5. The Boss That Drops Loot

Say what you will about her imitating a Dragon, Elf Girl knows what she’s doing when it comes to fighting one. She zigzags around the arena in a precise pattern, dodging the Dragon’s swipes and bites while making sure to keep it annoyed with [Telekinetic] pebbles.

Healer, DPS, and tank, all rolled into one intrepid adventurer! Who needs a holy trinity when you’ve got the Elf Package?

Watching the way Elf Girl baits out the Dragon’s attacks, I come to a sudden realization. The Dragon’s fire-breath is on some kind of cooldown, otherwise it would’ve just spammed it until both of us intruders turned to ash. I don’t know if this Isekai operates on some underlying ‘fairness’ logic, but at least in this particular fight, there are distinct rhythms and patterns for us to exploit. Time to go exploiting!

The Dragon’s volcanic core—its weak spot—is located just under its chin, protected by a layer of sturdy-looking scales. The location of it reminds me of a Chinese folk legend my mom told to me when I was a kid. There’s a single scale that grows in opposite direction from the all the others—called nilin, or ‘reverse scale’. Legend has it that if you touch a Dragon’s reverse scale, it will make it go apeshit with rage—and make you super dead.

Welp. I can only hope the Chinese were wrong about this one as I inch my way closer to ‘pistol range’ of the Dragon’s throat. It’s slow going, having to make sure I stay out of the Dragon’s line of sight as it jumps around trying to squash Elf Girl under its massive claws. Those thousands of hours (and years of subscription fees) spent on Final Fantasy XIV finally pay off, as I overlay the arena with imagined ‘bad areas’ for me to step around.

I’m scared the Dragon’s fire-breath might come back online at any moment. Oh, and I’m also scared shitless that I’m sneaking towards a motherfucking Dragon. But you know what I’m scared of even more? I’m absolutely terrified that I’ll just die here without having done anything to show for it—and ultimately, it’s this need for self-approval that drives my darting eyes and trembling legs ever towards my target.

Finally, after seconds that feel like hours, I find myself directly under the Dragon’s chin. I’ve got a clear shot of the glowing center of its throat—the part where the volcanic core beneath shines through the protective layer of scales. The thing has got ‘weak spot’ flags all over it, and I can only hope that [Glock Strike] would know what to do with it.

Overhead swing. Pistol from nothing. One bullet to rule them all and in the darkness bind them. No, don’t ask me why the Lord of the Rings reference. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but hey, this Dragon cave has me in some kind of mood.

The one bullet flies true and fast, aimed directly at the volcanic core. I’m relieved that [Glock Strike] agrees with our assessment of the Dragon’s weak spot.

But my relief is short-lived. The bullet hits the volcanic core, alright, but instead of extinguishing it, it only makes it glow brighter and angrier!

And wouldn’t you know it? The Dragon is pissed off. It lets out an ear-splitting shriek as it stomps all four of its feet in place. In my MMO-trained mind’s eye, the whole floor around me lights up with red circles of badness, overlapping atop each other ad infinitum. I fucking book it, and just manage to sprint out of the way before the badness comes to pass.

The ground shakes with the Dragon’s reverse-scale-touched rage. My mind is now utterly blank as I scramble my way back to Elf Girl and her stricken face.

We both turn to face the Angry Dragon, and it’s clear to both us that it’s gearing up to Breathe Fire again. It rears its head to expose its volcanic core, as if to say: “come at me, bruh, isn’t this what you wanted?”. The core is positively brimming with pent-up energy and rage, a veritable maelstrom of fire and destruction.

“Time for plan B!”

I shout at the top of my lungs, and if Elf Girl doesn’t understand the words, she at least gets the spirit. She turns to me with an active catalyst and a determined expression, now waiting to take her cues from me. Well, it’s a good thing that I actually have an idea, one that just popped into my head as I watched the Dragon’s volcanic core grow in size and malice.

There’s only a short window for us to act, so I let go of my shyness and take a stab at my own version of charades. I point at Elf Girl, point back at myself, then draw a big sphere around me with my hands. She gets it immediately and casts [Barrier]. Perfect.

The next part is a little trickier. I point at myself, point at the Dragon that’s charging up the mother of all fire-breaths, then do this throwing motion with one arm—Shohei Ohtani style. I don’t know if they play baseball in this world, but Elf Girl is quick on the uptake again.

Only… this time, her reaction is one of surprise and genuine concern. She says something that, even without a translator, I readily understand as: “are you sure about this?”.

“Yes, I’m sure! Hurry, before we lose our chance!”

Maybe I could’ve been politer with my tone, but the seconds are ticking, and the Dragon now has its face level with the ground. It’s finished charging, and it opens up its terrible maw with its rows of jagged teeth, now bathed in the white-hot inferno that’s about to erupt from its core—Godzilla style.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Seeing this, Elf Girl has no choice but to trust in my crazy plan. The determined expression returns to her face as she raises her catalyst and casts [Telekinesis]. On me.

I go flying, sword at the ready.

The sensation is a weird one. I feel the rush of air that’d be expected from projectile flight. But this is tempered by the rapidly rising heat as I fly straight into the Dragon’s mouth.

[Barrier] melts away from me as I reach the ‘center of the furnace’. By now, though, I’m only focused on one thing. Because, if I can’t shoot the weak spot from outside, the only way to win this fight is to destroy it from within.

[Spin to Glock]. 360-degree rotation, all inside the Dragon’s volcanic core. All 12 bullets rocket through what turns out to be a pulsant organ of sorts, tearing it to shreds and extinguishing its fire.

There’s more movement. More rumbling and more shrieking. This time of agony rather than rage. Only… I can’t tell if it’s the Dragon’s agony or mine.

By the time I slide out of the Dragon’s throat and fall to the ground underneath, I’m far past the point of feeling any pain—or really anything for that matter. I vaguely (and calmly) recall something a doctor said to me once as idle chatter. That victims of third-degree burns—the worst kind there is—often don’t feel pain, because even their nerve endings have been fucked to pieces.

Well, my whole body just roasted inside the throat of a fire-breathing Dragon. Yet, I don’t feel pain anywhere. I’m not a doctor, but even I can put two and two together. God, what an ugly sight I must be right now! I really hope Elf Girl doesn’t see me like—

***

—this.

The first thing that stares back at me as I open my eyes is those of Elf Girl’s: creased in concern and wet with tears.

“Wha… what happened?”

I croak out weakly, then wince, as that simple action brings with it a veritable avalanche of pain. Pain in my throat, in my head, in my sword hand (oh, so I have a ‘sword hand’ now, huh, Mr Big-Shot Swordsman?). Pain all over.

At first, I’m both dismayed and terrified by the pain—worse than anything I’ve ever felt (worse even than the time I caught a puck in the face playing street hockey, and that was bad). But then, realization dawns. If I’m hurting this badly, that means… my body hasn’t shut down. I’m still kicking it! Somehow. By some miracle.

But I also know it wasn’t a miracle. Or, if it was, that miracle is staring right into my face… before she lowers herself into a sobbing, squeezing embrace.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

I can’t help but yell out at the fresh wave of pain. Elf Girl lets go immediately, looking mortified on top of relieved. An adorable combination. I’m now kicking myself for not sucking it up and letting the hug go on a while longer.

I share in Elf Girl’s relief, of course, and as I gingerly get back into a sitting position, I find reasons to be plenty mortified too. Because it turns out I’m naked!

Or close enough, anyway. My Hanes boxer briefs somehow managed to hang on for dear life (which is some scientifically irresponsible Dragonball bullshit that I won’t argue with right this second ), but the rest of my clothes have all burned away. Elf Girl’s [Heal], despite managing the miracle of restoring my charred body to a intact if somewhat pink and raw state, hasn’t been able to hook me up with Isekai drip.

I jump to my feet in an instant, eschewing personal comfort in my frantic quest for public decency. Nothing doing, of course. All I see inside this big wide arena are the sword at my feet, Elf Girl and her innocently bemused expression, and… a whole-ass dead Dragon.

Yup. The Dragon That Used to Breathe Fire is now the Dragon That Lies Dead Where I Stand.

Despite its massive size, it’s got an oddly shrunken appearance. The dying embers of its volcanic core are now the only light source within the room, and they dimly illuminate the Dragon’s lolling tongue and lifeless eyes.

Holy shit. I killed this Dragon. I guess even an ancient powerful beast is no match for senseless gun violence. It’s… honestly kind of a sobering thought, and despite everything I did to earn my inaugural boss kill, I can’t quite bring myself to celebrate it in earnest.

Even in my sombre reflections, though, my RPG-trained mind lights up with inspiration. Hey, I just killed a boss. Doesn’t that mean I get something? I mean, sure, all the mobs I’d killed so far dropped nothing of value (even Elf Girl didn’t give their carcasses so much as a second look), but surely, killing a motherfucking Dragon would come with its just rewards.

At least on this count, my Isekai doesn’t disappoint. Neither does my First Local, who sidles up to me with her adorable smile and holds out a small object for me to inspect.

It’s a gemstone of sorts, glimmering red and only about the size of a strawberry, with a kind of ‘fleshy’ texture to it that makes me think it should be part of a living organism. And maybe it was. Is this maybe a piece of the Dragon’s volcanic core that’d broken off from my drive-by shooting?

Regardless of what it is, Elf Girl now shoves it in my face, which is the universal signal for: “take it, it’s yours.” I look back at her quizzically, which is the bumbling fool’s signal for: “are you sure about this? I mean, I’m just some asshole standing in nothing but the singed remains of my boxer briefs.”

Elf Girl grabs my hand and places the gemstone on my palm, before gently but firmly closing my fingers over it. She looks at me earnestly and speaks a short phrase that I readily understand as:

“You’ve earned it.”