Cal figured the dragon would breathe poisonous gas, since it was green, or maybe a hurricane, or maybe a blistering wind that would cook them to death, or yeah, fire. Because fire-breathing dragons were a cliché for a reason. Most dragons breathed out some flavor of fire. They also hoarded gold, and this dragon was no different. He was sitting on piles of piles of gold coins. Barb must’ve used some of her precious Apothos to make the worm feel at home.

It seemed the dragon loved patchouli as much as gold because the overpowering smell filled the air. He’d never minded the scent, since it smelled foreign but not too foreign. It had just the right levels of exotic.

The dreadlocked dragon exhaled, and Cal found himself covered in lotion, barrels and barrels of lotion, and he immediately felt both numb and very relaxed. He’d been bruised and battered in the fighting and yet, now all that pain and discomfort was gone.

Helga, Hurricane, Kronke were also covered in the lotion.

Immediately, Cal lost the will to fight. It would all be okay. They could stop. They didn’t have to try and slay this dragon. It was fine. Barb was fine. Those thousand and some worlds dying would all be just fine.

Cal grinned as the Tipline message appeared.

<<<>>>

Ultra Audit Tipline Message

Foe Type: Mega Ultra Floor Boss who could probably run their own dungeon.

Foe Name: Acapulco

Foe Species: CannaByss Dragon (The Dreaded CBD)

Forecasted Foe Level: A-Class, Rank 1, with a margin of error of two to three levels.

Suggested Foe Elimination Tactic: Plan D.

Foe Note: Time for Plan D, Cal. Amorfo managed to expel Barb from his inner sanctum, but he still has to face Cardi and that horrible Crypt Counselor, who is probably a violation of the Geneva Convention. You don’t get that very specific Urothling reference, but she’s a walking war crime against all sentient life in the universe. Kinda impressed Cardi managed that powerful of a minion. You have other problems. You’re covered in lotion that isn’t helping you think straight. Plan D, brother. Trust me.

Encouraging Note: The inner sanctum is on the other side of the CBD, just down a short hallway.

<<<>>>

Kronke’s weapon flashed pink, and Pinkerton’s voice came roaring out of Kronke’s mouth. “Now, you idiot. Give me the power I crave!”

“By my uncle’s crippling anxiety disorder, I must clear me head!” Helga exploded with rage, flinging lotion off her and Hurricane, but a second later, the CannaByss Dragon swung a giant claw and knocked both flying, right into a glass case full of glass dragon pipes. Embers ignited inside all of the pipes growing hotter and brighter. That wasn’t good.

Kronke rose up, pink and skeletal, and spiked, the scythe vibrating with power.

Again, Pinkerton’s voice came out through Kronke’s mouth. “Do it, welp. Give me the Apothos to slay worlds!”

Helga lifted a hand. “No, Calcannis. Ye can’t!”

But Cal wasn’t in any condition to make any kind of critical decisions that might save or doom one thousand, two hundred, and seventy-three worlds. He was just going to go along to get along. His Tipline suggested Plan D, and yeah, he’d do Plan D.

Cal lifted a hand and muttered, “Dharmic Direction!” He felt the Apothos leave him, every bit of it, and he knew that whole sections of the Offices of Halls of Red Tape would collapse, since he and Amorfo had pooled their powers. That probably didn’t matter. It would all come down to the inner sanctum anyway.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Amorfo was on his own, and if Plan C failed, they’d all die.

Cal leaned back into the lotion. It was so squishy and comforting. He hadn’t felt this good in years! He’d always suffered from a bit of carpal tunnel, from all the report writing, but that was completely cleared. That CBD lotion worked wonders!

But the dragon was coughing again, lumbering over, with his mouth open, showing a shocking number of teeth.

And the CannaByss Dragon wasn’t alone. Glass dragonlings burst out of the display cases, throwing shards of glass everywhere. They scrambled over and blocked the entryway, and though Fullgeers hit them with coffee and high-velocity paperclips, the glass dragonlings weren’t affected at all.

The embers inside glowed bright, and they breathed out a choking smoke that had Gwen gasping for breath. A few of the glass pipe dragonlings coughed smoke right into Helga’s and Hurricane’s face, before erupting into an explosion of fire, embers, and half-melted shards of razor-sharp glass.

Daphne shrieked. “I CAN’T BREATHE! I CAN’T SEE! WHAT IS GOING ON?”

“You’re a sink, sister!” Gwen yelled before falling into coughing. “Your breathing days are way behind you!”

More of the glass pipe dragonlings flew into the tanks, exploding, one after another. No way could the breakroom cores survive the onslaught.

As for Cal, he’d be fine. The CannaByss Dragon would eat him, sure, and those teeth would grind him into bits, but he’d probably be fine. It was all going to work out. Cal even liked the squishy feeling of being covered in lotion. Every part of him was slippery.

He did have to wonder how a dragon could breathe lotion, but that explained the coughing. Poor Acapulco always probably felt like he had phlegm in the back of his throat. Only it was the soothing miracle lotion.

If Cal survived, which was iffy, he’d have to grab some of the lotion from one of the glass cases. For minor aches and pains. Strictly medicinal.

Then scythes rained down on the CannaByss Dragon. Not a few, but a whole bunch, falling out of the air, and gashing up every part of the big flying lizard.

The entire cavern was covered in blood from all the slicing and dicing.

Then a hurricane wind swept through the entire room, pulling up all the display cases and glass everything, and the glass pipe dragonlings, turning it all into a whirling cyclone. The deadly tornado knocked Acapulco onto his back, exposing its vast belly, that had a whole bunch of shoddy tattoos. They looked like Aldaleeran prison ink, stick-and-poke stuff. One said, “Cause Mama Didn’t Love Me” inside a frowny face.

Then all that glass ripped through the dragon’s belly and everything not covered in glass, blood, and lotion was covered in glass, blood, and lotion.

Cal sat up. The dragon was dead.

And Kronke was twenty-feet tall, completely pink, with the cloak billowing back, and the scythe the size of a large pony. Or a small horse. The jewels on the weapon had gone dark, black, as if inviting the abyss inside of them.

Cal only had a bit of Apothos left, but he had to know. He cast an Identify Apothos spell—one of the only spells he had left—and saw that while Kronke radiated Aer by the gallons, the scythe was pure Morta. Pure death energy.

Pinkerton’s laughter boomed out. “You see me, elf. You see me in my true form. I have taken your little paladin’s soul and painted it black. Like red doors. I have painted it all black.”

Gwen limped in. Her left leg was bloody, and she was covered in engine grease. She was pushing the remains of the last IBM tank, the one carrying Fullgeers. Daphne was strapped to the side. There was no sign of the geezer freezer.

Cal’s heart fell. “Where’s Karl?”

Gwen put out a hand. In her palm was Karl’s core gem, spitting sparks. “He’s hurt, Cal. His cracked core…is, well, cracked even more.”

“KARL!” Daphne wailed. “NO!”

“Please, no,” Fullgeers whispered.

The glass pipe dragonlings had decimated the tanks, their fiery explosions had been too much.

Karl’s gem flashed. “Friends. I’ve done my bit. Just…wish…I could be there for…for this one last battle…”

Daphne was sobbing.

Fullgeers was eerily quiet, not even a whisper of steam.

Gwen touched the gem, which had a big chunk missing. “Oh, Karl, you can rest now. You continued to work for DUDE even after you died. The first time. You’ve earned retirement, buddy. Sleep. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, my dear. Thanks for switching sides. For joining us in the fight to protect the Tree. Now go. Save those worlds. Be heroes.” And then the light in the gem slowly faded away.

Helga limped over, every part of her gashed.

Gwen’s eyes shone with tears. “Where’s Hurricane, Helga? And don’t give me bad news.”

Helga sniffed. “He’s going to sit this next part out. He’s hurt, hurt bad. But I found some of that lotion, and he’s resting. Karl is right. We have to go on. And quick.”

Gwen whirled. “Kronke! Hurricane needs a healing! Get to it!”

The halfling barbarian tugged at her hand. “Don’t, girl. I already tried that.”

The Reaper Knight floated above them, cloak billowing. Kronke didn’t answer. Pinkerton did. “I will not waste Apothos on some animal, not when there is murder to be had in the inner sanctum of this spa.”

The huge troll paladin, now completely taken over by the evil scythe, turned and floated away into the shadowy darkness.