Chapter 95: Ziragoth the Awoken Part I

“How can they have made such a terrible decision?” Eilea asked fearfully. She was both dismayed and disgusted. “Are they bereft of any common sense at all?”

“Most likely,” Francis said, frowning. “What are those fools doing?”

Eilea had been in high spirits up until just a few moments ago, when all her plans had come crashing down around her. Before that point, things had been going swimmingly. For starters, Angelica had finally created a space where the truth about Adamus could be spoken without his knowledge. And even better, the World Eater was now known to the adventurers. If only two-way communication was possible with the tavern, Eilea would have personally joined in their meeting herself. Even still, it had pleased her greatly to see how events had begun to transpire. She’d even agreed with their decision to—at least for now—keep the boy ignorant of the World Eater in order to stay a step ahead of Adamus. For this reason, both she and Francis had agreed to no longer try invoking the memory in him—well, outside of the bare minimum required so that Adamus did not become suspicious as to why they’d suddenly stopped tugging on their end of the rope.

Everything had been going perfectly, she thought.

And then came this morning.

She did not understand the thinking of these adventurers. Though Zachys Calador’s power would one day be immense, and though this process had in fact begun, the day when he could be given such an impossible task had not yet arrived. So for what possible reason could these absolute, empty-headed imbeciles think it was a wise idea to assign the boy such a blatantly unsuitable role? By Eilea’s estimation, his odds of surviving the raid were now incredibly low even if it turned out to be a success. Perhaps, at the most, he had a three-percent chance of living through this. And that was being optimistic.

What if they’re aware of this? she thought, filling with suspicion.

“Francis,” she said, alarmed. “What if they’re trying to kill him?”

Francis became visibly distraught as he presumably considered the idea. “Maybe,” he said. “This could be an easy way to rid themselves of someone they now know could be a tremendous threat.”

The two of them were still in the ancient throne room of a long-since vanished kingdom, watching through the viewing dome as a sudden change in luck had all-but doomed their entire plan. What would they do now? It could be centuries, perhaps even millennia before another suitable candidate came along. She could not handle having yet another failure on her hands. Adamus would never let her live that down.

“Is there anything we can do?” Francis asked.

“Can you break the final bindings keeping me here in the next few moments?”

“No,” he said. “Adamus made the few that remain more difficult than I thought. It might even take me another month.”

She swelled with anger. “I’m not able to interfere right now. Adamus must be working extra hard today. If I could only send the boy a message and tell him to leave.”

“Can you not break through at all?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s going out of his way to block me from telepathically reaching that area. If we were both in space, it would be one thing. But whereas he’s functioning like a living satellite, I’m trapped all the way down here, with miles upon miles of dirt acting as a natural dampener for my abilities.” She slammed her fist down onto the stand, nearly knocking over the viewing dome. If not for Francis reaching out and steadying it, the dome would have fallen onto the floor and shattered.

“There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “Aside from watch him die. Unless…can you go up there? You could take down Ziragoth on your own, couldn’t you? Couldn’t you kill that thing before it kills Zach?”

“In theory,” he said. “But in practice, no. Adamus will just lock me away in a prison like this one if I try to leave without you by my side to shield me. I’ll never get within a mile.”

As Eilea filled with hopelessness and despair, she began to do something she hadn’t done in thousands of years. It was an awful habit she’d had before she was a Great One—before she was even an adult. Placing her fingers near her mouth, she began to bite her nails, stressed beyond the breaking point. Not only would her plans be ruined, but she’d also have to watch the boy die. She had grown to like him.

*******

Adamus, almost on instinct, turned his head to his left to ask Prila what she thought of things on the ground. Then he released a saddened sigh, having forgotten again that she was gone, and that the dear woman had chosen to become a participant in the system. He’d known she’d go down this path before long. He could tell from the day she’d begun to question the system that she would never be satisfied remaining an idle spectator outside of it. Still, he’d hoped to have more time with her before she chose to move on.

Truly, he held no hostility towards Prila for choosing a different path in life. To the contrary, he rather admired her. Everything she had done was within her right as a free-thinking, empowered individual. And the beauty of the system was that it allowed for it. He wished her the best—even if it would become a whole lot lonelier up here without her.

Retreating to his office, he closed the door then closed his eyes. He began to focus. Now, he could see the region of Shadowfall Coast in its entirety as though he were there in person. The dragon was going to wake soon. It had spawned in its more powerful version. Adamus, naturally, had not chosen to make that happen, nor would he dare do such a thing. Ziragoth’s spawn window had been made so very long ago. Each time it was killed, it would respawn between 800 and 1000 years from the moment of its death. The fact that it had respawned in 931 was not something he’d chosen to make happen, but merely the result of random chance.

“You’re being an idiot. Let me help him.”

No, Eilea.

“He’s going to die!”

You don’t know that, my beloved.

“I cannot believe you hold such apathy towards life.”

I do not.

“You indeed do, my dear, twisted husband. Free me from my shackles, and I’ll save him myself!”

You are not a prisoner, my beloved. You hold the key to your own cell. Give me your word you will not interfere with the system, and you will be released in the blink of an eye. You know this. For a thousand years, you’ve kept yourself there out of sheer stubbornness.

“Let me at least warn him.”

I’ll do no such thing.

“You’re a damned fool. A stubborn, disgraceful man. Let me show you something.”

An image flashed in his mind: a document he could see clearly as though he were inspecting it by hand. Why did Eilea persist in doing this? She knew it would not move him. Once again, she had used her influence to motivate Galterran data scientists to conduct a cross-region poll of the humans living in North Bastia. And as always, the results were as they tended to be every decade or so when she did this.

Question: A God(s) ethical responsibility to his/her/its people:

TO NEVER INTERFERE WITH FREE WILL: 21.67%

TO INTERFERE ONLY WHEN TO AVOID DOING SO WOULD LEAD TO UNSPEAKABLE SUFFERING OR HUMANITARIAN DISASTERS: 30%

TO FIND A BALANCE THAT MANAGES FREE WILL WITH ENFORCING DECENCY: 38.33%

TO PLAY AN ACTIVE AND CONSTANT ROLE IN THE LIVES THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR: 10%

“Don’t you see? The people cry out to us for help. They want us to play a role in their lives. Eight in ten want us to be there for them at least some of the time. Certainly, this counts as one of them.”

The people do not know what they want, my beloved. They are children who have never had to live under the tyranny of a God. As soon as one presented itself, their views would change just as quickly.

Adamus didn’t know why she kept thinking she could change his mind. Did she really think that he would strip people of their freedom just because they did not know any better? While it did disappoint him that 38.3% of Galterrans actually believed such a thing as “balance” could exist in a world in which Great Ones interfered, it was only because they did not know what they truly wanted. That only 21.67% craved freedom was saddening, yet it changed nothing.

“Your system is pain, Adamus. It’s pain! The people do not want it. They want stability and safety in their lives.”

No. You are wrong. My system is the answer. As proof of this, I invite you to peer into the mind of our descendent, Fylwen Vayra. Do you see that spike in oxytocin in her brain? Yesterday, she crossed between worlds to try to murder the boy. And now, she is concealing how terrified she is that something will happen to him. He’s even begun to remind her of the son she lost. She is prepared to die in his place if need be. This is the power of the system to inspire goodness.

“They will both end up dying, you fool! Your cruelty is beyond measure.”

Eilea, I tire of this same argument every day. I will not allow you to interfere. You can conduct all the polls you want. I know I am right.

“Curse you, Adamus!”

Adamus tuned her out and peered closer into the region. Now, he could distinguish individual faces and names. If they managed to survive the dragon, they would need to band together again to defeat the World Eater. As things were currently going, it was incredibly unlikely that would happen. But if they were all destroyed…then so be it. After all, it had not been a Great One who created the World Eater, and thus it would not be the fault of a Great One if it caused the destruction of Galterra. They must be made to live with the consequences of the choices they made freely. They chose to create the World Eater. They must now face the World Eater as a consequence. And if they all perished, Adamus had a backup plan.

Unbeknownst to even most of the OMP, he had been working diligently for a long time to ensure the survival of his system. For this reason, he had begun collecting and freezing unfertilized eggs from all of the races. If Galterrans did not survive their extinction event, he would seed the planet of Archian Prime, which was a more than suitable T1 replacement planet for Galterra. Almost entirely unexplored—like nearly all the system planets, regrettably—he would make that the new starting planet for life. It would function virtually identically to how Galterra had functioned in the beginning.

In fact, if not for Eilea teaching Galterrans how to destroy spawn points under the foolish notion they’d only do so to make their cities safer, Galterrans would be better equipped to handle this dragon. This boss was never designed to be an apocalyptic event. It was designed to be a basic check on their progress and a reminder to be persistent and work together to overcome external hostility. The first time it had been killed, it had died within twenty minutes of spawning. The last time, it had taken a week and had wiped out two regions. This time? It might actually end up purging Galterra of sentient life.

If not for the interference of the Great Ones all throughout history, the system would be faring so much better; this, he truly believed. His system was not a failure. The Great Ones had failed. Not the system. But regardless of who was to blame, their fate was in their own hands now. It was not up to him to decide. If the boy met his end today, as was likely, then that was simply the culmination of the decisions that Galterrans had made freely.

He would not accept the blame for what others had chosen to do with their gift of freedom. Never, would he accept that premise.

******

Only a few moments ago, the sun had fully risen. Light now filled the world, illuminating the rolling hills and vast stretches of green that carried on for as far as the eye could see. And though it was early in the morning, the temperature had already begun to rise. What few patches of clouds had lingered from last night's storm were now gone, and the grass beneath their feet had once more become dry. It was looking to be a hot, but beautiful summer day. Yet it might also be their last day as well.

Zach tried to slow his breathing and calm his heart. He, along with over five-hundred others, could do little but gaze apprehensively into the distance, waiting for the inevitable moment that the fire wyvern came to meet them in battle. To his own self-revulsion, there had been numerous times in just the last few minutes alone where he’d honestly worried he’d vomit from the sick feeling that had overtaken him.

Held together by nothing more than a desire not to embarrass himself in front of Kalana, Zach called upon every ounce of his willpower to keep from breaking down or losing his cool as an end to the uneasy calm lurked. The time before Ziragoth awoke dwindled down second by second. Having quickly gotten into position, there was nothing left for him to do but wait—and also think. It was the second of these two things that was causing him so many problems.

He was so confused. Nothing made sense. He was struggling to come to grips with his role in this raid, which even now, didn’t feel real. It also didn’t feel right. It was a miracle that he hadn’t pissed himself.

I’m the main tank, he thought to himself in disbelief, barely managing to hold himself together. But why? I don’t have a shield. I’m not even a tank! So why?

To have dropped this onto him with no warning, no preparation, and no real explanation for why he’d been selected for this role or what he was even supposed to do—was this just some kind of trick to get him to sacrifice himself? Was Mr. Oren doing to him what Queen Vayra had once done, only now for his own, inexplicable reasons?

He has to know I’ll die, Zach thought. Nobody even told me how I’m supposed to do this!

As though sensing his distress, Vim Alazar turned his head in Zach’s direction. “It’ll be fine,” the Royal Roses’ guild-leader said. “Relax.” Zach waited for part-two of his comment. Surely, he intended to follow that up with some quip about Zach’s lack of courage. Yet instead, he merely folded his arms across his chest and stared into the distance, saying nothing and likely watching for the moment that the vicious fire wyvern stomped its way down the hills and headed towards them.

According to Olivir, the T5 Sleep spell had landed a bit shy of its full duration, as there was a degree of variability. In this case, it’d end around four hours short of a full day, which just so happened to be about two minutes from now. As the seconds ticked down, Zach had to dig even deeper to find his nerve.

Right now, Zach, Vim, Peter, and Queen Vayra were standing in a line together while mingling with BG4, an add-killing group that included the likes of Kalana, her father, Donovan, Zephyr, and Mr. Oren as some of its members. Zach’s group—BG7—as well as BG4, were about fifty feet in front of the spiral-shaped wall, on top of which BG6, a battlegroup made up of almost entirely Elvish archers and spellcasters, stood ready to attack as soon as they were given the order.

About another fifty feet ahead of Zach was a giant mass of people: a mixture of adventurers, Elvish, and political guild members that formed Division 1, which included Battlegroups 1 and 2. BG1 was just a tiny bit farther ahead of BG2, but they would be swapping in and out as the fight progressed. Originally, they were supposed to include BG3 and BG4 from Division 2 in their swap rotations, but instead, BG3 had taken up positions both on top and immediately in front of the wall to guard BG5 and BG6 from what they were assuming would be a gigantic rush of add-spawn. BG4, on the other hand, was here with Zach, protecting BG1 and BG2 from being attacked from behind.

“One-minute warning!” Donovan’s voice shouted over the Comm that each of them had been provided. “Dragon’s about to wake!”

Hearing those words sent tremors shooting straight through his body. He found himself becoming suddenly unsteady, but then Fylwen grabbed his hand and held it. “Be brave,” she whispered to him. “You’re going to marry my daughter someday, aren’t you?”

If any color remained in his face, it must surely have drained as he released a cough of pure surprise at hearing her words. “W-what?”

“Am I mistaken?”

“Well, no. Of course I…I mean, if she’s willing, of course I’d…”

Fylwen laughed. “Be brave for her, Zach.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

Giving voice to his fear, he asked, “Am I being sacrificed? I keep wondering if this is some kind of mistake or a trick to get me to kill myself. Mr. Oren’s been acting really weird around me lately. If I’m wrong, I’ll hate myself for even thinking something so terrible, but do you think there’s any chance he wants me to die here?”

“No,” she said. “Definitely not. I wouldn’t allow that regardless.”

“It just feels like this is certain death.”

“That friend of yours, Alex…he knows what he’s doing. Even the Gods could not have divined a better plan. I was quite impressed.”

“I sure hope so,” Zach muttered. “Because if we wipe, it won’t just be the adventurers, but the entire political establishment that dies with us. I might not know a whole lot about how things work, but I bet if every guild-leader died today all at once, there’d be a lot of chaos.”

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“There would be,” Fylwen agreed. “Though it wouldn’t matter anyway. If we lose here, all Galterrans are dead regardless.”

Looking around him, it was hard to believe just how many people were actually participating in this raid. It was almost like they had a small army. The top of the wall was practically stuffed with archers, tanks, healers, and additional melee DPS to deal with the expected adds. And in the center and slightly ahead of the wall, with their backs against the stone, were the spellcasters who had less range; this bunch formed the bulk of BG5 and consisted mostly of political guild members with a few adventurers mixed in.

BG6 was currently also receiving protection from BG5 with some crossover protection from BG4. It was a whole lot of units to devote towards looking after the spellcasters and archers, but Mr. Oren’s entire plan was based on his certainty that the adds would pose the same—or perhaps an even greater—threat than the dragon itself, and that the dragon would aim its adds at their ranged DPS and healers as a priority. Donovan and Zephyr had signed onto this plan, and so here they were, waiting…

It's a huge risk to take on what’s basically a guess, Zach thought. If Mr. Oren’s wrong, then we’re going to wipe because we won’t have enough people on the frontlines.

Behind Zach, through a gate built into the wall, he could see the raid camp a half mile away. And further beyond that he could see the city of Shadowfall Coast. It served as a reminder to him of why they were all here at all. If they failed, the dragon would march right over their still-warm corpses until reaching the city, at which point the defenseless civilians would be ripped apart just like the ones in the Den of Ziragoth had been. For this reason, he really hoped Mr. Oren knew what he was doing. It wasn’t just Zach’s life, or all their lives, but the life of everyone who lived on this planet that was hanging in the balance.

“Remember,” Donovan said, his voice coming through the Comm in Zach’s ear. “I don’t wanna see any of you fuckers using fire magic, fire arrows, or a weapon that has elemental fire procs. Ice and water are the preferred types of attack, but we’ll take anything so long as it ain’t fire or lava.”

“Didn’t Olivir hit the dragon with fire?” Zach asked. “It did a lot of damage, too.”

“No,” Mr. Oren said, answering for Donovan. “He used the dragon’s own fire against it. That’s…different. Mobs are always susceptible to their own damage. If we use fire, it will heal the dragon.”

“Gotcha. I guess that makes—”

“No, you are smelly, not me!” Fluffles suddenly shouted over the Comm, causing hundreds of heads to look around in confusion. Where even was the cat? And had they seriously put a Comm in his ear as well? Come to think of it, the idea of that was actually kind of cute. Turning around, Zach saw him standing on top of the wall next to a couple of Elvish archers. He was hopping up and down as though agitated. Was he fighting with Chumpkenwiffles or something?

“Fluffles, quiet on Comms!” Maric shouted.

“Sorry, daddy. Fluffles angry! Stupid dragon say he kill us and eat our bones. Then he say I am smelly. Fluffles say he eat the dragon bones and dragon smelly!”

“He what?” shouted numerous voices while others began to chime in as well. Everyone began craning their necks and locking eyes with one another as if trying to determine if they’d heard the cat correctly. It took Donovan and Zephyr shouting practically at the top of their lungs to quiet everyone down.

“Did you just say you spoke to the dragon?” Mr. Oren asked.

“Yes! Fluffles talk to Ziragoth. He say he come for Zach now. I say he smell like horsie poo.” Fluffles hissed, the sound of it coming through clearly on the Comm. “Now he say he eat Fluffles again!”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” Mr. Oren asked. “Is that even possible? How can you speak to the—”

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

Zach gritted his teeth as the ground rumbled, and his jitters worsened. The dragon had somehow communicated with Fluffles and had threatened him directly. As he’d suspected all along, this was personal for some reason. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand it. But for whatever reason, that fucking thing had it out for him. And now, it was coming.

Chumpkenwiffles began making deep, angry barks. “The dragon is taunting us,” she said. “It says it is coming, and it wants to know if Zach will run away again like a coward this time too.”

“Ziragoth say Zach have small penis and not have testicle,” Fluffles added.

“He said fucking what?” Zach snapped. “Ziragoth seriously just said that about me?” Immediately, a giant chunk of his fear turned on a dime into raw, seething rage. “Fluffles!” he roared, so angry that he was spitting as he spoke. “Now I want you tell that dumb mother f—”

“Zach, enough!” Mr. Oren fired in. “Please do not get into an argument with the dragon. Fluffles, Chumpkenwiffles: both of you stop communicating with it immediately. If this thing is intelligent enough to mentally communicate using some form of coherent speech, it is likely trying to goad us into making an error. Ignore it!”

Another roar came from the dragon, and now, the sound of hundreds of bodies drawing their weapons and readying themselves could be heard all around him. “All right, everyone!” Donovan’s voice shouted over the Comm. “I don’t know how those two are talking to that thing and I don’t care, either. As far as I’m concerned, it can say whatever it wants. It’s still going to die! So look alive and stay sharp. From this point forward, keep chatter to a minimum, and like Alex says, let that son of a bitch talk all the shit it wants. Don’t pay attention to it and don’t respond. BG1, prepare to engage. BG5 and BG6, hold fire until aggro is established. BG2, 3, 4, and 7, standby to intercept add spawns.”

Fylwen gave his hand a reassuring squeeze then released it. Now, Zach drew his blade, Fylwen removed her shortsword, Peter unsheathed his own steel, and Vim raised his hand above his head as though calling on Bank and Storage. An instant later, a large, blackish-red, slightly curved staff that looked made of some kind of tree root appeared. He then held it out vertically in front of him, his left and right fist clutching the middle of it, and he began to mutter various incantations, buffing the four of them. Zach was so nervous he didn’t even really pay attention to it, even as something that looked like crossed swords popped into the air before him then disappeared, likely the effect of one of his buffs.

Amid all this, suddenly a strange mess of information popped into the air in front of his eyes. It almost blocked out his entire view of the world, and it startled him a bit, too. But as he read it over, he realized it was just a sort of “invitation” to join the raid from Donovan. He hadn’t gotten one of them the last—and first—time that he’d joined a raiding group. He’d just sort of willed himself into it like he always did when joining a party. He wondered if the complexity of this raiding party as well as the number of people involved made this different. Either way, he read it over quickly, not having the time to dwell on it.

Raiding Party Type

Division-Based

Name Visibility

Names Visible

Level Visibility

Anonymous

Loot Rules

FFA

Loot Treasurer

Donovan Iseldar / GSG Guild Storage

XP Share

Battlegroup-Only

Join Raiding Party?

Yes/No

Zach wasn’t sure if he needed to physically touch the spot in the air where the “yes” was located or if he needed to mentally will himself into it. And so, for the sake of brevity, he attempted both at the same time. He began raising his hand while simultaneously mentally agreeing. Now, the screen vanished before he could even extend his arm, which made him guess that either would likely have worked. At the same time, all around him, more than half of the people on the raid began to “glow,” and despite having never met the vast majority of the people here, he could now see all of their names—but not their level.

In the span of just a few seconds, the other half began to glow as well, turning on like festive lights during one of the yearly holidays. Wherever a raid member resided, Zach could now find them. This even included the numerous people—who Zach assumed were healers—that were currently sheltering inside one of several defensive towers atop the wall. It made sense that they were choosing to stay out of sight until their healing was required. There would be no point in risking being observed until they were needed.

This is happening, Zach told himself, once again feeling nauseous. Just accept it. This is happening.

Now, with his sword at the ready and his adrenaline spiking, Zach gripped his blade tightly as another roar came from the dragon, resulting in yet another earthquake-like shaking from the ground. Then, a moment later, far into the distance, Ziragoth at last entered into view. And immediately, the tension heightened to such a level that Zach could feel it being exuded by all those around him, even the Elvish warriors.

At the top of one of the rolling hills, Ziragoth’s body appeared as it ambled closer to them. Yet despite clearly knowing that they were all here, it continued to move at a somewhat sedate pace. Zach did not believe this was some kind of sadistic taunt, however. Ziragoth obviously had to follow certain rules regarding aggro range—as well as other mob behaviors. Though it might have possessed an actual, sentient mind, it was overtly clear that it did not possess any kind of free will. And as if to confirm this, Fluffles said something that caused shivers to roll down Zach’s back.

“Ziragoth say he want to die,” Fluffles announced. “He say if Zach not kill, he kill Kalana.”

His heart began pounding in his chest as his brain registered Fluffles’ words. “How does he know about…how does he know who she is and what she means to me?” he asked, both shocked and furious all at once.

“Ziragoth appraised you,” Chumpkenwiffles said, barking. “Ziragoth says if he is not granted his desire for death, he will kill everyone to punish our failure—and he will eats us! He wants to eats us!” She made a whining sound. “My Queen Vayra…momma! Chumpkenwiffles is scared.” The dog whined again.

“It’s okay,” Fylwen said. “You’re a good girl, Chumpkenwiffles. Just help evacuate any dead with Fluffles and the zombie. And don’t listen to anything else it has to say.”

As Ziragoth came even closer, Donovan barked out a laugh over the Comm. “Let’s grant the dragon his wish, boys and girls!”

A loud, roaring cheer came from all of the adventurers, and then soon after, even the political guild members as well as the Elves joined in. “So this is a raid,” Sir Abram Gespon the Virtuous said. He was in BG4, and he was rubbing his chin. “This kind of excitement…I’m guessing it can be addicting.”

“It sure can,” Donovan said, speaking to him directly and off the Comm. He held up his pointer finger. “But shit usually ain’t this exciting. Nah, this is one for the history books.”

For the next thirty seconds, Ziragoth continued to slowly make its way in their direction, and then finally, upon reaching aggro range, it made another of its ground-shaking, earth-rumbling scream-roars, only this time, either Zach was imagining things, or there was a slight note of satisfaction and eagerness in the sound of it.

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

Now, flapping its powerful, sharp, and deadly wings, it took off into the air just as it had yesterday, and then it began soaring forward at breakneck speeds towards the whole lot of them. Within just one second, it went from stationary to a jet-like level of fastness. It truly was spectacular and surreal all at once. There was something just so “out of place” about seeing the dragon in person. It was a sense of terror but also a thrilling rush that confused Zach as much as it haunted him.

“All right, no fuck-ups, people,” Donovan said over the Comm. “Maric, you’re up first. Pull it. Alixa, channel on him as soon as he pulls! BG5 and BG6: hold DPS for now. If everything goes according to plan, this first phase should actually be really easy given our numbers.”

Donovan’s words reminded Zach that the size of Division 1, as it currently stood, was actually slightly larger than the entire raid had been prior to yesterday when they had still believed they’d be fighting a level-245-equivalent T7 Fire Wyvern. Back then, when Ziragoth had simply been known as a “superboss” and not a “God Boss,” Zach’s understanding of the situation was that Mr. Oren believed 150 to 160 people were cutting it close, but were just enough to get the job done. Now, however, with the mob supposedly set to increase its tier to T10, even with 535 raid members, they still might come up short. He swallowed nervously as he struggled to imagine how such a large number of people wouldn’t be enough to take down a single boss.

Here it comes, he thought, tightening his grip on his blade further.

In no time at all, Ziragoth burst across the sky, his form growing larger as he moved at tremendous speed across the grasslands and towards where they were waiting for him. Maric, stepping a bit ahead of all the others, seemed to be attempting to recreate something Olivir had done: pull the mob out of the air onto him. For this, he dropped his sword and shield onto the grass near his feet, raised his hand, palm flat, above his head, and then, as though activating Bank and Storage, he produced a large, white-and-blue spear. In a display of the man’s strength and experience, he then bent backwards, placed his left foot before his right, and then lurched his body forward and hurled the spear at the speed of a bullet into the sky—even as the dragon was still very far away.

The moment the spear left his hands, it moved so fast and traveled so far that it actually appeared to vanish as far as Zach’s eyes were concerned. He was totally unable to keep track of it. Then, taking his eyes off the situation completely, Maric looked down, bent over, once more retrieved his shield, and then casually stood back to his feet as an ear-piercing cry of pain came from Ziragoth. Though Zach could not actually see the spear hitting the boss, he could just barely make out a 9,241 somewhere far up into the sky.

“BG1, get back!” Maric cried in warning. “Alixa, channel on me. Now!”

Although he’d retrieved his shield, Maric actually left his sword lying on the grass. And Zach soon understood why. At the moment, Maric had his knees bent, his shield extended in front of him, and he held it in both arms. Alixa, meanwhile, began to mutter something he could not overhear, and much like it had yesterday, her book lifted up out of her arms all on its own, floating in the air just above her. The pages began to turn again, too, moving faster and faster. Only, this time, instead of producing a gust of wind, a solid, bluish-white tendril of electricity snaked its way out of the book and struck Maric directly on his back, where it then remained—and along with it formed a light-blue-colored, bubble-like orb that surrounded his entire body.

With an angry cry, Ziragoth turned its body downwards, and while still moving at the speed of a jet, it made a beeline straight for Maric. With a sharp inhalation of breath, Zach realized that the dragon was actually going to divebomb the man. Even while being nowhere in the area, he still braced himself out of sheer empathy for what Maric was about to experience. Faster and faster, Ziragoth rushed towards the ground. And now, Maric, isolated from everyone but Alixa, who was already sweating with the exertion of whatever she was doing to cause that blue-orb to linger on his body, began to shout out a grunt in advance of being struck as Ziragoth dropped down on top of him with such speed and force that Zach wondered if he should have maybe used Phase Rescue or something.

There was a gigantic boom, followed by an absurd amount of ground, grass, and soil being launched into the sky. Immediately, the blue orb around Maric vanished, the electric-like tendril of energy that had connected to him like a wire became severed, and with a secondary snap, his shield broke into three different pieces. And then the man went flying off in the opposite direction, crashing into the incline of a hill several seconds later with enough force to spray even more of the ground, which reacted more like the way water did upon being dived into than it did solid terrain.

He rolled several times along his back before finally coming to a halt, groaning. “D-don’t heal me yet,” he said, raising a clearly broken arm, which looked like it had been snapped backwards at an angle that appeared incredibly painful. “Get…aggro.”

“Thy courage!” cried a white-cloaked Elvish warrior from BG1. “It doth inspire me, human! I shall square with the beast!”

Zach did not recognize the man, and he was definitely someone Zach would have remembered, as he was the largest, most muscular Elf that Zach had ever seen. Put simply, Elves did not tend to get as large as this guy was: at least not any Zach had seen until just now. He was almost the size of Grundor. He had big, bulging muscles, a gigantic kite shield that looked made of pure metal, and an axe almost as large as the one Donovan wielded. As he charged the dragon, the dragon turned his head in the Elf’s direction, and Zach could only assume this was due to some kind of taunt that the man must have used.

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

The dragon stomped down on the ground as it stormed across the distance between the two of them, meeting the white-cloaked Elf somewhere in the midpoint of where both had originated. Then it raised its left, bladed wing and slashed with what looked like all of its might down onto the Elf, who absorbed it with seeming ease. The result was an oddly sounding ping, and then the dragon’s wing bounced right off his shield.

The Elves! Zach thought, forgetting just how absurdly powerful they were. Just a handful of Elves alone could probably deal with Ziragoth in his first phase!

Despite being a tank, the massive, white-cloaked Elf, whose name Zach could see above his head was “Londril V’alnyra,” lowered his shield for just a moment so that he could crack the dragon over the face with his axe, dealing an impressive 54,311 damage and causing the beast to scream in pain. Fylwen, who Zach had totally forgotten about while his eyes had been glued to the dragon, released a loud cheer, which from the way his ears perked up, he definitely heard.

“Well done, Londril! Spectacular! Show the humans what Elvish kin can do! Make us proud, champion of Elvadin!”

“YES, MINE QUEEN!” he cried, striking the wyvern a second time and hitting for 39,211. Somehow, despite the awe being radiated from the obviously impressed adventurers and political guild members, Zach did not think that this jaw-droppingly strong Elf was likely to begin showboating and joining the Royal Roses like a particular zombie that he knew.

The dragon spun around, turning his back to Londril, and now it attempted to bash its tail down over Londril’s head, but the Elvish warrior's shield seemed nearly impenetrable. With a grunt, he managed to absorb the impact of the tail, only slightly bending his knees in the process. Then, with another grunt of exertion, he pushed upwards and knocked the tail away. At the same time, all of BG1 charged into battle simultaneously. And now, Zach watched, impressed, as the dragon became surrounded in every direction. Five other tanks joined Londril at the front, and then both sides as well as the dragon’s flank became occupied by a combination of adventurers, political guild members, and a handful of Elves who began hammering away at the beast, putting out so much damage so quickly that Zach actually watched the mob’s HP begin to decrease in real-time like a timer that was ticking down.

HP

12,480,351/15,000,000

Name

(T7) Ziragoth the Awoken

Level

70

Within less than just ten seconds, more than two-million damage was torn away from Ziragoth’s HP as he was stabbed, pierced, slashed, bludgeoned, and bashed. And now, Zach finally got to see it bleed, too. First a trickle, then a torrent of red began to stain the grass and even some of the rocks in the immediate area around Ziragoth as the vengeful raid members hacked away at him.

“Should we help?” Zach asked.

“No, not yet,” Fylwen said. “We must stay here in case he spawns adds. We’re only meant to engage the dragon directly when BG1 and BG2 are no longer able to fight effectively.”

“Is it bad that I’m really, really hoping that doesn’t happen?”

“Of course not.”

Ziragoth, now surrounded, tried to take down as many—if not all—of his attackers in one fell swoop. With another loud roar, he spun around his body a full three-sixty-degrees as if intent on bashing every one of the raid members with its tail. Yet, even though he’d missed the briefing, Zach knew that Donovan, Zephyr, and Mr. Oren had painstakingly instructed everyone on the raid to look out for this exact move. And now, he finally got to see what the point of an “off-tank” was.

“Off-tanks! Now!” Donovan shouted.

Even as the dragon was still mid-motion, the DPS attack force to both Ziragoth’s sides and behind him immediately dashed backwards and away, and they were instead replaced by a smaller, but still significant number of adventurers, political guild members, and two Elves who all seemed to be wielding smaller, circular shields with somewhat faster, one-handed weapons than what the tanks used. The result was that, rather than send the DPS flying, Ziragoth instead only slammed its tail against a barrage of shields, including those wielded by the tanks in front of it. Now, the DPS caught their breath and took a break to rest as the off-tanks took their place. This, as every other battlegroup, including BG2, who were very nearby, had yet to lift a finger.

Is that Spider over there? Zach wondered.

It seemed the GSG’s second-in-command was capable of playing multiple roles. Right now, serving as one of BG1's off-tanks, Spider, began hacking away at the dragon’s tail with a scimitar, dishing out an impressive 6,211 damage a hit and even managing to hack off a small piece of it, causing an outsized puddle of red blood to begin pouring off the dragon. And while that level of damage was by no means comparable to what the Elves could do, for a normal human, Zach thought it was actually really good. Especially since none of the adventurers were likely anywhere near as high level as the Elves from Archian Prime were. Based on the display of power he’d seen from them when they’d dismantled Olivir’s army in about three seconds, he suspected the Elves of all being in their high 80s or lower 90s in terms of level. Maybe a bit lower. He wasn’t entirely sure.

“I know you’re not supposed to tell me this,” Zach whispered to Fylwen, making sure no one could overhear him. “But just out of curiosity since we’ve already shared so many secrets: what level are you?”

“104,” she whispered back.

Zach gasped. “No fucking way.”

“It’s true, young man. My kind level far more quickly to begin with, and I in particular had a great deal of aggression I needed to get out of my system for a very long time after coming to Archian Prime. For the first five years there, I did nothing but level. I would go days at a time without sleep. I would sometimes pass out from overexertion. All I wanted was strength to protect my people, my daughter, and…and my body.”

“Wow,” Zach said. He realized he sounded almost childish with the level of awe and excitement in his voice, but for some reason, this made Fylwen look at him and smile.

“I’m glad you’re impressed.”

Zach nodded his head, swelling with hope. “I think we might be okay after all. I’ve seen how powerful you and your Elves are. I don’t think even at T10 this thing is going to be all that much of a problem for you guys.”

She frowned. “I wish I shared your optimism. But what is coming will not be easy. I implore you, young man, do not deceive yourself into thinking otherwise. Power is relative, and what we will experience from Ziragoth momentarily is going to be something truly awful.”

Zach, too, now frowned. “I was worried you’d say that.”

And upon those words, he continued to remain where he was and watch the raid commence. Thus far, everything was going perfectly and without a hitch. He desperately hoped that it would remain this way.