Emma flew higher than eagles, and the Middleriftian landscape opened up to Vance. He saw icy mountains and volcanic hell pits, secretive forests and open wastelands, toxic swamps and vast Targrass plains. The numerous landforms took shape far below and then dissolved behind him at the distant horizon. He was traveling at a high speed that couldn’t be matched by flightless mounts, and he was unimpeded in his advance by any of the natural barriers that could have slowed him down or lengthened his trip. Like a well-aimed arrow, he flew in a straight line and didn’t descend to the hazardous ground except to check the bloodstained footprints—the reliable compass guiding him to his beast.
Eventually, after eight hours of flight and many reconnaissance landings, he arrived at a wasteland unlike any other—a land of heart-rending emptiness, where the soil itself took the form of weeping human faces. He looked ahead from between Emma’s horns. In the distance, under a cover of low-hanging thunderclouds, he saw the silhouette of a castle standing alone in the nexus of a rainless storm. It was revealed to him by recurrent thunderbolts—flashes that ripped through the heavens and created zigzag faults in the rocklike darkness. A wise decision would have been to circle around the area and avoid the sinister storm, but the bloodstained footprints continued straight toward the shrouded castle, and Vance had a strong feeling that he must advance.
The storm was calling him: he could hear his name in the rumble of thunder. His fated adversary, his Middlerift Beast, was sending him a challenge, and he couldn’t but rise up to it. He grabbed Emma’s neck tight and urged her onward. She galloped and followed the trail of bloodstained footprints, into the shadow of the clouds, toward the distant silhouette of the castle; but she didn’t take to the sky so as not to become an easy target for the lightning. She advanced on the ground at a regular pace, passing by wilted trees and rotting caracasses. And as she drew closer and closer to the nexus of the storm, her three horns continued to grow until they were all the same length.
The lightning ripped through the sky with monstrous force—the pulse of a beating heart—and Vance stopped at the edge of a bottomless moat. It was like a fissure in the crust of Middlerift. On one side, there was the weeping wasteland. On the other, there was the castle. And connecting the two was a single bridge that resisted the call of gravity with a purple aura of magic. Another pulse lit the sky, and the castle that had only been a silhouette started to reveal itself to Vance. He looked across the moat and saw with his Mental Eye a structure that eclipsed even the famous cathedral and churches of Cromsville.
There it was—so close and tangible yet still surreal. It had a high wall of stone, each brick two meters wide and one meter high. Parapets lined the top of this wall, and where there were no parapets, there were stone colossuses of hooded mages. Each colossus had its eyes blindfolded and wore the same set of bell-sleeved robes. Some stood with open arms that seemed to be welcoming the world into their embrace; others held up purple orbs that overflowed with zaps of electro-magic. Behind the wall and colossuses, five conjoined buildings and three towers rose toward the stormy sky. Their architecture was consistent throughout, with carvings, corbels, turrets, and machicolations.
What is this place? Vance dismounted near the precarious magic bridge and looked with more puzzlement than awe. He couldn’t believe that a structure of this scale could exist in Middlerift. Who could have built this bastioned castle when the efforts of thousands of Headbound had only produced Argilstead, a village of clay slums? And yet here it was—rising high and proud in the middle of nowhere, as if it had been created by the same mysterious forces that had shaped the landscape. Its grandeur was a symbol, a warning, an effective tool of intimidation. And Vance understood the unspoken message well: he was up against a creature rivaling the kings of the mortal world.
But I have to do this. He hardened his resolve, sent Emma back to the Plains of Bazawrath, and then started to cross the bridge over the bottomless moat. As he stepped on the floating bricks, he knocked a pebble off the side of the bridge, and it continued to fall for long before he heard—between one cry of thunder and the next—the faintest splash in the deepest darkness below. A second of uneasy silence followed before there were other violent splashes. It’s not just water down there. There are other things. He felt slightly disturbed, but then he decided to focus on his goal and continued to follow the bloodstained footprints across the narrow bridge. Let sleeping dogs lie.
Having crossed the perilous moat, Vance found next a giant gate with a steel portcullis. The lightning flashed, and he saw that it was wide open. There were no guards and no barricades. If he had wanted, he could have walked through this gate and into the castle bailey. But he didn’t believe that the entrance would be left so open and inviting without an accompanying trap. If the Middlerift Beast or any of its underlings had even the intelligence of goblins, they wouldn’t waste this perfect chance. The moment he stepped forward, he was quite sure, the portcullis would come falling down like a curtain, and then he would find himself cornered, surrounded, and outnumbered by fangs, horns, and claws. Denouement. Epilogue. Applause. Body shredded. Head gone forever.
Instead of falling for the obvious trap, Vance waited patiently for the next bolt of lightning, and in its momentary light, he discovered a new route that would offer him no retreat but lower the chances of a large-scale ambush. He started walking on a narrow strip of land on the outer side of the castle wall. He advanced along the massive stone bricks, on the precipitous edge of the moat, and headed toward one of the open-armed colossuses. It was time to put the parasitic feet to good use. Standing in the shadow of the colossus, he bent his knees and pushed against the ground. In the next moment, he was high in the air with an unrivaled jump. He rose a full twenty meters, and guided by the flashes of lightning, he landed on the outstretched hand of the colossus.
It wasn’t an easy maneuver. It wasn’t a flawless jump. When he reached his high goal, he sat on the long fingers of the colossus and took a moment to calm his nerves. If he had made a wrong move, he would’ve ended up in the moat. If the parasites hadn’t obeyed him so faithfully, he would’ve plummeted into oblivion. But the training and the Manotic Mastery had paid off. He stood up on the palm of the colossus and looked toward the stone parapets. A second jump would get him to the top of the wall, and a third would get him into the bailey.
He waited for another flash of lightning to make his next jump. Before it came, however, he suddenly heard a faint sound. It wasn’t thunder in the sky. It wasn’t a splash in the moat. It was a brief mechanical noise, and it came from among the parapets. Without thinking, without flinching, without wasting a single second, Vance jumped to the side, just as he would to dodge an arrow or a slingshot. A whoosh traveled through the air. He landed on the wrist of the colossus, and a steel bolt—fired from a crossbow—landed where he had been standing before. He heard the rumble of thunder and then the sound of the invisible crossbow reloading. I was detected … But how?
Realizing how dangerous his current position was, he started to run along the colossal arm. There’s no retreat. Two more bolts flew toward him, but he was too fast for them to land on target. I need to fight my way into the castle. He jumped off the shoulder of the colossus, kicked its head right on the cheek, and flew toward the top of the wall. This is much better than being ambushed at the gate, but I’m still at a disadvantage. He landed past the parapets and saw in front of him a pair of eyes shining in the darkness.
The mechanical sound came again. A steel bolt flew straight at him, but he moved fast and hid between two parapets. After the bolt passed by, he left his hiding spot and charged at his lone enemy. Equip Spectre. The spectral dagger appeared in his right hand, and he drew the Larval Dagger with his left. He ran as fast as he could. He could hear the sound of the crossbow reloading in the darkness, but he knew that he still had time until it fired again. A few precious seconds were available to him, and he used them to arrive in close range.
Lightning flashed in the sky and revealed his enemy to be a minotaur-like chimerical beast—four meters tall and covered in blood. It doesn’t have my head. It’s not the one. He swung his spectral dagger and left a trail along its goat legs. Was it sent here to delay me on purpose, or did it attack because I got too close? He used the Larval Dagger to deflect the sharp cleaver that it was wielding. I didn’t mess up the sneaking, so it must’ve been expecting me. It must’ve already been looking for any signs of my approach. He backed away as it attacked with its two bull horns. I guess you need to get through the retinue to reach the king.
The chimerical beast raised its crossbow to fire at Vance from close range, but the latter sidestepped and launched a counterattack after the bolt had missed. Hoping to immobilize his enemy, he aimed for its knees with his Larval Dagger. His slash was quick and precise. So close was he to achieving his goal, but the beast refused to raise the white flag. It fell back one step and used its cleaver to intercept the dagger—nullifying the attack and protecting its legs.
This thing isn’t as dumb as it looks. Vance jumped back quickly as the cleaver traveled toward him with a retaliatory diagonal slash. The tide of the battle suddenly shifted. The chimerical beast stamped the ground with its goat hooves before it charged into a full-scale attack. In the following two to three minutes, Vance continued to dodge, sidestep, and back away. Again and again, he avoided butcherly slashes, brutal stomping, vengeful punches—all while he remained in close range to try to prevent the beast from reloading its crossbow.
It was in fact this secondary weapon, with its annoying steel bolts and its unknown range, that hampered Vance’s movements and caused him to hesitate more than once. Every time he had a chance at offense, he found a new steel bolt loaded and pointed at his chest. Every time he noticed an opening, it was wasted because he was forced to prioritize dodging the bolts. I need to get rid of this crossbow, or I’ll be stuck defending forever. He needed to wring it out of the beast’s hand by any means, and he waited patiently for a suitable opportunity.
For the longest time, it seemed as though he was up against the one and only perfect hack-and-slash machine. But then it suddenly came—one mistake: the beast stopped attacking with its cleaver, reached into a quiver that was tied to its thigh, and started to reload its crossbow after a missed shot. It seemed to think that it had scared Vance into a series of dodges and retreats, and it misjudged the amount of time that it had. This is my only chance. Without wasting a second, Vance moved forward to grab this opportunity. With a jump attack, he slashed through the beast’s shoulder. Then he spun fast, avoiding its cleaver and cutting through its humanoid arm with both of his daggers.
The rapid attacks achieved their objective. The physical and magical damage combined together and forced the chimerical beast to let go of the crossbow. The heavy weapon fell on the ground with the clank of damaged machinery. Then Vance picked it up. Say goodbye to your favorite toy. He swung his arms and threw the crossbow off the castle wall. It hit the hand of the colossus, slid past the last of the stone fingers, and tumbled into the moat. The danger from the crossbow bolts was finally gone, and there was no way it could ever return.
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As the beast stamped in anger, Vance finally shifted from cautious defense to emboldened offense. He raised his daggers and launched a barrage of slashes and thrusts. The cleaver alone was easy to monitor and easy to overwhelm with his rapid dual wielding. Every time the beast blocked the Larval Dagger, he was able to deliver two successful slashes with his vicious spectral weapon. The dark-green marks piled up and overlapped. The beast was losing its life bit by bit, and it seemed to lack the means to reverse this trend.
All that remained was a Spectral Execution. One Spectral Execution seemed enough to etch the beast’s name on a gravestone, and Vance began with the proper preparations for it. Although he had the upper hand at this stage of the fight, he returned to dodging and backing away. He invited the beast to increase the frequency of its slashes and studied the movements of its weapon. A pattern surfaced. And as soon as he grasped this pattern, he swung his Larval Dagger and parried a foreseen cleaver attack.
You’re mine now. The beast’s arm flailed in the air, and its whole chest was exposed. Spectral Execution. Vance swung his right arm after the dark mist had covered it. The tip of the spectral dagger traveled toward its target with a lethal dose of magical damage, but then suddenly, rapidly, in the blink of an eye and the twitch of a limb, a bolt of lightning descended from the angry sky and struck the chimerical beast. Perhaps it was more bad luck. Perhaps it was an inevitability, since the flailing arm and the metal cleaver were pointed high toward the ominous clouds. Regardless of the reason behind it, the untimely thunderbolt still struck. It interrupted the well-planned Spectral Execution and knocked Vance back many meters.
By the time he recovered and stood up again, the chance to end the fight had passed, and the enemy he had been facing was no longer the same.
***
What were the beasts of Middlerift, and how were they different from the monsters of the mortal world? Were they larger? Smarter? More ferocious? More tenacious? Did any one exceptional quality or the other earn them the elevated title of Middlerift Beast, or was it an arbitrary name that referenced their realm of existence? When the thunderbolt struck and Vance was knocked back, he felt for a fleeting moment that his enemy—the chimerical beast—was different from all the monsters that he had fought throughout his life. There was an ineffable quality that set it apart. In that second of flashing light, before the delayed thunder, he saw in his adversary something dark and amorphous and felt a strange connection to this intangible presence.
But then the moment passed, and he was up again from the ground, and all that he had on his mind was the transformation that his enemy had undergone. After the violent lightning struck, the fur and flesh started to slide off the torso of the chimerical beast, and as they did, they revealed a rib cage that was made of pure metal. Inside this metal cage, an active electro-heart was beating alone without lungs, arteries, or veins. It was a manaphilic vessel that had absorbed the lightning strike and converted it into a bountiful store of electro-magic. It began to lend new powers to the beast. A strong current flowed into its whetted cleaver, and an electric arc formed between the horns that crowned its head.
Vance prepared for the worst, and the worst did come. In the next moment, with sparks flying inside its rib cage, the chimerical beast swung its cleaver and slashed with great force. Although hardly different from before, its slashes now created visible waves of electricity that traveled at the speed of projectiles. A magic attack. The electric assault continued toward Vance, and he started to move in response. He slid to dodge the first diagonal wave, flung his body to the side to avoid the vertical second, and jumped past the horizontal third. But the chimerical beast neither tired nor stopped. It continued to attack at the same rate, and the pressure began to mount.
The castle walls are too narrow for this. Unable to get in close range or use his daggers, Vance started to consider other options. I might need to take this fight elsewhere. As he continued to dodge, he cast a quick glance at the castle bailey. It was enveloped in darkness, but he could also hear the grunts and groans of several beasts. No, the bailey won’t do. Following more dodges, as the electric waves whizzed past him, he cast another quick glance in the opposite direction. The weeping wasteland seemed like the best place to continue the fight against the chimerical beast, but the deep moat was in the way. And even if I defeat this thing in the wasteland, the rest of the beasts can then block the bridge and prevent me from crossing back. He reasoned himself into a corner. No, I can’t take the fight elsewhere. I’m stuck right here where I am.
Having arrived at this conclusion, Vance had no other option but to rely on the increased mobility that the parasitic feet granted him. The castle walls were too narrow because he only envisioned human movements, and the parasites were capable of much more. They were capable of closing the gap that existed between him and the beast—of getting him within range for a decisive Spectral Execution. But can I trust them with my life? He hesitated for a moment and felt uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it was too soon to take such risks. Maybe he needed to experiment first in a controlled setting—against a weak monster or a low-level adventurer. No … I might lose everything if I play it safe now.
It was time to act, and he started to move. While the barrage of electric waves continued, he turned around and jumped in the direction of the moat. We’re in this together. Lightning lit the sky, and he flew toward the neighboring colossus. I’m counting on you. Don’t fail me now, Dragonsgrief. Dents and cracks formed beneath him as if he had had ten times his normal weight. His strong dragon claws dug into the stone hood of the colossus mage and prevented him from falling off after a dangerous jump. They gave him the secure footing that was the whole difference between life and death.
The chimerical beast turned to face him and slashed with its cleaver. It sent a new series of electro-magic waves that destroyed part of the castle wall and split the head of the colossus into several slices, but as the rubble fell into the moat, Vance was rising higher into the air. He had used the colossus only as a stepping stone—to ease the pressure, to break the continuity of the electric attacks, and to create a situation where he could go into stealth. Now he was returning to the castle wall at a more strategic spot for his advance. Using the darkness to his advantage, he landed between two parapets and hid in their shadow without making any noticeable sound.
Anxious moments passed. The beast didn’t know whether its attacks had hit their target or whether Vance had fallen into the moat with the debris. It stood and watched the great collapse—as parts of the wall cracked and bled stone. Its two menacing eyes were looking for the slightest shine of a dagger, and its ears for the faintest rattle of the Mantis Armor. But there was nothing. Vance was as concealed as a solar-elven treasure and as quiet as a corse on the course of decay. Splashes echoed from the moat below. Lightning struck. Thunder roared. Then, as the beast focused its gaze toward the moat, Vance finally made his move.
Like a relay runner who had just received the baton, he darted out of hiding and raced on top of the parapets. His sprint started at the perfect timing; he approached undetected; his two daggers thirsted for a sneaky kill. But it was impossible for him to remain hidden all the way, especially since the beast had extraordinary senses. By the time he had made it halfway, it had already been alerted by the rattle of his armor. It started to take steps back. It fired more electric waves. It wanted to stop his advance at all costs. But he was in rhythm. Stealth was impossible from start to finish, yet it had given him the chance to accelerate into full speed, and now it was too difficult to lock onto him and almost impossible to push him back.
With a series of rapid movements, he jumped from one edge of the castle wall to the other—crisscrossing between the two parallel lines of parapets, avoiding the electric attacks with both speed and nimbleness. And throughout his bold advance, his dragon claws helped him balance himself and acted as his crucial brakes—preventing momentum from sending him off the steep edges. It was a combination of good decision-making and parasitic assistance that allowed him to reverse his terrible disadvantage. The parasites didn’t fail their master after all, and with one last jump, Vance found himself standing right in front of the chimerical beast.
It waved its electrified cleaver at him, with an attack that dealt combined physical and magical damage—a vertical slash that threatened to split him in half—but he sidestepped and kicked the beast’s hand with his right foot. The parasites lent his kick enough power to knock the cleaver away, and their grime also shielded him from the electric shock that would have ensued. Having lost the cleaver, the chimerical beast resorted to its last weapon. It took a step back and charged with its two bull horns. An electric arc was still flying between these horns, and they threatened not only to gorge through the Mantis Armor but also to send a deadly shock through any body they touched.
It was a desperate attack. It was a powerful last resort. But Vance was neither surprised nor intimidated. With a quick sidestep, he got out of the way of the charging bull. Then, as it passed by, he aimed for its knee and slashed across it with both of his daggers. The result was devastating. Not a single extra step could the beast take before it crashed down into the stone. One of its arms broke under the pressure of its body, and so did the two horns. It managed to stand again, but it had lost all its might. And it could only look down—in pain, in denial, in fear—as Vance dashed forward and swung his arm at its chest.
Spectral Execution. The dark mist erupted again from his spectral dagger. He pushed it through the metal rib cage and stabbed the electro-heart. The dagger dealt its magical damage without conducting the deadly currents, and the beast bellowed in utter pain. The sparks of the electro-heart began to disappear. The electro-magic that filled it began to dissipate. Then Vance raised his Larval Dagger and planted it through the beast’s chin, through the beast’s tongue, through the beast’s palate. One stab silenced; the other killed. Rot in peace. He pulled his daggers out of the corpse and kicked it away. Like a log, it collapsed on the ground and moved no more.
Battle Result
You have defeated Aldini the Loyal, Guardian of the Walls.
Your victory stirs the spirits that lie beneath Rocca Galeazzi.
It’s over. Vance stood still for a moment and looked down at the fallen beast. Part of him wanted to dissect its peculiar body, which could possibly reveal the differences between monsters and beasts. He was especially interested in the electro-heart and in the dexterous humanoid arms. But then he decided against the whole undertaking. It will consume too much time, and I’m not in the safest location right now. I need to make it into the castle before the next welcoming party arrives. He started searching for the safest way down into the bailey. A route near the destroyed colossus seemed best for a quick descent, but before he could follow it, a blinding flash illuminated the entire world around him.
He thought that the lightning had struck nearby, but it had in fact zigzagged across the sky and hit one of the three towers of the castle. A large fire lit on top of this round tower—the seed for a potential conflagration. It burned like a beacon in the darkness, and Vance looked up at it in wonder, in unease, in confusion. He didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t know what to expect. Was a barrier forming around the main structure of the castle? Was a second beast descending to avenge the first? Were armed battalions rising from complacence into a state of alert?
Suddenly, the beacon started to move. No … No, no, no! Vance turned around after a grim realization. The light that he had seen was no beacon in the sky. It was a flaming projectile fired from a catapult or a trebuchet. It drew closer and closer, and he started to run without looking back at its dazzling light. As he made a desperate attempt to escape total destruction, it exploded in the bailey behind him—wiping out the crowds that had been waiting to ambush him; burning the corpse of the chimerical beast; demolishing an entire section of the wall; and sending him, still speechless, still in disbelief, into the deep darkness of the moat.