The two, more prepared than they’d been since their tragic meeting in the cages, quietly talked about their next move. After a short discussion, they made their way down the sloping path. Neither of the paths seemed better than the other; the ultimate determining factor had just been that this one was unique.
“What do you think we’ll find down there?” asked Kore.
She’d begun to talk more recently, ever since they escaped the cages and she had a chance to clean herself after years of living in filth. Atreo didn’t know if that was because she’d healed back to full health or because she’d finally felt more human. Whatever the case, he didn’t mind. He’d hoped that she’d eventually come out of her shell a bit.
“Hopefully more loot,” he joked, glancing back at her. This path, too, was lit with torches, and it made for greater visibility. As they ventured further into the cavern, the metallic braiding within the walls became more pronounced, than they’d been near the dungeon entrance. Atreo ran his fingers along the side of the cavern, copying the distinct indentations and feel to his memory. Not that he planned on using that information; it was just something he’d done without even thinking about it. Heat from the torches radiated warmth throughout the small passage. What had initially been a wide mouth had steadily shrunk into a winding walkway that now had Atreo’s shoulders brushing up against the sides.
Atreo paused, startling Kore. Before them stood another shimmering portal. However, this one was much smaller than the initial portal they’d entered through and had none of the distinct symbols. The major difference here, though, was that as they approached, they both received a notification informing them that they’d found their first boss.
Attention: You’ve found Tskgora, a chieftain of the Gor tsk rath clan. This is a level 2 boss.
As they peered through the shimmering doorway, Atreo risked using identify to see if they could glimpse the enemy that they’d be facing. To his dismay, the identify returned nothing.
“We’re doing this, right?” asked Atreo. “We could still backtrack and take the other path.”
“We’re here, let's do it,” replied Kore, brandishing her new spear. “These walls are starting to get too tight anyways.”
Atreo nodded, readying his own weapon, and gave her a nod. He stepped through the shimmering doorway and felt himself being transported into the boss area. He stood in a gigantic cavern that stretched high up into a blanket of fog. The tips of giant stalagmites pierced the clouds, threatening all who would dare stand in their shadow. As the contenders took in the open expanse, a thunderous rumble swept over them, sending dust and sulfur-filled air into their faces. They stood in the center of an arena, one that Atreo would liken to a coliseum back on Earth but smaller. As their senses returned, they were assaulted anew with the sound of a hundred Tskatan cheering with fanatic enthusiasm. Although Atreo had learned their language, the cheers blended together to form a howling roar, crippling his thoughts in the process.
Each side of the arena was accented with a distinct pool. To the right, closest to where Kore had appeared, a bubbling pool of lava churned, emitting both heat and light across the faces of the onlookers, giving them a devilish appearance. To the left, another hot spring simmered, occasionally firing gouts of water into the air, driving the crowd into even more of a frenzy as their chants echoed off the walls. The overflow from both the spring and lava pool circled the arena, forming a moat that hissed as the two opposing forces carried out their endless battle. Behind each pool sat a gaping hole which ensured neither element became too overwhelming, allowing the excess liquids to spill down deeper into the recesses of the dungeon.
Ahead of them stood a black iron portal, not a doorway or gate but a colossal archway that seemed to ripple with dark energy. This ominous structure, forged from obsidian-like metal and etched with ancient, glowing runes, was the boss's entrance. The portal was a conduit between realms, shimmering with an eerie, otherworldly light that pulsed rhythmically like the beating of a malevolent heart.
Tskatan grunts kneeled in front of the Tskra that doubled their size. The Tskra’s claw gleamed with the reflection of magma, a testament to its formidable power. Its scales shimmered with a dark red hue, each one seeming to absorb and reflect the fiery light in a mesmerizing pattern. The Tskra leader’s eyes, glowing with an intense, calculating intelligence, surveyed the kneeling grunts with a mixture of disdain and expectation.
“Dur ssk mata,” it commanded, the words reverberating with authority. “Prepare for the hunt.”
The grunts moved with practiced efficiency, their movements a well-choreographed dance of preparation. They fetched weapons and supplies, their focus unwavering. The Tskra leader watched them, a sense of satisfaction evident in its posture. These grunts were its warriors, its tools for domination and survival.
As the preparations continued, the Tskra leader turned its attention towards the black iron portal. It knew that beyond this threshold lay the true test of their strength and cunning. The portal’s dark energy pulsed in rhythm with the beat of the Tskra’s own heart, a reminder of the power it could one day wield.
With a final, commanding roar, the Tskra leader signaled its grunts to form ranks. The time for battle had come, and the arena would soon be filled with the clash of steel, the roar of combat, and the unyielding struggle for dominance.
With a deep, guttural growl, the Tskra leader raised its claw, signaling the grunts to rise. The grunts, obedient and submissive, stood up quickly, their eyes fixed on their leader. The Tskra’s voice, when it spoke, was a harsh, rasping sound that echoed through the cavernous arena.
The Tskra leader, towering over its grunts, surveyed the arena one last time. Its eyes locked onto Atreo and Kore, and with a growl that resonated through the cavern, it issued its final command.
"Ssk mata," it hissed, the words slicing through the air with deadly intent.
The grunts, now fully armed and ready, responded with a unified, guttural roar. They moved with purpose, their every step echoing the Tskra leader's command, preparing to unleash their fury on the intruders.
The duo barely had a moment to react before the Tskatan swarmed them. Atreo dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding a spearhead that whistled past his ear. Rolling to safety, he regained his footing and readied his spear, his eyes darting across the chaotic battlefield in search of an opening. The Tskatan grunts, quick and agile, attacked with relentless determination.
Meanwhile, Kore launched a reckless charge, catching three of the five Tskatan off guard. She parried the first strike from a nearby grunt and drove the butt of her spear into another's face, splintering wood and shattering teeth. Her erratic movements created a brief opening, but the window rapidly closed as the other two moved to flank her.
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Seizing the opportunity, Atreo charged the remaining two grunts head-on. His spear thrust forward with precision; he skewered one grunt through the chest, and with a swift motion, he yanked his weapon free and swung it in a wide arc. The second grunt managed to deflect the blow with its shield, but Atreo pressed the attack, forcing his opponent to backpedal.
Kore, now surrounded, fought with a desperate ferocity. She ducked under a wild swing and slashed upward, hitting nothing but air. Stars flared in her vision as a spear pierced her shoulder, wedging into her collarbone. She dropped her weapon, her arm rendered useless by the pain, and let out a manic scream. The power she had been holding back tore from her body like a breaking dam, knocking the three kobolds a step back.
The damaged Tskatan's fang regrew instantly, stronger than before, and the three kobolds stood taller, their previous aches and pains vanishing. Their newfound confidence surged as they prepared to advance, but suddenly, they felt an invisible force seize them, as if chains were dragging them into a void.
It started slowly. Their spears disintegrated, forming streams of gray and brown that floated towards Kore. Then, their bodies began to unravel, piece by piece. There was no blood, only a mesmerizing rainbow of colors as the three kobolds were reduced to the pure energy they contained. In their final moments, they tried to flee, but the vice-like grip Kore had on their very essence held them fast.
The energy flowed into Kore, filling her with a power she had never felt before. Her shoulder began to heal, the torn flesh knitting itself back together, and with a determined grunt, she grasped the spear embedded in her collarbone and pulled it out. The wound closed almost instantly, leaving no trace of the injury.
Kore stood tall, her eyes blazing with the vibrant colors of life she’d demanded from her enemies.
Atreo had no time to praise the raw power Kore had unleashed. He thrust his spear towards the stomach of a Tskatan but had to pull back at the last moment as another lunged at him with black claws, aiming for his eye. Utilizing his newly acquired dexterity, he dropped the spear, narrowly avoiding the attack. With a swift motion, he rolled to the side and grabbed a fallen kobold's weapona crude but effective blade. He rose to his feet, facing the two Tskatan with a determined glint in his eye. The grunts snarled, circling him, but Atreo remained focused. He feinted to the left, drawing one of them in, then pivoted and slashed at the other, catching it off guard and cutting deep into its side.
The injured Tskatan howled in pain, stumbling backward, while the other pressed its attack. Atreo parried its blows, the clang of metal ringing in his ears. Atreo kicked out, utilizing his height to knock the grunt off balance, and swung his sword around for a finishing blow. As the grunt fell in two pieces, Atreo turned to face the final enemy, only to find the hot spring bubbling a new shade of red. Atreo, preferring his +1-spear moved to retrieve it.
The Tskra leader had watched his grunts fall with an air of expectation. Now, his gaze fixed on Kore with a newfound intensity. Suddenly, the black iron portal sprang to life, bursting with energy. The previously silent crowd erupted, their chants louder than ever. Kore and Atreo exchanged a glance as the portal shimmered, heralding the arrival of the dungeon’s first boss.
“Gora! Gora! Gora!”
The Tskara charged forward with speed and agility far surpassing that of the grunts. Lunging on all fours, his claws clinked against the pavement. Over his shoulder, a new enemy entered the arena. The Tskgora, a hulking creature covered in metallic material similar to the dungeon’s structure, stood on all fours. The metal covered large portions of its body, giving it a formidable and almost invincible appearance. Its massive frame was muscular, with powerful limbs ending in razor-sharp claws. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent red light, and its tail, raised high, pulsed ominously. The tip of its tail was hollow, resembling the barrel of a cannon.
What the hell is he doing? Atreo thought. Is that a cannon?
As the thought finished, a boom echoed through the arena. A foot-long spike shot towards Atreo.
Having noticed it just in time, Atreo dove for the ground, praying he was fast enough. The projectile slammed into the cave wall just above his head, and he scrambled out of the way. The Tskara, now charging at full speed, was almost upon him. Atreo was already so deep in trouble that he needed to get to his feet, or he’d be dead for sure. He bounced up, turning to face the charging kobold. He pinned his spear to the wall, bracing for impact. The Tskara dripped saliva from his huge fangs, eyes gleaming with a lust for blood. Atreo could see the murderous intent; the Tskara wanted to rip him to shreds, and he was the only one who could stop it.
As the Tskara surged forward, slashing at the spear, Atreo anticipated the move and braced himself. With precise timing, he thrust the spear forward and ducked beneath the incoming claws. The weapon struck the scaled kobold in the shoulder, disrupting his charge and halting his momentum. The creature's tail whipped around, slamming Atreo against the wall and pinning him there. Menacing fangs lunged for Atreo's throat, but with his free left arm, he delivered a forceful uppercut to the kobold's throat, buying himself a crucial moment to escape the wall's grasp. He wrenched his spear free, its tip dripping with dark blood.
The Tskara hissed in pain and stepped forward to prevent Atreo from escaping. Across the cavern, Atreo heard Kore's pained screams but was powerless to assist, his attention riveted on his immediate threat. Another swipe of claws targeted Atreo's spear arm. Distracted by Kore's cries, Atreo's reaction was a split second too slow; the claws raked savagely down his forearm, tearing flesh and stripping strength from his grasp. His spear clattered to the ground, and he rolled away, leaving a trail of fresh blood.
Licking the blood from his claws, the Tskara stomped on the spear, snapping it in two. Atreo retreated, trying to put distance between them. Whether by sheer luck or the haze of pain clouding his mind, he stumbled and fell. A spear narrowly missed him, embedding itself in the ground where he had just been. The Tskgora hissed in frustration, but Atreo dared not take his eyes off the cunning Tskara.
Inching backward, Atreo's thoughts raced for a strategy. He was wounded, weaponless, and bleeding profusely. Despite the pain, he pushed himself to his feet. The Tskara seemed to relish the hunt, not eager to end it swiftly. Mustering every ounce of his remaining strength, Atreo sprinted towards the Tskgora, each step a torment, each breath a gasp for survival, hoping his desperate plan might somehow turn the tide.
As Atreo sprinted forward, he spotted Kore battling three smaller kobolds. A metal spear protruded from her shoulder, and behind her lay two slain kobolds, their skin so tightly drawn that their skeletal outlines were visible, as if they had been vacuum-sealed, a bizarre sight reminiscent of an Earth commercial Atreo once saw. The Tskgora, ever menacing, raised his tail and pointed in Atreo's direction. Atreo had anticipated this—it was part of his plan, although he had underestimated the kobolds' speed. He hadn't covered half the distance to the Tskgora when the Tskara intercepted him, grasping Atreo by the chest and hoisting him into the air.
At that critical moment, the Tskgora's lance flew, piercing Atreo through the chest and continuing through to impale the Tskara's head against the wall with a muffled thud. In that instant, Atreo realized that the Tskgora viewed the Tskara as expendable, just as the Tskara regarded the lesser kobolds. Released from the Tskara’s grasp, Atreo collapsed to the ground, wracked with pain but driven by adrenaline. He crawled toward the spring, reaching its edge. The drop where the water cascaded down was steep—a direct route into deeper peril. Atreo knew they were outmatched; survival was uncertain.
Atreo's shout caught Kore’s attention as she speared another kobold. "We have to go!" His voice was urgent, desperate. Understanding flashed in her eyes as she raced toward him, small kobolds snapping at her heels. The Tskgora, taking aim, revealed a grin of sharp, metallic fangs. "She isn’t going to make it," Atreo thought, panic surging as the cave dimmed—perhaps a trick of his fading consciousness or the natural obscurity of their dire situation.
The light from the surrounding magma dimmed, and the vivid red of blood spilled in battle lost its luster. Kore’s pace quickened, closing the gap in an instant. Atreo slid into the spring's pool just as Kore dove in after him. Together, they plunged down the sloping passage of the spring, deeper into the endless dungeon. Behind them, the lance's echo and the Tskgora’s furious screech faded into the tumult of their escape.