Chapter 65 (Patreon)

Crunch.

Rob jumped back as the Sporeking’s arm, a limb as thick around as a human torso, delivered a devastating blow to the spot where he’d been standing moments ago. Taut cords of plantlike muscle bulged as the arm punched straight through several meters of solid wood. The Sporeking stared at him with sunken, emotionless eyes as it extricated its arm from the floor and advanced, a lumbering off-yellow mountain with enough strength to bench press a car. It was already healing the few cuts Rob had managed to score and seemed barely worse for the wear than it was at the start of their battle.

All in all, he was feeling pretty confident.

Rob didn’t get many fair fights. Either he was horribly underleveled, or he had someone to protect, or an eldritch abomination had been dropped onto his doorstep. While his duel against the Sporeking wasn’t entirely fair, considering how bone tired he was, it was a far sight more manageable than – for example – shepherding dozens of clueless Elves through a forest as giant mutated lions tried to pick them off. The Sporeking was big, strong, and punched things. That was it. Outside of the toxic fumes, which wouldn’t come into play as long as he kept his Firebombs at bay like a good boy, the creature didn’t have any gimmicks to deal with. It was a shame that using fire against a big plant was off-limits, but that was a small price to pay for the Sporeking lacking laser eye beams or some shit. If Rob didn’t get hit, he would win. That simple.

Hell, he might win even if he did get hit. Air pressure rippled in front of him as the Sporeking missed a roundhouse punch, the hairs on the back of Rob’s neck standing on end. It was a blow that could shatter bones and rupture organs – yet, somehow, he was underwhelmed. There was no finesse or killer instinct behind the attack. It was like watching an amusement park animatronic try to throw hands. While the creature appeared to be roughly as strong as the Bestial Chimera, it wasn’t using that strength as effectively as its animalian counterpart had. With Rob’s Vitality, Tough Skin, and Vitamin D(efense), he was pretty sure that he had breathing room to take a few hits from the Sporeking before his body gave out. It would hurt like a bitch, but he would live.

“I have judged the worth of your mettle,” Rob intoned. “And I declare you...mediocre.”

The Sporeking plodded forward.

“Yeah, agreed,” Rob said. “A bit too ostentatious to work as effective trash talk.” He backed away as the Sporeking grasped at him with gnarled fingers. “Need to make my lines snappier so that my enemies will get pissed off as soon as I open my big mouth.” Another sidestep, another dodge. “Wonder if there’s a Skill for battle banter. Elder Alessia is pretty good at being rude; I should ask her for advice after we save her life.”

He activated Power Slash and swung his longsword at the Sporeking’s ankle. Its flesh was soft on the surface but increased in density and toughness the deeper Rob’s sword cut. The attack was halted when it hit bone that felt suspiciously like hardened wood, stopping the blade’s momentum in an instant. Rob moved to yank his sword free, eyes widening as he found himself unable to budge it more than an inch. The blade was stuck like an axe that had gotten lodged in a tree trunk.

“Oh f-”

Rob let go of the sword and threw himself back. Fingers the size of his arm grabbed and missed him by inches, ripping into the hem of his shirt but leaving him otherwise unscathed. The Sporeking settled for its consolation prize by pulling out Rob’s longsword and crushing it with the nonchalant ease of a bored frat boy squeezing an empty can of beer. Bent, useless metal shards were dropped to the floor, and the Sporeking marched forward, seemingly unbothered by the already-healing wound in its ankle.

“I’m running out of those,” Rob said, weakly. “Okay. New plan. Let’s play catch.”

A flurry of blue motes shined around Rob’s hand. He threw the Broken Shortsword at the Sporeking, giving it a narrow cut. Then he summoned the Shortsword again, and threw it again. And again.

Throwing Proficiency Level Increased! 1 → 2

Each attack was as impactful as a bee stinging an elephant, but that was all Rob needed. He just wanted a breather, and his tactic was performing its intended function of slowing the Sporeking’s advance. The creature hesitated and fumbled as the jagged Shortsword continuously scraped against its torso, arms, and face. Once, it managed to snatch the Shortsword out of the air and crush the annoyance into tiny bits, only for Rob to summon the Shortsword back into his hand – repaired to its full Broken glory – and then throw it again without missing a beat. It was a shame that the creature didn’t have a face, because Rob would have loved to see the look on it. The thing’s frozen body language as it stared at its empty hand, forlorn, would have to suffice.

Rob took a moment to glance behind the Sporeking and check on Meyneth. The Dragonkin’s battle against her own Sporeking seemed to be faring better than his was. She’d locked onto the Sporeking like a heat-seeking missile, fixing it with a feral glare from her golden, cat-slit eyes that shone brilliantly despite the middling lighting in the room. Meyneth attacked without mercy as she tore out gouges of plant-flesh in broad strokes with her claws, striking frequently and ferociously enough to leave injuries that outpaced the creature’s healing. The Sporeking punched, missed, and Meyneth made it pay for its failure. She opened her mouth wide open, showcasing two impressive rows of sharklike chompers, and bit down on the Sporeking’s bicep. Her teeth sank in without a hint of resistance and tore away a chunk of mushroom flesh before Rob had time to react.

“Whoa!” Rob yelled, projecting his voice across the large empty space of the tree’s interior. “No biting! The mushroom men let out toxic fumes when they get injured! Sticking your face near its wounds is a bad idea! Making its wounds with your face is a really bad idea!”

Meyneth spat out a gob of plant-flesh and shot an exasperated look at him as she backed away from her Sporeking. “You didn’t think to mention that sooner?!”

“I didn’t think you’d munch on it like it was a fucking sandwich!” He raised his left hand – the other one dedicated to repeatedly throwing the Broken Shortsword – and gave her a thumbs-up. “Other than that, you do you! Have to go back to paying attention to my Sporeking before it twists my head off but keep up the good work!”

Out of everyone in the Party besides Keira, Meyneth was probably the best-suited for taking on a Sporeking. She was fast enough to dodge its blows and had the strength to deal enough of a beating to muscle through its regeneration. Rob might’ve considered himself the runner-up in that category under normal circumstances, but unfortunately he didn’t have much gas left in the tank. None of Riardin’s Rangers were fighting at full capacity – the Dreamthieves had seen to that – but Rob had gotten by far the worst of it due to the aftershocks of deactivating Melancholy Resistance. It was why he hadn’t done much lasting damage to his Sporeking. In his state, playing a game of cat-and-mouse was a lot safer than aggressively fighting up close. Minimizing risks was his number one priority.

Rob ducked under a punch that would have left him shopping for dentures. He backpedaled, threw the Broken Shortsword a few more times, and wondered about what that punch would have done to anyone else in his Party. All things considered, it was for the best that he was here instead of them. They weren’t as tired as him, but they were still tired, and tired people made mistakes. The Rangers, Zamira, and Malika wouldn’t have been able to afford mistakes. At all. One hit from a Sporeking would splatter them against the wall.

Thankfully, based on Meyneth’s HP, she would probably survive if she got tagged by a stray punch. It was part of why he felt comfortable with his decision to steadily wear down his Sporeking. She could handle herself, and that realization had removed a great deal of the weight off of his shoulders.

And you were worried about holding me back, Rob mused. He spared a glance for the Dragonkin, a living blender that was doggedly shredding the Sporeking to pieces. Just look at you go! And go. Yeesh. First time I’ve seen you that, uh, hyped. What’s got you so excited?

--

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, seriously.”

Meyneth recalled Rob’s words as her claws ripped away more of the Sporeking’s plant-flesh, revealing woodlike bone at the center of its arm. Sweet falsehoods rang in her ears, trying to trick her as they had again and again.

“You’re among friends now.”

Her claws scraped against the wood-bone and left shallow scratches. Tough, but not unbreakable. She struck again, and for the first time, the Sporeking retreated. The creature covered its exposed bone and plodded backwards, tension spreading through its body as it took a defensive stance.

“You’re a good person, and we all like you.”

Meyneth allocated the appropriate amount of attention necessary to press her advantage. While her body moved, her mind returned to ruminating over what Rob had said. The enemy in front of her was an afterthought; it was the words repeating in her thoughts that she truly struggled against. Words of kindness, warmth, and acceptance.

Which were all feelings that, she had to admit, felt alien to her.

Could she trust those words? She so desperately wanted to. But they could easily be a ploy to prop up her mental state long enough for the Party to finish the Dungeon Crawl. A Thrasher without the will to fight was as worthless as a Volshok without teeth. She had been in a downward spiral, and it was the job of any competent leader to tend to their subordinates’ morale. Rob was the leader, whether he realized it or not, and he had performed his duties admirably. He had identified a liability and addressed it in short order.

Yes, that had to be it. He was civil with her, which she appreciated, but he wouldn’t have spoken those words were the two of them not embroiled in a fight to the death. Their interactions with each other would reset to normal once the Dungeon had been expunged.

Meyneth activated Armor Shred and sank her claws into the Sporeking’s bone, digging deep gouges out of wood that would have turned aside the sharpest of steel. The Sporeking stayed silent, but its sunken-in eyes widened by a fraction. Meyneth struck with savagery worthy of Tylrud, hoping to sever the creature’s arm entirely with her next blow.

She remembered that Tylrud was known for his impetuousness as much as his savagery a moment before the Sporeking blocked her attack with its arm. It ignored the claws tearing through its flesh and aimed a forward punch straight at her center of mass.

‘Endure.’ The Sporeking’s fist drove all the air out of her lungs and sent her soaring across the room. Meyneth crashed into the wall, her body throbbing in places she’d forgotten could feel pain. It was the first time she’d suffered major damage in years, and falling to the ground in a shivering heap afterwards did little for her ego.

104 Bludgeoning Damage Reduced by Endure!

193 Bludgeoning Damage Received!

7 Crashing Damage Reduced by Endure!

13 Crashing Damage Received!

Meyneth
Level: 27
Thrasher Level: 24
HP: 204 / 410
Stamina: 185 / 270
MP: 156 / 250
Status Effects: Determined, Contemplative, Hopeful (Mild), Hopelessness (Mild), Fractured Ribs (Moderate), Endure (Reducing damage by 35% for the next 12 seconds), Armor Shred (Deals additional piercing damage to tough material for the next 6 seconds)

She grimaced as she wiped dribble off of her chin. I was careless. It may be slow and pondering, but that doesn’t mean it’s a brainless fool. She’d paid the price for her arrogance, and it had placed her in a position where one wrong move would see her dead. ‘Endure’ had been her trump card. It wouldn’t be available for another 5 minutes, which meant that the next hit she suffered would likely kill her outright. Power Slash had another 2 minutes before it would be available to use again. Step of the Wind was ready, but she wouldn’t be able to deal significant damage without her primary offensive Skills, and once it ran out…

The Sporeking walked forward, its heavy steps sending minor shockwaves running up her body. Meyneth wobbled to her feet and barked out a snarl. The injuries she’d inflicted on the creature’s wood-bone were regenerating much more slowly than the ones on its flesh, a sight that bolstered her fading morale. Stalwart as it was, the Sporekings weren’t invincible. A path to victory existed.

If only someone more competent was in her place. Someone who could identify and follow that path to victory. Meyneth knew full well that she was not that person. She would fail, just like every other instance she’d been given to prove herself. Rob would die, and she would die, and the blame would fall squarely on her.

“Incomplete,” an older voice declared. That single word nearly drowned her in the past, but it was forestalled at the last moment by two newer voices, shining points of light in a suffocating mire.

“I’m here because I’m worried about you, Meyneth.”

“You’re brave, helpful, smart, and cool. You’re all those things and more.”

Meyneth bellowed out a harsh roar that reverberated throughout the tree. Rob and the Sporekings froze. She retracted and re-extended her claws, rubbing them together to emit a sound like scraping steel. Eyes of a predator staring down her prey caused the Sporeking to flinch and take a step back. Not from the effect of any special Skill, but from the sheer weight of their intensity.

Rob believed in me, she finally accepted. And so did Vul’to. They can’t both be lying.

I’ll put my faith in people. One last time.

Claws extended and poked through the front of her boots. Mana gathered in her legs as her muscles hardened to the density of stone. Meyneth crouched and Leaped forward, cracks splintering through the wooden floor she’d jumped from, and barreled into the Sporeking with the speed of an arrow and the force of a sledgehammer. She gave it no time to respond before sinking her claws deep into the creature’s cheeks and ripping its fucking face clean off. A skull of wooden bone lay underneath. She activated Leap once more and pushed off the exposed bone, toppling the Sporeking to the ground and cracking its skull in multiple places.

Claw Proficiency Level Increased! 7→ 8

As testament to your overwhelming might, you have been granted 1 Strength!

Meyneth landed on her feet at the other end of the room and roared in triumph. She bent her knees and spread her arms, muscles bursting with energy.

“I WILL PROVE MY WORTH. YOU WILL PERISH. KNOW YOUR FATE AND DESPAIR.”

She charged, teeth bared and a song in her heart.

–

“Holy shit.”

Rob should have used his Sporeking’s moment of distraction to get a good hit in on the oversized mushroom. Instead, he stood transfixed as Meyneth unleashed some hidden reserve of strength and eviscerated her opponent like a wild animal tearing at a piece of raw meat. In retrospect, maybe I should have been a bit more cautious when I first met her.

Admiring badassery would have to wait, though. Meyneth could apparently reduce some of the damage she took with a Skill, but Rob doubted it had a short cooldown. And without a portion of Tough Skin and Vitamin D(efense) shoring up her defenses, the attack would have been even worse. She couldn’t weather another blow like that.

Rob nodded, having made his decision. It was high time he executed Phase 2 of his strategy. He’d drawn out the fight long enough for Battle Fever to add +4 to all of his stats, he’d successfully lured his Sporeking away from Meyneth, isolated the creature from its buddy, and now-

77 Slashing Damage Taken!

Platelet Party Level Increased! 7 → 8

Rob sucked in air as he threw himself to the side, barely dodging a follow-up strike from the Stickbug that had crept up from behind. A cut ran down from his right shoulder to the bottom-left of his torso, one that Level 1 Rob would have been sliced in half by but that Level 33 Rob shrugged off like it was a bad bruise. Curses flowed out of his mouth like water through a broken dam as he peered up and witnessed hundreds of Stickbugs crawling down the side of the tree interior, apparently having abandoned their fight against the rest of the Party to come to the rescue of their beleaguered allies.

Time was up. He’d have to speedrun Phase 2 and Phase 3.

Rob tapped into the mana contained within his Enchanted bracelet and focused on a spot ten feet behind the Sporeking. His skin tingled, his stomach lurched, and white sparkles flooded his vision as the bracelet teleported him safely away from the Dungeon’s pincer maneuver. Rob activated a litany of abilities as he rushed towards Meyneth’s Sporeking, Broken Shortsword in hand.

‘Step of the Wind’. ‘Bulk Up’. ‘Power Slash’. ‘Rampage’. Myriad energies surged through his body as the last Skill activation blasted him directly at the Sporeking’s head. He collided with its back, grabbed the front of its skull with his left hand, and used his right to chop the Broken Shortsword into the side of its neck.

Dagger Proficiency Level Increased! 4 → 5

Power Slash and the attack boost from Rampage faded after the attack connected, but the damage had already been done. The Broken Shortsword had carved seven inches deep into the Sporeking’s thick neck. For a horrible instant, Rob wondered if the atypical creature didn’t necessarily need its head to live, but his worries were assuaged when the Sporeking jerked still, then began to tremble. It reached around and batted Rob away with a backhanded slap, but without proper leverage and with its body going through what looked like seizures, the attack felt no worse than a love tap.

Sensing her opportunity, Meyneth pounced. She gripped onto the Sporeking’s front with her claws and scaled up the creature like she was ascending a ladder. The half-dead creature was too slow to react before Meyneth had climbed to the top of its body. Meyneth’s legs glowed, hardened, and with a crunching Leap, kicked off the Sporeking’s head. The sound of tearing wood pierced Rob’s ears as the twelve-foot mushroom suffered a decapitation-by-feet. Rob, as a decapitation connoisseur himself, couldn’t help but be impressed. Its despondent wooden skull bounced a few times before rolling to a stop at the other end of the room.

The Sporeking froze, then collapsed to the ground with enough weight to shake the floor. Rob waited for a hidden gimmick to fuck them over, but the fungal behemoth only laid there, unmoving.

Meyneth let out a cry of victory that was mostly drowned out by the Stickbugs’ offended screeching. “FANTASTIC!” She screamed, laughing with glee. “WONDROUS! ROB, DID YOU BEAR WITNESS TO-”

She blinked as she finally noticed the enemy reinforcements that were closing in fast. “Ah. That’s problematic, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” Rob said, grabbing her hand and leading her away. The horde was starting to drop in, dozens of Stickbugs arriving at the bottom level of the tree with plenty more on the way. Sporeking #2 was almost irrelevant; it was as tough as the first, but way, way slower than a single Stickbug, the likes of which were unfortunately as fast on open ground as they were when navigating across giant tree roots.

Four bugs caught up. Rob and Meyneth continued running without pause as they mowed down their assailants like trimming weeds. Without their giant tree roots to use as cover and ambush tools, the insects posed almost no threat. The part of Rob’s mind governed by Leveling High grumbled in disappointment at the minimal EXP the Stickbugs’ deaths were worth. He would probably level up if stuck around and killed a few dozen, but that wasn’t worth being overwhelmed by the swarm – and the second Sporeking, when Mr. Slow and Steady caught up.

“Not to impugn your judgment,” Meyneth said. “But where are we going, and why?”

Rob pointed at the hole in the ground that the Sporekings had emerged from. It was deep enough that you couldn’t see the bottom.

“I see,” Meyneth said, her voice wavering slightly. “Might I remind you that we don’t know where it leads?”

“It leads to a chance of survival,” Rob stated. “While staying here is a death sentence. Only one real choice.”

Meyneth growled under her breath. “Perhaps. But what if they give pursuit?”

“They won’t,” Rob muttered darkly. He quickly explained his plan. Meyneth’s eyes widened, and she nodded a second later.

Stickbugs, Stickbugs, and more Stickbugs. Rob and Meyneth killed the ones that charged ahead of the rest of the pack, but most were content to gather into a large swarm and let the Sporeking act as their advance guard. Once the lumbering mushroom eventually closed in and started swinging, the horde would rush in from behind and overrun Rob and Meyneth like ants over a dead carcass.

I really hope that every Dungeon isn’t home to a huge insect colony, Rob thought, pursing his lips together. This isn’t as bad as spiders, but I can’t say I’m a fan.

The Sporeking was ten feet away. Nearly all of the Stickbugs that Rob could see had dropped down from the top of the tree, and the ones near the front of the crowd were practically dancing with anticipation.

“Now?” Meyneth whispered.

“Now.”

Rob summoned a Firebomb from his Spatial Storage as Meyneth channeled mana into her legs. She wrapped her arms around him in the same moment that Rob threw the Firebomb directly into the Sporeking’s face. A searing blaze alighted as the Firebomb broke apart, burning away the outer layer of the creature’s head and revealing charred wood-bone underneath. The plant-flesh on the rest of its body that had gone untouched by flame started to rapidly expand. In less than a second, its skin had stretched outwards quickly enough to shove away the adjacent Stickbugs. For one brief millisecond that would be forever burned into Rob’s memories, he observed the Sporeking in the moment before it’s death, looking like an overinflated balloon animal with sad eyes and a sadder existence.

Then it popped. Meyneth had already jumped into the hole as soon as Rob’s Firebomb connected, but before they fell, Rob managed to catch a glimpse of sickly green gas exploding out from inside the Sporeking’s interior, carpeting the room in noxious fumes. He lost vision after that, but his ears could pick up the pained screeches of the Stickbugs as a fantasy-themed mustard bomb detonated in their faces.

Reached Level 34!
5 Stat Points Gained!

Berserker Level Increased! 29 → 30

Throwing Proficiency Level Increased! 2 → 3

...Aw, only got EXP for the Sporeking, Rob sulked. I guess snagging EXP from hundreds of Stickbugs with one Firebomb was too good to be true. Sweet as the joy of leveling up was, it could have been so much sweeter.

Luckily for the two of them, the hole wasn’t filled with darkness because it was a bottomless pit. As they fell, Rob and Meyneth passed through one of the arbitrary walls of darkness that Dungeons used to signify floor changes. Instead of the hundreds of feet they’d been dreading – or hoping for, as it would still be better than a fall that never ended – they only dropped thirty or so feet before landing, Meyneth’s Leap-empowered legs absorbing the impact with ease. They both breathed a sigh of relief as Meyneth let Rob go and leaned against a wall made of bark.

“Can you spare an MP Potion?” She asked. “I used Leap several times during the battle, and my MP is starting to run precipitously low.”

Rob summoned an MP Potion and an HP Potion from his Storage and handed them over. She hadn’t asked for the latter, but the Party Screen was proof enough that she needed it. “We’re down to three of each Potion remaining,” he said. “The other Rangers were carrying more in their personal Storage spaces, but they’re...indisposed.”

As Meyneth refreshed herself with magical gatorade, Rob examined where they’d fallen into. They were currently standing in a hallway with floors and walls made of the same gnarled tree bark that the rest of the Dungeon interior consisted of. The ground was slightly damp, and the lighting was dimmer than it had been in the upper floors. About thirty feet ahead, the hallway split off into several different paths, and-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rob groaned. “Please tell me it’s not another goddamn maze. We didn’t have time for one last time, and we definitely don’t have time for one now.”

“It certainly presents a dilemma,” Meyneth said, tossing the empty Potion bottles over her shoulder. Rob desperately wanted to ask why she’d devoured that one bottle from before and none of the others, but now wasn’t the time. “Do you have any expertise in perceiving and disarming traps?” She continued. “As I do not.”

Rob ground his teeth. “That’s a job for a Ranger, and we’re fresh out of those.” He ran his hands down his face. A second passed as he thought of how their friends were still up above and separated from them by hundreds of feet, then considered how long it would take to traverse the maze, and then imagined getting ambushed by traps they wouldn’t be prepared for, all while the countdown of the Rangers’ lives ticked closer and closer to zero.

Something inside his psyche twitched. “Yeah. Fuuuuuck this.” Rob summoned a Firebomb in each hand. “The floor is damp, but the walls are not. I’m burning this place down. Smokey the Bear can suck my dick.”

Meyneth sputtered. “Are you sure that’s wise?” She cautioned, after regaining her composure. “Aside from the flames themselves, smoke inhalation in an enclosed environment is just as lethal as the noxious fumes expelled by the Sporeking.”

She glanced up and hissed. “Noxious fumes that are pouring down the hole.” She grabbed Rob by the arm and pulled him to the hallway intersection. “We must quit this place before fumes suffuse the area. Then we shall make our way through the maze as quickly as possible. Haste is the solution to our problems, not fire.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Rob said, a serene smile on his face. “I think you’ll find that several of my life’s biggest problems since arriving in Elatra have been solved via Firebombs. When we get out of here, I’m going to find the Elf that makes these bad boys for us and give him or her a big sloppy kiss.”

Meyneth hesitated. A monumental decision seemed to be warring within her. Finally, she relented, her posture sagging like a wilted flower. “I am not fireproof,” she whispered. “Or even fire resistant.”

Rob almost said ‘Aren’t all Dragonkin immune to fire?’, like a complete idiot would have. Thankfully, enough of Diplomacy had rubbed off on him that he knew to keep his trap shut. He’d heard that Dragonkin no-sold fire, but Meyneth had already said that she couldn’t, and it was apparently an extreme sore spot for her. Pressing her for details wouldn’t help anyone.

“No worries,” is what he decided to say. “I’m not either.”

Rob chucked the two Firebombs down the hallway. He patted Meyneth on the back as she watched in stunned horror, the wooden walls alighting with cleansing flame that began to spread at a rapid pace.

I wonder how much EXP I’ll get if I burn down a colossal Dungeon tree?

“That was impetuous,” Meyneth said, in a defeated tone.

“A bit,” Rob admitted. “But aren’t you as tired of this bullshit as I am? We were going to expunge the Dungeon anyway. As far as I’m concerned, this is just cutting out the middleman.”

Both of them jumped in place as a low-pitched groan reverberated throughout the maze. The walls where the fire was spreading shifted and creaked like an old man rising from his bed for the first time in years. Spurred by wary apprehension, Rob attempted to Identify the source of the noise.

Name: Burning Dungeon Wall
Status Effects: Aflame
Description: CONFUSION. INDIGNATION. HATRED.

Rob’s eyebrows shot to the top of his head. “Oh, you’re not a fan?” He crowed, with a delighted grin on his face. “Is that giving you indigestion, you little shit? Tough cookies! You tried to eat my friends, and that means you burn. Ooooooh, I know! I’ll use Waymark to teleport to the Mark I left in the Dreamthief room. Then I’ll climb all the way back down, chucking Firebombs as I go, until you’re one big piece of kindling in a bonfire. Don’t you worry – I’m not running out of those beauties anytime soon. I made sure to request plenty.”

Meyneth lightly rapped him on the head. “Stay calm. You’re dangerously close to losing your composure and sinking into bloodlust.”

Rob side-eyed her with an offended look. “I don’t want to hear it from Little Miss ‘Know Your Fate And Despair’.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Was that not an appropriate battle cry? I was going to go with ‘Your Spine Will Make A Fine Necklace’, but I was unsure if our enemies possessed the requisite anatomy for the provocation to be applicable.”

Smoke wafted under Rob’s nose, prompting a mild sneeze. He glanced to the left, where Sporeking-fumes were pouring out of the hole in the ceiling and slowly filling up the hall. He glanced to the right, where the fire was spreading like HPV in a college dorm, the smoke already having thickened enough to obscure his vision. And his ears could still pick up the low, aggrieved rumbling of the Dungeon, although it was subtler now.

“This is fine.”

“No,” Meyneth countered. “It most certainly is not fine.”

Rob sighed. “I have to get back to Earth so I can show you guys the internet.”

He summoned another Firebomb and chucked it down a third hallway before leading Meyneth down the final fourth path in the intersection. She winced, but otherwise said nothing as he periodically set fire to the paths they’d finished walking through, implementing his own, immensely satisfying version of the scorched earth policy.

The time for subtlety, if it had ever existed, was long since past. His fury had been ignited, and it would ascend to a roaring flame until only ashes remained of anything that stood in his path.

--

Changes

Rob
Level 33 → 34
Berserker Level 29 → 30
Upgrade: Throwing Proficiency 1 → 3
Upgrade: Dagger Proficiency 4 → 5
Upgrade: Platelet Party 7 → 8

Meyneth
Level 27 → 28
Claw Proficiency 7→ 8
Strength +1

Character Sheet and Skills List

--

Thanks for reading!