As I neared the village, the vivid colors of the setting sun had already faded, replaced by the gentle blue blanket of night. My journey, filled with unforeseen challenges, had wearied me. Exhaustion seeped into every muscle, my previous adrenaline-fueled energy waning.
The muted radiance of lanterns led me to the inviting facade of the Drunken Drake Inn. Its quaint allure was a heartening sight, hinting at a well-deserved rest after such a taxing day. Without any delay, I stepped inside, securing a room for myself. The moment my head met the pillow, sleep tried to claim me but, I had ability points to distribute. Taking a breath, I directed my intention at the HUD and dumped my points into the attributes. Immediately, I felt a stark transformation grip me.
My muscles didn’t just grow—they erupted. Every movement hinted at a power that was borderline seismic. A casual flick of the wrist felt like it could generate a gust, and a punch. It'd be like a freight train.
With the boost in dexterity, the world didn’t seem faster, I was. My hands moved with precision, catching falling leaves in mid-air effortlessly, feet dancing over uneven terrain like it was flat ground. It was as if the world had shifted into a lower gear, and I was the one setting the pace.
Constitution changes were more profound than visible. Breathing felt deeper, every lungful of air rich and fulfilling. I felt heavier, but not cumbersome—more like I'd become a living anchor, unyielding and grounded.
Mentally, the changes were borderline overwhelming. My intelligence shot up, making connections in a flash. Problems that once stumped me were now child’s play, and strategies formed in seconds. It was the sort of clarity a general would kill for on a battlefield.
The wisdom wasn’t the kind you'd get from reading a book. It was the sort of deep-rooted understanding that most spend their life chasing. I could almost feel the weight of countless experiences, guiding me, cautioning me.
Lastly, charisma. There wasn’t a mirror nearby, but there didn’t need to be. I could feel the shift, a gravitas in my stance. The sort of presence that demands respect—not from arrogance, but from undeniable competence.
Adjusting to this new self, it was clear: I had ascended to a tier most only dream of. Now, I was a real threat. Thank god I took a class with so many ability points per level. Was there a god in this new world? I would have to put that one under stuff to talk to Korrok about when I’m done in the zone. With my points spent and feeling like a brand new, super-being I was ready to enter the coliseum.
The sun was still climbing the sky when I set foot onto the grand stretch of the coliseum. Its early rays, infusing everything with a golden radiance, illuminated the battleground. I felt the warmth from each stone beneath my boots, a tangible reminder of the world outside this imminent clash.
Before me stood the imposing figure of the Firedrake Patriarch, his shadow stretching out across the stone. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, not out of fear but a heady mix of anticipation and recognition of the audacious falsehood I had woven.
Inhaling deeply, I began my rehearsed speech, hoping it would be my key to redemption. "The task you set before me is done," I proclaimed, letting each word reverberate across the vastness of the coliseum, their echoes filling the hush that had descended. "The Prince...he walks this world no more."
The ancient gaze of the Patriarch met mine, eyes that seemed to have witnessed eons of time. Beneath that stare, a chill ran down my spine. Not a hint of gratification or relief marked those eyes. Instead, they held a glint of doubt, an unspoken question lingering in their depths.
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"And yet," the Patriarch's voice rumbled, echoing like thunder, "your aura remains unsullied. I smell no ash, no trace of a fiery fury. There's no scent of burnt flesh on you, no faint hint of death." His penetrating gaze held me captive, and doubt began to gnaw at me. Nevertheless, I squared my shoulders, determined not to show any sign of deception. My fingers, toughened by many battles, instinctively grasped the hilt of my Inferno’s Fang. The familiar weight of the weapon was a grounding presence amidst the overwhelming pressure I felt.
But just as I was regaining my composure, the Firedrake Patriarch lunged with an astonishing speed. His immense form cut through the quiet morning like a blazing meteor, distorting reality as he charged. Facing this behemoth, I was acutely aware of the peril I was in. Every movement of the dragon was cataclysmic, his every breath signaling impending doom. Within moments, the sheer might of the Patriarch threatened to overpower me, beckoning me towards a fiery demise. Even with my new found strength and dexterity I felt like I was no match, he was a lesser form of dragon after all.
However, when all seemed bleak, a voice echoed from the depths of my consciousness. It stemmed from my inventory, where the miniature figure had been silently observing. The Mini Obsidian Golem, a scaled-down version of its mighty counterparts, was eager to join the fray, to fight beside me against this draconic menace.
The Golem's call was infused with a cold, stony determination, starkly contrasting the fire of its opponent. I was well aware of the capabilities of its larger kin. Carved from obsidian, as ancient and enduring as the earth itself, the regular Obsidian Golems were paragons of resilience and power. Their nearly impenetrable defenses and unmatched endurance made them formidable warriors. Not only were they defensively sound, but their forceful blows could break even the toughest defenses, and their capacity to launch obsidian shards ensured they were a threat from any distance. Their very steps could cause the ground to quake, unbalancing foes.
While the Mini Golem didn't have the full strength and size of its larger brethren, it was far from insignificant. Smaller, but quicker and more agile, its strength was concentrated in a compact form. Its skin of obsidian was still tough, its punches still formidable, and its resilience a smaller mirror of its bigger counterparts. The Mini Golem's form was unchangeable, unaffected by spells or magical effects. It resisted various types of damage, and its body could even summon a shield of obsidian shards to fend off incoming attacks.
Heeding the Golem's plea, I called it to my side, forming an unlikely pair on the battlefield. The small but sturdy figure stood as a solid barrier, a defensive line between me and the draconic storm. Together, we faced the Patriarch, two stubborn shadows set against a background of blazing flames and billowing smoke.
The Golem, undaunted by the Patriarch's firestorm, charged ahead, its small body surprising the dragon with its speed and force. Its obsidian fists struck with careful, calculated ferocity, drawing the dragon's attention. Meanwhile, I seized the brief distraction to move, each step a blend of evasion and assault, my Inferno's Fang trailing glowing paths in the dim, smoky air.
Yet even with the Mini Golem's help, the Patriarch remained a daunting foe. Our coordinated strikes hardly scratched his scaly skin, his counterattacks keeping us mostly on the defense. But still, we battled on, man and Golem, against the overwhelming might of the Firedrake Patriarch. Our fight was a breathtaking display of fire and rock, of bravery and desperation, a life-and-death struggle in the coliseum's heart.
Facing the towering beast that was the Firedrake Patriarch, an ember of unyielding determination ignited within me. It surged into a wild, roaring blaze that mirrored the brilliant glow of the Patriarch's fire. “Fork this, YOLO!” I yelled, my voice tinged with both desperation and resolve. My words were daring, even absurd, and I found myself laughing through the tension. I vowed that if I survived this, I would find some more heroic battle cries.
The Patriarch, a timeless creature with blood like fire, sensed the foolhardy bravery behind my charge. His retort was a booming, “I tire of this!” As the last echo of his words rang off the coliseum's towering walls, he unleashed a torrent of burning flame. It was a literal firestorm, its deadly heat turning the air into a glowing furnace.
The Mini Golem and I barely escaped the full force of the assault, our nimble bodies twisting and turning to dodge the flames as best as we could. But the dragon's fury was too far-reaching, too devastating to completely avoid. The heat scorched us, leaving us partly burnt, our strengths tested to the limit by the relentless attack.