Sometimes, I think that I’m a bit of a heart-breaker, you know? But don’t ask me why I think that.

I leap, my boot kicking off of the jagged spire of rock which crashes up out of the ground towards me. It might just be my raging self-confidence, honestly.

As I fly through the air, my cape billowing wildly behind myself, I see the world around myself become illuminated in a bright, yellow glow. The lance swings out to my side, cutting through the ball of magical energies that someone sent my way, slicing it in half. The world behind myself explodes as the broken spell crashes into the wall. I only catch a glimpse of it, as the momentum of the impact sends me flying off in a furious spiral that I somehow manage to control, spinning through the air and then landing on the ground next to a surprised elf.

An elf? Cool! I didn’t know there were elves around here.

A glint of silver shines in the air, the morning dew that pearls on its sheen surface reflecting the jubilant light that shines through the distant gate, washing us all in a soft glow that leaks through the corrupted purple fog. There is a loud clambering as my arm shoots out and I grab the blade in mid-air, the dew, much like the sweat on her pale skin flying all around us and capturing the sunlight. Not much on me to cut, you know?

I flash her a wink, signaling my desire to be her friend as I leap, pressing my shin into her gut and sending her flying back, crashing into an approaching party of adventurers. That’s what winking means in human language, right, guy? Yeah, thanks. I wasn’t sure for a second there. Wouldn’t want anyone to think I was a creep, haha!

Sparing a second to look at the sword that is still in my hand, I drop it in distaste, listening to the metal ring out as it rattles against the ground. I don’t do swor-

The world spins as I am sent flying back to the side and I crash against the wall, listening to a loud ringing as my hollow armor cries out like a mourning bell on the sudden impact. I feel my spine cracking in half, severed as something breaks through it from the right side. Pressing my hand out, I grab hold of the arm that is pushed into my core and I look at the monk.

Wait. You’re not my monk.

I narrow my eyes in distaste at the other monk. Some random adventurer. Pressing my foot against the wall that I’m being jammed into, I leap, sending us both flying a few feet. Enough to make him lose his balance. As I rise into the air, my other foot presses onto his shoulder and I leap again, kicking off and sending him crashing into the wall that I was just pressed again. Something cracks, but I wouldn’t worry about it. I think it was just his arm.

My spine pops back into place as the dungeon heals me. He’ll be fine. I’m sure the dungeon will just heal him too in a minute. Or maybe the priestess will. She’s nice like that, you know?

As if having sensed my thoughts, the world around myself erupts into a crystalline shimmer as I fly through the air, mid-jump. Glass walls, no, white-magic walls appear all around myself, suspended in mid-air as they pop up on all sides of my flying body and then, before I even start falling, they press themselves together, crushing in against me from all sides.

In a second, before they close in, I twist the lance, holding it sideways. A wall crashes against the blade, another against the bottom of the shaft. The other two walls crash against the first two, sealing me in a rectangular cage. Swinging myself up, I press my boot onto the lance and leap up into the air without it, OOH! - flying through the opening above my head. The white-magic shatters, breaking apart as a massive fireball erupts where I was just hanging a second ago in free-fall. The lashing tendrils of fire shoot up towards me and reach for my ankles like reaching hands of the things in the bad-water. Long, creeping fingers of fire rise out of the inferno, as if trying to drag me back down into it.

My body shakes as something else hits me. Something hard and small. Many somethings.

I fall, flying through the fire and the white-magic that cascades all around myself, looking at the four arrows that stick into my breast, having been shot in quick succession. Wow! I haven’t seen an archer in a long time. A loooong time!

Actually, I haven’t seen any adventurers in a long time, now that I think about it. Just the hero-party really. But we used to have all sorts come down here. Ah… I really missed it, actually, guy.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I plummet through the air, spiraling out of control as I gaze around the room in that time-slowed second. My eyes dart from one face to the next, as I look at every single one of them, as I gaze at every single, glossy, shining, lustrous eye that stares towards me with such intent. With such fixation. With such… with such…

Thook-thook.

I smash against the stones, rolling to the side, leaving a blue smear behind myself on the rocks as I escape the barrage of stones crashing down against where I was just laying. A geomancer? WOW! There are so many cool adventurers here today! Dungeon-master! Dungeon-master! Are you watching? Are you seeing this? Am I doing a good job?

My slide comes to a halt, I jump up to my feet, avoiding the cascading rubble that crashes down all around myself, lifting my hand to catch the lance that falls down my way a second later, glowing with a radiating heat that hisses like an agitated viper as it touches my gauntlets, the metal still stained with a crystalline, wet morning-dew. Did I look cool? I hope so. I tried really hard.

I am surrounded by smoke and particulate and I hear their frantic shouts and screams as they try to organize themselves, as they try to come up with a plan to stop me as they are noticing that I’m one tough cookie. I’m not, honestly. I’m really sensitive and delicate, you know? I just want someone to stroke my head and tell me that I’m good. But I’ll have to earn that if I want it.

There is a silence as nobody sees anything anymore, because of all the destruction that needs to come to a rest first. The quiet is broken by one thing however, by me, by the sounds of my heavy, clanking boots ringing out as I rise up the pile of broken rubble, dirt and bricks.

Thook-thook.

It’s kind of an unfair fight, one versus twenty-something plus the hero, who hasn’t even gotten involved yet. But that’s okay. Rising to the top of the hill, I stand there and crack my neck, feeling the warm wind cascade past my back as it runs up the stairs and blows out towards the dungeon gate as it always has, as it always will. The warm breath that stems from the deepest recesses of the world, where I too come from, pushing out towards the expanse beyond, as if a guideline, as if it were a red string of fate for me to follow from start to finish. Thanks wind!

As it blows, it carries away with it the cloud of dust and smoke that encapsulates my silhouette. Okay. Okay. Breath. Breath. This is it. This is my big moment. I feel my legs shaking, but I do my best to keep them steady as I tighten my posture and lift my head. I need to make a good show out of it. Everyone is watching me, you know?

I hear worried whispers. I hear a worried shuffling of boots and metal. I hear a frustrated clenching of teeth, I hear… I hear a heavy thudding, coming from the inside of my own breast, one that shakes my body more than any sense of fear or anxiety ever could.

I just realized something, guy. Am I a boss-fight? Wait… no… no! Oh boy.

OH BOY!

Guy! I’m a boss fight! I have to be, right? One dungeon-dweller versus a whole raid of adventurers? I’m… I’m…

My body shakes as my free hand, scorched and blackened, covers my left eye, smearing my skull with ash as I gaze out at the two dozen fearful faces staring up my way. Humans. Elves. A dark elf or two and hey! Check it out! There’s even a dwarf back there! Wow! Guy!

Guy, I’m not… I’m not just a trash-mob or a sub-boss. Guy. I think…

- I think I’m the end-boss?

Dark-lord forgive my doubts. Dungeon-master! You’re the best! You’re the best! I could cry.

I drop the blade of the lance, letting it strike against the stones with a loud ring.

Ding.

The fog of war dissipates, the interlude to our fight coming to a close as I make my grand entrance. Or, in technical jargon, as I enter my second phase. The wind blows at my back, gently tousling the light fabric of my cape past my side, as if it were ruffling my hair. They all look at me. They all watch me.

Ding.

The lance strikes against the rocks again as I can barely contain my excitement. My fervor… My… my…

I watch as they all shift uneasily. A few of them take a step back in fear, clearly intimidated by my commanding presence. It’s so embarrassing, guy! Everyone is looking at me!

Ding.

I hope they don’t think I’m ugly.

Ding!

I hope they don’t think I’m weird or stupid or anything like that. I really want them to like me. I really, really do.

Ding!

The crowd disperses, splitting apart and running away into different directions as they make a panicked plan, though I’m not really sure what their problem is. I’m just hitting the rock with my lance. They don’t seem to like it though.

Ding!

You think if I fight really hard, if I look really cool and dramatic, that they’ll all be really impressed? Do you think they’ll want to be my friends? I really hope so!

DING!

My body swings in a light arc, getting ready to do something, though I honestly don’t even really know what exactly it is that I’m doing. I’m just following my muscle memory here, guy. My body knows what it’s doing. Have a little faith, okay?

DING!

A group, who I presume are all their healers and supporters combined, come together at the front of their lines, holding their hands out towards me. What’s that? You want to hold my hands? I’m so embarrassed! But I don’t have enough hands for all of you!

DING!

Maybe the priestess first?

DING!

We go way back, you know? So I can start holding her hand. Then uh… I guess you there, elf-shaman-lady, with the big earrings, you can be next. I like your hair.

DING!

My arm arcs back as I make my mental list of the order of hand-holding to come.

DING!

Maybe after that, the monk? She’s not a supporter and she’s there in the back, but… you know… I feel my cheeks grow flush and rosy as I feel a little gigglish. Maybe… maybe I can hold the monk’s hand with one hand and the priestess’ with the other? At the same time? OOOOOH! I’m so embarrassed, guy, don’t look at me!

DING!

My eye spasms. “DON’T LOOK AT ME!” I scream, as I swing the lance out forward towards the raid of adventurers. The world flashes bright, the dungeon shakes, my body shakes, my bones, my spirit, my eyes shake, as I let out the hero’s strike, the monstrous wave of energy crashing towards them, as its back-draft of force streams back my way, pressing against my body as if it were trying to blow me back down into the darkness from which I have crawled.

But I am not going back.

I am never going back.

Not alone. Not together. Not with or for anyone. I’m so close. I’m right here. I’m right here.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"