His rationality kicked in. This couldn’t be. The gauntlet was forged by Hephaestus himself. Eitr-forged iron could not be destroyed so pathetically. There was no way some ugly oracle with a rope in the middle of nowhere could control it—
“They say the creators of the Heavenly Tower specially built this gate. And due to that, no one has ever completed this gate. Not even those of the Golden Generation. The will of the Heavenly Tower wishes for only the chosen. Whatever treasure is inside may be useful to our mutually agreed contract.”
His gauntlets continued to melt, revealing more and more of Borda’s devilish grin. He didn’t understand. His other hand, tightly holding the rope, loosened up. In one swift move, his world rushed at him and he was standing upright again. The blindfolded woman was right in front of him, licking her lips. His chest ached.
‘What just happened?’ The rope was near him, limp on the ground. ‘That rope…it did something to me. An illusion…?’
“Ninàn, ninàn, la Borda…”
The voice was a beautiful hum that caused even Dasha to relax. By then, it was too late. The rope was already moving and wrapped around his wrist at lightning-quick speed. The thin mist disappeared. The soil grew with plants and the faraway trees came closer. The soil began to rise like water. In moments, Dasha found himself standing knee-deep in murky swamp water, surrounded by twisted trees and overgrown vegetation. The oppressive atmosphere of the swamp pressed in on him from all sides, suffocating him with its fetid stench.
The deafening roar echoed through the swamp, sending shivers down his spine. With a sickening lurch, Dasha turned to face the source of the sound and saw an enormous ogre charging towards him. The mist was gone. The ogre creature was green and nearly triple his size. It cocked back an enormous axe the size of his body. Instinctively, Dasha ran at the ogre with his fists raised, but to his horror, he found that his hands were beginning to melt away.
He didn’t care. He kept running at it. ‘If my hands fail, then my legs—’
Also failed, melting into the murky waters and slowing him into place. The ogre roared and swung its massive axe. The impact was like a freight train colliding with him. The force of the blow sent Dasha hurtling through the air, his body spinning uncontrollably as he crashed into the murky waters of the swamp. Pain exploded through him as he felt his ribs crack upon impact, his breath knocked clean out of his lungs.
Bit by bit, awareness began to filter back into Dasha's mind, like rays of sunlight piercing through thick clouds. He opened his eyes to find himself lying on normal brown soil. He looked up and saw the Borda grinning. The rope was still attached to his arm. He wasn’t injured but it certainly felt like it.
Now he understood. That rope was causing him to fall into illusions.
‘And with her incantations, the illusions become deeper!’
Shaking off the remnants of the mind attack, Dasha pushed himself upright, his body aching from head to toe. His mind was convinced his ribs were shattered when they were not. It was easily the strangest sensation he had ever experienced. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to let her open that dirty mouth of hers. He flexed his left arm and dashed back, slipping away from the rope.
The moment his feet touched the soil, he dashed back toward the Borda, ready to end her. He had back-pedalled just far enough so that she lost sight of him. With his level of speed, she wouldn’t see him coming.
“Cun una côrda e cun una curdella,
la liga i bei babèn pu la i asserra…”
Her voice echoed. It didn’t make sense. Its enchanting melody was like invisible chains and in an instant, his surroundings shifted and twisted, the mist melting away to the swamp. His limbs melted away and he rammed into a wall. He looked up and saw the ogre again. Before he could react, the ogre swung its enormous fist with brutal force, striking Dasha squarely in the chest and sending him flying backwards through the air.
Pain exploded in Dasha's body as he crashed into the ground, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. He lay there for a moment, dazed and disoriented, as the world spun around him in a whirl of confusion and agony. Slowly, he forced himself to his feet, his body protesting with every movement.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
He was back in the misty realm and the Borda was gone from his vision, hidden in the mist. He gleaned back. The rope…it hadn’t touched him in the slightest. The possibilities flashed through his mind and he arrived at one single conclusion.
‘The rope is a marker. Once it touches flesh, it creates a magic circle or something of that nature and the Bordar can forever keep her target in her dreams.’ With the way his body went limp, it wasn't a matter of solely falling into illusions—he was falling asleep and then getting his brain wrapped in illusions. ‘So her natural ability is to create illusions while that rope causes me to fall asleep. The activation clause is her lullaby.’
The magic circle, if it existed, should have been placed on his wrist—
“Cun una côrda e cun una ligazza—”
Like he had time to check. He had to find that witch in the middle of the mist and kill her. He was taking damage to the soul, akin to what Hugo Sanchez had done. There was only so much he could take before dying. ‘Cultivators are said to be immune to illusions because of our flow of Qi—but because she’s putting me to sleep, that part is useless. No, I’m sure there’s a specific technique to protect against curses and unwanted magic circles. Alas, I don’t have a teacher to instruct me on such things.’
“La liga i bei babèn pu la i amazza—!”
Shit, he could feel his body weakening. Now that he was aware of it, he was able to fight it off to some extent. He could still hear her, so that meant she was in range. There was a range! Hidden in the mist, it was impossible to see or track her. Qi Sense was useless. Even his ears couldn’t seem to hone in on her location.
“Ninàn, ninàn, la Borda…!”
The world around him began to blur and twist once more. Colors swirled and melded together, forming the familiar landscape of the swamp illusion. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, a sudden impact struck him in the head, sending waves of pain radiating through his skull.
Gritting his teeth, thinking, he came to a second conclusion. ‘I get it now, this boss is intended to be defeated by a group. Everything about this gate screams of teamwork; of coming together as a team to destroy the redwood trees, kill the Will-o’-wisps, and even giving offers to the Witte Wieven. By yourself, this boss should be impossible. She marks you and you cannot fight back.’
His HP had dropped to the yellow zone. Two more dreams and he was dead. Going invisible was useless, finding the Borda was impossible, and he possessed no area of effect attacks in his arsenal. His finger went alight with flames—
“La liga i bei babèn cun una côrda,
Cun una côrda e cun una curdella.”
But Dasha dropped to the ground, his body contorting in agony. He twisted and writhed, smoke rising from his wrist.
“Ninàn, ninàn, la Borda
la liga i bei babèn cun una côrda.
Cun una côrda e cun una curdella,
la liga i bei babèn pu la i asserra,
cun una côrda e cun una ligazza,
la liga i bei babèn pu la i amazza.”
The full lullaby was sung. It described the woman’s tendency to wrap children in its rope to kill. A declaration of who it was and why it did. Dasha Pang was no different and was forced to listen and mangle from its bewitching voice.
Indeed, eventually, even Dasha stopped moving.
From the dense shroud of mist that veiled the swamp, a figure emerged, its form obscured by the swirling vapors that clung to its grotesque silhouette like a shroud. As it drew nearer, the mist seemed to part reluctantly, revealing the ghastly visage of the Borda. She emitted a low, guttural hum, the sound sending shivers down the spine of any who dared to listen, despite the lovely voice it could sing with.
The Borda licked her lips, prepared for her feast, and put the rope away. She opened her mouth into a grin.
Squelch!
Her grin dropped. While her gnarled fingers reached out hungrily, she had not come perilously close. Yet somehow, in the blink of an eye, she tasted blood. The blood was not of her prey's. It was her own. Lodged through her heart was the bloody arm of her prey. A strangled cry echoed through the mist as the Borda recoiled. But she could not escape. Her chest was pierced and she was slowly lifted off the ground.
“Gahh…ackkkhhh…!”
The vulnerable part of Dasha’s wrist, once imprinted with a magic circle, was burned. From his opposing index finger were the remnants of Fire Finger. “A magic circle’s biggest weakness is in its structure.”
He ignored the woman's desperate struggles, his gaze fixed firmly on the dripping blood. He waited and waited until she stopped, until her death was certain and that this was no illusion. In a minute, it was as he predicted. The Borda was unmoving and dead. With a swift, decisive motion, he wrenched his arm free from the Borda's chest, a spray of dark ichor splattering across the soil while the lifeless form of the Borda dropped.
[ You defeated Boss: The Borda! ]
[ Receive:
40,000 XP ]
Suddenly, with a sickening lurch, the soil gave way beneath Dasha's feet, swallowing him whole into the gaping maw that had formed beneath the Borda's melting corpse. This had caught him by surprise more than anything today. Suddenly, he was plummeting through darkness, the echoes of his descent reverberating through the black cavernous depths.
Dasha Pang was consumed by darkness.