into its left makes my heart dance, its labored breathing and roars of anger only pushing me to keep it up. Then it happens; with a snap, the bone in the leg that I have been pouring fire into collapses. The Jailor falls to a knee in a cry of agony that shakes the entire chamber. It sits on a knee for the barest moment before Dovik appears in the air in front of its face, his twin stabbing weapons already racing forward.
Dovik plunges Pokey and its copy into two of the Jailor’s eyes, and this time, there is nothing that can stop the huge amount of mana that he has built up over the last several strikes from forcing its way into the Jailor. The back half of the Jailor’s head explodes in a shower of gore, brains and bone painting the platform red as its body falls forwards.
Metal wrenches; the Jailor’s body is held aloft for a bare second by the chains sprouting out of its back before the chains separate, disappearing into the air like dying motes of light. The room distorts in the same second, two ramps of stone leading down and away from the circular platform on which we stand appearing out of nowhere, extending towards rectangular holes in the walls that we can suddenly see. Both monsters in the cages vanish in streaks of light that race away from us as fast as sunrays, each one going a different direction, disappearing into the sudden tunnels.
“The fight isn’t over!” Dovik yells to us. “Go that way, I have this one!”
Without another word, the man runs down one of the ramps, chasing one of the streaks of light. I slap the head of the Jailor as I turn to run myself, disenchanting the corpse of the big monster. Like a fool, I don’t even question Dovik’s order to keep fighting. Something is pumping through my blood, something like fire and a lust to burn. I spare a glance at Macille as I race towards the ramp opposite the one that Dovik is running down.
“I’ll take care of Adrius,” Macille shouts to me as I run. “I will catch up.”
The sound of my heart pounding in my ears, the feeling of fire and magic pouring down my arm into the head of my staff, the sight of watching that terrible monster crumble to the floor just a few seconds before, it is all too intoxicating. I barely have the presence of mind to tap the Jailor’s ax as I run past it, whatever force was keeping me from putting it into my inventory gone now. My speed is too fast to control on the stone ramp, and I find myself sliding down towards the entryway that leads into pure darkness ahead of me. A fire burns in my heart and my eyes. Beyond the dark in front of me, my prey awaits.