Crimson walls and floors, deep red ceiling and bright red air. The dungeon core floated in the center of the room between two thin pointed spires from the floor, and two from the ceiling, all four practically ending in needle sharp tips. It was bright the way a star is bright, yet to look upon it was safe for any eyes. Its light shone across dimensions, across planes, and saturated everything in an impossible, perfect ruby light.

It was the light of passion, of the will to survive; the light of procreation, of vitality; the light of monsters born by immaculate spontaneity, of the Inevitability of Life. Ben didn't know how he knew, yet the light was not just known to him, not just familiar, but ancient to him. His very blood, though greatly transmuted, was yet still Human, and it sang illuminated by the light of the core.

Short Bus was feeling it as well, and it took the combined efforts of the entire party to get the two of them to stop standing there like absolute mouth-breathers staring into the sun. Red looked bored, standing near a section of wall, her eyes telescoped out almost like arrows, like she was pointing.

“It doesn't know we're here yet?” Ben asked, not bothering to keep his voice down anymore.

“It won't know until we've taken hostile action,” Anna said, still in a sneaky crouch as Ben boldly walked across the room to where Red was standing.

“Fuck I wish Bangarang was playing right now,” Ben said, but the song was playing in his head so that had to be good enough. He looked at Red cast in red light and smirked. She didn't get the joke.

“How far in?” Ben asked, and in response, both of Red's eyes landed on his shoulder, and all of the sudden the black chitin wall in front of him was transparent, like the eyes were projecting transparency only he could see. “Oh, that's fucking cool,” Ben said, and his heart started pounding wildly in his chest; his pupils dilated; his nostrils flared; his breathing deepened. “That's a lot of treasure,” Ben said, and the sight of the absolutely massive pile of gemstones the size of grapefruits awakened in Ben the ancient avarice of Humanity, of the creature who had conceived of the greed of dragons.

He smiled the smile of an aggressive primate, all his teeth showing and he raised a hand, feeling the advanced spatial awareness granted to him by the Utility Pocket map out the dimensions of the room.

“[Greater,” Ben intoned, his voice the shout of a general leading his armies into the charge of war, “Whap!]”

A massive Utility Pocket opened, turning the floor into a hole, Ben's [Magical] body suddenly under strain from the massive mana expenditure, and then every single mana gem fell through.

Ben startled the exact second the first mana gem entered his Utility Pocket, because that was the exact second he no longer had to provide the Utility Pocket with his own mana. He understood instantly that his life was never going to be the same again.

“Oh my God,” Ben said, his eyes as wide as they got, “I've cracked the fucking System.”

The core, which had been sitting placid in the air, began fucking burning in a fucking blood colored inferno of fire. It rushed out from the pulsing ruby, consuming the pillars with a scream. A shriek of rage rang out across the entire Citadel, and a tremendous buzzing could be heard.

“Frankie!” Ben shouted, but the Utility Pocket Elemental was already a few steps ahead of him, siphoning Mana Gems away.

“Ben!” Anna shouted, running over to him with wide, anxious eyes, “is it coming? Is the Utility Pocket going to teleport to our location?”

Ben consulted Frankie, feeling a manic magical energy suffuse every fiber of his being, feeling invincible.

“Nope!” Ben yelled, “but he's piloting it to our location right now!”

“You told us it would teleport here!” Anna screamed, and she'd never sounded more like a teenage girl than in that moment. Ben's response was to start laughing as he ran from the core room. Short Bus had an expression of pure glee on his face, and he started laughing too.

“This is going to be great!” he shouted, then bellowed as loudly as he could.

“Did Frankie take the gems?” Vivi asked, breathlessly keeping pace with Ben's crazy run, “do you know the exact conversion rate for-”

“Nope!” Ben said, “just follow me, he's running the Pocket as fast as it'll go!”

Red, following Short Bus's example, began to shriek a tremendously unsettling shriek, challenging the entire Citadel. Ghost Ears covertly distanced himself from the terrifying Beyonder, and unsheathed his obviously enchanted, possibly cursed swords.

Anna's group looked like they were about at the end of their fucking ropes, but they were keeping pace.

--

Elsewhere in the Citadel of Horrors, the Pocket of Sanctuary had come to life. The purple tendrils, so characteristic of the entire Utility Pocket skill line, were no longer a gentle, translucent purple.

They were electric neon, and they moved fast, very very fucking fast. The Pocket scuttled around on bright mechanical legs of violet light like a spider on military grade stimulants, the enormous pile of mana gems being shoveled into the hungry Trick Dungeon Core like coal into the roaring furnace of a steam engine locomotive.

And like a train, the Pocket of Sanctuary screamed, the sound like the whistle of a train, the entire thing pausing and shuddering as it did so, releasing pressurized, spent mana into the air.

Its tentacles worked non-stop, grabbing every monster in sight and consigning them to death. Inside the Pocket, where the monsters ended up, they were accelerated well beyond terminal velocity, shot like bullets from a rail-gun against a plate of solidified space.

The Pocket was scuttling around fast, kicking anything that got near its legs and grabbing everything else. Inside the control booth, Frankie reaped the experience, and his two minions shared in the boon. Each of them had also gotten a class [Anomaly Pilot], and they were rapidly leveling it.

But as fast as the Pocket of Sanctuary tore its path of destruction through the Citadel, would it be fast enough? For though the majority of the monsters and elites had been sent to stop the dangerous construct, the Citadel Fly and his Beezel were nowhere to be found.

Frankie gave his underlings a glare and told them in the silent language of elementals that they were to make all haste towards Ben. Then, Frankie vanished, and positioned himself inside of Ben's Utility Pocket.

As far as Frankie was concerned, all the problems they currently had were because he hadn't been around to guide the situation.

The funny thing was, he might have even been right.

–

“Anything?” Ben asked, breathing hard and running harder.

“Nothing!” Red shouted, “it makes me extremely worried!”

“By my calculations on the rate of absorption of the Pocket of Sanctuary,” Vivi said, “I'm willing to bet that we won't run into a single monster!”

“Would you stop throwing up disaster flags!” Ben yelled and heard the buzzing ahead of him. He felt it in his crown, in his scepter, and in his robes. “This shit is exactly what I'm talking about,” Ben said, and held up a fist to stop the group.

“I don't see anything!” Red shouted, and she seemed genuinely worried, genuinely distressed.

“I can't sense anything either,” Short Bus growled, “But I smell them.”

“Formation!” Ghost Ears snapped, and because they were in a wide hallway, the only formation they actually knew happened to be the best one for the situation.

The sounds of the Citadel faded away. The air became electric with mana and power. The feeling of royal authority rolled across the ground like fog.

Then, Ben heard a violin playing a short, harsh beat. Trumpets blared, and a high pitched choir began singing something indistinct and menacing.

“Is that fucking boss music!” Ben said, starting it as a question and ending it as an exclamation. It was, indeed, fucking boss music.

The Citadel Fly rounded the corner in an extremely cinematic, almost slow motion way. He held a scepter made from a coiled centipede, and tipped with a brilliantly glowing enormous firefly, both of which were obviously still alive. His wings were a cape, and he wore a crown that had Anna's fucking cell phone on it.

The moment was, to Ben, completely ruined, but it still continued.

A slimmer humanoid fly walked on the [Tyrant's] left side, and an elegant, utterly terrifying spider-centaur dressed in silk and holding a staff tipped with a brilliant white gem, walked on his right. Behind him, a colossal Roach Knight holding an enormous broadsword walked with a grim stance.

In front of the whole procession was the monstrous snail [Herald], who addressed the group with contempt.

“You stand in the presence of the ruler of The World, the high Beezel, the Citadel Fly! [KNEEL] YOU WRETCHES!”

Ben's immediate thought was that he needed a [Herald], because that one move nearly ended the entire fight. The entire group, all eight of them, felt a weight crash down on them, pushing them down, making their legs shake.

“You stand in the presence of the Father of Flies,” the [Herald] screamed, bubbles and slime flying from his mouth, “the [High Tyrant], the Maggot King! [FALL] TO YOUR FACES AND DIE!”

The weight intensified, and the Citadel Fly stood back and watched the scene with obvious pleasure. Ben's knees were shaking, and the music around them was oppressive in its power.

Then, something cut through the sound, and cut the next proclamation of the [Herald] short. Waves of heat began rising from Ben's body, and his rich red robe began smoking, the white trim starting to brown as though close to catching fire. His scepter began to glow red hot like metal from a forge, and the raw ruby at the end began to glow with tremendous light. His shitty crown was smoking, just barely holding together.

The waves of distortion rushed out and banished whatever the [Herald] had done, and invigorated his entire group. Ben stood and pointed an open hand towards the Citadel Fly and his elites.

“[House Of A Thousand Corpses]!” Ben shouted, pretending it was a skill, and immediately Utility Pockets began opening up all around them, dumping out the corpses of the mutated insects and dead adventurers, scattering them around the hallway. Every dead body he had in his Utility Pocket, excluding the body of Betsy and his own, was being ejected in rapid fashion. Every time his mana began to grow low, Frankie would retrieve a mana gem for him, effectively giving him unlimited mana, at least for a time.

Even the Citadel Fly seemed surprised by this. Ben wasn't done.

“[Overwatch Eyes!],” he yelled, and Red didn't miss a beat, her eyes merging into a single entity and hovering over the party, granting them all greatly enhanced awareness. The spider [Witch] raised her staff as though to begin attacking, but she was stopped by the Citadel Fly.

“Let them amuse me a bit longer,” he buzzed, and Ben was shocked at the arrogance. Grateful, but also shocked.

“[Honeypot]!” he said, just making up fake skills left and right, and then he did something that really pissed the Citadel Fly off. Ben started spraying the honey he got from Vivi's Lair, and got an immediate reaction from every insect in the Citadel Fly's party. All of their heads snapped away from looking at the enemies, and were transfixed by the sweet spray that was coating the floor and walls in front of them. It was a gamble that cost him nothing to play, and it paid off.

The Roach Knight stepped forward as though compelled, and the Citadel Fly snarled at him, restoring discipline.

“Red,” Ben said, speaking rapidly, “prioritize making weapons and healing. Vivi, take out the roach, Short Bus, take out the spider. Ghost Ears, assist where you can. Anna, take your people and lock down that fly!” Ben was shouting, barking orders, “when you've won, assist whoever needs help the most!”

It went without saying that Ben and the Citadel Fly were about to have a showdown.

“Are you prepared?” The Citadel Fly asked, his voice thick with mocking.

“One last thing,” Ben said, and the heat around him intensified, the trim of his robe actually bursting to flame as he glared, making eye contact with the red, compound eyes of his adversary. “[Royal Vendetta],” Ben spat, and felt the System granted ability take hold. The flames, which had been red, turned orange, then yellow, then golden.

Ben raised his scepter, and the Citadel Fly did the same. Two waves of heat rushed forth, and collided in the space between them. The impact was like a thunder clap, and where the areas of influence met, bolts of lightning shot out, striking randomly.

Short Bus raised his bow and it screamed as he fired a shot directly at the head of the Citadel's [Tyrant]. The other fly, dressed in black tight leather, knocked the arrow of magic out of the air. The spider mage raised her staff high overhead, and at its tip, a fireball formed that launched at Ben's party. No, directly at Ben.

“Scatter,” Ben yelled, and the melee fighters rushed forward. Red was like a serpent, moving in a fluid, boneless way, running from corpse to corpse, transforming them into swords and spears and knives. Vivi scoffed, his eye-stalks glowing incandescent, and the rushing fireball impacted against a plate of mirror magic.

“[Reflect],” Vivi said, sounding every inch the arrogant wizard, “you'll have to do better than that!” The fireball rushed towards its caster, who screamed in rage. The Citadel Fly was forced to dodge, along with the rest of his group, and the contest of wills between him and Ben was broken. Ben's power rushed over the field of battle, engulfing enemies and allies alike. The monstrous insects screamed, and their bodies began to smoke as though they were starting to smolder.

Short Bus took advantage of the chaos and shot off another screaming shot, this time aiming at the spider, the way he was supposed to. The arrow hit her directly in her armored chest and cracked the chitin, but did little more than that. A thin line of green blood immediately began seeping from the superficial injury. In response, she stomped a sharp spider leg, and a spear of stone very nearly killed the shark. A combination of psychic senses and Red's eyes were the only reason he'd had enough time to jump out of the way.

The Roach Knight charged, and then almost as if by magnetic force, was drawn away from the fight towards the pile of extremely sweet, green honey.

“Fool!” the Citadel Fly raged, and his crown flashed red, and the elite Roach Knight screamed in pain as though whipped.

Meanwhile, Anna and her party, along with Ghost Ears, had finally made their way across the wide hallway and were attempting to engage the enormous Beezel Fly. I say attempting, because he was a slippery bugger, and despite their best efforts to pin him down, none of them could land a hit. Anna would punch, and a wave of energy would blast forth from her fists, bright minty green energy that burned a bit like fire. The carp fists on her arms were undulating as though alive, but didn't seem to be doing anything useful.

Thirty-One had movement skills up the wazoo, his now medium sized robotic body wizzing about without regard for inertia, leaving multiple after-images behind as he zoomed. His absolutely fucking metal, in the musical sense, metal, in the mineral sense, tentacles shot out like spears in rapid succession. He was always just a step behind, and couldn't land a hit.

Dryst had hung back, and summoned a set of phantom bongo drums, as well as the visually pleasing string [Instrument Familiars] from earlier. They were playing a shockingly discordant, slow tune that clashed in a very ugly way with the boss music. When Dryst's music started, the Beezel Fly slowed down, but still could not be hit.

It's worth noting that it had been less than ten seconds since Vivi reflected the fireball.

Ben had not been standing idle in that time either. The moment he'd won the clash of wills, he began to [Kinetically Leap] from place to place, gathering up weapons into his Utility Pocket, spears, swords, and knives. Anything sharp and pointed. Between picking up weapons, he would aim and fire whatever he'd gathered at targets of opportunity, sending dangerous, high-velocity weaponry at every vulnerable spot his enemies presented. Which was admittedly, not many.

Anna screamed, her crystalline form cracked, dripping glowing orange liquid, and holding together admirably despite the large dagger that was lodged in her back around the shoulder. Red was there in a moment, one of her eyes rushing over in an instant and gazing down the Beezel Fly, who was very strongly resistant to the paralysis, but still momentarily stunned. Red had dragged a corpse with her, displaying unnatural strength, and, in a gesture that looked like she was tossing a dead body at her teammate, transformed the mutated insect corpse into a paper heart. It maintained its momentum, and impacted against Anna. The cracks visibly lessened, and the dagger began to work its way out of her body.

Ben raised his scepter, and golden fire began to burn from the wound, healing it further. The Citadel Fly hissed and pointed his scepter at the wound, and the fire was extinguished.

In-between all that, Thirty-One had managed to strike a serious wound on the slowed and slightly dazed Beezel Fly, who lept backwards with a furious buzzing of his wings, propelling him far and fast. The Citadel Fly raised his scepter, and spooky red fire erupted from the Beezel Fly's wound and it began to heal. Ben shut it down, and the Citadel [Tyrant] looked at Ben with pure hatred.

Then, it started to chuckle.

“Fall back!” Ben shouted, and he was a little surprised when his allies actually listened. The Citadel Fly raised his scepter, and the walls and the floor and the ceiling and the very air seemed to come alive.

“[Citadel Shaping]!” he shouted, and then all hell broke loose.