Zeke darted forward, his mace held high, and with each step, clouds of dust and gravel erupted into the air. The drachnid champion didn’t move, instead remaining rooted in place, its long limbs vibrating with unspent need.

Zeke didn’t care to even notice. He was riding high off nearly two years of unmitigated success. Certainly, he’d experienced his fair share of failures, but in the end, he’d always managed to come out on top. Whether it was trolls, harpies, or drachnids, they’d all ended up falling before him. So, despite the elite monster being a new classification of threat, he was understandably confident that he could win.

His confidence was woefully misplaced.

The mace sliced through the air in an overhand swing that Zeke meant to crush the champion, but at the last instant, the monster swayed to the side, slapping the deadly weapon with the flat of its palm. Voromir crashed into the ground, stones cracking from the impact. Unbalanced, Zeke could scarcely react when the champion lashed out, its claws digging furrows in his side. They only stopped when they hit his ribs.

The creature wasn’t finished, though. Twice more, its hands blurred, and when Zeke finally managed to disengage, his torso had been sliced to ribbons. What’s worse, he hadn’t managed to hit the monster, so [Leech Strike] remained impotent and unused. He gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around the worn leather of Voromir’s grip.

For a long moment, the pair of combatants stared at one another. The champion’s face was impassive, though there was a glimmer of hatred in its multi-faceted eyes. It wasn’t just protecting its people. It wanted revenge. The same desire was reflected in Zeke’s own expression; he would never forget the cocooned bodies he’d found, the people he hadn’t saved. More, the bodies he hadn’t found, but he knew had to exist, haunted his mind.

It was an irrational line of thought. He knew he wasn’t responsible for these people. They’d been strangers, most dying before he’d even made it out of the troll caves. Judging by the state of decay, some might’ve even been killed before he’d been reborn into this new world. Their deaths were a tragedy, certainly, but they had nothing to do with him.

But reason was one thing, and it had its place. However, that kind of thinking went out the window after spending entire days stacking corpses, after seeing the desiccated and bloodless bodies of men, women, and children who’d been treated as nothing more than food.

That same reason might have told him that the drachnids couldn’t be blamed, that they were little more than animals who were merely acting according to their nature. But Zeke had seen plenty of evidence that that wasn’t true. For one, there was a forest full of animals that could’ve sustained the drachnids, but they had gone out of their way to raid the caravans and hunt human beings. Maybe it was easier. Perhaps it was part of their nature. But if that was the case, it only meant that they were a threat that needed to be put down.

And then there was the fact that they were at least semi-sapient. They’d created a crude sort of society, which spoke of self-awareness and intelligence that exceeded that of mere animals. So, shouldn’t they be held accountable for their actions? Shouldn’t they be treated just like a murderous band of bandits?

But putting aside all of the moral justifications, Zeke was confronted with one, simple fact. He wanted to win. That his first attack had been so summarily defeated – almost as if it was an afterthought – was a source of burning frustration and unremittent anger. But he’d been fighting for his life on a daily basis for the better part of two-and-a-half years, so he didn’t let his frustration overwhelm him. Nor would he make the same mistake twice. So, he stood there, mace at the ready, and let his impressive vitality as well as the last dregs of life energy he’d stolen via [Leech Strike] go to work on his wounds. It didn’t close the surgical gashes – not completely – but it did stem the bleeding, which would have to be enough.

The champion, its claws dripping Zeke’s blood, cocked its head to the side as it watched him. Its movements were twitchy, and every second or so, a whistling click would escape from between its blackened lips. Now that he was closer, Zeke got a better look at the creature’s pale, maggoty white skin and the purple shimmers of its carapace. Thoroughly disgusted by the monster, Zeke wanted to look away, but he didn’t dare so much as a blink. The thing was fast enough to take advantage of even that minute of a distraction.

The faceoff lasted for almost thirty seconds, and all the while, the other drachnids surrounded them. Zeke had hoped that Abby would be able to help, but there was no way she’d get through so many of the monsters in time to lend any aid. No – he was on his own.

But then again, he was used to it.

Suddenly, the champion blurred forward, its claws singing through the air. Zeke reacted on instinct, ducking under the first attack and leaping away from another, but the elite monster kept coming, a whirlwind of black claws. Zeke tried to fight back. He tried to give as good as he got. And he managed a couple of strikes, but they were weak and ineffectual. Even so, they were enough to keep him on his feet as [Leech Strike] tended to his wounds with an influx of stolen vital energy.

The problem was that Zeke’s proficiency with his mace was that of a brute, using his stats to overwhelm anyone in his way. On a purely statistical basis, he could very nearly keep up with the champion. Certainly, the thing was faster, but as the fight went on, Zeke realized that the champion’s speed wasn’t that much greater than his own. However, it knew precisely how to use its speed to its advantage. Where Zeke’s idea of technique was just to swing his mace faster or harder, the champion was well-versed in feints, blocks, and parries. It moved with brutal efficiency, making Zeke pay for his every mistake.

In short, the champion was a better fighter than him, and though that was nothing new, it was the first time one of his opponents had the stats to take advantage of the huge gap in fighting proficiency.

So, after every exchange, Zeke picked up at least one more wound until, after a few minutes, his leather armor had been completely shredded, and his body wasn’t much better off. The majority of the lacerations were shallow, but there were a few that had done real damage. It would’ve been worse if the champion chose to press the fight, but when Zeke disengaged – always a tricky proposition – it let him retreat, though it never allowed the distance between them to grow more than a few dozen feet.

“You’re toying with me,” Zeke muttered, clutching his side after one such retreat. The other drachnids shifted, allowing him to back away. “You like playing with your food.”

It didn’t respond, aside from a few rapid clicks that echoed through the canyon, but then again, it didn’t need to. Zeke could see the malice in the thing’s alien eyes. The cruelty. His anger burned ever hotter.

But fury couldn’t win this fight. Nor could brute strength. He had to think. He had to make a plan. The issue was that Zeke didn’t really have any other assets to bring to bear. Abby and Pudge couldn’t make a difference; they were halfway across the canyon, and there was an army of drachnids between them. Besides, they were dealing with their own problems, as evidenced by the steady stream of experience he’d been getting the whole time.

Aside from his physical gifts, what did Zeke really have? He didn’t want to use [Heart of the Berserker]; it was a last-ditch kind of skill that would leave him weakened after it ran its course. So, even if it made the difference against the champion – and he wasn’t sure it would – he’d still have to deal with the rest of the drachnids while dealing with the penalties that came with the skill’s use. That didn’t bode well for his survival.

He still had a few runic rocks in his spatial storage, but even if he managed to hit the incredibly quick champion, he questioned whether or not it would do much good. Its armor-like carapace was hard; even the few hits he’d managed to land hadn’t done much damage. So, the rocks weren’t good for anything more than a distraction.

As he considered his options, Zeke attacked once again. It didn’t end any better than his previous attempts, but he was afraid that if he left it for too long, the elite monster would decide to bring the fight to him. Zeke wasn’t sure he could survive that, and even if he did, it wouldn’t be for long. So, he went through the motions, his mind searching for something – anything – to give him an advantage.

Zeke hopped back, narrowly avoiding a claw aimed at his throat. It had connected, but only barely, tracing a red line across his neck. Behind him, he could feel the rock pillar he’d been knocked into earlier in the fight. It wasn’t solid rock; like all the other pillars in the canyon, it was honeycombed with holes that housed the ravine’s native spiders. Zeke put some distance between himself and the column of rock; the last thing he needed was to be swarmed by the smaller spiders. Such a distraction would get him killed.

Predictably, the champion maintained the same degree of distance, eventually stopping next to the column. That’s when Zeke attacked, a plan suddenly blossoming in his mind. After a furious exchange of blows, during which Zeke actually managed to hit the champion a couple of times, he retreated again. The champion remained in place, waiting.

It was almost too easy.

Zeke’s hand was a blur as he peppered the area with his runic rocks. The first one took the champion in the chest, but predictably, it didn’t do much good. As far as Zeke could tell, it didn’t even stun the creature. So, when he kept throwing them, it just looked at him, cocking its head in curiosity – especially when the majority of them missed.

Seventeen stones, seventeen explosions – and nothing happened. Zeke cocked his arm back, then let loose with his last one. If it didn’t work, he would have to retreat. He knew he couldn’t beat the champion. Not with the way things were. He had to change the playing field, and if he failed, his only chance of survival lay in retreat – and Zeke was less than optimistic about his chances if he turned tail and ran. Surely, the champion was fast enough to chase him down.

Besides, the idea of running away didn’t sit right with him. He would do it if necessary, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

That last stone hit the column, and for a long second, nothing happened. Then, finally, everything changed.

The column beside the champion shattered under its own weight, falling directly onto the elite monster. It was so surprised that it didn’t move, even with tons of rock falling towards it. Zeke sprang back as the hundred-foot pillar of rock crumbled atop the champion. Even so, he caught a couple of strays himself, and they nearly knocked him senseless. Still, he maintained enough consciousness to get clear of the fallen pillar.

Once, Zeke had seen a building demolition on television. Some stadium that had been replaced was being turned into a parking lot for its successor, so it had had to go. The huge arena had been brought down with strategically placed explosives that, when they were detonated, weakened the structure to the point where it fell in on itself. When it did, it had thrown up a cloud of dust that blanketed the area for almost a mile in every direction. The collapse of the pillar was like that, just on a smaller scale.

Dust and debris filled the air, giving Zeke the opportunity to quickly kill a few stray drachnids and heal himself via [Leech Strike] before descending upon the pile of rocks and what he hoped was a buried champion.

Zeke picked his way through the debris, homing in on where he thought he’d last seen the monster. Climbing over the rocks, he quickly found his quarry, half buried under a pile of man-sized boulders. Only its torso was exposed, and it looked like nothing so much as a trapped, wild animal.

Its claws scraped against the rock, digging deep grooves but doing little good. With enough time, maybe it could work its way free. But judging by all the blood and its shattered carapace, Zeke didn’t think it had a shot at survival. For a few, long moments, he watched the thing’s desperate attempts – and there was a part of him that felt a cruel satisfaction at the creature’s suffering.

It made Zeke sick, that feeling. He didn’t have an issue with killing, especially when it came to survival. If something attacked him, he would fight. And he would win. Usually, that meant killing. He’d come to terms with that. The same attitude extended to the protection of innocents. But feeling satisfaction at another creature’s pain and suffering? That was wrong, and he wanted nothing more than to excise that dark, shadowy part of his soul that felt it. It was a part of him, though, and the best he could do was to push it aside.

Doing just that, Zeke stepped forward, raised his mace, and went to work on easing the monster’s obvious suffering. It took seven full-strength strikes to the champion’s head before the monster succumbed, and a flood of experience flowed into Zeke. Doing so made one simple fact clear – he’d never stood a chance against the champion in a straight-up fight. Without the trick with the pillar, he’d have been soundly defeated. He would’ve ended up in one of those cocoons as food for the other drachnids.

It was a sobering thought, and it shattered the aura of invincibility he’d been cultivating since leaving the troll cave. But that just meant he needed to get stronger. Faster. He needed to be better, or else he wouldn’t survive. So, after bending down and looting the champion, he took only a moment to watch its corpse rapidly decay before hefting his mace and getting back to the extermination of the drachnids.