Chapter 45: Glassaur the Bronze

I ran. Whatever the Fae Charm had done to allow me to persist during the shutdown was failing. Or perhaps the shutdown was progressing into a deeper level of offline status.

There was a gaggle of Dinofolk choking the arched cave-way. My only thought was to bullrush between mobs, bobbing and weaving as best I could in survival mode.

There were too many monsters. Grotesque, oversized spiders lingered in every dark corner. Light-sensitive reptilian brawlers argued in growly messes at the edges where shadows began.

I made a snap decision, casting [Spell: Fright Hand III]. Every monster in its circular area of effect went scrambling away; a random caterwaul of legs like dead tree branches leaking sickly saps, and wriggling scaly hides.

It was just the dispersal I needed. Several mobs ran toward the light, too terrified to follow instinct.

Glassaur the Bronze dispatched them, cracking spines indiscriminately in a wide swipe of his talons. The dead lizards slumped to the stone floor, bent in aberrant ways.

My own fear renewed, and I ran for the opening my spell had carved out for me. But the boss was making up double the ground I had gained.

I checked my mana. I had only enough for two more spells, maximum. I needed to think carefully before spending, but there was no time.

Glassaur the Bronze leapt up, clutched a hanging shelf of jagged stone and swung forward to close our gap.

I cast my only choice: [Spell: Incorporeal II]. But the massive monster crashed down, buffeting me with a shock-wave of dirt and ancient dust. It knocked me flat and stunned.

I maintained view of the beast from my prone perspective. Though I had enough hit points to survive, I was not alone in taking the shock-wave blow. Most of the monsters in the boss’s radius of attack had fallen dead.

The stun attack interrupted my casting of [Spell: Incorporeal II], so instead of expending mana, my spell went on a two second cooldown instead. I still had it ready.

But the monster had no hesitancy in its menacing forward rush. My stun wore off, and I started my re-casting. My spell went off only a fragment of a moment before Glassaur the Bronze would have put an end to me… during a server shutdown.

My avatar turned glass colored, tenuous, swirling and shivery as candle smoke. The threat level which had been pulling the boss to me like a delicious monster magnet dropped to zero.

Glassaur the Bronze froze, entering his idle animation where he swung his knife-lined jaws from one side to the other and back, sniffing the air in wide arches. Then he turned and ran back to his starting point like a jogging Tyrannosaurus Rex. There he remained.

My spell faded, and I waited to see what might happen. The boss stayed put. I imagined myself taking a large breath of relief and felt my hive’s vibrations calm.

I assessed my remaining spells and mana, realizing I had a perfect opportunity to regain my lost resources. I cast [Spell: Re-compose III]. This level 20 spell was my new favorite for the moment. It drained nearby non-undead corpses, transferring a large amount of health and mana to me. Not only that, but it rendered any affected corpses unusable for reanimation and unable to respawn in a given dungeon instance. A double boon. I felt the energies of my fallen dungeon dwellers course into my vines as they slithered around, seeking bodies like a vine tip seeks the sun.

The corpses vanished, sinking into the stone floor, adding to the ambient dust piles.

But then I heard a deep sniffing. A throaty breathing like a dog the size of a house with its tongue lolled out.

Glassaur the Bronze let out a howl that rivaled the floating island beast’s.

I quavered. I could only perform my [Spell: Incorporeal II] as many times as I had dead monsters to drain dry for mana. I could exhaust the dungeon’s monster stock by tricking the boss into slaying them by way of collateral damage. I could drain some to heal, but what then? There was certainly no way for me to kill them myself with a boss monster tracking me within sniffing distance. The monsters would probably win without Glassaur’s help, anyway.

Still, I continued making my way back toward the Hourglass Sandfall entrance. I had no other reason except that if I moved nowhere, it would be game over. I did not want to find out what happens when one dies without a graveyard nearby. No server, no graveyards.

As I ran, I contemplated what had caused Belvan and the faeries to lose hold of the boss. In my heightened speed of thought because of panic, it occurred to me that the fae may have shoved me into one of Telemoon’s “pocket dimensions.” If I made it back to Azwold and Vick5, they could expect an interrogation on the matter.

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The dungeon mobs slunk to the side as I trudged past them, fast as Skeletal Minion legs would go. Were they really more loyal to me than their own dungeon boss? It was strange, but I would wait until later to question it.

I focused my gaze down the cave corridor like a laser gem beam, listening to each thunderous footfall behind me. Regaining ground, Glassaur the Bronze was poised to win our race by a long shot. I scrambled my ideas up, trying to pick a winning sprig of straw from a dust devil of swirling hay.

The monster’s massive taloned paw swung at my coat tails. Having little choice, I spent precious mana to cast [Spell: Tooth Rush I]. One of my shrapnel cone tooth bullets struck a spider in its thorax and I dashed to its location. Naturally, it was not happy about that and joined the boss monster in chasing me further into the halls; toward the starting area, or so I hoped.

I thought mayhap the T shape of the meeting area ahead might hamper the massive beast’s ability to chase me the entire way. Then, once the servers came alive again, I could escape. Somehow.

I could invite my party members in. Yes. With them at my side, we stood a chance against the boss, even if we had to conduct hallway combat.

Feeling like I had a hint of a plan, I took a mana risk, casting [Spell: Tooth Rush I] again. It struck a reptilian mob who was leaning on a stalagmite like a spear in its scaly knuckles. It roared and leapt at me.

Without casting my only real dash ability, Glassaur the Bronze would have glanced me at the very least. My split second wise decision rewarded me with a brand new problem; extra pursuers. But I had gained a slight advantage of distance from the maneuver.

I kept running.

And then I saw a swatch of green-black in the dark distance. The moss-etched brickwork of the entrance T.

I slid around the brick edge with a bony scrape of my palm against it, then I lost balance and slammed into the opposing wall of mortared stones. A bashing of health slipped away from me, but it was not enough of a shock to keep me from dodging the monster’s dagger teeth. Its hallway-wide jaw bones wedged themselves into the doorway with a slop of hot saliva.

Even in the night-glow effect of [Spell: Vision Wisps III], I imagined the snot smelled like rotten garlic slime. I mentally grimaced and turned to run away and out of line of sight.

The spits and chitters of my disgruntled monster followers interweaved with Glassaur the Bronze’s howls and growls, reminding me that my problems were not singular.

I sat on a bench of granite. A moment to rest. I let my mana and health recharge their own slow and natural way, serenaded my monster maws.

The skittering and rumbling quieted. I listened, but the air grew eerily muted and dense.

In a sudden explosion, the moss and crawly plants that hugged the brick like an eldritch blanket ripped apart. Caught in the blast, it reduced me to a pile of collateral damage myself.

But to my surprise, my healthbar was still about half way full. Though, it did not seem to matter much that I had survived. The monster had yet to attack me. All HP I had lost was environmental.

Primal initiative spurred Glassaur the Bronze to charge me again, twisting in a tail swipe that could have busted a tree trunk.

I had no time to cast [Spell: Incorporeal II], or anything else. My skeleton went flying. I saw a hazy black blanket above me as I flew back. The blanket morphed into a colony of bats who fluttered around the monster in a flock, chirping away through hidden hallways.

I landed with a head crack thud against the sandy hill I had slid in on. The [Helm Wheel] thwacked my skull.

I was dazed. The monster’s maw loomed above me in an oscillating holographic triplicate. I endured my health sliding into the red and slipping deeper.

Even if my entire party appeared from nowhere and rushed to my rescue the very instant, I would still be in grave danger. My doom-addled mind was swelling like flood waters. No spell could save me.

No spell.

But maybe a potion.

I reached in to the pockets of my coat inventory, feeling for the round glass of Medett’s [Barkskin*Potion]. I held it in front of me, arm joints shaking, I clawed off the stopper. My head was already back, so I let my jaw sag and poured the liquid in. Even in the umbral thickness of the place, I detected the potion’s rich brown colors, like a kind of semi-metallic polish made of semi-translucent sap.

It drizzled into my ribs and honeycomb hiding there. It invigorated my colony. Something far more energy-rich than casting [Spell: Re-compose III] pumped through my vineworks and my ectoplasmic matrixes.

It was a supercharged version of Relja’s potion that gifted me use of [Spell: Levitate]. I now had access to a special [Spell: Barkskin*].

My health and mana filled to overflowing. With as little hesitation as Glassaur the Bronze had shown me, I cast my new spell.

My vineworks came alive in a verdant, bioluminescence that filled the stone alcove with a dim glow that wavered from lime to pine greens. Then I grew a paper-thick exoskeleton of gem-hard bark.

I looked at my hand. The enveloping bark looked like Gnarlroot’s skin. For a moment, I felt almost human-shaped. But I had no time to stare.

The monster lunged, lashing at me with a blur of teeth longer than my bark-gloved hand bones.

I cast [Spell: Calcify I], and the beast’s fangs scraped against the sheath of stone on top of my bark skin, infused with magical durability.

It opened its muzzle wider than a mesa strider was tall, growling and gearing up for a repeat attack.

I wondered if the boss was low on ability resources himself, forced into a lull until it replenished itself.

In that split second, I cast [Spell: Thorns II] as if it were just a passing thought. My vines and bark skin obeyed the spell as if controlled like an extra limb; like a musician flowing and in tune with their favorite instrument. It was this way for any spell in my Vine skill tree with [Spell: Barkskin*] active. I knew this intuitively.

From there, it was only a matter of allowing Glassaur the Bronze to attack me as many times as it took for my [Spell: Thorns II] to reflect his damage back at him.

And when he and the Skittering Lurker and the Dinofolk Brawler had all fallen, I cast [Spell: Re-compose III] on them, soaking in their energies and deleting them from the dungeon instance.

The destroyed brick entranceway gradually took on a hue as dim bronze-flame torches smoked to life at the corridor’s edges.

A lockbox made of brick and banded in bronze materialized where the boss’s corpse had transformed into pixel dust.

Without even opening it, I understood moments like this were why people played Realms of Lore.

I basked in the satisfaction, but only for a moment. It was time to devise an exit strategy.