by James Hunter
And then there was the tentacle … Or rather the creature the tentacle was attached to.
At first it loitered just out of sight, stalking us from the shadows. But the more often we intruded in its realm, the bolder—or maybe angrier—it became. It was after the fifth jump that I saw it plainly for the first time. A colossal squid the size of a battleship that easily could’ve passed as one of Lovecraft’s Eldritch Horrors. A monstrous beast with a bulbous head, a tooth-studded maw big enough to swallow me whole, a swarm of blinking purple eyes, and a legion of writhing tentacles too numerous to count.
Squid was the closest fit, but it was a squid in the same way a goldfish is a shark.
A tag flickered briefly, then vanished: [Void Abomination].
Fitting.
Osmark saw it too, of course, and I think he suddenly had a new appreciation of the Shadowverse. This wasn’t merely an eerie, but beautiful world. No, it was also a dangerous one filled with deadly monsters. By our last jump—which brought us to the outer steps of the acropolis, where we took cover behind a hulking statue of the Mer-Queen—the Void Abomination was less than fifty feet away. It lurked on the roof of a fanciful marble house, resembling an elegant starfish. Its tentacles twirled and writhed, gripping at stone gables as its host of eyes watched us and its huge mouth soundlessly opened and closed.
Salivating. Hungry.
Naturally, I pulled us from the Shadowverse and decided that we’d have to sneak into the acropolis through more ordinary means. The last thing we needed was to go toe to toe with that thing, since I had no doubt we would lose and lose bad. That freak was damned near a force of nature, and since I didn’t have another point sitting in Void Terror, there was no way I could bind it to my will—not that I actually thought I could bind it, even if I had the point.
I pushed thoughts of the Void Abomination from mind as I glanced left, right, then stole a look behind us.
Roving bands of Ningyo sentries, three deep, patrolled the perimeter of the acropolis, but it only took a handful of passes to see that they followed the same route without fail. After watching the pattern unfurl and repeat several times, I knew we could get into the acropolis without much problem. I waited patiently until a group of three passed us by, their leader a bulky Ningyo with a dorsal fin that was a brilliant shade of neon orange.
“Let’s move,” I muttered at Osmark under my breath, pulling him forward as the three guards disappeared around a set of hulking stone columns.
FIFTEEN_
Necrotic Pillar
Without waiting for a response, I darted forward, legs kicking, arms pulling me through the water as fast as I could manage. We had less than thirty seconds before the next patrol passed by, and we needed to be inside the acropolis proper or we were in big trouble. My heart thundered, blood pounding, mind racing.
Swimming brazenly out in the open like this was a terrifying experience. Even though I knew we would be fine—that I’d timed it just right—I felt like a thousand eyes were watching us move.
But then I cruised past a set of stone steps leading between a pair of pillars, went through a fanciful archway, and found myself in a wide hallway, the walls flawless white marble, flecked with gold, the floors smooth squares of opal. Impossibly beautiful, those floors. Back IRL, that much opal would cost a king’s ransom, but here it was merely a few lines of code pulled from some Dev’s imagination.
A hand wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me back and pressing me against the wall.
Osmark raised a finger then pressed a finger to his lips as he jerked his head toward the opening. A guard patrol loitered not far from the entrance to the acropolis, treading water as their leader sniff, sniff, sniffed, gills fluttering frantically as its luminous orange eyes scanned the landscape. Did they see us? I didn’t know, but they hadn’t called for reinforcements, so I figured we had some hope. Still, I held my breath and dropped into a crouch, activating Stealth as I muttered a silent prayer.
After a tense few seconds, the leader shrugged scaly shoulders, took one final look around, then resumed his route with his underlings in tow.
Close, Osmark mouthed to me, absently tugging on the bottom of his jacket.
I nodded, my body quivering from the adrenaline pumping through me, and headed down the hallway, Osmark swimming beside me. We came across several connecting passages that snaked further into the complex but ignored them all, continuing straight ahead. Eventually, the tunnel terminated at another archway, which offered us a view of the acropolis’ interior.
From the outside, the place had looked like a temple, but from here, I could see it was actually an amphitheater. Or maybe a coliseum. A white sand pit occupied the center of the building, and hundreds of seats rose up around that pit in a circle like a baseball stadium made of gold leaf and marble. On the far side of the pit, raised up on a wide platform, was a private viewing box, edged with opal pillars. Between the pillars was a massive golden throne, fashioned to look like an upraised whale-tail. The gaudy chair was studded with enough gems to buy a beachfront mansion in Malibu.
I had no doubt that was Sapphira’s seat.
The real prize, however, was in the center of the sandy ring. I squinted. Grinned. The Necrotic Pillar rose from the center of the ring. The thing was twenty feet tall and jabbed straight up like an accusing finger. The pillar—an ebony eyesore that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city—was carved from top to bottom with twisted runes that emanated a foul green power that seeped into the waters around it like toxic sewage. And at the base of the pillar, stuck into the white sands? A weapon.
An elegantly wrought trident built of solid emerald and tooled in gold.
Bingo. A two for one.
Still, there was something wrong here. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Not an army of Ningyo to battle through. No giant sea eel ready to swallow us whole. No monstrous, submarine-sized shark to KO. Nothing.
“You know this is a trap,” Osmark said beside me, his voice a mere whisper. “The city is packed with troops, but the prize itself is left unguarded?” He quirked an eyebrow at me, his lips pursed. “Not a chance. Look at the setup. No pillars to hide behind. No shadows to steal through. Everything is out in plain sight. Whoever did this”—he waved a hand at the sandy floor—“wants to force us into the open. No more hiding. No more sneaking. They’re forcing our hand, making us play their game.”
“Okay,” I replied, rubbing my chin, “so we break the rules. But how?”
“Sometimes, Jack,” he said, face serious, deadpan, “you just need to play. Sometimes, there is no way around. That’s part of your problem. Always thinking there’s a way to shift the paradigm, but sometimes there isn’t.” He frowned, seesawing his head. “Still, we can make it harder for them to kill us.” He pointed toward Sapphira’s private seat on the far side.
“Considering the current circumstances, I stand very little chance against whatever creature is currently out there lying in wait to murder us, but in my battle mech I can still hit hard. So, you lurk here. Wait. I’m going slip over to that viewing box on the far side. When I’m in place I’ll message you. Once that’s done, you head out and draw aggro—and just remember, you don’t need to beat whatever this Vox-Malum has to throw at us. To win this, we don’t need to kill the boss, we just need to take out the pillar and get the Mer-Queen’s trident.”
“So, I’m the distraction?”
He nodded. “And I’m the sledgehammer.” He paused. “And for what it’s worth, Jack, good luck.” Then, before I could reply, he turned and bolted back down the hall, ghosting along before cutting into a connecting passage on the left. I turned my attention back to the stadium’s sandy floor, my mind scrolling through a thousand possible scenarios. As I waited in anxious anticipation, I activated both Night Armor and Shadow Forge, then pulled my new dagger free, idly spinning the blade.
Already, I missed the feel of my warhammer, but I’d need extra speed in this terrain.
After a fistful of t
ense minutes, a message pinged in my inbox—short, sweet, and to the point.
<<<>>>
Personal Message:
In position. Begin.
—Osmark
<<<>>>
I dismissed the notification with the wave of one hand, then closed out my interface. I pressed my eyes shut, taking one more deep breath—water rushing through my mouth and into my lungs—while my gills did the real work. Despite the discomfort of water going where water shouldn’t go, the familiar motion was soothing. I pushed away my fear and uncertainty, calming my clamoring mind, then opened my eyes, ready to fight. I gripped the handle of my new dagger and stole through the arch and into the open.
This time, I didn’t even try to hide my presence.
I wanted the monster lurking in this place to see me, to reveal himself.
I moved closer, carving through the water, but still nothing.
I floated past the stands and dove toward the bottom, beelining for the pillar. Gently, I touched down on the bottom of the amphitheater, gritty sand kicking up, gently swirling around my feet. I crouched, tracing my fingers through the sands, waiting for the inevitable attack. Nope. Nada. If this was a trap like Osmark suspected, then it was possible the boss wouldn’t reveal itself until there was no possible chance I could escape. I’d seen this before—back in the restricted dungeon where I’d earned my Faction Seal.
Probably, it would wait for me to touch the trident. That or the pillar.
I glanced toward the viewing platform at the far edge of the ring, searching for some sign of Osmark. I knew he was there, but apparently he was better at hiding than I’d given him credit for, since there was no sign of him. With a sigh, I stood, licked my lips out of habit, then glided over to the trident. I didn’t hesitate—not with the prize so close. I reached out with my free hand, fingers wrapping around the emerald grip of the weapon. The trident quivered at my touch as ancient power thrummed beneath my palm.
But when I tried to pull the weapon free, it wouldn’t budge. Not an inch. The damned thing felt anchored into the ground.
I paused again, stealing a look left, then right.
Whatever enemy guarded this place remained out of sight. Carefully, I stowed my new dagger, slipping it into its place at my belt, then planted my feet to either side of the trident and gripped the staff with both hands. I heaved with every ounce of strength I could muster, arms trembling, back straining, lips pulled back in a snarl of effort. I felt like one of the old knights of legend, trying to pull the sword from the stone. Except, unlike King Arthur, I was failing miserably. I crouched down, really putting my legs into it—finally the thing started to shift.
At least I thought so for a split second before realizing that the trident wasn’t moving, but rather the whole earth was trembling below my feet. I let go, stumbling back a step, but the ground kept right on shaking, and then in a blink the earth lurched upward, sand flying and swirling, creating a cloud of gritty brown and white that made it impossible to see a thing. A fierce riptide pulled my feet out from under me, flipping me head over heels as the brutal current battered me like the spin cycle in a washing machine.
Maybe the guardian was a Water Elemental like the one we’d fought against on the beach.
The thought fled as I smashed into the stone bleachers, head snapping back, clipping a marble ledge with enough force to earn me a debuff:
<<<>>>
Debuff Added
Concussed: You have sustained a severe head injury! Confusion and disorientation; duration, 1 minute.
<<<>>>
No doubt Osmark would be pissed at that since he’d now be suffering under the same penalty. I shook my head, dismissing the notice, and glanced toward the pit as the debris cloud finally began to settle. A railroad spike of fear ripped into me as I finally caught my first look at the caretaker of the pillar, a [Cove Guardian Thrall]. Not a Water Elemental, but a crab. A crab the size of a small island. The creature stood at least thirty feet high, held up by lanky, midnight black legs as big around as a manhole cover and studded with barbed spikes.
A pair of huge claws protruded from its body, rhythmically opening and closing—click-clack-click-clack—as a pair of beady green eyes, each the size of a baseball, tracked my motions. Its shell was easily twenty feet across, and the pillar and the trident poked up from it like crowning jewels. I glanced down at the sandy ring and noticed a huge divot in the earth, perfectly shaped to conceal the dread crab from the eyes of intrepid adventurers. A huge pair of mandibles creaked open, revealing a thin gash of a mouth studded with a thousand serrated shark teeth that would make mincemeat out of even the most stalwart fighters.
Holy crap, were we screwed. There was no way I could beat this thing alone—hell, even a small army of fighters would have a problem taking this critter down. Osmark’s words flashed inside my head: to win this, we don’t need to kill the boss, we just need to take out the pillar and get the Mer-Queen’s trident. Distraction was the name of the game. Just keep moving. Keep hooking and jabbing. Keep this thing focused long enough for Osmark to do his work.
“Let’s do this thing,” I screamed at the monster, offering it a wicked grin as I drew my hook-bladed dagger and conjured an Umbra Bolt in my free hand. “I’m having crab legs for dinner tonight!” I leapt forward, hurling the spell right into its tooth-riddled maw. Violet light splashed harmlessly against the creature’s face—its HP didn’t even flash from the hit—but the attack sure as heck managed to get its attention. Wordlessly, it lurched toward me, its claws striking out with impossible speed.
Maneuvering quickly underwater was phenomenally tricky, but I’d had some serious practice while grinding my way through the underground passageway to get here. I pulled my legs in and kicked sharply out, shooting to the right as a huge claw snapped shut a foot away from my web-toed feet. I shot one leg right and kicked furiously, reversing my course as I struck with the dagger. The curved blade didn’t even come close to penetrating the chitinous armor, but I managed to sink the blade into a thin fissure in its joint.
The crab jerked the appendage back and up, trying to draw away so it could attack again, but my blade held. Water sprayed against me like a pressure washer, but I refused to let go. With a snarl plastered across my face, I used the blade to haul myself onto the claw. With a creature like this, distance was definitely my enemy. It was fast and huge, its spear-tipped legs capable of impaling me, its claws ready to shred me like a food processor. In close, though, it would have a helluva time landing a big hit. I reached up, wrapping a hand around one of the wicked spikes sticking out on the underside of the claw.
In moments I scampered along more spikes, using them as hand and foot holds, pulling away from the clacking appendage and toward the creature’s eyes. If this thing had any kind of vulnerability it would be its eyes—either that or some weak spot on its underbelly. And even if its eyes weren’t especially weak, getting poked in one would make it hard to focus on anything else. The monster crab seemed to sense exactly what I was doing; it lifted the claw-tipped arm and began thrashing the limb wildly through the water—left, right, up, down—frantically trying to dislodge me like an angry bull looking to throw its rider.
I hunkered down, pulling my body in tight, wrapping my legs around the girth of its limb, body shaking as the rush of water pounded at me from every side. Unbelievably, the sheer fury of the whipping waves was enough to incrementally eat through my life. Not a lot, but a little bit with every passing breath. After ten or so seconds, the thrashing finally ceased, though the world still seemed to lurch and spin around me as though I’d just downed ten shots of Jack. I stifled the urge to puke and continued shimmying upward, moving from spike to spike.
Five feet from its face, I thrust a hand out and unleashed another Umbra Bolt—this one landing squarely against an eye like a glowing orange softball. For the first time, its HP dipped, not much, but some. A small win. High on the minute victory, I conjured more of the shadow orb
s, hurling them out as fast as I could make them. After the fifth direct hit, the arm lurched back into motion again, shooting right, then reversing course in a blink. Whiplash. My legs were wrapped tightly around the appendage, but I was only holding on with one arm—the other still outstretched from my assault.
It wasn’t enough.
The force of the water pulled me loose and I flipped backward, arms and legs splayed out, a surge of liquid battering my face, yanking at my cloak, forcing its way up into my nose. I kicked and fought, trying to reorient myself before the crab attacked again, but I wasn’t fast enough. Not by half.
SIXTEEN_
Monster Mash
Something hit me in the gut like a wrecking ball, knocking the air from me before slamming me into the gritty earth. A bolt of pain lanced up my back and through my shoulders, white static exploded across my eyes, and my HP dropped by a fifth. The weight—the backside of a crab claw—didn’t lessen, but instead drove down, pushing me deeper into the sands, pinning me in place as barbed spikes punctured my leather armor and dug into my skin like cactus spines. My ribs creaked, aching like fire, and the multitude of shallow puncture wounds drained away more HP.
I grunted and screamed, pushing against the huge claw with both hands. It felt like trying to lift a mountain. I went to work with my blade, jabbing down again and again. But I might as well have been stabbing a boulder for all the good that did. The ferocious guardian was just too well armored. Maybe under ideal circumstances I’d be able to punch through with my warhammer and the Crush Armor ability. But this was about as far from ideal circumstances as possible. Still, I struggled, refusing to give up even though it was hard to breathe, to think.