Chapter 32

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[Floor 4 – Day 1]

[Total Days in Trial: 117]

Problem solving on the fly is not something I would claim to be my strong suit. But, they do say that in moments of high-stress, the human mind can dredge up some strange stuff. That's when the crazy sort of ideas, of half-formed words and images, all come out of the woodwork. The type that, for better or worse, would never be considered by a person lacking the proper stimuli.

While running at a dead-sprint past a fire-breathing lizard that was preparing to chomp down on a dying gladiator, I suppose my mind was in the proper state. My neural synapses were likely firing on all fronts, heightened by all manner of brain chemicals. The physical and mental stress were working together.

All that in order to say: I had a terrible idea, and I was acting on it.

It came in a string of random thoughts, starting with a quote that provided some awful life advice. It echoed in my mind, just as it was given to me by my grandfather, many years ago.

"John, if you can't win at something, you had better cheat."

In truth, I hadn't known all that many folks with warrants for their arrest in three differents states, and a lifetime ban from the local zoo. Far as giving bad life advice went, my grandfather was probably up there on the list. And yet, it was times like these where his words of wisdom had a real edge of truth to them.

Sometimes, playing fair is for suckers. Especially when my life was on the line.

The [Trial] clearly didn't care if I lived or died. It just told me to meet the "Clear Condition" for the Floor in order to proceed. How I did it? What I needed to use to accomplish this? The [Trial] didn't care, there were no real restrictions. Instead, it just threw me into whatever new danger was waiting and let me sort out the details.

Even on a Floor like this, where I was thrown right into the meat-grinder: I had options.

I just had to get creative.

[Floor 4 - Minimum Clear Condition:]

[Survive Until The Third Fight]

That was it.

All I really had to do was survive until the 3rd Fight.

Just because I was faced with a very hungry monster between me and that goal, that didn't mean I actually had to kill it. In fact, that didn't even mean I had to fight at all. For all the presentation this Floor had, which strongly suggested I needed to do certain things, there weren't hard rules to follow. If my extended stay on the 3rd Floor had taught me anything, it was that there was more to all this than met the eye.

As I moved, I mentally ticked through the list.

Running away from the Drake was out. There was nowhere to run. This was a big circular arena, and it would eventually catch me. It was faster than I was anyways, if it wanted to be. Running away was not a viable option.

As for killing it, I doubted I could.

My spear throw had hit hard in a spot what I'd hoped would be a vital, but the Drake didn't seem to be slowing down yet. Maybe the injury would eventually be a fatal, but I wasn't convinced I knew enough about Drake organ placement to be certain. And trying to injure it again... The problem I kept running into, was that without a bow, I seriously wasn't much for combat. Bringing the Drake down alone would require skills I simply didn't have.

It would be like fighting a dinosaur. Even injured, it was built to kill. The Drake was faster than me, stronger than me, and dozens of times more dangerous. Its legs and tail gave it reach. One hit was all it would take, and I'd be seriously wounded.

Alone, I couldn't kill it.

But, I wasn't alone. And because of that, I was really hoping that I didn't have to.

"John! Drill a hole in the quarter, then tie a string to it. Old vending machines-"

"Ah fuck." I muttered. No, that was a little too deep into the mental memory bucket full of my grandfather's strange and terrible advice. "Stay focused, John. Just keep on running."

I went wide of the ongoing battle, feet kicking up bloody sand as the Drake hissed from a stab to the snout. The stocky man made the beast fall back for an instant, before it reared up with its tattered wings spread wide.

I winced.

With a yell, the man attempted to roll away from another sputtering blast of fire. And though the attack came out in a weak splash, the flames spread wide, covering the area he'd been standing. The man screamed in pain, falling to the dirt. He hadn't managed to dodge this time.

It wasn't looking good for him.

Those screams of agony were horrible, but I tried not to look as I passed the man by. Hugging towards the edge of the arena before turning back towards the center, I vaulted over the bodies of dead Goblins and men as I continued forward. It was terrible, but there was nothing I could do about it. The stocky man's almost-certain death was keeping the Drake's attention away from me, and I couldn't afford to have that change because of misguided heroics.

Finally, I arrived. As I skidded to a stop at last, shoulders heaving, I wracked at my mind, trying to find the words to explain myself. I knew I must have looked like a lunatic. I'd run all the way over here without any clear reason why.

Looking up, my fears were confirmed. The disgraced Captain staring down at me with an uncertain expression.

Now that I'd finally reached him... I just had to stop and marvel. Just... Damn, the man was a giant.

From a bit of a distance, it was noticable, but right in front of him? I wanted to say I could be six feet tall if I wore the right boots, but this man must have been reaching towards eight, and was built like a tank to top it off. The warrior's frame was clear, even covered in burns and hunched over from his wounds: he still stood a head and shoulders above me and he gave off an aura of danger. With steely eyes, he was also boring a look into my skull.

"Uh..." Charisma was letting me down so very badly. I'd hoped I'd catch some inkling of what to say, but instead I felt tongue tied. After running all the way over here, I probably seemed like an idiot. "If you..." I felt my scalp prickling. Fucking hell, this was awkward. "Captain." I felt the tiny amount of Charisma I had shift in reaction to that word.

I had something there, and I grabbed onto my verbal foothold.

"Captain." I said again, as calmly as I could while trying to catch my breath. "It's been an honor. You fought well."

"Spearman." He replied, voice hoarse. His face was blistered, raw and red, and his lips seemed to split as he spoke. "I thought you cowardly for running, but your weapon flew true in the end."

"Thank you." I paused. There was no easy way to approach this, so I figured I might as well just take the shameless approach. "Captain... can you kill it?"

Behind me, the screams had stopped, and I could feel the Drake was shifting, enjoying its latest meal. The sickening sound of teeth gnashing, announced that there probably wasn't much time left.

Looking at me, Dzamil frowned. More blood leaked down his face.

"I do not believe I will get that chance. I am too injured." He finally admitted, lifting the sword in his burned hand. As he did, I could see his flesh was peeling. His hand seemed to have wrapped around the weapon in a death grip of melted skin.

"But if you were given the chance?" I insisted. "If you were healed enough to attack a second time?"

"Healed? Those bloody thrones would never allow the Gods to interfere in this place. We are abandoned here, and the Gods can only watch and weep..." He stopped, eyes squinting at me. His brow creased, as he really looked at me. He seemed astonished.

The Captain could see something, I realized. Whatever it was, he didn't seem to be reacting badly. If there was ever a cue to act, I supposed this was it.

Wasting no further time, I felt that final precious Free Point burn, as I offered out my hand.

[Charisma + 1]

I tried not to question the feeling of dread that came with spending that precious resource on something so risky. I tried not to think of that one more point in Strength, or in Dexterity. I tried not to think of it as a waste, in giving up the ability to be stronger, or faster.

I still felt all of those things, though.

Charisma wasn't magic, and I knew it couldn't just make something happen. I couldn't just command a person to do anything I wanted them to with it. At best, the Attribute just helped me along. It gave me hints, and it made conversations easier. So, I knew that there was no way Charisma could just "make" this stupid plan of mine work, but at this point I had already rolled the dice. If I was all in, I might as well commit.

"Trust me, Captain." I said, pushing every little bit of that sudden Charisma surge as far as I could take it. "Trust me, and I'll get you that chance."

For a few seconds, I honestly wasn't sure what was going to happen. He looked down at me with an expression I just couldn't quite place, and the burns all over his face really were not helping in that regard. Then, at last, wordlessly his free hand came forward. I met his eyes, as the bloody and burned skin enveloped my hand.

This was it.

I realized with a bit of a start, that I wasn't sure of anything I was doing. Not only did I not know how the Captain was going to react, but I recognized that I wasn't entirely sure how I was going to react either. Even with all of my practice, I had never once had the opportunity to do try this out before. I had only ever used my ability selfishly.

But, I was still a healer... wasn't I?

The Miracle was ready. All I needed to do was use it, and as the Lesser Heal sparked to life, I felt the Miracle take the wheel.

I knew what I needed to do.

I was a Disciple. I was the grateful follower of a tough old Priest, long dead and left behind in a world that was probably gone. Yet, he had shown me what to do, many, many, times. And I hadn't forgotten what he'd taught me.

Lesser Heal sparked, and I felt the rush that always came with mana taking form. What was, how it worked: It was all far beyond my understanding. There, shimmering in my body, were countless patterns. Mana that was shifting in and out of existence as the Miracle summoned. But I didn't need to worry about those. I didn't need to focus on the details. All I needed to do was push.

With a mental shove: I directed all of those mysterious workings of mana forward. I let them escape, running free. Out of my chest, down my arm, through my palm, and out. Into the mountain of melted flesh standing before me.

As I did this, I felt a sense of loss.

There was a selfish part of me who wanted to cling to the Miracle, even as it left me completely. Even as it vanished, I didn't want to let it go. I wanted to pull that magic back. Yet, it left me all the same, as the warming light and healing, vanished from my flesh. Standing there, empty of that power, I felt a profound sadness.

But it was working.

The Captain seemed to glow as he released my hand. As the Miracle reached him, his back straightened, and his face seemed to change as the burns faded. His injuries weren't gone, not even close, but they were reduced as the Miracle began to work.

I couldn't see it, exactly, but I could feel it: The familiar workings, as the Miracle shifted through his blood and bones, cycling just as I'd practiced so many times. It remember what I had done, and it continued to burn away.

"The Gods are still here..." He murmured the words, as he stepped back. Looking up at the sky, he seemed to be mouthing words in silence, as he flexed his fingers along his sword's grip. Then he shouted. "THE GODS ARE STILL HERE!"

The shouts of the crowd grew quieter, at that. Even with thousands of people in the stands, the Captain's proclamation had somehow rose above it all, and now all eyes were on us. Their interest was no longer on the gruesome show near the Drake. Looking out at the audience, I could see the figures on the thrones were also focused in our direction. One of them had stood up. I felt the pressure from their gaze resting on our shoulders.

The Captain didn't seem to care. Hell, I wasn't even sure he noticed. Staring at the sky, his eyes were bright. Tears were running down his cheeks. Even as the Miracle was fading, I could see my hard work was lingering. The powers there continued to burn away his injuries, reducing the damage heartbeat by heartbeat.

I didn't know what this had meant to him, but I hoped it would be enough.

"I'll get you your chance." Nodding in the Captain's direction, I took my exit. Picking up a burnt shield from the ashes at our feet, I turned towards the final obstacle between me and escaping this Floor.

The Drake was circling towards us now, approaching with careful steps. Reaching down carefully, I pried a short sword free of the sand. The weapon didn't seem like it was going to be much help, but with additional Strength in my body, I felt a little more confident using the shield and sword. They were still heavy as all hell, but they weren't impossible to carry.

"Alright." I closed my eyes. "No pressure."

Now, it was time for the second part of my terrible plan. The part I really wasn't looking forward to: where I distracted the giant lizard, so the Captain could have a good chance to kill it.

I sucked in a deep breath, then I shouted.

"Hey, lizard! You know you're not even worth a B-Rank Quest?" Clanging my sword on the shield loudly, I watched the Drake turn towards me. Circling slowly, I kept the insults coming. "You're bottom of the barrel C-Rank shit, at best! I know Adventurers who would eat you for breakfast!"

The Drake hissed, as it darted forward as snapped at me. I jumped back, flailing with my weapon and smacking it on the snout. I'd barely even managed to leave a mark, but it had worked. The Drake pulled its head back, warily watching the sword. It seemed that all the earlier attacks it had recieved had made it gunshy.

Still, I couldn't let it back off.

"If I'd taken Strength from the start, I bet I could chop your head off myself, you know that? You've got nothing!" I resumed the clanging, starting to step towards the side. "Steelbeard had boots made out of your cousin's skin!" I shouted. "Come and get it! Look at me, you stupid thing! Eyes on me!"

Maybe it was the insults, or maybe it was just the noise, but it didn't seem to like the racket I was making very much.

I felt a strong sense of panic, as the flames started bubbling out from its teeth. Resolved as I was to try and repel bites and physical attacks, fire was a whole different matter. I'd naively hoped it would be out of fuel.

"Fuck!" I cursed, as it opened its jaws. Rushing forward a step, I prayed my timing was good as I threw my sword away and I raised my shield with both hands, tucking myself in behind the metal as best I could.

The attack spashed down, almost like a water balloon filled with flaming oil.

I felt my skin burn as the fire wrapped around me. My fingers blistered, my shoulders burned. But the shield held, and my enhance Constitution must have buffered some of the pain, because as bad as the flames hurt, it didn't stop me from moving. My feet pressed on through burning sand as the burst of fire ended, and I managed to jump back again. I did so just in time to dodge a swiping front claw.

The Drake was coming at with with everything it had.

Everything hurt, and I could smell the distinct scent of burning hair. I wanted to scream. I needed a weapon-

"Spearman!" Someone shouted from the ground to my right. Twenty feet away, I found the wounded ax thrower and the other survivor back on their knees. Both of their legs were too injured for them to fight, but in the ax-thrower's hands, he clutched a spear. "GIVE IT HELL!"

With both hands outstretched, the ax thrower fell forward, falling painfully in the dirt in his effort to pass me the weapon. Hand outstretched, I just barely caught the spear. Then, yanking my burning shield aside, I whipped the weapon forward as fast as I could.

Just in time.

The Drake screeched in pain, reeling back. The violent hiss it spewed sent boiling drops of fire into the air above it as it reared back on its hind legs. I'd thought the captain was tall, but looking up at the Drake, I realized I'd been mistaken.

I rushed backwards, backsteps stumbling over corpses as I went, but the Drake didn't follow immediately.

Luck had finally favored me, it seemed. From the way it was acting, it looked like I had somehow smacked the creature in the eye. Or, at least I'd been close enough to startle it.

Grabbing my chance, I continued to move backwards a few more steps, before I threw my flaming shield down. The burns on my arm were too much, but there wasn't another shield nearby. I knew I was going to have to make do without one.

Taking position as best I knew how, I took my spear in both hands. Looking the weapon over, getting an idea of its balance, I felt that this was one of the better ones. The weapons in the arena were hardly in the best condition, but this was probably one of the first spears I'd originally used against the Goblins. It had a good heft to it, and it felt solid. The rusted metal trip was already stained in blood, as was the wood.

I would make it work, somehow.

Crashing back down, the Drake faced me from fifteen paces away, slowly coming forward once more. It was being more careful now, but I could see building confidence. It was keeping its eyes on my spear, but my lack of shield seemed to please it. More flaming oil dripped from between its teeth, as it came for me once again.

The monster had me on the ropes, and it probably knew it. But I could see that the Drake was also covered in wounds. Its back leg was dragging a bit, and I was certain that if its organs were even remotely in any of the same places as a deer: My first spear had probably hit a lung. With the other stab wounds it had recieved still trickling blood, I knew this was the end-game. Every minute this continued, the creature was going to be getting weaker.

"Come at me!" I shouted spear ready. "Come at me-"

It came at me.

Maybe I'd been overly optimistic in thinking it would weaken. I squawked out a yelp of fear, as my bravado was met with snapping jaws. Rolling away, I leaned into my shoulder to come up with a jump that sent me stumbling off balance. Dexterity was making things like this possible for me, but that didn't mean I was very practiced in dodging fire-breathing lizards. Running ahead of it, I turned just in time to scare off another lunging bite. Waving my spear for its face, it retreated.

We'd come almost in a full circle now, as the beast spun about from its position of advantage towards the center of the arena. I was forced to run around it, but it didn't need to move nearly as much as I did. And it was starting to wear on me.

I was already exhausted when this battle had started, but now I was dead tired. My stamina was running towards the bottom of the barrel. I felt like a boxer, praying for the bell: This was too intense to keep up with.

Whipping my spear around, I somehow warded off the next attack by making the Drake retreat to avoid an injury to its face. Guarding its wounded eye, the monster hissed loudly, dribbling molten slag into the sand as it did. And I could see it realizing what it needed to do. The Drake knew it almost had me. The gears in its head were turning. Now, if it could just get rid of the pointy stick between its teeth and my torso...

As it came for me again, neck fully extended, jaws snapping down on my weapon. The spear broke away, ripped from my hands, but I knew we finally had it.

This was the moment.

"CAPTAIN!" I shouted and screamed in equal measure.

There was no response. There was no shout of rage, or victory. The Captain just moved.

Blistered skin and blood took flight: With two hands clutched onto a rusted sword, he rose into the air. Metal and blood glowed in the afternoon sun as the cloudless sky seemed to hold him there.

Something changed, in that moment. There was something brilliant about him. Something unreal. I could almost swear I saw mana calling down from the heavens as the two figures on the thrones above us all, shouted in rage. And I could almost swear there were wings of brilliant light on the Captain's back.

Then, his blade crashed down like a glorious meteor. As if iron from the heavens, the sword came down with a glow of sun and a rush of wind, to smite whatever dared to stand in its way.

The instant had passed. The magic was gone.

And the drake fell, headless.

[Floor 4 – Secondary Condition:] [Win The Second Fight] - 1/1

[Complete]

"Holy shit." I let myself fall to the ground, my back to the sand.

We had done it.

All of that: All of that fighting, that death... The Floor was over. It had only been an hour or two, and yet it felt like a lifetime.

I began to laugh. It was all just too much.

From the stands, the audience shouted and booed. Around me, there was so much sudden noise. People threw things, gesturing and hurling a cacophony of insults and anger. They hadn't wanted this result. People surviving wasn't what they had come for.

Still, I couldn't stop laughing. Laying there, all I could do was turn my head and watch as the figures on the thrones shook their arms in rage. Mana was shifting all across the arena, doing things I couldn't possibly understand. I'm sure there was magic at work. Powerful magic, twisting the world to their whims.

But it didn't matter.

The Captain joined me, his voice booming as he stood atop the fallen Drake, sword raised towards the sky, covered in the blood of his enemies. His stance of victory brought a cheer from the other survivors. The wounded ax-man joined us from where he lay in the sand, as did all the others who were still conscious. Together, we all laughed.

Why not?

It's not like we had anything to lose.

The magic above the arena reached a crescendo. All of the metal gates along the edges of the arena began to open. From them, spilled out all manner of terrors. All manner of monsters and beasts. The 3rd battle was here: The final battle was ripped open, like a broken floodgate. As the people atop those thrones looked down in anger. As they shook their fists in rage.

It didn't matter.

None of it mattered.

We'd won.

We'd fucking won.

[Floor 4 - Minimum Clear Condition - Updated!]

[Survive Until The Third Fight] - [Complete]

"Ping!"

[Floor 4 – Task Completed]

[Standard Bonus awarded] - [+1 Free Attribute Point]

"Ping!"

[Additional Bonuses awarded]

[Secondary Condition – Win the First Fight] - [+1 Free Attribute Point]

[Secondary Condition – Win the Second Fight] - [+1 Free Attribute Point]

[Floor 4 – End]

[Floor 5 – Beginning]

And with that, I was gone.