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[Now replaying: Log 3.17 - The Importance of Being Francois]

Date: Error

Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head / Zephyro’s Domain

//Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What //// should bring [UNIT] anywhere?

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

Before I could scream, the projectile reached me, passed over my shoulder, and collided with one of the wolves in mid-flight. It yelped and flipped in the air, landing in on the ground in a heap.

Panting with a mixture of fading panic and fury at myself for getting distracted, I spun around and brought my own weapon up. It was getting harder and harder to keep focused, and even harder to not beat myself up about it.

Despite the dramatic impact, the raven-shot hadn’t killed the wolf. It got up, growling at me, but the crazy dark elf started peppering it with pistol shots while strafing backward, drawing its attention. Despite his insanity, this “Shellslinger” seemed competent enough, and apparently didn't need me to mark enemies for him.

Fortunately.

Nevertheless, I flared my weapon as I faced the remaining Feral, prepping it to mark the next enemy struck. It made me feel secure somehow, even though I couldn’t quite tell why.

Up close, I could see just how diseased the clearly was. It foamed greenish spittle at the mouth, and patches of blistered skin glistened from underneath its mangy fur. Its movements were deceptively slow, but by now I knew what to look for, at least as long as my focus lasted. Its muscles bulged with strength, unaffected by whatever disease had taken over the beast, betraying its feigned weakness.

Then it lunged, and the battle was on. I dodged as well as I could, not wanting the animal to infect me with its bite while Arx was down. I still wasn’t sure if that was how it worked, but staying on the safe side definitely couldn't hurt. When the wolf passed me, I hit it with a quick strike of my chain, marking it for everyone around. It came to a stop, growled, spun, and came at me for another round.

This dance continued for a while. Perhaps it was because the beast was still struggling against the snake's control, or perhaps its disease sapped its strength, but after less than a minute of fighting and dodging, I noticed it became winded, allowing me to get more strikes in.

I battered it down strike by strike, using my superior reach to strike quickly whenever I could maintain a safe distance. After a particularly nasty hit on its snout, it winced back instead of charging back in, finally giving me the opportunity I had been waiting for.

Pharus’ blazing head drew an arc through the hot air and smashed straight into the Feral’s head. The force of the attack drew its skull into the floor, cracking it open and revealing the Logic within. I grinned, I couldn’t help it. I was getting a hang of this, and I dared think that Stax would have been proud of me if he could see me now. It hadn’t gotten a single strike in, and while I did feel the exhaustion burning my lungs, fortunately, my DPM was still hovering at 61%.

I breathed in my reward.

{INCOMING LOGIC - 100 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 130 LB}

As I watched, far more than half of the Feral’s energy split off, racing across the floor toward the dark elf. He leaned down, already done with his own beast, and picked up a glinting blue Shard from the floor.

“Hey, what the hell?” I yelled. “I need that!”

“Oh, sorry, is that a quest item or something? You just mentioned killing the mobs, so…” Then he mumbled. “Never heard of an NPC needing drops before. Is that a new mechanic or something? What do you got? … Your dad’s really stingy with the details lately, man… Yeah I know, I—”

I stood there, fuming as seconds slipped by. Just a few hundred meters away, Zephyro fought for our lives, while a giant, unspeakable wall of demonic flesh beckoned hordes of Ferals to kill us.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

And this guy was having a nice inner monologue.

I could feel a vein pulsing in my temple.

“Hey! Focus!” I snapped my fingers in front of his face.

“Okay,” he said with a slightly annoyed chuckle. “You seem nice and all, and I know Francois talks a lot, but interrupting him never ends well. Trust me on that one.”

“Who the fuck is Francois?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh, my Axe?” He pointed down at his belt, where the axe hung, lifeless. “You can’t hear him?”

“You named your Axe Francois?! I— Actually, never mind!” I pointed at Zephyro, still fighting the scorpion. “Let’s go, or we all die.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” the elf said, sheepishly, and broke into a sprint towards the Vizier.

I heard him mumble as I struggled to keep up. “Could have warned me. Not cool, man.”

I forced myself to ignore him, unfurling Pharus’ chain from around my arm. With how sluggish I felt, I’d need my full reach, even if that meant letting the chain drag on the cobblestones as I half-ran, half-stumbled.

When we were close enough, I swung, flaring the weapon despite my exhaustion. It drew a low arc in teal across the world, rushing towards the Feral. When it impacted, the teal glow that covered the beast’s body refreshed, and to my surprise, Shellslinger hooted with joy.

“Hell yeah, crit buff!”

Before I could ask what fresh madness a “crit buff” was, two more elves, exact copies of the first, sprung up beside Shellslinger. They knelt, taking aim at the monster, the muzzle of their barrels glowing purple. As milliseconds passed, the weapons hummed a menacing soprano as the glow increased, until finally, a barrage of dark birds erupted from the barrels. They cawed as they sailed through the sky, and hit the scorpion in the flank with a satisfying explosion of dark feathers.

The beast roared, pausing mid-swing to turn towards the Gun-mage as it realized a new threat had emerged. Zephyro, however, did not let the opportunity go to waste. With a yell, his sword drew a crescent through the air, plunging deep into the beast’s side.

The Feral’s roar increased in pitch and it swung its electrified claw toward the side of Zephyro’s head. The Vizier was ready this time, however, planting his feet and raising his hand to block the strike, silver shield enveloping his arm.

He slid backward with the force of the impact, hand glowing pure white, but he did not falter. When it noticed its attack would not be enough, the feral shook itself, and pustules bulged on his back.

“Get ready for spiders—“ I began, but the Vizier had it under control.

He yelled something I did not understand, and after brief flash of white from behind Shellslinger and I, a broad beam of moonlight shot straight at the beast’s back. It’s searing light incinerated the tiny arachnids before they could spawn.

Shellslinger kept blasting the Feral, peppering him with raven after raven. “Yeah I know. l also feel ambiguous about getting helped by the moon of all things.” Then he turned to me. “Scorpion’s at 65% and falling. Keep it up!”

“How can you tell?!” I yelled, looking at the Feral’s numerous wounds. It looked almost dead to me, but I had been wrong in the past and learned not to rely on my intuition too much in this place.

“Francois’s telling me!” the Elf yelled, “are you sure you can’t hear him? Because he keeps acting as if nothing’s wrong and I can’t tell if this is another one of his pranks.”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, of course! Your talking axe that only you can hear is giving you damage readouts on the giant robot scorpion we’re fighting.

All in between funny pranks!

God save me.

I yanked Pharus back and swung wide, sending my weapon crashing into the scorpion over and over. A strike from the left, one from the right, left, right, left… I almost got lost in the rhythm of the censer roaring through the air, leaving patches of burning teal on the jagged metal with every satisfying thunk. However, while it sounded impressive, it was hard to tell if I was doing any damage, but I would rather die than ask the elf, or his axe for confirmation.

In the meantime, Zephyro kept the Scorpion's attention on himself, jabbing his sword into one weak spot or another whenever the beast stopped hammering him with its claws for more than a second.

In the heat of the moment, neither of us had noticed the scorpion’s tail had started glowing until it was too late.

With an electric boom, a beam of crimson cut through the hot air. It hit the elf in the chest with enough force to push him backward for several meters. The attack faded as quickly as it had begun, but even though I knew it wasn’t over, there was nothing I could do.

A split-second later, the aftershock sent the Old Guard tumbling over the cracked mosaic. His copies flew beside him, vanishing the second he hit the floor.

After my earlier experience with the laser, I was sure he was dead, but no Logic streamed from his body, and he got up a second later, swaying as he collected his rifle.

“Alright, random AOE damage, gotta stay spread.” He nodded at me as he got back into position. “Can I get some heals over here?”

“Heals?” I asked, quickly turning back to the Feral to renew my assault. We had to kill it, and quickly, before more of its kind arrived.

“Oh. I thought you were the healer?” Shellslinger said, pulling out his pistols and sending a barrage of ravens at our target. “I mean, I assumed because…”

“…because?” I asked, grunting with effort as I sent my flail flying into the scorpion’s carapace. It impacted with a puff of teal flames but did very little besides.

“Because of that, mostly,” the Elf replied, jerking his chin at the little patch of fire Pharus had left on the carapace.

For what it was worth, he did not stop firing. “39%, almost in execute range.”

“Then let it be done!” Zephyro yelled, pushing against the pincer currently electrifying his blade with all his might. The second it broke contact, he moved in like a dervish, blade spiraling through the air and impaling one of the beast’s many eyes.

It roared and recoiled, tail flashing bright red. I wanted to yell a warning, but it was too late. Another flash of red cleaved through the night, straight at Shellslinger.

The second it hit him, he exploded in a shower of purple sparks, and the scorpion twitched as if struck by lightning.