Dear Ren,
I hate your stinking guts. You make me want to vomit. You're scum between my toes.
Love,
Ardacen
The Little Rascals. Cute, funny, endearing. Everything my self proclaimed rival is not. He may have given me a bit of trouble in the past. He may have been the one to lead the flame war against me after I crashed Pangaea, but I have no proof of that. He may be a crude, narcissistic bully. He may be all of those things, but right now he's the pain in the ass that took our simple boss raid and turned it inside out and upside down.
>Scan<[Kilmosoth, Wraith of Fury. Tier 4 Boss. Level 15.
[40,669/41,700HP, 7,220/9,000MP, 1350/1350SP]
"Dawn, requesting permission to engage Ren," I ask the voice in my ear as I fire sets of bolts at Kil three at a time. Each bolt only deals damage in the teens instead of the normal ninety or so and I know everyone is experiencing the same drastic reduction. I'm ready to extend my claws and cast Assassinate, but Dawn gives me the negative and my shoulders sag.
"It's weird. They're attacking Kil too, but they're also up to something else. There's a Cleric in the group, and it looks like he's casting a Ritual Spell."
With another tremendous roar from the wraith, the ground tremors and its body begins to glow blue. Dawn shouts for everyone to fall back, but everyone is already in motion as Kilmosoth levitates higher until floating twenty feet above our heads. Kil's chest area expands, inch by inch, as the hooded head vacuums the air around us. We all squat low, trying to lower our center of gravity and brace ourselves against the strong pull of the wind rushing towards the wraith.
As it continues to inhale, tilting its head and thorny halo back, the hood starts sliding down completely unaffected by the pull of the wind. A pale head appears, covered in sickly yellow eyes and mouths filled with rotten teeth, much like the black tentacles with their red eyes and serrated fang filled mouths. Each mouth is sucking in thick vapors and I realize that it must be inhaling the fog from the land.
"Ren's group is gonna be able to see us soon, Dawn. What do we do?" I ask as Victoria, Richter, Elsbeth, and Rachel huddle around us. The rest of Dawn's squad, the centaurs and Dwarven miners, position themselves around us, blocking us from the wind and trying to listen to the plan.
She tears her gaze away from the terrible visage and shakes her head into focus. "I know you wanna go after Ren, Ardy, but you're still our best bet in keeping Kilmosoth's attention. We need you and the other runners to try and pull aggro again while we deal with the Order. Try to kite it back to the mesa. We're so close and there isn't much time left."
A shout from the Order signals their sudden awareness of our presence. I grind my teeth, but answer Dawn's pleading eyes with a resolute nod. I ready to tear my squad away and toward the monstrosity when a swift slap to my rear stops me in my tracks. It's Vic. She grabs me by the collar, kisses me on the lips, and holds my face.
"Don't you dare active my Feat, Ardacen Winters. You come back to me. Alive."
I nod to her as well and run towards my target, my squad following close behind. With everyone so close, I give a Hellbent Roar as a battle cry and its effects wash over everyone in a two hundred foot radius. Kil stops glowing and sucking in the fog, turning its attention to the noise maker.
After recombining, Kilmosoth is a little over twenty feet tall with tentacles just as long, writhing about and whipping at Ren's crew. One manages to wrap around an Elven caster in crimson robes. He is too busy screaming and grunting to cast anything, blood raining down his legs. I presume the mouths on the tentacles are tearing into him and I make a mental note that Mister Wraith gives "bad hugs."
"Attack with range if you can or stay just within reach of the tentacles!" I give the order moments before firing two bolts and turning the last one into an arcane shortsword. The scenery changes in a blink and Kilmosoth's head becomes my perch. Like a bald spot, there is a patch on top where there are no eyes or mouths.
"Let's play 'I spy.' I spy something pointy."
I find one of the jaundice yellow eyes, glaring up at me and I jam my magical blade right into it. After all the damage we've done, this is the first reaction of pain the wraith has produced. All of the mouths screech in unison, deafening me in my close proximity, and curse me in a harsh, spitting language. Its head whips to the side and I instinctively reach for the thorny halo.
Much like Victoria's, which is now glowing in the midst of the battle, my hands slip through it like I was trying to grab onto a cloud and I fall off. I right myself mid-air with a flip, landing on a tentacle eye with a gross squelch. This doesn't induce the same reaction, but I flip off just the same, parrying attacks until I join my squad on the ground.
"Seems like you two aren't seeing eye to eye," Hawthorne says as the hulking mass of screeching hatred gives us its full attention.
"For a moment, I thought Kil got the point, but it turned--." A screeming tentacle whips past our heads as if trying to stop the inevitable, but I continue, "… a blind eye to me." We take tentative steps backwards, slashing at tentacles and firing Spells and arrows at the yellow eyes. After checking my damage notification, it appears they are not weak points. They're just sensative. That, in and of itself, is probably the only other exploitable aspect of Kil. Someone tried healing it, but our first trick doesn't work anymore and the HP bar above it didn't move either way. The second part of that actually works well for me as I cast Healing Breeze on everyone without worrying about healing the boss on accident before signaling to get a move on.
"They're taking it away! Don't let them leave before the Spell finishes!"
I don't know who yelled the command, but suddenly three rogue types appear behind us. Two of them kill a guard each with Assassinate and Echo Strike combos. The third makes the miscalculation of targeting me.
[Arcane Shield blocks 107 damage! -107MP!]
[You deal 132 piercing damage and drain 26MP!]
[You deal 118 arcane damage and drain 24MP!]
[You deal 89 poison damage and inflict Poison24!]
[You deal 70 bludgeoning damage!]
Arcane Shield to block the initial strike and a quick dismissal. Critical Stab to the suprised rogue's gut and Echo Strike across the chest to spin them around. Corrisive Spray to the back and Roundhouse Kick to send them flying, where the poison can finish them on the ground.
"Now that's how you combo spam moves, you noobs!" I shout at the dying player. The other two rogues die easily enough. They're NPC's and, like the others from our own fighting force who died, none of them come back as undead.
Hawthorne parries attempted tentacle strikes to my back, "Our ranged units need to bring the hurt here while we pin Kilmosoth to the spot. The other group keeps distracting it."
I agree and dodge attacks while firing three shapes into the air: an arrow, a triangle pointing down, and an X. When I glance to the mesa and see movement, one of the knots in my chest loosens and I'm relieved they understood my little message. I check my MP, (235/370MP) and it's plenty for now. While slipping past attacks, I cast as many bolts as I can at Kil's pale head using my Battle Wand. Each direct hit to an eye sends a shriek echoing throughout the land. Even though it doesn't deal more damage, it does cause the claws and tentacles to flinch for a couple seconds, earning us a slight reprieve from the constant attacks. It's also damn satisfying to know I'm hurting it.
[Kilmosoth, Wraith of Fury. Tier 4 Boss. Level 15.
[33,640/41,700HP, 5,290/9,000MP, 1350/1350SP]
With all of the distractions: tentacle and claw attacks, the Order of War, and changing plans, we manage about seven thousand damage in the previous twenty minutes, with only forty minutes before the Vanishing. By ourselves, at this rate, we won't make it in time by several thousand HP. Ren's group, the Order of War, is no longer attacking it, most likely because it was only a defensive reaction to their first encounter, and are focusing their efforts on protecting the Cleric. The others better get here soon.
"Oh no you don't," a voice from behind me growls. I turn to look, but I'm not fast enough to conjure my shield. One blade sails high over my tilting head, but the other slashes painfully across my chest.
[Ren Fukinoto deals 159 slashing damage!]
[You received Bleeding15 debuff!]
Devastating as the damage is by itself, the wound is also going to deal fifteen damage every two seconds until I heal it. I try for a First Aid, but Ren's relentlessly swift attacks offer no opening and I slowly lose HP.
"Been a while, asshole. Hope you learned some new tricks or this fight's gonna be boring." His eyes are wide and wild as he bares a fang filled grin at me. His blades blink yellow and catch fire. The blazing heat in such close proximity is oppressive and each burning slash leaves a short, fiery trail.
"Stance! All or nothing!"
Ren's whole body glows yellow. His muscles burst in size, veins straining to course blood throughout, and his speed almost overtakes me. I cast Lesser Dragon Force by signing just to stay ahead. The hot itchiness of my chest is made worse with every twist of my body.
"Once we sacrifice your ugly friend, we'll finish our Quest, get a huge XP bonus, and you'll be left in the dust on the leader board!"
[You receive 15 bleeding damage!]
[Reaction: White Flame I!]
[You heal yourself for 96HP!]
[Bleed Debuff removed!]
(141/279HP) The burst of white fire from my chest heals me, stops the bleeding, and startles my attacker. He reacts by crossing his cleavers in front of himself to block whatever Spell he thinks I'm casting. With a seldom used aspect of Cerulean Touch, I cast Shadow Toxin as a Skill for 42SP instead of 35MP. It's a small price to pay for a big gift I don't have to sign or call out to cast.
[You deal 55 slashing damage!]
[You Poison Ren Fukinoto!]
[You Blind Ren Fukinoto!]
He lets out a howl of rage, frantically sweeping his blades all over the place. The sound of tearing and the feeling of resistance brings a wicked smile to his lips. When he feels his target fall and crumple on the ground he lets out a throaty laugh.
"Thanks for ruining another bedroll, idiot." I follow my taunt in his ear with a low Roundhouse Kick aimed at his legs. The hit deals little damage against his plate armor, but it sends him sprawling to the ground. If I killed him here, he would continue to respawn here and be a nearby pain in the ass. Blind and on the ground, I at least buy some time to deal with the real threat.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
"Twenty three minutes..." I grumble as I leave the flailing Faunus to his fate. Kilmosoth still has a little over 25,000HP and I rack my brains trying to think of any other way we can deal more damage. I rejoin Hawthorne and the others, slashing at tentacles until I regenerate enough SP to shout Hellbent Roar again and drop the yellow bar back to empty.
As I deal with the gnashing fangs and enraged red eyes being whirled about by undulating limbs and unannounced attempts at capture or evisceration by ghostly claws, a shower of arrows and magic rain down upon our foe. Our ranged support finally arrives in full force and wastes no time in draining HP as quickly as they can.
"Nineteen minutes…"
The glow from Kilmosoth didn't suprise me and I brace myself seeing how close I am with no time for repositioning out of harm's way. The bright, red color coming off of him, however, throws all of us off. Spells are blue and Skills are yellow. Even Ren's group pauses in horrible wonder. This is going to be an epic car crash and we all hold our breath in anticipation as it happens right in front of our eyes.
Some people say their lives flash before their eyes when things like this happen. Or time slows down to a trickle and they can see everything happening all at once. In this instance, I can't testify to either. The only thing firing out of that tiny, instinctual, reptilian nugget in my brain is a word and a feeling of regret that I didn't think of it before.
"Enraged."
Some boss creatures, especially those of a similar caliber to Kilmosoth, get what players have come to refer to as "Enraged". Much like my White Fire Ability, once these bosses reach a certain percentage of health, they activate a last ditch Ability to turn the tides of the battle. And just like in my fight with Ren, the consequences of these kinds of Abilities are often lethal, especially when you have no idea what it will be or when it will happen. Sometimes they become overwhelmingly powerful for a set amount of time, capable of wiping out multiple parties. Sometimes, they do something weird like multiply their minions and consume them for health and power, like the Centogre.
In a grotesque display of fury, the claws gather and grip bundles of the squirming tentacles at their root, like two bouquets of pitch black anacondas, and tear them off. The act deals no damage to itself, but a gush of tar-like blood sprays across the battlefield. Those unlucky enough to have it land on them, whether by failing to dodge or block or by not paying attention, look as though they're being dissolved by it. One of the guards next to me sizzles and screams. The smell is horribly bitter, but before I can heal him he takes off in the opposite direction. He trips, writhes on the ground, still trying to propel himself by kicking wildly. It looks like some kind of like a combination of Poisoned and Frightened.
I have just enough SP for another Hellbent Roar which stops most of my people from running away by removing the Frightened Debuff, but they're still hurting. So, while constantly glancing at Kilmosoth I go from person to person, trying to remove as many Poisoned Debuffs as I can. I can see Dawn's healing/curing pillar Spell as well as a handful of others doing the same. All of us in the core group and most of the ranged attackers who kept a good distance are okay, so Dawn, Kona, and I do our best to refill HP bars as everyone supplements our efforts with potions.
While we do this, Kilmosoth is in the air again, raising his claws and tentacles up at the sky. The writhing masses twist around themselves and form the shape of two, black, twenty foot tall greatswords covered in angry red eyes. The mouths on its head move first, before a choir of different voices crashes down on us like a giant wave rearing back before slamming down on a boat.
"Fools… You try to use me as a tool to obtain power. I am no tool of war. I AM WAR. I shall not be chained and sent to bow before a minor deity…"
That must be what the Cleric is trying to do with the Ritual Spell. He's attempting to use Kilmosoth as a sort of offering to somehow boost Couleus into full on god of war mode like the Archbishop had mentioned. That's, probably not a good thing and I don't think the wraith is pleased with it either.
The size of the weapons belies their speed. Before we know it, most of Ren's party is gone and the only traces of them are tremendous gashes carved into the plains. The Cleric of War, who I give full credit for his dedication and concentration, is still trying to cast his Ritual Spell. However, Kil's last attack has the Cleric's eyes shoot open in horror. He's still chanting, rooted to the spot, as the wraith's many yellow eyes focus on him.
"If you were a true adept of war you would be bowing to me, a living god of this realm. Instead…"
The blow came fast, too fast for the Cleric to react and by then it's simply too late. The shock of the damage has yet to set in and he continues chanting, afraid to look down at the blade and its many eyes. Afraid to look down at the flat side of this blade pushing past where his body is and most likely well into the dirt behind him. Afraid to find out if the thud he hears is the bottom half of his body, no longer connected to the half that's resting on the flat part of the gargauntuan weapon.
"Let's see you bow now, insect…"
With it's attention elsewhere, Dawn orders everyone to continue attacking. We only have ten minutes left and Kil still has just over 10,000HP. That's one thousand damage a minute with zero time to spare. With the amount we've been pouring on so far, it shouldn't be a problem. However, with the boss going giant Drizzt with its enormous greatswords the process seems a little daunting to say the least. Especially while it has half of a chanting, weeping Cleric balanced on the flat side of one of those blades.
Our ranged support wastes no time awaiting further orders. They know what needs to be done, even though it looks like it might be the last thing they do. Kona and Serenity hover inches above the ground on the broom and attack from a distance, not wanting to attract too much attention by flitting about so close to the action. Sonny, too, has Dawn aboard Meteora to expediate an emergency escape. The Infernus takes out a bottle of Glorious Dawn and gulps it down. Those who were given one take her actions as a cue and do the same.
Beams of brilliant white blaze across the battlefield with reckless abandon, unrelenting in their attempts to kill this false god. The Spell, Radiant Beam ignores all neutral and friendly targets as well as obstructions, focusing entirely on hostiles in its path. The whole area lights up in a blinding display of power. I rely on my radar to point me in the right direction so I can continue firing Arcane Bolts and contributing in my own small way. We know the attack isn't going to kill the boss outright, as magnificent a spectacle as it is, but it does deal decent damage and it helps clear the board of the remains of the Order of War.
With the four of five charges spent, all anyone who drank the elixir can do now is either cast Healing Light or Daylight, the latter being quite useless during the day. Kil is battered and torn, its billowing cloak full of holes that one can see straight through as if nothing exists underneath it. The cleric on the sword is on the ground, slumped over and finally dead. The wraith turns slow, the menacing kind of turn meant to intimidate the fools who attacked its back while it toyed with its prey.
A heavy collision of metal erupts behind me and I immediately think I must have been near some kind of car crash. Turning and bringing my claws up defensively, Victoria is holding back a furious Ren.
"Get out of my way, bitch!"
Without breaking her warrior's calm, she backs him off me using Ramona's Memory and a Thunderstruck in breathtaking combinations.
"We need you and the other Agility units to help finish Kilmosoth. I'll take care of this one. Go!"
There's no time for me to argue, but I still hesitate to turn away. There has to be something I can do to help her, but for the first time I draw a blank. There's too many things going on at once. All I can do is stare for a second as they fight.
No.
I mentally chastise myself. She's more than capable of handling him on her own. And, unfortunately, that's all she will be able to do at the moment. "Don't let him die until we slay Kilmosoth!" I yell over their battle and cast Lesser Dragon Force before running headlong into danger.
I can still hear Ren grunting in pain and I smile to myself, "Shouldn't have called her a bitch."
Sonny, Elsbeth, Richter, and Rachel join me and the remainder of my squad in front of Kil. We can see his yellow eyes darting between each of us as he readies his blades, still being stung by a steady trickle of arrows and magic.
"On my mark, we scatter and keep him rooted to this spot," I command and they all nod, focusing on our target. "It's been a real pleasure, ladies and gentleman. Good--" A blur of motion and four slaps to my rear bring a wide smile to my black skull, blue flame face.
For one final time, I let out a yell, casting Hellbent Roar. The Tier Four Boss takes my Skill as a signal to start and begin our deadly dance. Richter and Elsbeth use their bows, slipping and sliding between attacks. Rachel uses daggers and I use arcane sabers to attack the weapons themselves, helping to guide them in a weak sort of parry and dealing damage since they're still a part of Kilmosoth. Sonny, the lowest level in our current formation is outright ignored, a huge tactical error on the boss's part since she and both of her weapons are a maelstrom of minor damage that add up rapidly. Meteora makes deep cuts with each pass, Sonnivarius considers the wraith and both swords as three seperate targets, and Sonny casts Inspire to increase everyone else's power.
We push through the pain of sword slashes, random screeching, and friendly fire. Healing Breezes and other wide, AoE healing Spells keep us in the fight. The Cleric must not have put any points in Dexterity as we find Kilmosoth's new formation a little more manageable, though much more fatal if any of us were to take a direct hit.
A sound we aren't expecting spreads across the territory like a building rainstorm. The choir of disjointed voices are cruelly laughing as the wraith backs away from us. Both blades fall apart and the tentacles hit the ground, rapidly decaying and spreading an awful black ooze. The red eyes burst with a bloody puss and the slurry slowly evaporates.
"You think you have won, but wraiths are eternal. As long as the sin of anger is present in… As long as there is hatred and wrath in someone's heart, I shall be called back to this realm to, once again, turn it into an arena of carnage and despair."
There's no time to utter something witty in return, something for the viewers at home to use as a catchprase. I Blink Step back on top of its head, drive my claws into two of its eyes, open my mouth, and Trinity Stream the hell out of it. The coup de grace is enough to finish Kil off with a little under two minutes to spare. From my perch I can see the remnants of our army staring up at the two of us in awe, the scarred battlefield, and a pair of figures still fighting far off from the crowd.
There is a collective gasp as the sudden realization of victory breaks over everyone. I Zoom in on the pair and a thunderous cheer buries a devastating cry of pain. The world disappears and reappears rapidly in my eyes as I zip toward them. The moment I'm close enough, the only jubilation I hear is the throaty, triumphant laugh of a tiger Faunus.
There is hatred and wrath in one man's heart still and it beats lava hot blood in his veins for what he sees lying on the ground.
From in front of him, my claws dig into Ren's face and his laughter turns to anguished screaming. One claw has torn through the space between the lower lip and the chin, effectively holding the jaw down. The other claw has two fingers digging up into the roof of his mouth and two tearing holes in his cheek. I look like an animal trainer, holding a tiger's mouth open for some kind of trick. In his weakened and tired state, he gives me little struggle.
"I did learn something new recently…"
I take his wide eyes and struggled gurgling as a sign of appreciation as I taught him what I learned to do with Be Like Water. With experience, I know how much to apportion into the lungs and how to keep that water blob connected with the rest going into the stomach by a thin strand. The wet, violent coughing isn't at all pleasing to feel while inside, but it does soothe my miniscule portion of my fury. If I had more time I would've stretched his session longer, healing and hurting him for as long as his body could hold out. Lucky for him, I have to settle on simply bursting out of his torso in a shower of gore.
Ren's blood and viscera coat my body as I kneel next to Victoria. Each drop of blood and chunk of flesh begin their dissolve as I brush the dirt and grass from her face, my thumb lingering over the old scar running from her forehead to her jaw. I pick out a twig from her strawberry blonde hair and run my hand through it. There's precious few seconds left and I'm begging the game to let me have this moment, praying to Dimitiria, Pravdera, anyone to allow me to feel this here.
Sekhmena, save her.
Nyctos, raise her.
God… God, please. This is just a game…
"Ardy, no…" Dawn's muffled whisper behind me is all I can hear before we get the notification that it's time to go. One minute was all I was allowed with her. It was too long and too short and more than I could bare. What should I say now? What should I do? What can I do?
Thin rays of light fall down on her body, quickly coalescing into a dim, golden pillar. Is her death unique in this game? Was she not supposed to die? Did I fuck up another game?
"No! Don't take her from me!" I shriek not caring about those things. My hand reaches out to her, but it and the world around me begins to pixelate into nothingness. I watch as the light grows radiant and my surroundings continue to fade.
In the changing, contrasting lights it's difficult to trust what your eyes think they're seeing, like being seated in a vehicle parked right next to another one. There's movement and, for a split second, you don't know which vehicle is actually in motion. My final glimpse of the battlefield is Victoria's hand and I could swear I see her fingers twitch. What is it just a trick of the light? Dancing shadows? Maybe my level of desperate and foolish hope conjured an illusion for no other purpose than to tease an already broken psyche?
The next thing I see are the red lights of the pod. Sensors and nodes pop away from me. Long, drawn out breaths slow my heart rate and my fingers wipe away fat, rolling tears that have come on their own. The overwhelming sadness I was expecting to feel takes a harsh, and almost painful, nosedive when I remember Vic's hand. Replacing that feeling is a level of confusion on par with waking up from a dream within a dream. The pod opens to an empty room filled with the bright, natural, morning light of a brand new day.