CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE

Rocket Man

For a monster that was supposedly among the rarest of horror types, there were far too many dragons in this adventure for Sam’s liking. That’s what he was thinking while he rolled around in the blood-coated grass to avoid the pillar of dragon fire hurtling after him.

“Shouldn’t there be—”

Sam launched his right bracer’s grappling hook up to a nearby oak.

“—a quota on boss encounters—”

As his hook latched onto one of the oak’s highest branches, the mechanism inside his bracer began to reel Sam forward, launching him up into the air and away from the blazing heat that scalded his half-exposed butt cheeks.

“—with each danger zone!”

He landed gingerly on the thick branch and allowed himself a second to gulp down some much-needed air before sending his other grappling hook toward the oak tree on his right. He was just in the nick of time too because dragon fire obliterated the top of that first oak within seconds of his escape. Sam didn’t stick around to watch this second oak burn to ashes either. He leaped down to the ground and began running back toward his friends only to discover that Jackboot and Dr. Hearthstone were running straight for him.

“Go back!” Sam yelled.

But Jackboot shook his head. “Thunder’s taking care of the hound!” he yelled back.

“Thunder…?” Sam repeated.

The peal of thunder reached his ears, forcing him to slow his pace. Sam’s gaze drifted past his friends’ shoulders, and there, a good forty yards away was a sight that made his heart skip a beat.

While Jackboot and Dr. Hearthstone went to support Sam against Medea’s solar dragon, Thunder stood alone against Rick the Hound. She was staring down the giant-sized horror while carrying a glowing red shield in her left hand and a pure white spear in her right hand. The Golden Fleece was draped over Thunder’s shoulder with its cape billowing behind her.

“I still can’t believe she kissed me back…” Sam whispered.

“Duck!” Jackboot warned.

Instinct drove Sam to dive for the ground just as the solar dragon’s flame-tipped tail whipped across the space above him. It missed him entirely but smashed through the nearby oak, causing its top half to fall on Sam’s head.

“Seriously!” he complained.

Sam managed to roll away and just barely escaped the oak’s thick trunk from crushing him. Several of its red-leaved branches did fall on top of him though, which, surprisingly, helped to shield him from the dragon’s sight. It flew past him without pause, allowing Sam to catch sight of the rider atop its back.

“Serena…” His brow furrowed. “How did she—”

A white-gloved hand reached into the space between branches.

“Come on!” Jackboot called.

As Jackboot helped pull him out of the fallen oak’s remains, Sam’s gaze searched the sky.

“Does she even have a license to ride that thing?” he wondered aloud.

The dragon had flown about thirty yards to the east, but it was already turning back toward them. Pandora the 8th sat on its back, evoking images of a silver-haired dragon queen from one of Sam’s favorite TV shows.

“Thanks for the save”—Sam dusted red leaves off his armor—“but you guys should help Thunder.”

“Seems to me like Thunder’s got things well in hand, mate,” Jackboot replied.

As if on cue, they heard the bellowing cry of a war horn, and Sam turned his head just in time to watch as a bolt of pure white energy shot out of the tip of Thunder’s spear. The blast lanced Rick the Hound in its left eye, causing the giant-sized, wolf-like horror to howl in pain.

“Holy…” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Where did she get the spear?”

“I was wondering the very same thing,” Jackboot chimed in.

Another horn call accompanied a second energy blast that speared Rick the Hound in its right paw just as the horror leaped for Thunder, forcing it to crash back to the ground. Quick to take advantage of its awkward tumble, Thunder hasted to the underside of Rick the Hound’s snout and unleashed another ray of white energy into its chest.

“You’d think she might have whipped that thing out sooner,” Jackboot complained.

Sam didn’t think Thunder could have summoned such a powerful weapon though. Not while she was still cursed with the Blight. Now, however, he guessed they were finally witnessing the true power of a hero who’d climbed to the top seventh rank of the US hero charts.

“Seriously… what is that spear?” Sam asked.

That is [Skyfang], a mythical quality relic that the first Mr. Moonday forged from an elemental shard that broke off from the lightning bolt Zeus plunged into the chest of the last titan back in the final days of Titanomachia.

“Hephaestus’ flaming beard,” Sam breathed. “I thought mythical relics were just that… myths.”

Didn’t you use the Bow of Heracles not too long ago?

“Um, yeah, but…” Sam raised an eyebrow at the floating blue notification. “…wait, the Bow of Heracles was a mythical relic?”

It didn’t reply right away, almost as if the system that supported Sam had just let out a deep sigh of regret at its user’s ignorance.

You felt the raw celestial power flow through you when you dispersed the shadow of an elder giant with it and believed it to be just a normal relic?

“Um, yeah. I knew it was badass but I didn’t know it was a class on its own… I didn’t have anything to compare it with before,” Sam answered.

Before now, you mean.

“Yeah…” Sam’s eyes were glued to the spear in Thunder’s hand. “Wow.”

With each blast of the spear’s pure white beam, more and more of the dark energy that enveloped Rick the Hound’s body was shaved off. With it went the extra pounds the beast had earned inside Pandora’s Box.

“It’s like she’s not trying to kill it,” Sam began, to which Jackboot finished with, “but cleansing it of the rot that’s latched onto the soul underneath the monster…”

“Yeah…” Sam agreed. “I’ve got to get me one of those.”

There is a mythical quality relic looming close behind you.

“Wait... what?” Sam glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, right… that damn jar.”

The dragon and its rider were nearly on top of them, giving Sam and Jackboot barely any time to formulate a plan.

“Are you done discussing things with your invisible friend that we all pretend not to notice”—the hare’s ears on Jackboot’s mask straightened up, which Sam noticed only happened when danger was close at hand—“and did they have any suggestions on escaping our current problem?”

“I…” Sam’s gaze zoned in on the girl who carried that dangerous jar underneath her arm. “I’m not sure…”

From her place in the sky, Pandora the 8th surveyed the battlefield with an expression of indifference that made Sam’s chest ache.

“I need to get through to her,” he realized.

The dragon swooped down toward the ground with jaws wide open, forcing Sam and Jackboot to scatter and avoid the dragon fire hurtling toward them.

As he ran for cover behind another oak, Sam gave one final glance in Thunder’s direction, and confirming that she was dominating her fight against Rick the Hound, he decided his sister needed him more. Although in his mind, Sam wondered what words he could say that might make her remember him.

Sam sighed. But how do I get through to her?

You could try [Healing Hand (Γ)].

“Will that work?”

At the gamma level, Healing Hand has beneficial effects on a target’s mental state. It can heal mental fatigue, injury born of psychic attack, short-term memory loss, and even small bouts of heightened anxiety.

“Seriously?! And you’re only bringing this up now?”

It’s your fault for not reading through the updated status of your upgraded gift. Also, you’ve never needed it before now.

“Can I—”

No. You can’t heal your panic attacks. [Healing Hand (Γ)] doesn’t work on you. However, your mental state may improve if you raise [Regeneration (Δ)] up a rank.

“You and I are going to have a long conversation about how to be more helpful once this crisis is over…”

I look forward to reviewing the instruction manual with you.

Ugh, Sam sighed.

Triple-A’s suggestion represented a new dilemma for him though. To use his power, he would need to lay his hand on Pandora the 8th. Specifically, the part of her he wanted to heal—her head. This was going to be a challenge because the dragon she was riding was now rising back up to the sky where Sam’s grappling hook couldn’t reach it.

He was wondering how he might shorten the distance between them when Dr. Hearthstone came barreling through the space between oaks to get to where Sam was hiding.

“Doc!” Sam yelled excitedly. “I need a lift!”

“Fastball special?” Dr. Hearthstone’s gaze drifted up toward the dragon circling the sky above them. “Yes, I can get you up there.”

Veins of fire began to coat his right arm as he offered his hand to Sam.

“Go long,” Sam insisted.

He dashed toward Dr. Hearthstone’s hand, took it, and then felt himself get lifted into the air at the same time as the doc yelled, “Up, up, and away!” and launched Sam past the tree line as if he were a rocket ship.

Sam rose higher and higher into the air, and while the wind buffeted his face, he felt a little excited at the idea that he was flying toward that red-tinged sky to rescue his little sister. It was a silly thought, Sam knew. One that was quickly obliterated by the sight of the solar dragon’s flame-tipped tail whipping down to intercept his flight path.

There was no way to stop or change course. Bulwark wouldn’t be able to save him either. No, this endeavor was doomed for failure. At least that’s what Sam thought the closer he got to colliding with the dragon’s tail. But then he heard Jackboot yell, “Lucky Rabbit’s Foot!” and watched as his friend came out of nowhere to smack the dragon’s tail in the side just before it hit Sam, forcing the tail off course and allowing Sam to fly past it.

“Go!” Jackboot yelled as he fell back toward the ground.

“Herculean!” Sam roared.

Channeling all of Herculean’s energy into his arms, Sam formed a fist with both hands. Then he snapped his fingers outward. The pressure exploding out of his palms was like a rocket’s propulsion engines suddenly bursting to life. And, although it hurt so much that Sam guessed he’d broken a few fingers with this action, the boost it provided him sent Sam hurtling higher up and past the dragon’s head so quickly that it didn’t even get the chance to snap its jaws at him.

Once in the air, Sam flipped his body around and aimed his arms at the dragon’s unprotected back.

“Lesson number thirty-three!” he yelled.

Sam fired both grappling hooks—and both hooks latched onto the dragon’s scales right underneath the ridges of its neck. Then Sam was pulled forward, and he’d barely rehearsed the lines in his head when he suddenly found himself falling a mere five feet away from the girl whose face now resembled their dead mother so closely that just looking at her sent wistful nostalgia sweeping across Sam’s mind. The anxiety he’d been tamping down all this time pushed against his mind with renewed vigor.

“Sorry, sis,” Sam whispered as he landed beside Pandora the 8th’s seat on the dragon’s spine. “We don’t have time to do this gently…”

Pandora the 8th’s hand reached for the cap of her jar, but Sam was quicker. He swung his fist down at Pandora’s Box with pinpoint precision to avoid his sister’s arm and smacked its cap away before she could unseal the darkness within the cursed relic. Then, quick as a cobra, Sam lunged forward with his left hand outstretched. He tackled Pandora the 8th off the dragon while just barely managing to graze the side of her head. He didn’t realize it would happen so quickly, but a graze was all he needed for the connection to be established.

Sam didn’t expect what happened next though. How could he, when he’d never used it this way before? But, while they plunged toward the earth in an awkward embrace, the moment Sam poured his life force into his fingers—his power reaching into his sister’s brain—Sam’s consciousness was suddenly pulled into Pandora the 8th’s mind… to meet whatever horrors lay within it.