Outcast Chapter 255 (Book 6 Chapter 40) (Patreon)

Author's Note:

7200 words. Enjoy!

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In another reality within the Deadlands, beleaguered soldiers nursed their wounded and grieved their dead, although they scarcely had time to do either. Empty bottles were scattered across the ground; the last gasp of their restorative supplies. Using HP and MP Potions, the alliance's Combat Class users had managed to patch themselves up to a standard that was...adequate.

They knew it wouldn't be enough to save them.

Death was hanging over their heads – literally, in this case. It would come diving down at any moment. After retreating to a distance that they could pretend felt safe, what survivors remained had made the urgent decision to split their numbers. A small group of elites would stay back, holding the line versus she who sought to massacre them all. Meanwhile, the majority would continue fleeing east, absconding with the injured soldiers and protecting them from harm, like valiant defenders of the weak.

At least that was how Diplomacy had phrased it to soothe egos. More plainly, any allies below Level 70 would be a hindrance when facing something as absurdly powerful as the Dragon Queen. Preventing lower-Level soldiers from taking the field was the same as removing potential hostages and distractions.

Riardin's Rangers couldn't afford even the slightest margin of error. Not with the odds stacked so highly against them.

Unfortunately...some egos weren't so easily soothed.

"You must go with them," Keira insisted, for what felt like the dozenth time.

It was telling that willful, impetuous Malika took a full second to respond. "Can still fight," the young Archmage slurred, barely staving off unconsciousness. "You need me."

We might. Keira resisted the urge to glance back at where Queen Ragnavi was hovering in the air. After being confined underground by Alessia's Soul Burn, the madwoman had burst out with explosive force, soaring skyward with astonishing quickness.

There she resided, even now. No one could explain why. It was preferable to her descending upon the alliance before they'd regained their bearings, but in Keira's experience, an enemy defying expectations meant they knew something you didn't. Either she's delaying our execution out of personal satisfaction...or because staying high up contains some unknown benefit for her.

Keira shook her head. It is of no consequence. We'll find out soon. "You require rest," she once again told Malika. "There's no other cure for severe Mana Exhaustion."

The fact that the little Archmage could stand was a miracle in and of itself. Not only had she fought the Second Will alongside them, then saved their lives by blocking part of Ragnavi's Annihilation – she'd done so while holding Alessia's stolen sliver of divinity the entire time, wielding supreme magics one-handed. As far as Keira was concerned, no one had earned more of a rest than her.

Apparently, Malika disagreed. "Drank an MP Potion," she stubbornly replied, as if that solved everything.

"Just one. You'd need many in order to offset Mana Exhaustion after all that you've endured."

"Dragon Queen flies. Ranged magic good versus fliers."

True enough. If Malika was at her peak, she might have been the single-most valuable member of their Party in the battle to come. But she wasn't, so her presence would just be a detriment, and why wouldn't she admit that?!

"You'd only be capable of launching a handful of spells before collapsing," Keira pointed out, "and we need to safeguard the sliver of divinity. That's our sole pathway to the divine realms."

Her very reasonable arguments merely prompted the Archmage to scrunch up her face in defiance. Before Keira could try again – likely with greater frustration this time – she was interrupted by Orn'tol stepping forward. After locking eyes with Malika, he surprised everyone by wrapping the girl in a warm hug.

"Go with the wounded," he said, holding his younger sister tight and leaning his head on her shoulder. "We'll beat Ragnavi. We'll survive. I swear."

Malika didn't hesitate to return his embrace. "You can't promise that," she croaked, her voice shattering with emotion as tears began streaming down her face. "She's too strong."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes."

"About something important?"

Malika paused. "No."

"Then this is no different." Orn'tol seemed like he was ready to let go – then just squeezed tighter. "I won't leave you alone. I swear on my soul. You protected all us back there, and now it's our turn to protect you. Okay?"

The Archmage's obstinacy evaporated like water under a hot sun. Internally, Keira berated herself for failing to realize that this was what Malika needed to hear; not explanations on combat efficacy. Diplomacy or Rob would've understood the siblings' hearts more quickly, but Diplomacy was busy preparing to set off with the wounded soldiers, and Rob was...

Still not answering his radio. Why? Even if he was in the midst of battling some upstart abomination that had appeared out of nowhere – it would hardly be surprising – shouldn't Duran have been able to answer in his stead? What's...what's happened to...

Keira forcibly pushed those worries out of her mind. He'll pull through. He always does. Any other possibility wasn't worth contemplating right now.

Putting on a brave face, she turned to face Meyneth and Faelynn. "The both of you should consider leaving as well," she said. "I don't mean to diminish your battle prowess, but Thrashers without claws are like Swordmasters without blades."

The two women peered down at their missing claws – having melted from contact with the Blight – then shared a look. Mutual resolve burned in their eyes. Perhaps they both would have left if the other had agreed to do so, yet neither one was going to be the first who succumbed to rationality.

"Unlike Malika," Meyneth began, "we can stand and move just fine. Queen Ragnavi will find us no easy prey."

"Without claws, most of your Skills are unusable."

"Your greatsword is scarcely in better shape. I don't suppose you'd flee if it broke mid-fight, would you?"

Keira suppressed a sigh. She almost pointed out that Meyneth would get to watch over her injured sister if she fled, but something inside her warned that it would be a perilously bad idea. Instead, she opted to pull rank on them. "You understand that as the highest-Level person here, I am acting Leader of our Party."

Faelynn barked out a laugh. "Since when has that stopped any of us from doing as we pleased?"

Memories flashed through Keira's mind of all the times she'd engaged in what would be viewed as insubordination – if committed under the rule of a not-Rob Leader.

Accepting defeat, she turned back around to check on Orn'tol and Malika. Thankfully, the Ranger had convinced his sister to leave with the other soldiers, and was now seeing her off with an encouraging high-five. At least *one* person won't be putting themself in needless danger, Keira mused. We've plenty enough people who will be risking themselves on low odds as it is.

She swept her gaze across those who would remain. Meyneth, Faelynn, Orn'tol, Vul'to, Zamira, Sylpeiros, and herself. Meyneth and Faelynn were crippled. Orn'tol was mostly out of arrows. Keira's greatsword was damaged, and so was Vul'to's shield. Everyone was tired and suffering from varying degrees of Corruption poisoning. Lastly, they lacked Rob's shared defensive buffs, including the ever-crucial Regeneration, as well as the convenience of exchanging silent Messages that couldn't be heard by the enemy.

Just these seven fighters – less than a full Party – against a Level 99 Dragon Queen who had somehow purged her own Corruption.

It was...honestly, it was an impossible task. They would lose. Keira's heart couldn't even sing at the prospect of battling a strong opponent, because the stakes were far too high. She would have accepted defeat if it only meant her death, but this fight was going to decide the fate of all that she held dear.

So she did what any self-respecting Leader should – and stood tall. Regardless of their insubordinate behavior, the others would be subconsciously looking to her for guidance. Keira needed to present the image of an unshakeable rock providing cover from the storm.

Truth be told, she disliked the job and everything it entailed. She much preferred being a soldier able to dedicate her full focus to cutting down the enemies that lay in her path. Regrettably, though, Alessia had condemned her to temporary leadership when the dying Elder addressed Keira directly.

A request made from someone casting Soul Burn wasn't so easily ignored.

Keira stabbed her greatsword into the ground, then laid her hand on the hilt, hoping that the pose looked inspiring. She erased whatever remnants of doubt lingered in her mind, as such anxieties simply weren't allowed. Whether Rob returned in time or not – they would win. Nothing else needed to be said.

We've already killed one god today. A would-be pretender shouldn't be any more difficult.

The wounded finished evacuating shortly afterwards. It didn't take long for Ragnavi to stir, as if their departure was some sort of sign. Like a shooting star from the heavens, she fell, halting right before she would have crashed into the ground. She hovered above the Dungeon entrance, seeming to regard Riardin's Rangers with a casual disinterest.

And then – movement. Fast. So incredibly fast. Faster than anything they'd ever seen. The Queen's form was an indistinct blur, covering hundreds of feet in just several seconds.

Keira made a subtle hand motion behind her back. Her friends froze in the middle of preparing to avoid Ragnavi's opening strike. Sylpeiros, who wasn't aware of their Party's signals, stumbled and nearly tripped as he noticed that no one else was bothering to dodge.

She sent them wordless gratitude. It must have taken a veritable mountain of trust to stand still as a demigod blasted full speed towards them. However, Keira didn't want them running scared when not necessary – superficial posturing was an important aspect of managing tyrants like the Dragon Queen. Despite how things appeared on the surface, Danger Sense had yet to give warning, meaning that Ragnavi was actually going to come to a stop directly in front of them.

In other words: this bitch was just showing off.

Danger Sense was soon proven right. The Dragon Queen abruptly stopped not far from them, exhibiting more control over momentum than a creature of her size should be capable of. Keira was immediately glad that they'd sent Malika away, because Ragnavi's arrival sparked a fierce gust of wind, one that would've absolutely been strong enough to send a weary young Archmage flying like a leaf in a maelstrom.

"How kind of you to wait for me," the Queen greeted, her voice warped by her draconic form. She bowed deeply, the gesture appearing so full of mockery that it transcended to the realm of parody. "Although I did assume that Sylpeiros would be leading at the front – not the Human's Elven lover. Is he chastened from the disgrace of being Level 83 to her 84?"

The Seneschal grimaced, yet said nothing. In spite of his seniority and leadership experience, he'd been strangely willing to let an Elf centuries younger take the reins, acting listless and morose.

Keira would figure that out later; there were bigger concerns right now than one man's despondency. "You may address me as Party Leader," she stated, with a careful balance of nonchalant confidence.

"So be it. Then you've all volunteered to be the next to fall? Is it bravery or stupidity that keeps you here?"

"Necessity. Unlike some, we protect our allies."

"Allies that have fled to save their own skin." Ragnavi tilted her head. "What if I'd skipped past your motley crew and gone to finish off those cowering leeches instead?"

Keira smirked. "And delay hurting the Human's lover? How could you possibly resist?"

The Dragon Queen let out a rumbling chuckle. "Have I grown so predictable? Maybe, maybe. I'd be more worried if I wasn't an unstoppable force of nature – but thankfully, overwhelming power comes with certain benefits."

Riardin's Rangers perked up, interested despite their circumstances. "What exactly did you gain from Level 99?" Keira asked. It was something that all Combat Class users desired to know...and every second they spent talking bought time for Rob and Duran to find a way back. "Are you now truly invincible?"

"Not yet." Ragnavi looked skyward, uncaring of how she left herself open to an attack. "I suppose there's no harm in gloating to corpses. My Class has been imbued with the power of the sun. The longer I bask under its rays, the more my stats increase. Permanently."

She grinned with a mouth full of sharpened teeth. "Given time, even the gods will fall before me."

Keira felt struck by a combination of horror and relief. Ragnavi was gaining stats PERMANENTLY? Then the Level limit of 99 had ceased to inhibit her. She was mightier now than she'd ever been, and would only continue to grow stronger. Hell, she was growing stronger at this moment, her aura of power seeming to expand by the second. It also explained why she'd gone to bask in the sun after escaping from Alessia's Soul Burn tomb.

On the other hand...the Queen really shouldn't be here at all, honestly. No one in Elatra could reach her when she soared among the clouds. If Ragnavi had so chosen, she could have flown far away, absorbed sunlight for a long while, then returned as an existence akin to the gods themselves. With that in mind, the Queen charging forth to meet them in battle today was something of a blessing.

"Are you wondering why I've decided to fight you prematurely?"

Keira flinched. Ragnavi caught it right away, her feral grin somehow widening. "Clever little Elf. If you must know – think of this as the highest honor I can grant you. Your Party has shown to be quite resourceful, and the Human is close to Level 99 himself. I'd rather snuff you out now then allow the slim chance of your Party devising some obtuse way to kill me."

Horseshit.

Ragnavi wasn't someone who 'granted honors'. Ever. That required a degree of respect for others that she fundamentally lacked. Considering her capacity for self-delusion, she might actually believe her own reasoning, yet that didn't make it true.

You are a creature of obsessions, Keira thought. Accruing strength, mitigating risk to yourself, and shielding your pride from harm. Following that, why did–

The realization came swiftly. It took all of her restraint not to burst out laughing. You were frightened. Elder Alessia *scared* you. You'd just achieved the apex of your potential, and a single Level 48 Elf humbled you. All that power meant nothing in the face of a woman with more nobility and honor than you could ever dream of having.

She connected the dots one-by-one. Then you ran. Went into the sky and started bathing in sunlight, so that you wouldn't be caught off-guard like that again. But...you couldn't handle the embarrassment, could you? It was a blemish on your precious pride. Rushing here to lord over a high-Level Party is your way of wiping that stain clean.

Keira let her mask slip, disgust showing openly on her face. "And you dare say that others are cowardly."

Ragnavi's demeanor shifted in an instant. A bestial snarl resounded across the Deadlands. "You forget your place, Elf. Same as that woman – the Elder. She paid the price for her insolence as well."

"Alessia."

The Dragon Queen was momentarily perplexed. "Hmm?"

"Zadreth. Velkroz. Reyla. Daruwill." Keira narrowed her eyes. "I could go on. There's dozens more. Do you remember even one name of the allies you've slaughtered?"

"Why ask questions you already know the answer to?"

"Fair point. I guess I've become something of an optimist over the past year. There was still some room for doubt: should I regard you as an enemy Combat Class user, or merely as a senseless beast to be put down?"

The Savage Warrior's right hand inched towards her greatsword. "Now I know."

Ragnavi's aura of power flared up, suffocating the Party like weights tied around their necks. She bellowed a tremendous roar–

Which was immediately muffled by Orn'tol's temporal fog.

In her rage, Ragnavi had missed the signal that Keira's left hand made, hidden behind her thigh. No point in drawing out this conversation any longer. Rob was nowhere in sight, the Queen grew stronger with every second, and she would've attacked them within the next ten seconds anyway. Better to strike first and retain the element of surprise.

Senseless beasts needn't be treated with fairness.

Keira drew her greatsword, its blade shimmering with the blood-red aura of a Skill. We have one chance. Orn'tol's Temporal Trap would slow Ragnavi's movements for a short period. In that brief window, they needed to hit her *hard*, with all the force they could bring to bear. It was what they'd planned for.

It was also the only thing they'd planned for. Everything would be decided in the next few seconds. If they couldn't kill or maim the Queen during an ambush, when she was taken off-guard, handicapped by temporal fog, then immediately beset by Riardin's Rangers strongest offensive Skills...

Well, the rest of their fight would play out rather predictably.

Keira had been at the front of their Party's formation. Even so, Zamira was faster, rushing forward like a blur of silver. Her longsword clashed with crimson scales, emitting a harsh sound of metal chafing on metal–

–And then she was gone, a translucent afterimage left in her wake. One micro-instant later, Zamira appeared on Ragnavi's other side, the Bladesoul striking yet again. She vanished once more, materializing behind, under, to the right, left, again, again, until a dozen Elven effigies were prepared to attack.

The thirteenth and final Zamira emerged above the Dragon Queen's reptilian head. Her longsword glowed with the silver energy of Power Slash, as did her effigies. She whispered two words, but their onslaught was so fast that it ended before she'd finished speaking, hammering Ragnavi with thirteen Power Strikes executed within milliseconds of each other.

"Mercy's End."

Scales chipped and blood flew. Ragnavi's eyes went wild as she failed to keep track of the sudden pain and movement cascading around her. Keira only succeeded because she'd seen Zamira use this ability once before – otherwise, she would've been just as lost as the Queen. Mercy's End killed swiftly and without recourse, able to mince a full Party of veteran soldiers in the blink of an eye. There were few Skills better-suited to slaying Combat Class users.

A shame, then, that they were battling a beast. Power Slashes that would have cut Level 60 fighters in half merely scraped at Ragnavi's hardened exterior. She'd taken some damage, but it was clearly minimal. Barely enough to slow her down.

Yet plenty enough for a distraction. As Ragnavi wasted time attempting to follow Mercy's End, Keira charged in close, sneaking right under the Queen's nose. Moreso than the damage, this was what Zamira's Skill had been employed for. Riardin's Rangers had known that Temporal Trap wouldn't be sufficient to hold the Queen at bay. She was just too fast – enfeebling her Dexterity meant little when she possessed a wealth of it to spare.

Typical noble, Keira mused. Using a surplus of riches to solve problems when life gets difficult. She imbued her greatsword with Bulk Up and a basic Power Smash. Never paying mind to the commoners beneath your gaze. Ragnavi was fixated on Zamira's last strike, which had finished just a moment prior, the Bladesoul still in mid-air. Always taking your safety for granted...even as those you've disregarded seek to balance the scales.

Everyone in Riardin's Rangers had learned a new Class Skill while traversing the Deadlands. For most, it was something flashy and unique; an ability that would leave a lower-Level fighter awestruck. As for Keira?

*Enhanced* Power Smash.

Personally, she loved it. Why bother with ostentatious showmanship when you could just crush your foes into pulp?

The Savage Warrior let out a war cry befitting of her namesake. Wielding Strength that would have demolished entire buildings, she swung, her greatsword colliding against a draconic, scale-bound torso. A symphony of cracks rang out. One came from Keira's greatsword, which had earned another line of stress for its effort.

The rest came from a section of scales covering Ragnavi's chest. They fell away like red flakes, some reduced to powder. Blood spurted from a fresh wound – not quite gushing, but definitely evident.

Ragnavi's expression was still transitioning to surprise when her body was sent flying backwards.

Your turn, 'Leader'. As Keira recovered from the recoil of hitting what felt like solid steel, the hairs on her neck began to prickle, standing on end. Glancing behind, she saw Seneschal Sylpeiros in a throwing stance, a spear of electricity formed in his hand. This spear was many times stronger than any other he had summoned before, as if he'd called down the lightning itself and gripped it in his palm.

And when he screamed, it was in a voice that tried to sound authoritative – but could only sound grief-stricken. Like the faces of a thousand slaughtered Elven villagers were flashing through his mind's eye.

"THIS IS FOR MY PEOPLE, YOU APPALLING, REPULSIVE ABSCESS! ON YOU, I CAST JUDGEMENT!"

Keira heard a low boom as his lightning spear raced forward. If any of their Skill timings had been misaligned – Temporal Trap, Mercy's End, Enhanced Power Smash, Judgement – then Ragnavi would've had time to dodge. As it was, the Seneschal's fury pierced unguarded skin, drilling right into the scale-less area shorn away by a Warrior's brute strength.

They hadn't practiced this maneuver. No opportunity to. Their Party had just conferred, visualized, and wished for the best.

It was all they'd needed. With everything that was at stake...they couldn't possibly have erred.

Light flickered, and a tremendous clap of thunder exploded from within the Dragon Queen's body. Blood was forced out in a geyser of viscera, gushing out of the new hole in her torso. The Judgement spear continued onwards, shooting out of her back, taking even more flesh with it before finally dissipating into nothingness.

Ragnavi collapsed into a heap on the ground some one hundred feet away.

For a moment, Riardin's Rangers collectively held their breaths. That was it. They'd expended the majority of their strongest offensive Skills in this opening gambit. Orn'tol and Vul'to's new abilities didn't deal damage, Faelynn couldn't use hers without claws, and Meyneth's took too long to prepare. If the Queen was still–

"That hurt."

A peal of amused laughter stomped out their fledgling hopes. Ragnavi leisurely rose to her feet, uncaring of the three-foot-sized hole in her chest. Blood yet flowed from her wound, but its red tide was already beginning to slow.

"Impressive aim, Sylpeiros." The Dragon Queen smiled, sunlight gleaming in her eyes. "I think you actually managed to destroy my heart."

Then she was upon them.

Four orbs of pure mana appeared from nowhere and shot at the Party. Ragnavi took flight and followed behind her summoned projectiles. Keira cursed as she relied on Danger Sense to guide her steps, dodging as an orb detonated on the ground nearby, far too close for comfort. The ensuing shockwave blew heated air in her face and made her bones tremble, as if it was five Riardin Specials combined into a singular blast.

Sylpeiros had used his own Danger Sense to dodge as well. Zamira instead used her speed, avoiding two orbs that pursued her relentlessly, like sharks who'd caught the scent of blood. The Bladesoul skirted past one orb, leading it to rupture against the ground – and letting the second catch up while she was occupied. A hasty usage of Deflect knocked the orb aside, but it had been a near thing, and now that Skill was on cooldown as well.

Ragnavi soared straight past all of Keira, Zamira, and Sylpeiros. She probably could have gutted them as they were distracted, yet at the moment, the Queen's priorities lay elsewhere. While the three fighters' offensive abilities were strong, they hadn't been what piqued her interest.

That honor went to the young Elven boy and his odd temporal cloud.

As death descended, Orn'tol stood his ground and took aim, sacrificing an escape that was doomed to fail in favor of increased accuracy. He let fly a pair of empowered Twin Shots, perfectly timed to strike at Ragnavi's eyes.

She blinked purposefully at the exact right instant. Both arrows bounced off of her eyelids.

Vul'to's Auto-Guard pulled him faster than his body could normally move, superimposing him between Orn'tol and a grisly end. Draconic claws crashed down on the Soul Guardian's shield. His knees buckled – then steadied as Meyneth and Faelynn rushed to his side, adding their Strength together as they struggled to hold against just one of Ragnavi's limbs.

"Boy, you are...the one with the sister?" Ragnavi's voice had adopted a cruel imitation of maternal instinct. "Yes, that arrogant Archmage. So much like my Chosne when she was younger...although you make for an ill-fitting Iaso. Tell me – like them, did you two also vow to protect each other from the horrors of the world? Do you believe that the love in your heart will shield her from harm?"

Keira, Zamira, and Sylpeiros moved to assist, but Ragnavi sent more mana orbs flying at them without even needing to turn around. Orn'tol fired arrow after arrow, his shots amounting to no worse than scratches on paint. Keira could only watch, scarcely able to save herself as the Dragon Queen leaned closer.

"Worry not; I shall correct these misconceptions." Ragnavi's smile beamed like sunshine. "You will be granted the kindness of a swift demise. As for your sister, I will flay her skin and hang her from the rafters – right beside your corpse. Two siblings, united in death, just as MY CHILDREN WERE."

Her voice rose into a howl. The Dragon Queen imbued offensive Skills onto her claws, pummeling at Vul'to's shield over and over, her aura of power melting into an aura of madness. With a roar that was so high-pitched it became a screech, she brought her arms down with the Strength of two empowered greatswords.

Vul'to's shield could endure no more. Already weakened from blocking part of an Annihilation, it now shattered under the weight of a demigod's rage. Ragnavi swept aside Orn'tol's defenders immediately after, batting them away like swatting flies. He was left alone, still refusing to budge, shooting his final arrows in the hopes that one would strike true and give his allies an advantage.

Keira evaded the orb of mana pursuing her, using the dodge motion to twist her body into a Skillful throw. SPEAR OF STEEL! she cried out in her mind, too panicked to form the words verbally. Her greatsword shot forth like a javelin, and she saw Sylpeiros doing the same with a basic spear of lightning.

Ragnavi ignored both as she effortlessly tore her claws through Orn'tol's soft flesh.

"Next shall be...what?!"

Under less dire circumstances, Keira would have found the sight comedic. It wasn't often that she got to witness a fully-fledged Dragon perform a double-take. Ragnavi stared at her unbloodied claws, then at Orn'tol – who was completely unharmed – and then at her claws again, seemingly unable to comprehend what her eyes were telling her. She was so befuddled that she didn't even stop the boy from running, his empty quiver deposited on the ground.

From off to the side, Vul'to shuddered and coughed up blood. More of it was seeping out from beneath his armor. "Our Shield," he muttered, a faint grin on his lips. The Soul Guardian promptly collapsed, Faelynn catching him just as he would have made a painful landing on the dirt.

Thank you, you damned fool. Keira felt tempted to chastise him for employing a Skill that everyone cautioned him to avoid using, but all things considered...it had been warranted. Our Shield transferred the damage inflicted on one Party member over to Vul'to, allowing him to rescue allies even from situations where his physical shield could not reach. While it boasted a high cooldown, the Skill also greatly reduced the damage incurred, meaning there was very little risk for a high-Vitality Class such as Soul Guardian.

In theory. In practice, Ragnavi's claw strike had still ravaged him from the inside out. A quick check of the Party Screen indicated that he'd been reduced to 97 HP. If the Queen's attack on Orn'tol had been more than just a contemptuous, offhanded swing, then Vul'to might now be dead.

He'll live, Keira told herself. But only if we win. Unfortunately, a Guardian without a shield wasn't much help on the battlefield. Riardin's Rangers were down yet another Party member.

She was about to attempt an ambush on the mystified Queen when Meyneth suddenly stepped forward, walking with an unconcerned gait. Keira's surge of confusion was quelled by the Dragonkin sending her a pointed look. Their Party didn't have hand signals for this type of scenario, but that glance had told the Warrior everything she needed to know.

"Your indifference betrays you once more," Meyneth began, stopping mere feet away from a deranged monarch that could tear her asunder with ease. "If you'd stopped to inquire what new Skills our Party learned as of late, we would have given the information freely."

"Do not presume to lecture me, Meyneth. I haven't bestowed that privilege upon you. Or do you earnestly think that I will afford you leniency just because we shared one mildly entertaining conversation?"

Ragnavi took a moment to glare disdainfully at Meyneth's declawed hands. "Unbelievable. First you had the audacity to be born without our Racial Traits, and then you go and lose a Thrasher's pride. Could you *be* any less of a Dragonkin?"

"You seem to have been misled by your assumptions of what I value. In all honesty...I don't particularly care for our heritage. Not anymore. It can be embraced or discarded as I please. To me, notions of borders and bloodlines are immaterial constructs."

Meyneth raised a clenched fist. It radiated the golden aura of a Skill, but not the kind that implied sealed power waiting to be unleashed. This Skill spoke of warmth, trust, and companionship. Of finding a home in unexpected places. Of feeling like – for the first time in your life – that it was possible to be accepted for who you were.

That you belonged.

"Family and friends is where true meaning resides." She opened her fist and pointed all five fingers towards the Dragon Queen. "Riardin's Rangers."

Ragnavi paused. It took her a crucial split-second to untangle her confusion. She didn't seem to understand why Meyneth had called out the name of her Party instead of the name of her Skill.

Until she realized too late that those were one and the same.

Eight ghostly simulacrums materialized around Ragnavi. While they looked vaguely similar to the afterimages of Mercy's End, these were more solid, more dense. Each ghost retained its own distinct appearance, with different heights, body types, characteristics...and weapons.

The crate of Firebombs was perhaps a dead giveaway.

No warning was given, and no call to arms was shouted. The eight simply attacked in unison as they had so many times before. Ragnavi was rendered motionless by shock, having never witnessed a Skill like this over centuries of combat.

She was still processing the sight when a Power Smash greatsword slammed into her side, nudging her towards a shield that pressed down on one foot and restrained it with Indomitable. Two sets of Armor Rend claws ripped into her flank, and an Archmage's cutting winds sliced at open wounds. Quadruple Shot arrows peppered her from multiple angles, and a Cutting Edge longsword drew blood from her torso.

Their barrage was capped off by the eighth simulacrum flinging its crate of Firebombs directly at Ragnavi's face, extending two middle fingers with glee as an explosion knocked the daylights out of her.

Meyneth wouldn't be able to use Riardin's Rangers again for another ten minutes. It wasn't well-suited to damaging a creature like Ragnavi, the Skill being comprised of numerous strong attacks rather than a single absolutely devastating strike. It still distracted Ragnavi for several critical seconds, inflicted multiple new injuries, and – more importantly – occupied her attention.

That was long enough for Keira to charge Ragnarok above the Queen's skull.

They'd mostly avoided aiming at her head as it was too small of a target, and she would have seen it coming, regardless. But an attack from above, while she was caught up with Riardin's Rangers...

One chance. Ragnarok is our strongest single-hit offensive Skill, and my Greatsword can't take any more punishment. Nothing left after this.

Unbidden, a savage grin crept up Keira's face. So let's bash her goddamn brains in.

She plummeted downwards like a meteor, empowered by her Skill and the sheer gravity of the moment. It had all come down to this. The fate of countless people, reduced to one last gambit. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as excitement blazed in her–

Without glancing upwards, Ragnavi cast a Skill. The telltale shimmer of Not A Scratch enveloped her body.

...Shit.

Ragnarok struck true, dealing a titanic 0 damage. Momentum pushed the Dragon Queen's head downwards, but that was all. Keira's greatsword drew its last breath, shattering into dozens of metal shards from the force of executing what should have been a decisive blow.

Danger Sense flared. Keira, airborne and weaponless, could do nothing as large claws plucked her out of the air and slammed her onto the ground below. The predator had pinned its prey.

"Do not move." Ragnavi's rumbling voice halted Riardin's Rangers in their tracks – the actual Riardin's Rangers. Meyneth's copies had vanished. "I can snap every bone in her body just by shifting my weight."

"You've already snapped plenty," Keira wheezed, unable to stop herself from engaging in banter. If she was going to die here, then she wanted her last words to be spitting in the face of the one who'd killed her. "So heavy. Been indulging in too many desserts?"

Ragnavi gaped at her with a disbelieving expression. "Are you insa–"

She flinched as Keira, using her one free arm, stabbed upward with what remained of her broken, jagged-edged blade. It didn't even leave a mark. The weapon was too damaged to be reasonably considered a greatsword; the system granted her no bonuses for wielding it.

"Wow." The Dragon Queen shook her head. "I misjudged. You aren't insane – this madness is intentional. There exists a cold bloodlust within you, Elf."

"I know," Keira casually replied. "More than one person has likened me to you. It isn't a comparison I especially appreciate."

Ragnavi snorted with derision. "Nor do I appreciate being compared to a Human-fucker...yet for the sake of argument, I shall allow it just this once. If you *are* like me, then why did you tether yourself to these people?" She gestured to the rest of the Party. "I can't imagine that they approve of every action you wish to take."

"Aside from simply enjoying their company? This may surprise you, but I'm not always right." The answer came easy. She'd arrived at it long ago. "If I ever lead myself astray, I have faith that they'll help guide me back onto the correct path."

"That is why you will fall here. You could've soared so much higher by striking out alone."

"Doubtful. And even if I did...would I have been happy?"

Because you certainly aren't, was Keira's unspoken thought.

Ragnavi seemed to hear it anyway. She snarled, pressing down harder as more bones snapped. "I'm going to savor parading your mangled corpse before the Human."

Keira opened her mouth to retort one final time – and froze, as she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye.

Both she and Ragnavi saw the attack coming, although neither of them put much stock into it. The black scales and ashen-gray skin of a Fiend were unmistakable, and as Vul'to was currently attempting to keep his blood inside his body, the assailant could only be Faelynn. An ambush from a Fiend who'd lost their claws would amount to nothing.

Then Keira noticed a detail she'd overlooked. Blood was dripping from fresh injuries on Faelynn's hands. Shards of metal had been stabbed into the tips of her fingers.

Shards from the broken greatsword. Shards that – if one squinted – resembled a Fiend's claws.

From the system's perspective...it was close enough.

Faelynn's makeshift claws glowed with an unnerving gray light. Eyes wide and focused, she plunged the metal shards into Ragnavi's body. They quietly passed through without a hint of resistance, like ghosts slicing air. No visible wound was inflicted, and no blood was drawn.

Yet the Dragon Queen gasped as if someone had tread upon her grave. She immediately leapt away, the notion of tormenting Keira now a distant concern. Her body shuddered as she regarded the Fiend with something approaching fear. "What...what did you..."

A soft chuckle echoed. In her hand, Faelynn held a pocket of ethereal, multicolored mana, the sphere wriggling as if it was a rabbit caught in a trap. "Look within. You can feel what happened."

Fear morphed into revulsion. "That's–"

"A fragment of your soul," Faelynn crowed. "Courtesy of Soul Strike. Meant to grab the whole thing, but alas, your prodigious girth prevented me from reaching deep enough to scoop more than this."

Ragnavi appeared genuinely sickened. "Fiend," she hissed. "Soul-devouring MONSTER."

"I won't deny it. In truth, I've become quite proud of my heritage. Are you aware that the gods fashioned us to be the very monsters you describe? And yet..."

Faelynn glanced at her stolen prize. Briefly, hunger flashed in the Fiend's gaze – only for her to flick her wrist a moment later, Ragnavi's soul fragment dissipating like steam into the air. "And yet we choose otherwise. My people do not have to fit the mold that the gods designed for us. There is significance in that choice, I think."

She sent a beatific smile at the appalled Queen. "Oh, don't worry yourself. Souls regenerate." There was a pause. "Sometimes."

Something in Ragnavi's demeanor snapped. Her facade of civility was thrown away like yesterday's garbage, replaced with an all-consuming fury. Faelynn jerked back as she belatedly realized that she'd perhaps pushed Ragnavi a mite too far.

"Of course. THIS is what I get for trying to draw out my amusement!" The gentle sunlight illuminating her scales somehow looked sinister. "No more! I can't stand the sight of you walking piles of gutter filth for a single SECOND longer!"

Annihilation's energy started building within her maw.

Keira couldn't help but feel a shiver of despair. This was why their fight had been lost the moment that destroying Ragnavi's goddamn heart proved insufficient.

The Queen originally came here to torture their Party, take them apart piecemeal, and use their agony as a salve to ameliorate her bruised pride. In return, she'd received a fresh batch of bruises to match the first. Her tolerance waned further the longer Riardin's Rangers survived...and losing a part of her soul had been the last straw. The threat they represented outweighed their value as playthings to be toyed with.

So now they were dead.

Ragnavi's eyes shone with maniacal glee. "I SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS FROM THE STA–"

CRUNCH.

Everyone froze.

The sound had come from everywhere and nowhere. It was like glass, marble, and metal being pulverized by an implacable force. Another CRUNCH sent them looking around, their heads swiveling as they tried to understand what trickery the Deadlands was pulling on them this time.

Orn'tol was the first to see. They all followed his gaze – Ragnavi included– to find an uneven crack hovering in the air, as if a portion of reality was breaking apart. Three more CRUNCHes extended the crack from six inches to one foot, then one foot to two feet, then two feet to four. Everyone just stood and watched, transfixed by the newest impossibility among a day of many.

It left them only mildly prepared for when a fist broke through.

The crack shattered outwards, bits of reality sent scattered across the ground. A hole to somewhere had been created.

Another hand reached through right after. Both hands then pulled on opposite edges of the crack, widening it with a horrendous SCREECH as the world protested. Slowly, violently, the hole was largened until it was big enough for a person to fit past.

Revealing Rob on the other side.

No one spoke a word as the Human poked his head into their perception of the Deadlands. "Heeere's Johnny," he stated, in a glacial voice laced with bottomless malice.

Ragnavi sputtered. "Who is John–"

A blur jumped through the hole.

Despite having been staring directly at him, it took Keira a moment to recognize that blur as Rob. He'd never moved this fast before. Not even close. The Human sped past, taking just a moment to look at Riardin's Rangers, send them Party invites, and check on their condition.

When he saw Vul'to bleeding out and Keira's limbs twisted in unnatural directions, his eyes lit up with a rage hot enough to power the sun.

Rob charged forward. By instinct more than anything else, Ragnavi charged to meet him. Keira held her breath, unsure of what was about to transpire. She prayed that Rob would activate one of his cardinal Skills at the precise moment needed. Something like Dauntless Reprisal, Rampage, or Living Bomb.

He didn't. He just kept charging. Keira's blood turned to ice as sharp, ravenous teeth came inches from biting down on Rob's head.

SNAP.

Only for his fist to connect with the Dragon Queen's face.

The snap was not from jaws closing down – but from Ragnavi's neck breaking as her head instantly whipped 180 degrees around. Her massive frame was sent crashing into the ground, then kept going, dirt spewing upwards as she carved a long ditch through the Deadlands soil. Ragnavi took a good five seconds to come to a stop, clouds of dust halfway obscuring her body as she laid still and unmoving.

Rob lightly shook his hand, as if a minor stinging sensation had been his only penalty for punching out a draconic demigod. The anger in his eyes hadn't diminished even slightly.

Myriad questions swirled within Keira's mind. In search of answers, she checked the Party Screen.

Whereupon her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

Name: Rob
Level: 99
Aspect of the BERSERKER Level: 99
HP: 4302 / 4302 (FLUCTUATING)
Stamina: 2172 / 2174 (FLUCTUATING)
MP: 29 / 800
Status Effects: Soul Instability (Low), Leveling High (Advanced), Melancholia (Entrenched), Guilt (Unbearable), Self-Loathing (Agonizing), Rage (Everlasting)

"Get up," Rob intoned. He maneuvered to position himself in-between Riardin's Rangers and the inert Queen, his footsteps leaving indentations in the ground as he walked. "Quit playing dead. I know that's not enough to kill you."

She didn't move. Rob's limbs twitched, his breathing growing erratic. A nascent aura of power no less suffocating than Ragnavi's spread across the battlefield.

"I SAID GET UP."

--

Thanks for reading!