Chapter 31

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[Floor 4 – Day 1]

[Total Days in Trial: 117]

There was almost no noise to announce the danger. Unlike the Goblins, there wasn't any screeching or howling. Instead, the attack came for us in almost total silence.

From a hundred paces away, I thought it almost resembled a flamethrower. Like one of those old videos, back from the time of world war two. Scorching flame pitched outwards from the tunnel in a narrow stream of flashing heat, and that line of fire arced ever so slightly as it crossed the distance towards us. Beneath it, I saw stray drops of molten slag trailing along as they hit the sand, bursting with puffs of heat as the line of flame began to correct its trajectory.

I ran.

Constitution might make me a little tougher, but I knew that there was no way in hell I was fire proof. I was not about to let myself be burned alive.

In an almost blind panic, I felt sand kick up behind me, as I scambled to make my escape. With my improved reaction time, it seemed that Dexterity was my savior. The old-me would have been stuck in place, but as I was, my body found itself in motion far quicker than it had any right to be. I had just enough speed to both pick a direction and try to outrun what was coming.

Without a real rationale, I found myself making to make a spint for the left. I headed off at a dead-sprint, splitting away from the group. As I did, I noticed that almost everyone else seemed to still be fixed in place. Much like deer in headlights, I saw my fellow gladiators were freezing up as they stared in confusion. I could almost hear the thoughts, rattling around in their minds.

"Fire? Why would there be fire?" Or, something like that. As their minds were likely just coming full circle, recognizing the threat, but not sure what to do about it: Their bodies weren't yet in motion.

It was already much too late.

"The shield wall had a good run." I thought, in a disconnected sort of way. My mind's method of taking the edge off the horrible sight, perhaps. Even as I ran I couldn't take my eyes away from what was unfolding.

The shadows in the tunnel were peeled back with the ghastly illumination, of orange and yellow. There, scales glowed in the heat of the flames. Confirmation of what I'd already suspected: What lurked there displaying long rows of sharp teeth, as the fire reached out for its targets.

Splashing down just short of the cluster of men, the burning impact scattered in all directions before correcting. I watched the torrent of fire lift to adjust its angle. The long line of burning flame moved like a lazy whip as it sighted in its aim. With that, the flames lifted closer, before finally connecting with the waiting defense of shields and flesh.

The impact was almost explosive, as people flew into motion.

The shields blocked the stream well, but it was not to their benefit. The fire was spraying in all directions, and the hazard this made was far worse. Like hot oil, it stuck and spread to whatever it came into contact with. As the shield wall was engulfed, it coated everyone. Some men, better men, tried to withstand it. They became engulfed in flames as they tried to protect their fellows. Others, tried to run. In an effort to get away, they attempted to abandon their defenses. Those men dropped their shields, or ripped away their clothing, rolling in the sand, screaming in pain as they swatted at the burns. Some of the injured men had simply tried to limp away. With no defense at all, they didn't get far. As the spray of approaching fire swept side to side, it filled in where it might have missed.

In seconds, our greatest chance of survival in the arena had been wiped out. At least five people were already dead or well on their way towards dying, and the rest of us were thrown into disarray.

"SPREAD OUT!" Someone shouted. I wasn't sure who. "SPREAD OUT!"

As if the obvious really needed to be said, though. Everyone left, was already doing just that. Urged on by the dying screams of men being burned alive, there was plenty motivation to run. Even more, as the monster swiftly made for the center of the arena.

Leaving the shadows of the tunnel, the creature launched forward. For a second, I even feared it had decided to chase me, for it moved rapidly, twisting its body to launch across the sand. The chain around its neck, dragged along, whipping up dirt and corpses. Dead Goblins were ripped in half, as heavy talons tore straight for the center of the arena. All while the metal links of that chain, swept like a heavy whip, snapping onto itself with terrific force.

Then, the creature pounced. Back legs and claws smashed down, as it dived onto a screaming figure. Thick teeth and jaws, still dripping fire, began crunching down on the unfortunate soul. It seemed entirely mindless of the flames present, as it ripped the man to shreds, swallowing the pieces in quick thrashes of its head, swinging back to choke the meat down its gullet.

As I stopped, back slammed into the edge of the Arena walls, I felt my heart slamming against my ribs. Even from a distance it seemed that Lesser Analysis was willing to fill me in what I already knew.

[Lesser Analysis] [WOUNDED DRAKE]

A Drake.

The [Trial] had warned me, in its own way. I should have known something like this was coming for me sooner or later. The 3rd Floor's optional Quests hadn't just been for show.

As for the Drake... Imagine a dinosaur. Something big, quick, and mobile: A velociraptor, perhaps.

Now, scale it in size. Twenty, no: twenty-five feet long. With powerful back legs, a long tail of sharp scales, and wings. Those should have been massive, from the pictures I'd seen of Drakes before. They were creatures lesser to Dragons, but they were still highly dangerous. In the photos their wings reminded me of bats, as they followed a similar pattern of joints, acting also as front limbs. In the images I'd seen, those were colorful and scaled, but in this particular case they were empty. Clipped, or burned away: The muscles and bone were all there, but the wings themselves were gone. All that was left were long arms that were no longer capable of flight, but still host to several wickedly sharp claws.

So, at least it couldn't fly. I noted that fact with a positive spin.

"Ahhhhhhhgggggg." Screamed the men on fire. The ones who hadn't been eaten alive, yet. They must have been starving the creature, because it was tearing into them with a savage hunger.

We were all completely fucked, I decided.

The thing was just a monster. Not an Orc, or a Goblin, where it seemed plausible that normal people might actually be able to kill one. The Drake was just beyond what humans with sharp sticks and metal could deal with.

This was how I was going to die. In front of an audience, I was going to be roasted, and eaten, likely alive. It was going to be horrible and painful, and humiliating. Any hope I'd been holding onto was leaving. Any thought of getting to the next Floor, seemed to be escaping.

And then, someone stabbed the Drake with a sword.

My negative thinking stalled out. Mostly, at just the sheer audacity of it. My thoughts pressed pause.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Just who in their right mind... Running up and stabbing a creature like that with a rusty sword... How the...

I suppose the man who stabbed the creature might have been thinking much the same thing as me. Because I watched as he stood there, clearly dumbfounded that it had worked. His hands were still holding onto a sword that was now effectively wedged into the back leg of a hungry Drake, that towered many times above him. Relative in size, his weapon might as well have been a toothpick. We all looked at the scene in awe. The men trapped in the arena stared. The audience seemed to hush, as thousands looked down at the pitiful fool. The tall, skinny, beanpole of a man holding a rusted sword.

The Drake stopped eating then, dropping what was left of a someone's lower half to splatter to the ground. Slowly, its long neck swung about, inspecting what had caused it mild discomfort. It looked down at the man, jaws working what remained of entrails free from its teeth.

And then, I shit you not: The man stabbed it again.

I winced, as yanking his blade free, he plunged the weapon back into the creature's upper thigh. He really plunged the blade deep, all the way to the guard.

This time, the sword must have done something, because the Drake let out a piercing cry that made me shudder. I watched in horror as it tried to snap at the man, violently twisting back in an effort to cleave the man in half between sharp, bloody, teeth. But the man was now clinging onto the handle of his weapon for dear life. Stabbed deep into the creature's haunches, the Drake couldn't quite reach him, and instead swung him about. Like a dog, violently chasing its tail: He was just out of reach.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Another man charged in, driving another sword into the creature's ribs. This man, was far less fortunate. One of the clipped wings slashed out in reflex, and disemboweled him almost immediately. He crumpled in a heap.

But it was enough.

I couldn't be sure if it was bravery, or just madness. Perhaps, with nothing to lose, the slightest chance of victory had give them hope. Enough hope, that it had thrown them into action.

The battle was on.

Someone threw an ax. Rotating in a high arc, it smacked down against the Drake's back, sticking in deep. Another man pitched a broken piece of spear, likely one of mine recovered from the dead Goblins. The spear harmlessly bounced of the scales, but it came close to the Drake's eye, making it flinch.

As these long-range attacks happened, two more men rushed in with swords. They'd been waiting for a chance, it seemed, and they were seizing one as the creature was distracted. Retrieving shields from the fallen, they moved in carefully, aiming for the creature's backside. From what I could tell, they seemed to be trying to find their chance to strike at the beast's tail or legs. Perhaps, they were hoping to ruin the Drake's sense of mobility.

Suddenly under pressure of mounting threats, the Drake no longer seemed nearly so sure of itself. Spinning about, unable to get the beanpole man to release his weapon, it let out an angry hiss before turning on the two approaching with shields. Lunging in, it earned a light cut on its snout from a sword swing, which forced it to snap back without a kill.

Hissing in anger, it let flames boil out from between its teeth, preparing to spit another ranged attack. Yet, as it did, the men who had been throwing weapons from a distance, seemed to be finding their stride. Having rushed to grab all the weapons they could, two men were handing them off to the ax thrower. With a strong arm, the man was throwing them all as quickly as he could, and they whipped through the air in rapid succession. Swords and axes, a broken spear, a dagger. While some bounced off the Drake's scales, doing nothing, a few seemed to be catching in the creature's torso. Each one made the Drake turn about in pain, trying to swat at the weapons sticking from its scales.

The Drake seemed torn in what it needed to do. While it wasn't entirely intelligent, it was a predator, and didn't seem to be used to prey fighting back so aggressively, or working together so well. It angrily attempted to snap at the man hanging off a sword in its backside, then turned about to snap of weapons coming at it from the air. Then, abandoned its efforts at both, it appeared to make up its mind, and returned to lunging for one of the men trying to cut its tail.

Instead of trying to bite and earn itself another cut, it hissed in rage and threw open its mouth. There, the liquid flame it had been holding onto, gurgled forth in an unorganized spew that filled the air before it with burning death. One of the men managed to roll away, as the other died screaming. He was coated head to toe, and he boiled as much as he burned.

It was oil, I decided. The creature must have a pouch of oil in its throat that it could put under pressure. That was how it spit the flames, and why it stuck to everything.

And people were still trying to fight the fucking thing. The giant lizard that could breathe fire.

They were all insane, I decided. They were insane. This was impossible. We barely had a handful of people alive, and they were honestly going for it. And I was too, I realized. My legs were moving and my arm was rearing back to throw.

They were insane.

I was insane.

There was no way we could do this.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The shout lofted about the battle, as from the flaming wreckage: burning flesh rose. And in its hands, was a club. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Dzamil roared like a lion, as he stood and swung his weapon down. Striking hard on the creature's neck, his iron studded club made contact.

Something resonated.

For the slightest fraction of a second, I felt it. Mana, but not a spell, and not a Miracle. It lit like a spark, before igniting into a sudden impact that was similar to a gunshot. Or, maybe a small bomb, considering the explosive force that ripped out across the bloody sand. It scattered away in a wide circle as the weapon snapped in a way that made me flinch. The sound made the audience hush, and made the Drake stumble back with pain.

I stopped short of my throw, as my jaw dropped.

That man had hit the drake so hard that his weapon shattered. More than shattered, the club had burst into splinters. I didn't even know such a thing was possible. For a heavy club to just shatter into splinters... I honestly couldn't fathom it, but my eyes didn't decieve me. He had hit the Drake hard.

And it had done something.

The creature's fire breathing had stopped short. Its body weight had shifted, head bobbing as its jaw opened and closed as if flexing in pain. It seemed so stunned, it couldn't stop the thin man who had escaped it earlier, as he leapt from his sword to another weapon now sticking out of the creature's side. Ripping it free, he scambled up higher.

"DIE!" Climbing atop the Drake, the skinny man shouted a battle cry as he began stabbing into it, wildly. "DIE!"

Blood splattered to the sand as he hacked away, and I felt hope rising. We were seriously giving this thing a run for its money. The survivor from the last breath attack, rushed in and began hacking at the creature's tail, and the others who had been hanging back also charged. They moved quick, trying to impale the creature with any weapon they could find.

I found my resolve as I began moving forward again. Bringing my arm back, I closed the distance further as I made to launch my spear as hard as I could. I let all my Strength come forward, as I pitched my entire body into the motion. My legs, my back, my arms: all 18 Strength channeled into a single motion that left me stumbling.

But the spear flew true.

Like an oversized arrow, loosed from a bow of flesh: I watched it sink into the Drake's side. Beneath the wing, below the shoulder, it struck. It struck deep.

The Drake screamed, flailing in pain.

Thrashing as it was, the thin man went flying as it bucked him free. He landed hard, rolling to a stop where I assumed he was either knocked unconscious, or dead. Continuing its wild panic, the Drake's tail swept wide, smashing into Dzamil. The large man tried to block, but the hit took him clear off his feet and off into the sand.

The others did their best to jump back. I saw the man who had thrown the axe manage to dodge the tail, but then was caught by the chain on the creature's neck. The metal links were also being whipped about, and they were far quicker. With a shout of pain, he was thrown down with at least one broken leg at the knee, as it smacked his lower body out from under him. The others next to him were hardly luckier: One of them had managed to jump, but landed poorly. The other had been killed outright.

I had hoped my spear might be a fatal blow, but if it was, it wasn't nearly quick enough. As the Drake rolled up, it bellowed another burst of flame, enveloping the man cutting at its tail. Though the flames died barely a second into the attack, not nearly as potent as the previous attacks, the man still lost his shield, rolling to the dirt as he yelled in pain at the fires coating his arms.

In an instant, I was the only one left standing.

"Fuck." I took a deep breath. "Oh fuck."

I tried to get a count. Ax-man was down, clutching his leg in pain. He wasn't going to be getting back up. Thin-man was either dead, or might as well be. He seemed to be down for the count. The stocky man who had been attacking the tail, was still alive, but wounded and now the center of the Drake's attention. The other weapon thrower who survived was getting back on their feet now, but looked to be limping. And Dzamil...

I took another deep breath. The gears were turning in my head as I turned towards the disgraced Captain. The large man was still among the living. Covered in burns, clutching his ribs, he'd found a sword and was somehow rising back on his feet from where he'd landed. But he looked more dead than alive.

An idea was forming.

I let the air out of my lungs, as I finally felt everything fall into place. The familiar feeling of mana waited. At last, the Miracle flared in my chest, giving me the signal it was ready for me to use. It was finally prepared, ready for me to wipe away all the pain and injuries I'd accumulated.

I didn't let it. Instead, I held it in place.

Oh... this was a terrible idea, I couldn't deny that. In fact, it was the worst. Absolutely, by far, the worst idea I'd ever had. It was a hail-mary of hail-marys. But with nothing left to lose?

I looked at the Drake. It was still flailing in pain, but the creature was starting to calm down. Already, it was trying to approach the wounded man it had burned, slinking towards him as he retreated. I could see its jaws working, dripping fire and blood. I could see its eyes were filled with rage.

If I waited any longer, if I hesitated any longer: I knew I wasn't going to get another chance at this.

I began to run. From where I was starting from, I had a lot of distance to cover and I had to be quick. I let the Strength and Dexterity carry me forward. I let my muscles scream as I pushed them to the limits. I pushed them as hard as they could go, as fast as my legs could carry me, and I rushed towards my target.

Not for the Drake, but for the Captain.