"Gorilla-crocodiles," I growled. I was doing my best Harrison Ford impersonation, which admittedly wasn't very good. "Why did it have to be gorilla-crocodiles?"

Sean merely shot me an incredulous look, but from behind, I heard a stifled cackle from Naomi. At least somebody here appreciated my talents.

The approaching Monsters weren't actually called gorilla-crocodiles, of course. Like referring to the location as the "Valley Forge Dungeon", the name was just a term of convenience, necessitated by the fact that the nomenclature you'd get from Inspecting them was pure gobbledygook.

Monster: Hquameta

Level: 1

Experience: 0 / 100

Power: +1

Speed: +2

Agility: -2

Vitality: 0

Resilience: +1

Core Slot 1: Hquameta Warrior (Rank E)

Core Slot 2: [Locked]

[…]

Like so. As far as I was aware, nobody knew what a "Hquameta" was supposed to be, other than (apparently) a big green lizard that roughly resembled a crocodile's skin with a gorilla stuffed inside. Hence the nickname.

With a thought, I dismissed the Inspection window. I already knew exactly what it was going to say anyway; Monsters of this type were frequently encountered in this Dungeon and as a result well-documented. I'd long since memorized all the salient facts about them.

The gorilla-crocodile had a hunched bipedal form very much akin to one of Earth's great apes, with disproportionately-long arms that dragged on the ground and short bandy legs. Standing upright, the Monsters would have to be at least seven feet tall, but because of their knuckle-walking posture they barely overtopped Sean's height. Definitely heavier, though – each was probably more than six hundred pounds of angry reptile.

With their long, knife-like claws and rows of irregular teeth visible even when their heavy jaws were closed, the Monsters had a savage, prehistoric appearance. A head-to-toe covering of thick pebbled scales, forming ridges that traveled along the spine and spiraled around their beady yellow eyes, made them resemble some resurrected Cretaceous-era throwback.

Even though we outnumbered them, this wouldn't be an easy fight by any stretch of the imagination. That impressive size and bulk would compensate for their comparatively lower Level and their weaker Cores.

In the training program new Heroes were put through, the instructors emphasized this point over and over again: your Attributes augmented your physical capabilities, they didn't replace them. The lower your Level was, the more your regular old physique would proportionally contribute to your overall performance.

I followed the Hulkster's commandments, "Train, say your prayers and eat your vitamins," but no regimen of diet and exercise would give you a body that could match a quarter-ton dinosaur in terms of pure strength. We would be relying heavily on our Attributes and our superior intelligence to close the gap.

At least, I was pretty sure we had superior intelligence.

It was an open question how smart regular Dungeon Monsters really were. Even the most animalistic-looking types seemed to exhibit some degree of awareness at times, moving with eerily silent coordination, constantly adjusting their tactics and adapting quickly to new circumstances.

And not all of them were as bestial as the giant lizards we were about to fight.

Sometimes Monsters were encountered that had quite humanlike forms, often something suspiciously similar to images taken straight out of fantasy – elves and orcs, dwarves and gnomes, you name it, although they obviously weren't called that. A rare few actually seemed to talk, but the things they said were no more comprehensible than the names an Inspection would spit out for them, and every attempt that had been made to negotiate with them ended... poorly.

If there hadn't been so many civilian casualties in the first few years, with Dungeon Breaks spilling these Monsters out to sow death and destruction all over the world, perhaps there would be more interest in ascertaining just how rational they truly were. Maybe people would even suggest trying to find some sort of common ground with them. As it was, the exigencies of the situation clearly took precedence.

Besides, Monsters could also be curiously stupid, in a way that was impossible to square with the conjecture that they had at least some degree of self-awareness. In many situations they would react leisurely and predictably, completely ignore their own welfare, fall for the simplest ruses, or totally fail to assist one another. When they were behaving like that, a decently-trained golden retriever would handily trounce a Dungeon Monster in any sort of aptitude test you could conceive.

You'd see the two extremes of Monster intelligence in the same run, from the same Monster type and sometimes even in the same room; it was a subject of frequent speculation, but I'd never heard anyone come up with a good explanation for what was causing the difference.

In this fight, it didn't seem that we would be so lucky as to get dumb Monsters, unfortunately.

The two gorilla-crocodiles had hauled themselves up out of the pit trap, talons scrabbling against the bare stone in a symphony of discordant nails-on-chalkboard screeching. As we shifted, turning in unison to maintain our formation, the pair of hulking saurians spread out, shambling at right angles towards the perimeter of the room.

It seemed they understood that we would try to stick as close together as possible. The move left us the choice of either giving ground in response, or allowing them to outflank us.

Despite their ungainly appearance, I knew the Monsters could move shockingly quickly over short distances; if we turned and went after one, it would back off while the other immediately attacked. Classic pack-hunting tactics.

It felt like we'd found ourselves in a nature documentary... as the gazelle.

I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, at the open archway into the next chamber we were gradually being herded towards. It wasn't a good situation to be in.

Monsters wouldn't move from room to room on their own, so far as I was aware, but they could certainly follow a Hero that moved into another room during a fight. They were clearly aiming to force our party to fall back through the opening, where there would likely be more traps, and perhaps even additional Monsters just waiting to join in.

We needed to retake the initiative, I decided, and fast.

"Hey, Naomi?" I called, keeping my eyes fixed front on the Monsters prowling towards us with deceptive speed. "Remember what we talked about before?"

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"You mean, the best way to fight these guys?" she replied after a pause.

I nodded, then realized she wouldn't be able to pick up the sign. "Yeah, that."

Dungeon Monsters probably couldn't understand human speech, let alone English. Probably. We didn't know that they couldn't; every Hero had their own opinion on the topic. You can believe whatever you want. I'd always figured it was better safe than sorry.

"Think you can do it to the one on our left, if I take the right?"

"Absolutely not," Sean loudly interrupted, even as Naomi quipped, "No problemo."

"Sean, I can do it," she insisted. I could easily picture the petulant scowl on her face, even if I couldn't see it. Naomi had always loved being fawned over, but hated feeling as if she was being patronized. Women are complicated.

"We're not arguing about this," I interrupted Sean before he could stick his foot any further into his mouth. "Naomi, go."

Following my own orders, I stopped backpedaling, throwing myself forward at the gorilla-crocodile on the right side of the room. Speedy as it was, the creature found itself caught flat-footed by the sudden reverse – it clearly hadn't anticipated this course of action. If its reptilian features could express surprise, I was pretty sure the Monster would have been making a shocked face.

I met Sean's gaze briefly as he went past on my left, pelting after Naomi's fleeter form as fast as his own Attributes and physique would allow. He gave me a glare in passing. Not his usual aloof scowl, but an enraged snarl I didn't think I had ever seen him display before. The man had always been protective, almost to a fault, but lately I'd been getting the impression that he was also... jealous, maybe? As soon as this fight was over, I knew we were going to need to have a serious talk.

First, though, we had to get through the fight.

I kept my shield up as I closed in, moving into what the government-provided weapons instructor assigned to my class had called a high guard: «Bulwark» held just below the level of my mouth, shortsword overhead, shield arm and leg leading, fighting arm and leg behind.

Footwork, it had been repeatedly drilled into our heads, was the most fundamental part of combat. Your feet lead, your arms follow.

Looking out over the shield's bronze rim made me uncomfortably aware of the bare unprotected state of my head, and I once more found myself fervently hoping that a helmet of some sort would drop for me soon. It would be a national tragedy if my good looks got ruined – there were dozens of girls out there who would go into mourning. Well, at least one or two. Probably.

The Monster had the edge in Speed, but my Agility was much higher, and its outsize form was far from optimal for changing directions on short notice. It barely managed to interpose a meaty forearm as my sword flashed down, turning aside the blow that would have fallen on its neck at the cost of sustaining a nasty-looking gash. Purple blood – appearing almost black in the Portal's harsh red light – spattered across the ground as I wrenched the blade tip out.

Rearing back, my opponent let out a sound that I couldn't quite call a roar – more of an incredibly loud rumbling chirp, the way it would sound if someone taped a sparrow's call and played it back with the bass cranked up tenfold.

I pressed in, redirecting the follow-through into a low half-arm cut as I stepped forward again. My sneakers and my opponent's heavy paws struck an irregular rasping rhythm across the rough surface as the animal flinched back and I pursued.

When you first learn swordfighting, there's a lot of emphasis on a fundamental but somewhat abstract concept usually called "measure" – in the crudest sense, your measure is how far away an opponent can get before you aren't able to hurt them anymore, and their measure is the reverse. Ideally, you fight at a distance where your opponent is within your measure, but you aren't in theirs.

Of course, if your opponent has seven-foot-long limbs terminating in huge razor-sharp claws, that may not be an option; in that case, since I couldn't stay outside of its reach, the next best bet was to try keeping it inside mine. Easier said than done.

In absolute terms, the fight didn't last very long. They usually don't.

Trading hundreds of blows while exchanging witty quips looks great on film, but real fighting is exhausting. Just a handful of passes and I was already winded, despite the supernatural advantage provided by my heightened Vitality. I could at least take solace in the fact that the gorilla-crocodile looked like it was far worse off, covered in wounds, wheezing like a bellows and moving more slowly every time we separated. The single light cut along the shoulder I'd taken in return was trivial by comparison, hardly more than a scratch.

You could throw in some kind of pat aphorism here, something like "a wounded opponent is the most dangerous," but really that's not always true. A lot of times, in my experience, the other guy just collapsed, the battle ending with a whimper instead of a bang. But it was certainly worth keeping in mind that a desperate opponent might try doing something desperate, and ensuring you were ready for it if it happened.

For that reason, I wasn't totally taken aback when the Dungeon Monster suddenly lurched forward, throwing its whole weight into a do-or-die attempt to cleave me straight down the middle. I still had to think fast, though – the abrupt move leaving me just a few heartbeats to decide how to react.

In arcade games, using a shield is straightforward. You face your character in the right direction, you hit the button to get the shield up in time, and the incoming attack bonks off harmlessly. Simple.

As one might expect, attempting to do the same in the real world would end very poorly. The name of the game here was to deflect or parry a strong incoming blow, rather than trying to outright block it. Normally. If you were fortunate enough to be the owner of a magic shield, however, some additional options opened up that otherwise wouldn't be advisable.

I dropped to one knee, planting the tip of the shield against the rocky floor and angling it slightly upward to catch the attack. At the corner of my vision, a Message helpfully notified me that [Steadfast] was now active. And not a moment too soon, as the Monster crashed down atop my guard with all the force of a cavalry charge.

And bonked off harmlessly.

Isn't that something?

I jabbed my sword directly into the eye of the suddenly-motionless beast, a stiff straight-arm thrust, the way you're really not supposed to do. Well, you know what they say – if it's stupid but it works, it's not stupid. The tip scraped around in an absolutely disgusting way, grinding against the back of the socket as the Monster thrashed feebly, then something inside finally gave with a wet pop and it slumped bonelessly to the ground.

Another Message blinked into view, informing me that I had gained Experience. Hooray.

Breathing hard – despite how casual I'd made it look, any tactic entirely dependent on «Bulwark»'s physics-violating Ability was always a little terrifying to employ – I staggered to my feet, turning to see how Naomi and Sean were handling their end of the bargain.

I'd have been happy to say they were faring no worse than me, except my enemy was dead and theirs wasn't. Still, they seemed to have things well in hand, Naomi keeping the creature occupied with a dazzling series of feints while Sean periodically waded in to launch a blistering horizontal baseball-bat swing with his polearm. Thrown blades littered the floor around them, and I saw at least one dagger projecting from the gorilla-crocodile's chest in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable-looking way.

Seeing my approach, it must have realized it was now on its own and began frantically attempting to disengage. If it was permitted to, we all understood, it would continue retreating straight to the final room – the only way, aside from chasing after a Hero they'd already engaged, that I had ever heard of a Monster moving from room to room within a Dungeon.

Unfortunately for it, the distraction gave Sean a perfect opportunity to slam the axe end of his weapon directly into the middle of the creature's chest, using his impressive Power to simply crush through scales and flesh and ribcage with equal ease. Bang, splat, done.

The three of us stared at one another, tired but victorious. Sean had accumulated a few scrapes, none more serious than the one I'd been dealt, and apart from fatigue he seemed to be in fighting shape. As for Naomi –

"You're hurt," Sean mumbled quietly. He stepped towards her, attitude subdued and normally-dour face showing a truly uncharacteristic degree of concern.

"No, look, I'm fine," she said, waving the arm in question around to demonstrate its intact state. "Don't be such a baby. It didn't even touch me, just got caught on my shirt..."

She trailed off, peering down in surprise. The sleeve had been shredded nearly to her collar by a claw swipe that had narrowly missed taking off her entire arm. A few remaining intact pieces dangled precariously, the last threads ready to let go at any moment. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she stared at the torn cloth, and her lower lip trembled.

"...Naomi, are you okay?" I asked hesitantly into the uncomfortable silence.

"DAMN IT!" she shouted, her voice echoing around us. "I LIKED THIS SHIRT!"