image [https://i.imgur.com/ck7PRWe.jpg]

My legs gave way while running headlong down the slope of the meadow’s edge. I cast a pointless Rejuvenate, my only available instant-cast spell, but it did nothing for my depleted stats. When I stopped tumbling, I braced myself for a blow—perhaps the beast had dropped the log during the chase. Lying down, I could feel the ground no longer shook. I peered over the tall grass like a prairie dog, looking for signs of the trog.

The troglodyte stood at the edge of the tree line as if a Wall of Force separated us. It hurled its log, but Fatigue prevented me from avoiding it, and it smashed against me for a whopping 83 damage. The log rolled until the high grass wore down its momentum. Debuff icons for Fatigue and Dazed lit my interface.

The giant remained in place, and we stupidly stared at each other until Charitybelle and Fabulosa entered the clearing. The troglodyte only glanced their way before returning its attention to me, still making no effort to advance.

Gasping for air, my friends made their way to me as they fearfully watched the monster behind them. Fabulosa cast another Rejuvenate on me as we backed into the open space.

I leaned on my elbows, too tired to stand, while they stood protectively over me.

Between breaths, Charitybelle spoke. “Why is it stopping?”

Shaking my head, I couldn’t believe she expected an answer from the person who’d led the monster straight to the caravan. “Maybe we left its territory.”

Charitybelle turned to Fabulosa. “Hmm. I dunno. This game’s monster AI doesn’t use spawn point, wander radius, or leashing behavior. This is something else.”

Fabulosa leaned on her knees while she recovered. “Maybe it’s subterranean. Its eyes might not do well in open daylight.”

We panted and looked at one another, dubious of the explanation. The troglodyte had drawn us into clearings before—so why had it called off its attack?

When the troglodyte disappeared into the forest, I collapsed backward. We performed a Rest and Mend, and Charitybelle asked Chloe to fly the perimeter of the clearing and toward the center. Perhaps a carcass hiding in the tall grass spooked the beast. I watched the caravan, but it didn’t seem troubled. What had bothered the trog?

Charitybelle reclined on the grass and closed her eyes, using Chloe to scout for danger. She reported her findings. “This meadow looks like a crater from above, but holes and trenches gouge the surface. These holes are the same that we saw back at Hawkhurst. They’re a few yards across—some are 100 yards long.”

Fabulosa squinted and pondered the news. “Are they curved and erratic?”

Charitybelle shook her head. “No, these are pretty straight.”

Fabulosa shook her head. “Hmm. Landsharks aren’t that big, and they burrow in irregular curves.”

I considered another implausible explanation. “Maybe the trog worried about falling into a trench. If its eyes were on opposite sides of its head, doesn’t that mean poor depth perception? At ground level, these trenches are hard to see.”

Fabulosa gestured to the forest. “A whaler that tall ain’t exactly at ground level.”

Charitybelle shook her head. “Nah. Even we might cross with a running jump. The trenches aren’t deep enough to bother the trog.”

I felt in no condition to debate and gave up trying to figure out its motives. Exhaustion rendered me too tired to care. “Well then, I’m sure we’re perfectly safe here.”

After Rest and Mend cleared my debuffs, I stood and peered at the caravan in the middle of the clearing. Brodie had broken from the column and approached. Though he stood tallest among the dwarves, his head barely cleared the grass as he plodded over. He didn’t seem distressed.

Everyone rested after the close call. Charitybelle sat with eyes closed, enjoying a commercial-free broadcast of the hawkeye channel.

Fabulosa studied a tuft of grass.

“We should check up on the dwarves. I’m going to see what Brodie wants. Are you and C-Belle good?”

Fabulosa waved for me to go ahead. I didn’t get a response from Charitybelle, who cooed at whatever sights her bird revealed.

After another backward glance to ensure the troglodyte wasn’t sneaking up behind us, I stood and walked to meet Brodie halfway.

When the dwarf and I reached shouting distance, he called to me. “What do ye make of that? I’d never seen a trog dr—”

An earthquake interrupted him.

Brodie threw out his arms and performed a hula dance for balance.

The spot where Brodie stood erupted into a column of green skin as he disappeared into the maw of a gigantic worm.

Name

Ward Worm

Level

65

Difficulty

Certain Death (purple)

Health

10,500/10,500

A pillar of segmented flesh issued from the ground, looking like a tower of green tires. Its middle rings expanded and contracted around the bulge that had once been Brodie Anvilhead. The mastication left me dumbfounded. It felt more like an event than an attack.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Almost by reflex, I turned to my interface for confirmation of the horror.

/Ward Worm crits Brodie Anvilhead for 614 damage (0 resisted).

/Brodie Anvilhead dies.

In a previous life, I’d studied annelids in a biology class, but nothing I learned about their physiology prepared me to fight a monster like this. The ward worm undoubtedly hunted through vibrations. Perhaps standing still kept me safe. As if to answer the thought, double-lidded membranes in the worm’s side opened to reveal eyes the size of softballs looking straight at me.

“Why would a worm need eyes?”

The unfair universe gave no reply.

The folly of my strategy manifested in the worm’s shadow. Tagging along with Charitybelle’s plans wasn’t enough anymore—I’d waited too long to become the hero of my story. Playing out the clock in a log cabin wasn’t a way to win a battle royale.

While patience and caution had their place, this game rewarded initiative, and teaming up with NPCs jumped us ahead of the competition. The caravan carried everything we needed to establish a homestead in the heart of this mysterious continent, and I couldn’t risk losing that advantage.

My chances with the beast might improve in the forest—the troglodyte’s behavior supported this theory. Perhaps the roots slowed or stopped the creature.

Even though the noon sun shone, I turned on Presence and charged, hoping the light would repel an earth dweller.

I achieved the opposite response.

The green worm’s segments undulated, and the lump of Brodie’s mass disappeared. After swallowing, the creature renewed its breach and arched toward the ground, toward the bright thing on two legs, running toward the treeline hundreds of yards away. It moved as fast as a speeding cargo truck parallel to me.

Its sharp movement convinced me I had no hope of reaching the forest.

Misjudging the creature’s speed left me with no plan at all. To survive the next few seconds, I dodged away from the worm, but its shiny, green rings passed like an express train thundering through a station. Its front end curved toward me, and I reversed my flight.

I’d done enough fleeing to know changing course wasn’t a good sign. The worm stretched almost a quarter-mile long and curled around me until the front reached its tail like the ouroboros snake.

I ran toward the hole from which it emerged, but it cut off the escape by contracting its bulk. The encircling green wall tightened, giving me less room to maneuver. I pulled out a spear and tried to puncture its hide, but it repelled my efforts. Its surface glistened in an iridescent glare like oil in water or a seashell.

The spear wasn’t flexible, so pole vaulting over it wasn’t an option—nor did I know how to pole vault —so I dismissed the fanciful notion. I dropped the weapon and tried to leap onto the worm, but its slick, shaking surface made it impossible to climb. After trying again, I landed on my rear and rolled away to avoid it squashing me.

The ground shook so much I felt safer on all fours.

As it tightened its coil, I got a distinct impression it could have crushed me with a simple roll of its mass, but the creature must have wanted me for another meal. Its oral orifice flared out, previewing my impending doom.

That scene panicked me enough that I stood on shaking legs and staggered to the center of the contracting green rings. After remembering that players could pause the game, I pulled up the interface and mentally recited my favorite mantra—Stop, breathe, and think.

Beyond my interface, green segments moved in the background, and I ignored the deep, muffled noises they made. The world remained in motion, albeit at a crawl, giving me time to consider my position.

The sky above remained calm and sunny, almost like a promise that an escape existed. Nassi, the big green moon, the source of nature-based magic, dominated the heavens. I even spotted Tarnen, the dark moon. But their phase, altitude, or azimuth offered no answers.

I turned my attention to the interface and read my potential powers one by one. Compression Sphere might launch me past the creature’s bite radius, but the worm would catch me on its second attempt. If I landed on its back, I’d probably slide off—or a simple roll would crush me. It wasn’t an animal, so I couldn’t commune with it. I fell short of any combat benchmark.

The trees offered shelter, but I couldn’t outrun this leviathan.

How could I survive a ward worm? I’d never heard of a ward worm before. The library contained no reference to anything like this in its fables, bestiaries, and monster manuals. Could the “ward” in its name be a clue? Wards were a type of rune in other games, but I didn’t see how knowing its magical nature could help. Even if I cast Detect Magic, what good would it do if the whole thing glowed? My list of potential powers offered no solution, and I didn’t see how spending a point on a new spell or ability could save me.

Available Spells

Tier 1

Acid Splash, Animal Communion, Bless, Dim, Faerie Flames, Featherfall, Ice Bolt, Imbue Weapon, Just Strike, Light, Lightning Bolt, Mana Shield, Move Object, Purify Water, Summon Swarm, Tangling Roots, Vegetable Empathy

Tier 2

Counterspell, Fireball

Tier 4

Rally

Power Points

1

With a modest mana pool, Mana Shield wouldn’t buy me an extra second of life. Featherfall provided no means of escape in a bowl-shaped meadow. I mulled over spell and combat abilities, but nothing in their descriptions seemed practical.

I considered my magic rope. Could I unwrap the cord from my waist and shimmy up it in time to save my skin? I doubted it. Judging by the vector of the worm’s head, it looked to be only seconds away from eating me, and it would take that much time to unwind the rope, leaving no time to climb. Even if I reached safety, where would that leave the caravan, Charitybelle, and Fabulosa? They stood far away, but the worm could overtake them before they reached the forest. And anyone reaching the tree line might fall into the troglodyte’s grasp.

Was this how I would lose The Great RPG Contest? I could have taken every precaution, made every preparation, and calculated every plausible danger, but none of it made a difference against this enemy.

This creature wasn’t just an opponent—it was a deity or force of nature. The green worm rose four stories high and poised itself to strike. The standoff felt like reaching the apex of a roller coaster—a moment of apprehension, terror, and clarity.

I had seconds before the vermicular mouth engulfed me.

After scrutinizing my inventory, I spotted two items of salvation. After equipping them, I dropped my interface. For my first action, I downed the potion of invulnerability that I’d taken from the cacowight, Adrian the Lame.

Sunlight disappeared as the creature swallowed me, but I could still see with Presence active. My skin’s radiance illuminated the surrounding digestive tract, which pushed me further into its gullet.

The potion’s immunity provided ten seconds of life. After instant-casting Rejuvenate on myself, I began my next spell, shouting incantations as the ward worm’s stomach acid sizzled me to no effect. Six seconds later, I finished casting Scorch, igniting the bundle of dynamite I’d taken from the goblin mine.

With four seconds of invulnerability left, an explosion of g-force flung me sideways. Riding a shockwave across the meadow at Mach 3, I streaked over the dwarves, leaving a trail of golden sparkles from Rejuvenate. The base of a tree served as the tarmac for my nonstop flight, and I smashed into it with less than a second left of invulnerability.

/Dynamite crits Ward Worm for 24,512 damage (0 resisted).

/Ward Worm dies.

/You received 773 experience points.

Congratulations!

You are level 16

You have gained 5 levels. You have increased your stamina by 3, intelligence by 4, strength by 2, agility by 3, and willpower by 3. You have received 5 power points. You have 1,705/1,830 experience points toward level 17.

I soloed what might have been a world boss. While the game supported no global announcements, part of me wanted it to crow about the ward worm’s death in the event log.

Seeing the pulverized tree made me shudder, and I silently thanked the potion of invulnerability.

The Book of Dungeons had its highs.