Galadressa stared at the scrying mirror in disbelief. “Did he just...blow up Speedy-Two? Dungeon monsters don’t explode like that.”
The dungeon heart took a moment to analyze the weapon Weylan had used and then answered.
“Infusing mana into a monster shouldn’t do anything. Maybe make it a little stronger, at most.”
“He’ll be even more surprised in a moment. They just killed the last adult scourge-squirrel.”
“You tried to tune down the difficulty of the boss encounter? You haven’t done that since the dwarven delver team.” She gently touched the crystal. “Thanks for trying to save Selvara and her team. I know how you hate cuddling delvers.”
“Well, they all died anyway.”
“You can’t do anything this time?”
“Can you at least…”
“They have to survive to benefit from that. And afterward, they’ll have to survive the second floor as well, since there’s no exit after the first.”
“Well, then let’s watch the boss fight.”
* * *
Weylan passed Selvara a mana potion and downed his own. The dryad followed, spreading healing salve over her face. “Better. Still blurry, but I’m not blind anymore. Thanks, Skorr, for that healing potion and the quick acid rinse. If that stuff had eaten through my eyes, I’d be blind until Malvorik could scrape up the ingredients for a regeneration potion.”
Selvara finished her potion, grimacing. “Not that we should hold our breath on that. Troll’s blood and Dire Salamander skin? Good luck.”
Skorr, busy checking his armor and weapons, gave a nod of acknowledgment.
“Say…” Weylan looked around, frowning. “Is it just me, or is the mist thinning?”
Ulmenglanz shrugged. “Looks the same on my end. Still mist everywhere.”
Skorr looked up from his gear, scanning the surroundings. After a moment, he nodded slowly. “No, Weylan’s right. The fog’s lifting…except for that thick mound in front of us.”
They all turned their eyes to the dense cloud still lingering ahead, now seeming more like a gathering threat than simple mist.
Trulda had downed a stamina and a healing potion and, while not fully restored, looked ready for action again. She tightened her grip on her club. “Whatever that thing is, I’ll clobber it. You all just do your thing.”
As the mist dissolved, Skorr hurriedly directed them into a defensive line. He and Trulda took point, Weylan and Ulmenglanz flanked slightly behind, and Selvara hovered just high enough to unleash her frost breath. Not too close for an area attack to take them all out, yet not too far to give support. It was a delicate balance Skorr had trouble with since he was still not completely familiar with everyone’s combat style and their speed and weapon range differed naturally from that of a duskgnome. Skorr’s Tactics skill pinged twice with the level-ups as he calculated their positions.
The hill of mist in front of them approached with increasing speed. It seemed to shift, almost as if the cloud itself was breathing. A shape began to stand out, a hulking silhouette, large as an ox, moving with predatory intent.
Then, with a shudder, the mist parted, revealing the boss monster. The giant scourge-squirrel towered before them, easily three times the size of the adults they’d fought, its fur a dull gray. Six glass syringes jutted from its back in two rows of three, each filled with a differently colored potion. They plunged in unison with a hiss. The creature’s muscles swelled, its steps got quicker, its fur turned dark metallic, and its eyes burned a molten orange.
It stood still just long enough for everyone to use identify on him.
“Whiskerthane” Elder Scourge-Squirrel.
Dungeon Boss Monster (First Floor), Level 10.
Skorr stepped forward, war-pick in hand. “All right, everyone, stay sharp and don’t get separated. This thing is juiced with who knows what kind of potion boosts.”
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Above them, Selvara called out, “Those syringes, they’re refilling with magic! Break them before they recharge, or it’ll use them again.”
The elder scourge-squirrel lowered its head, acid-dripping fangs bared, eyes locked on Trulda. She grinned, eyes glowing red as her berserker rage took hold. The elder scourge-squirrel lowered its head, baring razor-sharp fangs that dripped with an acidic green saliva. It sniffed the air, eyes zeroing in on Trulda, who hefted her club with a grin.
“Think you’re tough?” she taunted, her blood-red eyes gleaming as her berserker rage began to boil over. “I’ll show you what a real powerhouse looks like.”
With a snarl, Trulda charged first, swinging her club in a wide arc. The scourge-squirrel sidestepped with surprising agility for its bulk, then retaliated, swinging a massive claw. Trulda barely managed to roll out of the way, the claw ripping through the stone floor where she’d been a heartbeat earlier.
While she regained her footing, Weylan darted in, using the beast’s leg as a foothold to launch himself onto its back. With one sweep of his sword-staff, he shattered the syringes, releasing six bursts of blood.
The wounds closed quickly, but the momentum of the boss monster’s attack was broken. The elder scourge-squirrel roared in fury, twisted, and rolled on his back. Its claws swiped at Weylan, who jumped off just in time and then rapidly dodged.
Selvara timed her Frost Breath spell to hit just as the monster was on his back. Frost covered its stomach fur, but there seemed to be no further effect.
The elder scourge-squirrel didn’t like it anyway, its eyes narrowing at Selvara, and with a burst of speed, it leapt high, claws outstretched toward her. She barely managed to bank out of its reach.
“Everyone, keep moving!” Skorr shouted, launching himself forward. He dashed past Weylan and swung his war-pick down at the back of the boss monster, aiming for its spine. The crippling blow failed when the monster spun around, nearly kicking his weapon out of his hands in the process. The monster whipped around, enraged, swiping a massive paw at Skorr. He ducked just in time, but the blow clipped his shoulder, sending him staggering back.
The dryad had waited for her moment to strike and jumped at the monster. Lying on his back, she put her arms around his neck and pressed her fingers deep into his metallic cold fur. Roots shot from them into the monster, holding her fast in place while ravaging the scourge-squirrel from the inside. The creature tried to rake at her with his claws, only for Skorr and Weylan to parry them from both sides. In a lightning-quick move, it whirled around and swept them both off their feet with his tail.
Before it could follow up on his attack, Selvara dropped down and used her Shock Grip spell to distract it. The metallic fur sparked and the monster convulsed to an extent, that was in no relation to the size of the monster against a meager level 2 combat spell.
While she was still wondering about the effect, the monster turned its head and barely managed to avoid being swallowed whole. She quickly flew back up out of reach.
Weylan used his enchanted boots to silently approach the boss from its rear and thrust his dagger into its leg. Then he infused his weapon with shadow mana like he’d done when exploding the adult scourge-squirrel. The wound flashed and the monster stumbled while turning around, but it didn’t explode. The monster followed him when he retreated, faster even with a crippled leg. He managed to avoid it with some acrobatic maneuvers, but his teammates couldn’t keep up.
The dryad still hung fast around its neck but was already covered with deep bleeding cuts from the boss’s claws. When Weylan turned to check which direction his pursuer would most likely turn, she dropped down. The boss kicked her lifeless body aside and continued following him.
Weylan and Selvara caught the boss’s attention and lured him away from the body of the fallen dryad. Skorr hurriedly gave her a healing potion, made sure she was stable for the moment, and then sped after the boss.
Weylan noticed, that the leg he’d hurt already moved again without a problem. He didn’t need Selvaras’ comment. “Watch out, its wounds are healing fast!”
He cursed. “No wonder! That beast is full of potions. It’ll kill us all long before they run out.”
When it caught up with them, Weylan jumped aside and rolled below a series of claw strikes.
Skorr was still running after the monster, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch up with it.
Weylan had a desperate idea. He’d love to check with Selvara if he was right, but he didn’t know how intelligent the boss monster was. Warning it would void his trick. He decided to risk it. He pulled out vials with healing, stamina, and antidote potions and held all three in his hand. Then he turned around and ran at his enemy. The boss monster opened his mouth to bite since he was already too near to claw at him. Weylan threw his potions into the gaping maw and used his shadow magic, in the less bright room finally working again, to make the shadow on the floor below him slippery so he could slide lying on his back straight under the monster.
Skorr stared at him when he jumped back on his feet behind the monster. “Why didn’t you mention you had some poison vials with you? I could have included that in my strategy.”
Weylan pulled the duskgnome around and with him as he continued running from the boss monster. “I don’t. Those were my last potions.”
“What? Don’t you think that beast is charged up enough? Is this fight too easy for you?”
Chortling laughter could be heard from above. “Seems at least someone listened to Malvorik’s alchemy lessons when he gave us our potions.”
Skorr was too winded to reply as he continued running at his fastest speed. Which shouldn’t be enough to matter against the boss monster...
The scourge-squirrel slowed, muscles twitching, blood leaking from its eyes. It coughed, orange phlegm splattering onto the ground, steam billowing from its mouth.
Trulda ran at it, finally catching up now that it had stopped. She roared and brought her club down on its skull with a brutal, finishing blow. The elder scourge-squirrel collapsed, limbs twitching once before going still, the glow in its eyes fading.
Weylan and Skorr hurried to Ulmenglanz, who had already regained consciousness.
“Everyone well?” Weylan asked, wiping blood and grime from his face.
“Barely,” Selvara muttered, still catching her breath. She looked around, surveying the battlefield. “But we did it.”
The dryad only nodded weakly.
“Could somebody tell me what… oh…” Skorr finally understood and stopped his ranting. Instead, he patted Weylan on the shoulder in recognition.
Trulda looked from face to face, slowly coming down from berserker rage. “Will somebody explain to me what just happened or do I need to start punching people?”
Selvara landed on the floor next to her. “It’s easy. You remember why you can’t just keep drinking health potions?”
“There was… Something about…” She sank to the floor holding her head. “I’m too tired to think straight.”
Weylan failed to avoid sounding smug. “That thing already had six oversized doses of potions in it. It just had to be at the limit of potion toxicity. We’ve also been warned to take several different potions at once since there's a high possibility of unwanted interactions and side effects. Since they were all made by the dungeon, they’re probably designed to work together. I thought it would at least hurt it somehow if I topped it off.”
They got some healing potion into Ulmenglanz until she was mobile again.
It then took some time for the team to search the floor for loot and find a not-very-hidden cache of potions they used to fill up their reserves. Two mana potions were much smaller and highly concentrated versions which were obviously intended for Selvara. Another cache contained a bag with 50 gold coins.
Skorr looked suspicious at their bounty. “Isn’t that a bit much for a first floor?”
Selvara shook her head: “We are under-leveled, which warrants an increase in loot. We’ve also been a bad match-up for speed and dexterity-focused monsters. So, the amount of loot may be at the upper limit, but it’s still thoroughly within the rules. Now, let us look for the exit. I remember the official dungeon information mentioning quite comfortable restrooms between dungeon floors. We can stay there for a maximum of eight hours.”
* * *
Galadressa whooped and danced in the dungeon's heart room. “Dungeon fairies rule!”
“Did you see how he fed potions to the boss? Whiskerthane will be so annoyed when he respawns. He’s still angry because of your rule not to avoid getting potions thrown in his mouth. Even as this is hardly the first time this happened.”
Galadressa’s grin widened. “That never gets old. At least it makes him slower and takes away his acid breath, iron fur, mist vision, poison immunity and regeneration.”
Galadressa laughed. “Afterward, he’s unbearable for days. Anyway, let’s make the most of the time they’ll need to recover. Let’s check on the other instances!”