Chapter 77: Showtime

With an unmistakable sense of urgency, Donovan and Zephyr shouted out orders to the nearly two-dozen adventurers that were currently spread out evenly in a wide arc near the top of a rolling, rock- and grass-covered hill. Amazed, Zach observed as they repeatedly made tiny, yet meaningful changes to their formation, constantly repositioning their healers and spellcasters in response to micro shifts in the dragon’s trajectory. All on its own, their ability to do this was impressive, but it became even more remarkable when considering the way that they made these adjustments with such seamless fluidity. It really spoke volumes about the difference in experience between them and Zach. Just by observation alone, it was possible to tell that these were men and women who had fought large monsters before and had lived to learn from it.

But they’ve probably never been against anything as bad as Ziragoth, Zach thought with an anxious gulp.

Not only were the adventurers taking things very, very seriously, but they were doing so despite the fact that none of their effort was likely going to even matter, as Olivir incredibly continued to insist that he and Grundor had everything under control and did not need them to risk their lives by getting involved. Zach did not know why he found this so shocking, as Olivir had been saying all along that he would be able to put the dragon to sleep without the assistance of the adventurers. But only now, with the time for action upon them, did it really start to sink in that this wasn’t just some idle brag of his: he clearly meant it. Unless this was some kind of sick joke, Olivir was quite literally intent on handling the dragon all by himself—well, with the exception of Grundor, of course. Regardless, Donovan and Zephyr continued to lead the GSG members with every bit the intensity and rigor of people fully expecting to partake in combat. He did not seem to be treating this situation like one in which he’d have the luxury of sitting things out. Zach had to assume that this was for the best, as it meant they would be prepared for anything.

“You guys really don’t need to stress yourselves,” Olivir said to them. “In the grand scheme of things, what I’m about to do is relatively simple.”

“Simple things go wrong all the time,” Donovan replied.

Olivir winked at him. “Only if we let ‘em.”

Donovan released a loud, boisterous laugh and gave Olivir a hefty pat on the back. Zach winced, having himself been on the receiving end of one of those. To Olivir, who had only a single point into constitution, the “friendly gesture” must have felt like someone had just broken a brick over his back. Somehow, however, he kept a perfectly straight face and did not let any of the pain show on it; the only thing Zach could spot in his vampire friend’s eyes was determination and self-assurance.

This just doesn’t feel right to me, Zach thought.

Despite Olivir’s incredible confidence, Zach was feeling more apprehensive by the second. Chalk it up to pessimism or just downright negativity, but he couldn’t seem to quiet the alarm bells that were going off in the back of his head at the thought of Olivir doing this without support. Even as he reminded himself that Olivir was two hundred years old and had likely developed a fairly good sense of how things would play out, Zach nevertheless had a creeping, nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that things wouldn’t be as easy as he was suggesting they’d be.

Donovan also appeared to be wholly unconvinced, because with a grunt, he asked, “Are you a hundred-percent sure that you and that big boy with you can handle this all on your own?”

Olivir nodded, and there was no doubt or hesitation in his eyes. “Ziragoth in its current state isn’t what frightens me. It’s what the boss is gonna become when it gets to half health that has me wanting to flee to another planet. But…for right now? I’m not worried, and none of you should be, either. Right, Grund?”

“You said it, master!” replied the green-haired, tank-top wearing zombie. He began to flex his muscles and strike various poses for the amused adventurers, who reacted in kind and fed off his energy. They began cheering him on, and Grundor, for his part, was soaking up the attention and basking in it. “Look at my biceps,” he said, kissing them. “Bet you’ve never seen a zombie this ripped before, huh?”

Having gotten over their initial fascination at seeing a fully sentient NPC that wasn’t named Angelica, the adventurers had very quickly taken a liking to Grundor: as in, they really, really liked the zombie. Yet, however strange, Grundor’s sudden popularity was not actually all that unexpected when taking into account the temperament and nature of adventurers. Despite still being relatively new to this “community,” Zach had already met enough adventurers to know that a self-aware, level-73 zombie who enjoyed energy drinks, bodybuilding, and collecting sports cards was exactly the kind of icon that the average adventure would naturally want to rally around.

I don’t want to see either of them get hurt. I just really don’t think this is a good idea…

As Donovan, Olivir, Zephyr, and all the rest of the adventurers including Mr. Oren and Fluffles continued to shift their positioning at the top of the nearest hill, Zach remained just a tiny bit behind them with Kalana by his side. The two of them were holding hands, and then both of them mutually squeezed one another as the dragon, now having entered into aggro range, released a blood-curdling screech that was somehow even louder and more aggressive than any that had come before it.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The tremendous, ground-rattling roars caused the world to shake as a nervous, frenetic energy filled the air. It was a mixture of both stress and excitement. Having been so terribly butchered by Ziragoth, Zach found himself once more struggling to locate his courage, but thankfully, with Kalana by his side, it was becoming easier and easier to find.

“Don’t be afraid of it,” Kalana said to him. “You can’t let that thing rule your life.”

“I know.”

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Zach gritted his teeth each time the dragon released its mighty cry, which caused an earthquake-like shifting of the grass-covered soil beneath his feet. Then he watched as Ziragoth began to flap its massive wings, creating an audible thwap in the air as it lifted off, rapidly gaining altitude before soaring forward at a speed faster than a jet. Despite being slightly more than fourteen miles away, the dragon would take no time at all in crossing the distance between them. In less than a minute, Zach would be personally within Ziragoth’s attack range. Once again, he would have to stand boldly in the face of a monstrous creature of such vast power. But, if nothing else, then at least this time he wouldn’t be all alone. It was hard to believe that he’d actually gone toe-to-toe with this horrific thing for a minute and forty-two seconds. What had he been thinking? How in the name of the Gods had he survived that?

Never doing that again, he thought ruefully.

“Kolona, now’s the time,” Olivir said. Then, clearing his throat, he spoke loudly enough so that all the members of GSG could hear him. “If any of you have the stamina to spare any buffs, please throw them on Grundor.”

They certainly did.

Almost immediately after Olivir had made his request, the area around Grundor lit up with so many different colors and sights that it became impossible to distinguish any one of them from any other. Kolona, along with at least six adventurers, all began to buff the zombie, giving him any number of stat and effect boosts. Using just basic common sense, Zach took this to mean that Olivir’s plan was to have Grundor rush in and tank the dragon while he prepared his monthly ability that would put it to sleep. It was simple and straightforward. Yet, as Ziragoth raced across the sky, Zach could not shake the overwhelming fear that Olivir was making a tremendous error in judgement. It was just difficult to question him given that he had over two-hundred years of experience and Zach hadn’t yet had eighteen. Eventually, though, he decided that keeping his mouth shut would do more harm than good. He needed to voice his concerns, and this would be the final chance he’d have to do so.

“Olivir, why’re you so sure that whatever you’re going to do will work?” Zach called to him.

If Olivir took any offense at all to being questioned, he did not show it. If anything, he seemed all-too happy to respond. “Mobs are mobs,” he said. “Grundor has an incredibly powerful taunt, and he’s definitely capable of tanking the dragon. I’ve done this kind of thing enough times to know how it’ll go. Even bosses have a certain level of predictability.”

“Even sentient ones?” Zach asked.

“Sentient? What do you mean by that?”

For some reason, Donovan and Mr. Oren spun around to look at Zach, and there was deep worry and confusion in their eyes. Mr. Oren had once again taken out the document on Ziragoth and was flipping through it while shaking his head. Yet for as confused as the two appeared, no one was more perplexed than Zach himself.

“Wait, am I mistaken? Isn’t Ziragoth sentient?”

“Where’re you getting that from, kiddo?” Donovan asked him. “Alex, anything in the file about that?”

“Nothing I can see,” Mr. Oren said. “Not sure why Zach is saying that.”

“Well, maybe ‘sentient’ is the wrong word. I meant that Ziragoth has real animal intelligence, like on par with a bear or a lion. Something different from a mob.”

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Oren asked him. “Based on what?”

It only then occurred to Zach that this was entirely his own assumption that he’d somehow just taken for truth. And now, embarrassed, he’d have to explain that to all these highly respected, elite adventurers from the GSG. “Sorry. It’s just the sense I got when I fought him and looked into his eyes.”

Mr. Oren and Donovan’s gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer, and then without even bothering to say another word, they, along with Olivir and the rest of the adventurers, again spun around and resumed whatever they were doing before as though in total dismissal of his suggestion. Zach didn’t blame them, either, as he likely had no idea what he was talking about. In fact, he really felt like a huge fucking idiot right now: like a complete, pants-on-face moron.

How stupid did I just sound? he wondered. Saying the mob is sentient just because I looked into its eyes. Like that means anything. Gods damn it, I just humiliated myself so badly.

At the very least, Zach did not suffer long with a feeling of shame, as Ziragoth, still dashing across the sky, was just about fully upon them. Now, all of his emotions transitioned into concern but also hope and trust in Olivir. He felt nothing but pure admiration for his vampire friend as Olivir and Grundor, side by side, began walking forward to meet the dragon, distancing themselves from all the others. A moment before Ziragoth soared directly over his head, Olivir lifted his left hand high above his shoulders, and Zach watched as a black, shimmering ball of energy formed in the palm of his hand, one that seemed to stretch, shrink, squeeze, and rapidly assume various different basic shapes as though unstable.

With a grunt that Zach could hear even from where he stood with Kalana, Olivir bent forward and threw his arm in front of himself, causing this dark, rapidly shifting energy to shoot ahead and upwards at a speed even greater than that which Ziragoth was currently traveling. Zach held his breath as it collided with the wyvern midair, and to Zach’s surprise, Ziragoth released a hiss of pain as it detonated, covering the entire dragon in a thick patch of black, toxic-looking smoke and dealing 33,900 damage, a number so high that gasps of awe and disbelief came from Mr. Oren, Spider, and even Donovan.

Ziragoth reacted to this affront with an immediacy that would almost be impressive if it didn’t come from such a wicked, horrible creature. In almost the precise moment it suffered the damage, it extended both its massive, spike-and-scale-covered wings, and came to an abrupt halt. Having been moving at such a tremendous speed, this caused a gigantic gust of wind with the force of a hurricane to blast into them all. Zach’s tunic began flapping around his body, and his phone nearly flew out of his pocket.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ziragoth sounded angry. Zach was perfectly familiar with that sound. It had been the same cry the dragon had made when he’d jumped from rooftop to rooftop, frustrating it—or rather making it appear frustrated. Zach wasn’t sure why he kept anthropomorphizing the creature. For some reason, even after making a fool of himself, he could not stop visualizing Ziragoth as an animal-like entity with real, animal-like thoughts and feelings. Whatever the case, it hardly mattered, because at least for the moment, it was behaving like a mob.

Now that it had come to a stop midair, it turned its body, angling itself downwards, and then it launched itself at a nose-dive into the ground. The resulting boom looked like a bomb dropped from orbit, creating a gigantic explosion of dust, dirt, grass, and rocks that blasted so high above the dragon that it wouldn’t surprise Zach if a fair amount of it eventually rained down on the camp three miles southeast of here.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Olivir was now standing calmly with his hands at his sides as the dragon, less than twenty feet in front of him, began to walk in his direction, its eyes burning with what to Zach looked an awful lot like hatred regardless of whether or not he was just being an idiot. In this moment, he did not envy Olivir. He too had found himself in front of Ziragoth under similar conditions. He began to pant as the memory fully hit him—then stopped immediately as Kalana wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

Opening his mouth widely, Ziragoth, now fully aggroed to Olivir, released a gigantic ball of flame that ripped across the grasslands, detonating everything beneath it as it traveled to the vampire. Zach gasped. This was not supposed to be how things went down. Grundor was supposed to be tanking! What was Olivir doing? Why was he remaining right where he was? Why wasn’t he running? He appeared calm and undeterred.

Zach quickly discovered why.

Although he could not see Olivir’s face from this angle, he could almost imagine the grin his friend wore as he extended his hands widely to both sides of himself, spread his feet so that they were a fair width apart, and then swung his arms back around in the opposite direction. Then came another rumble of the ground, but this time, it was Olivir who caused it. A moment before the fireball incinerated him, a gigantic hand burst up from the grassy soil mere inches in front of Olivir. But unlike the gigantic one that he’d summoned against the Elvish scouts, this one did not appear ghostly or like an apparition; no, this appendage was gray, slimy, discolored, and looked decayed. It was like the corpse of a giant had been reanimated, only instead of the entire body returning to life, only the hand emerged from its resting place.

More gasps and even a great many cheers came from the awestruck adventurers as this summoned hand, which was about as large as an elevator door, outright “caught” the ball of flame—and somehow, it did so without detonating it. Then, Olivir gestured by thrusting his palm forward, and with that, the hand made a flinging motion, and now Zach, too, let out a cheer as the fireball burned back across the grasslands in the direction it had come from and slammed right into Ziragoth’s face, dealing a simply unbelievable 95,000 damage and creating a massive explosion along with an inferno that burned so hot Zach could feel it even from all the way over here.

Holy shit! Zach thought. Olivir’s amazing! He’s fucking incredible!

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” the dragon roared.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Ziragoth opened its mouth, though this time, it was not to release flame. Instead, it was to bare its teeth at Olivir as it launched itself forward, lunging at the young-looking vampire. At the rate it was moving, Olivir did not stand a chance of dodging or putting himself out of the way. For this reason, Zach once again felt his breath catch in his throat as he feared for his friend’s life. Gods, how could Olivir possibly survive something like this? This did not look like the kind of situation he was well-suited to handle. Yet, once again, Olivir impressed him, reacting with a calm, smooth confidence as he turned his head and opened his mouth.

“Grundor!” he shouted. “Now!”

Rather than bite the vampire’s head off, Ziragoth was instead dealt even more pain, as the green-haired, fun-loving zombie dashed in front of Olivir, drew back his arm, and delivered an uppercut to the underside of Ziragoth’s jaw that was so powerful the dragon was actually lifted up off its feet and flipped over entirely, landing on its back with another loud bang—delivering 22,000 damage in the process. Of all things, Zach had to struggle not to feel his eyes dampen at the sight of this. This felt like revenge to him. This felt like justice. Olivir and Grundor were beating the ever-loving shit out of the dragon. Had it been just a regular T7, level-70 fire wyvern, he was beginning to wonder if the two of them could take it down together by themselves despite that being the equivalent of a level-245 mob.

“Holy shit!” a member of the GSG shouted. “This is insane! This is unbelievable!”

“Gods above,” Mr. Oren said, his voice carrying a note of shock.

“Get him, Oli!” Kolona cheered.

Olivir began moving backwards. First, he took one step—then a second. Then a third. And before long, he had put nearly twenty feet of distance between himself and the dragon, which was now focused entirely on Grundor. Then Zach watched as Olivir pressed his palms together, lowered his head so that he stared at the ground, and began to mutter something he could not overhear. A moment later, a cloud of purple, swirling mist began to rise up from his feet. It was thin at first—barely noticeable. But it began to thicken as more of this purplish mist began to rise up until his ankles could no longer be seen.

“I’m charging it now!” he shouted. “Grundor, keep it busy for two or three minutes. I need to do a full-charge this time around.”

“You got it, master!”

Grundor socked the thing in the face once more, and though he didn’t quite blast it off its feet a second time, he did at least elicit another loud, painful-sounding shriek. Unfortunately, Ziragoth was able to counter attack successfully, and Zach gripped Kalana tightly and tensed up as he watched Ziragoth slam his tail down onto Grundor with full force, dealing 270,000 damage and taking a fair chunk of HP away from his 1,200,000. It also flattened him, sending him straight down onto his stomach and causing his entire face to become buried into the ground. Yet he was quick to scramble back up to his feet—only to be sent back down again as Ziragoth bludgeoned him with the tail yet again, this time for 180,000. But like before, Grundor was quick to shoot right back up.

“What an asshole!” he shouted at the dragon. “Try that again and see what happens to you. I work out every day. Try it.”

The dragon tried it. For the third, consecutive time, the dragon spun itself around and smashed its tail directly down onto Grundor. But this time, Grundor reached out with both hands and actually caught it—even as the impact did another 85,000 damage to him. Now, with a loud, pained, and angry battle cry, Grundor spun his entire body around, and Zach’s jaw fell open as Ziragoth was somehow lifted off the ground and thrown more than three-dozen feet in the opposite direction, where it then crashed with a loud crunch into a boulder, causing it, along with two smaller, but still fairly sized rocks, to explode and become nothing more than an uncountable number of smaller rocks that poured down upon all of them.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

More cheers came from the adventurers, and now, Zach and Kalana joined them, chanting Grundor’s name. One thing immediately became clear: whether or not they survived this day, or survived tomorrow, this was turning out to be the show of a lifetime. And it only just occurred to Zach that the media’s helicopters were filming all of this. Right now, the terrified people of Galterra were watching as the object of their fear was being absolutely thrashed by a single combatant. As small a consolation as it was, at least now, if they all died, they would see something spectacular before the end, because what followed was a veritable war of might and strength as the dragon and Grundor both charged one another simultaneously, clashing somewhere at the midpoint between the two before immediately bursting into a bloodthirsty, fiery exchange of fists, tail, and claw. The two went at it so viciously they were practically ripping each other apart.

“Kolona!” Olivir shouted. “Grundor’s got perfect aggro. Heal him! This thing hits harder than I thought it would.”

“Got it, Oli!” she replied, removing one of her daggers and waving it in the air. A green mist settled over Grundor, and just like that, practically all the damage that had been done to him was restored in the form of HP. The gashes and tears on his bloodied, greenish-white skin became sealed, and any trace of injury vanished as though it had never been there at all. This, as he continued to fiercely trade blows with the dragon.

Olivir’s got this, Zach thought, becoming excited and enthusiastic. He was right.

Now that he could see that things really were well under control, Zach decided to do what the other adventurers had already begun doing: sitting back and enjoying the show. Donovan and Zephyr were no longer barking out orders, and the tight formation they’d established had loosened considerably. Now, they pumped their fists in the air and cheered while they watched Grundor beat the snot out of the fearsome Ziragoth.

Incredibly, before even a full minute had come and gone, Grundor had somehow dished out nearly half-a-million points of damage all by himself. Without even the slightest doubt, it was now a virtual certainty that Grundor would be getting his own movie and line of children’s toys just based on this performance alone. The political guilds would make up some bullshit lie about how he was their summoned zombie or whatever, as well as a totally phony backstory, and they’d air it at the box office and make hundreds of millions of gold off it. Zach was so sure this would happen that he’d bet on it. He also didn’t care, either. Seeing someone stand up to—and pummel—the source of his greatest terror was such a life-changing, personal moment of triumph that it filled him with a sense of euphoria. And now, Zach actually did have to wipe a tear away from his eye. Gods damn it all, he was now a full-on Grundor convert. He felt actual gratitude for what the zombie was doing, and this was tripled in intensity as Grundor looked over his shoulder at Zach and called out to him.

“This one’s for you, Zach!” he shouted as he cracked Ziragoth in the side of the face with an evil, vicious hook that not only knocked the dragon off its feet but caused it to roll over onto its side.

Right now, with the security of Kolona’s healing magic emboldening him, he did not focus at all on defense. He even looked to be enjoying himself as he bashed his massive right fist into Ziragoth’s mouth so hard that one of the dragon’s razor-sharp teeth flew out and vanished in the air before hitting the ground. Then he brought up his knee and slammed it into the thing’s jaw. It retaliated by biting his right shoulder blade clean off, causing a gruesome amount of greenish-white blood to splatter onto the grass. But with a single heal from Kolona, the shoulder, fully healed and intact, simply “reappeared” on his body, proving that NPCs clearly worked differently from purely biological beings.

“That hurt!” Grundor shouted. Then, performing an act that Zach had to admit he found totally cringeworthy, the zombie turned his head towards the media helicopters in a way that was so obviously intentional. He even appeared to know exactly where to look so that the viewers at home would be staring into his eyes. Raising his voice, and changing it so that it sounded deeper and more heroic, he shouted, “You will never win against the forces of good, Ziragoth. I, Grundor of the Royal Roses, will put a stop to you here and now. Take this, my ultimate attack: GRUNDOR HAMMER OF EVER-BINDING JUSTICE!”

Striking the dragon with what was clearly a regular, ordinary punch and was definitely not an ability, Zach rolled his eyes as he witnessed Grundor blast the dragon ten feet away with something that was probably being trademarked by the Royal Roses even at this very moment. It was obvious why Grundor was behaving this way, too. The members of the Royal Roses were known for their guild’s control over the entertainment industry. And given the performance Grundor was putting on for everyone, they would most certainly not be upset that he was claiming to be a member of their guild. Zach could be sure of it, in fact, because they’d claimed him to be a member as well after his own encounter with Ziragoth.

The other guilds are probably pissed off right now, though. I bet they’re yelling at each other about how unfair it is that the Royal Roses gets to have both me and Grundor. Gods, I hate the political guilds.

Having settled into a steady rhythm of mutually traded attacks, Zach eased up even further as the battle passed the one-minute mark. Olivir was now completely covered head to toe with the purple mist, and even more of it seemed to be escaping him by the moment. Glancing upwards, Zach now realized that there was also a purple-covered cloud in the sky, and that the mist was traveling upwards and into it. It likely had something to do with it. How much longer was it going to take? As much as he was enjoying the show, he would only truly let his guard down when Ziragoth was snoring.

Even still, he tried to let himself relax and enjoy himself. Again and again, Ziragoth was slugged in the mouth, the cheek, and even the eyes. There were just no words to describe the satisfaction Zach felt every time the dragon shrieked in response to being bludgeoned. Zach found himself becoming just as rowdy as the other adventurers with each moment, and so too did Kalana. Even Kolona was cheering on Grundor despite playing an active role as the sole and only active healer. Ziragoth’s head was knocked to the left. Then to the right. Then back again. Then the dragon looked around as if confused. Then it again tried to bite Grundor. Then it again got knocked around. Then it again briefly met Zach’s eyes. Then it—

WHAT? Zach screamed inside his head as what felt like every neuron in his brain activated simultaneously and all in the service of sending an entire ocean of fear and surprise directly into his gut.

Ziragoth was looking directly at him. How had he not noticed this until now? How long had this been going on for? Even as Ziragoth fought with Grundor, it was almost as though the dragon wasn’t even paying attention to his duel with the zombie. Its eyes—they were on him. Zach began to back away, much to Kalana’s confusion. She said his name, alarm in her voice, asking him what was wrong. This caused Mr. Oren and Donovan to both simultaneously turn their attention from the fight, and both then regarded him with the same confusion as Kalana.

“It’s…it’s…it’s looking right at me, Kal,” he said.

“What is?”

“Ziragoth!”

“Nah-uh! Zach, what’re you—?

Her words were interrupted by a loud, alarmed, and high-pitched meow from Fluffles that produced a sound far greater than any he had ever before heard the cat make while not also transformed. It was a meow that was nearly twice as loud as those Zach used to hear from cats in Whispery Woods that would fight on the street in the middle of the night, and it grew in volume as Fluffles left the others to come dashing to his side.

“Zach leave now!” Fluffles yelled at him.

“Wh-what?”

“Zach leave now!” Fluffles yelled a second time, meowing so loudly and so uncontrollably that he was beginning to draw in even more attention—particularly from Maric Ultdern, the old but very strong adventurer who Fluffles called “daddy.”

“What’s wrong, Fluffles?” he asked the cat. “Is everything okay? Fluffles, you’re—”

“Zach leave now, now, now!” Fluffles cried, screaming out the words along with more frenzied meows. “Ziragoth appraise Zach. Ziragoth know Zach biggest threat. He attack!”

“B-but how?” Zach shouted back at him. “He’s aggroed right now to—”

Zach whirled his head to the right as the sound of something eerily similar to metal sliding through a tube resounded from the direction of Ziragoth. His heart began banging maddeningly in his chest, his mind became flooded with confusion, and his fear spiked to its absolute maximum level as all over Ziragoth’s scaly, spiked back, fist-sized holes began to appear. It was as though Ziragoth had somehow developed a viral skin infection over the past few seconds, only in this case, these holes began to grow even wider in size until they were large enough that a human head could fit inside of them. Then there came more of the odd, disconcerting sound.

Floomp! Floomp! Floomp!

Only then did Zach realize that something was being launched into the air—no, not something, but lots of things. They were dark, greenish-brown, and they resembled mucus. Higher and higher they rose into the air before soon after showering back down. Each and every one of them landed in the immediate area that was directly between where the adventurers had gathered at the top of the hill and where Zach was spectating a bit behind them with Fluffles and Kalana. One after the next, these head-sized globs of dark, greenish-brown mucus began splattering down, becoming flat and ooze-like. But then they began to shake, they began to reform, and before Zach could even utter a single word of horror, he watched as they grew in size, shifting in color to become solidly dark green, and they soon began to take on a more distinct form.

First, they became thicker, rounded, and less flat. Then they puffed up, and from this potato-shaped, dark-green mass, what looked like legs began to form. Then heads. Then teeth. Then hands, claws, and even tails. By the time just fifteen more seconds had come and gone, Zach realized he was staring at several-dozen fully formed creatures that looked like lizards, only with avian-like heads that had round, yellow eyes, and tails that had black stripes. They also seemed to walk on just two feet while their two clawed hands were held out before them like a dog standing on its hind legs. And they had names above their heads, too. Oh, Gods, they had fucking names above their heads!

[300000/300000]

Cursed Defender of Ziragoth

Level 90

If not for the fact that Kalana and Fluffles were here with him, Zach would have become totally immobilized by fear. He would have shaken his head in denial and whimpered to himself while what looked like dozens of level fucking 90 mobs became activated with what he could only assume would be hostile intent. He would be unable to deal with this. Not after everything else that had happened to him. But that was not the case right now. No, not when Kalana and Fluffles were here with him. He would do anything to protect them. Their very existence gave him strength: a strength he had not known was within him until this very moment, when their lives suddenly became imperiled. Level 90 or level 900, it didn’t matter. If they were destined to die today, then he would die first.

Drawing his sword from his back, he called upon his newest item ability. If ever there was a moment when he needed some light amidst darkness, it was right here and right now, as even more globs of the mucus continued to rain down just as these bipedal animals with avian-like faces and lizard-like bodies began to make some kind of bird-like, chirping cries as they spun around in circles as if searching for targets.

Multiple sets of yellow eyes settled upon him, Kolona, and Fluffles, as each and every one of them looked ready to advance. These level-90 creatures—they were coming for them! Fortunately, however, they would not be able to do as they wished unopposed, as on the very same hill with them resided almost thirty members of the God Slayers Guild, whose reaction speeds and ability to cope with changing circumstances were greater than anything Zach could have ever imagined.

“We’ve got adds!” Mr. Oren called in warning. “Multiple adds have spawned, level 90!”

“All right, folks, looks like we’re fighting our way out of this mess after all,” Zephyr announced. Then, calmly, professionally, and with a level of assertiveness that left no room for doubt, he began to list off names, issue assignments, and give people instructions in the creation of a new battle formation.

“Move your sorry asses!” Donovan shouted. “Don’t let those kids take on these fuckers by themselves. Zach, Kalana, join our raid group: hurry!”

Even before the first of these bizarre creatures began sprinting their way towards Zach at a speed far greater than he’d ever before seen a mob move, he was already activating Phase Reset, ramping up his Phase Level to 2. Then, praying that his body could handle “half” of a “Very High” exertion cost, he activated Unleashed Phase, and all at once, pure embers of flame began to leap out of his hands and feet as his skin began to take on a dull, ambient glow, and a rush of enormous power burst into him with such intensity that he was nearly overwhelmed by it. All at once, the stamina he’d lost was replaced. He felt renewed: refreshed. He had been so fatigued and worn-down on the way over here, but now, he felt as though he were a professional track racer who had yet to begin his race. He felt strong: far stronger than he’d ever felt before. His vision also changed, or rather, his perception of the world around him. Now, hovering in the air before him were his stats, his abilities, and the list of time remaining on his current duration of Unleashed Phase, which he very quickly glimpsed before preparing to defend himself.

Name

Zachys Calador

Level

17

EXP

10000/65000

Armor Bonus

82

Strength

93

Dexterity

90

Constitution

66

Intelligence

125

Speed

82

Luck

61

Unleashed Phase Duration

12:50 Remaining

Wave Slash

1:15

Boundless

0:10

Phase Blink

0:20

Phase Shield (READY) (25 seconds)

0:45

Phase Rescue

0:35 / 2:15 (if used with Boundless)

Phase Slash

1:10 / 6:10 (if used with ??)

Card Capture

0:00

Card Summon

0:00

Card Dismiss

0:00-X:XX

Breathing in what now felt like the freshest air he’d ever inhaled, Zach calmed himself and collected his wits about him. He knew he was in a very, very dangerous situation. He knew that, against level-90 mobs, he likely couldn’t withstand even a single hit from a single one of them—despite being in Phase Level 2. But he also felt so damn good, energized, and ready to rip shit apart. He wasn’t surprised that a whole two minutes and ten seconds had been deducted from his time, spent on replenishing his missing stamina. After all, he’d been incredibly weary to the point it had required effort on his part just to remain standing. But now? Now he felt like he could sprint across the entire planet multiple times and still not be winded.

“Get behind me, Kalana!” he shouted to her.

Of all things, she glared at him. “Nah-uh! You get behind me!”

He sighed. From the moment he’d woken up this morning in Archian Prime to the moment he’d returned to Galterra, things just didn’t let up. This was really turning out to be one hell of a day.