With the water crisis averted, the adventurers treated themselves to a nice break upon arriving at the tunnel joining the current room to the next. The team, in the usual fashion, pounced upon the floor, staying glued to it until the cobblestone worked its magic and extracted the heat. After that, the delvers unbuckled their armour and belts, placing them in a messy heap next to them.
The leader winced at the violation of guild protocol... He soon followed suit, removing his belt and scabbard, his metal chest piece and gauntlets before taking off his great helm, placing them all neatly beside him in dressing order.
While the warriors were busy fiddling with the straps of their metal leggings and sabatons, the rogue and the mages had already distributed their share of the rations to themselves. Much to their chagrin, the swim had proved detrimental to the smoked protein. The belt pockets that had contained the rations were supposedly water resistant yet the leather was spotty, brittle and discoloured, indisputable proof of water damage. They hypothesised that its coating may have melted off from the heat. Shaking their heads sadly, they dug into their meal.
"Wait," the priestess requested, "I might have some food flavouring in my bag of holding," before reaching into her small pouch and pulling out a small brown vial. "Give the meat," she commanded. They nodded eagerly and happily placed their strips into her palm. Gently pulling out the cork, a perfume of spices and roasted meat wafted into the tunnel. Tilting the vial gently, a few drops fell on the chewy sustenance before holding the bottle upright and replacing the stopper. Before anybody could demand more of that brown liquid, she reasoned, "This liquid is expensive and hard to come by so only a few drops for you!" Nodding at the reasoning, they dug eagerly into their food.
Grabbing the bottle, the woman dropped it inside her bag before pulling out a glass container of blue liquid. Unscrewing the cap, she took a sip. Her companions stared at her, eyebrows raised. Looking around in confusion, she questioned, "What? This is a flavour enhancer." Her teammates opened their mouths but she cut in, "No, you can't have any! This is even more expensive than the flavouring!" The atmosphere grew tense. Their jaws shut with a click before silently digging into their food.
Looking around sheepishly, she rubbed the back of her head and attempted to ignite a conversation in a bid to lift the mood. "So, team leader... You seem to be quite experienced at this dungeon-delving thing, fighting in general... Wanna share some stories with your crew?"
The man didn't look up, eyes firmly locked on undoing the swordsman's straps that connected the legging to the sabaton. His left hand pressed down on the clamp while his right hand quickly slipped the rope out of the claw.
Patting the inexperienced lad on the thigh, the veteran stood up and rolled his spine back with a slight groan of discomfit. Looking down at the white-robed woman, he chuckled and said, "You don't know my name do you..." The priestess's face turned pink and clasped her hands upon her burning cheeks. Head down, she silently gave the two melee fighters their share of the rations. The tension eased back.
Casual small talk broke the silence, intermingling with the sounds of meat tearing, chewing and the followed-up clink of glass and gulping. Forcefully ingesting the nigh-inedible food, they re-equipped their gear and prepared to set off once more. Yet their leader remained sitting, casually leaning against the wall, eyes closed, his equipment still set out neatly next to him. His lips released a quiet snore with each breath.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
They turned to look at each other, giving conspiratorial winks. Evil smirks appeared on their faces. The rogue stepped forward and grabbed the chest piece. Placing it next to their leader's ear, he drew his dagger and rammed the handle into the metal, ringing it like a gong. The metal plate trembled with energy, wrestling itself out of the scout's grip and crashed to the ground with a mighty thud.
The man's bloodshot eyes shot open. He leapt to his feet, grabbing the rogue by the neck with one hand while the other unsheathed the sword, placing it against the scout's throat in one smooth motion. To the rest of the party, the veteran was a blur. The adventurers stood stock still lest the delusional, half-sleeping madman slit their companion's throat. The leader surveyed his surroundings before sighing. He lowered the blade and rubbed his eyes, "Sorry guys, old habits die hard."
After a few minutes of waiting around for the tank to dress. The team was ready to go. Positioning the kite shield to cover most of his body, the leader kicked the door open, sword raised in anticipation of a sneak attack. None came. There was no ambush, just their long-time companions, heat and ash greeting them at the doorstep. Waving his troops forward, the tank led his party out of the tunnel.
They surveyed the room, mouths agape. Eyeballs bulged from their sockets, feasting upon a sea of orange with dark grey, molten rock glinting out of the ochre liquid like islands. In the centre stood one such rock, the largest of them all. Unlike its neighbours, this one was pitch black with streams of lava flowing across its barren surface. Upon the centre was a wreath of golden leaves. Black stalactites of all sizes covered the ceiling like rows of sharp teeth. The rogue turned to the tank, "Are we supposed to grab the crown," he speculated. The half-dozing man shrugged. They were broken from their conversation by the clang of steel.
The young swordsman standing behind the tank had dropped his sword, sending it clattering to the floor. His face was pale white. His body shivered. A jittery finger pointed at the central platform.
The party gazed in wonder and fear as the "landmass" rose from beneath the molten waves, revealing a massive humanoid body with stumpy limbs and a bulging stomach. The torso had no distinguishable mimics of human anatomy such as abs or abdomen due to having an overall round shape similar to that of an apple or orange.
[Congratulations! You have discovered:
Boss: [Fire Elemental Golem] Prometheus - Level 15!]
The tank burst into laughter, doubling over. Tears streamed from his eyes, evaporating into steam as soon as they formed. Turning to his still-pale teammates, he soothed their worries, "A single spell of mine will wipe the floor with this beast. Watch." He set the shield down gently on the floor.
\Walking to the Golem, the tank drew his sword. With a thunderous boom and a cloud of dust, the adventurer shot into the air, barely avoiding contact with the ceiling. Upon reaching the peak of his jump, he switched to a two-handed grip and screamed, "[CRESCENT MOON]" His sword gained a blue hue. Thunderbolts swirled around the blade like an aura, creating a blue afterimage in its descent. As the blade kissed the molten head, a blinding white light enveloped the room. A sharp crack filled the air.
Silence.
Opening his eyes, the tank climbed down the monster's face to peer into the closed eyes of the golem. The beast was utterly still.
The eyelids slowly peeled back, revealing a red pupil surrounded by pitch blackness. The man was face to face with the very alive boss. Faint gasps filled the air yet the man didn't hear them, completely mesmerised by the monster's eyes.
"Oh oh-" he croaked.