Nyx had watched the entire sequence of events (or as much as her limited view would allow, at any rate) with interest. She hadn’t heard what the demon had said to the mysterious swordsnoob: the creature’s telepathy had left her with little more than broken fragments of the conversation, chiefly the newcomer’s protests. What was clear was that the savvy guard had somehow convinced the new arrival to buy her party more time. And to his credit, the noob had done surprisingly well in this endeavor, considering his pitiful level. But his brutal end had been inevitable. She had plenty of questions for that one when he respawned. Chiefly, how the hell did he manage to enter a sealed boss chamber in the middle of a fight? The secrets behind such a maneuver would be invaluable, should she ever find herself in this position again. And then there was the other mystery: why would he even want to arrive here?

But these were questions for a later date when she was back in her own cell and the stranger was at her feet. She would bleed the answers out of him, if necessary. For now, her party had more pressing concerns. Casualties had been high thus far. The noob had struck back, disabling two of the shadow foals (one of them permanently), and that would go some (small) way towards evening the odds. But the enemy still possessed every other advantage.

Craynor stood at the very periphery of her vision, no doubt seething over the noob’s blatant thievery of his valuable items. The tank possessed the highest resistance stat of her entire party and would inevitably be the first to break free of the powerful debuff. She prayed that eventuality wouldn’t take much longer. He was best suited to draw the enemy’s ire of all of them: at over one thousand, the tank’s max HP dwarfed even hers. If required to, the tattooed powerhouse could surely buy the rest of his party the time they needed to recover.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Craynor’s familiar war cry suddenly echoed through the chamber. A tank-specific skill, the high-level taunt was intended to draw the enemy toward him, and away from weaker vulnerable troops. Which in this case, happened to be the entire party.

The boss stared at the warrior for a few seconds, before turning away with disinterest, returning its many-eyed gaze to the increasingly vulnerable-looking gun mage. But the smaller mob found itself powerless to resist. It let out a howl, and began to scuttle forward, driven by an overwhelming urge to sever the guttural cry at its source. Satisfied with his efforts, the barbarian reinforced the taunt with another cry, raised his sword, and rushed forward to meet the challenge.

“Wait,” came a shout from somewhere behind him, stopping the impressive specimen in his tracks. She couldn’t turn, but Nyx recognized the voice. It was their warlock contractor, Kriabal.

“Damn you, mage,” spat Craynor, maintaining his focus on the charging mob as he spoke. “Never take control of my avatar like that again. It’s bad enough that the bastard boss immobilized me, without you having your turn, too. I feel fucking violated.”

“Shut the fuck up and stand aside,” rebuked the warlock, rushing to the tank’s side. The physical difference between their two avatars was glaring, but the levels of power contained within were fairly evenly matched. Craynor understood this well, and he didn’t have time to fight the warlock. With a small grumble under his breath, he conceded to the spellcaster, stepping aside.

The underworld-class mage smiled a smug smile and activated his dominate skill, catching the shadow foal firmly in his mana’s grasp as the creature prepared itself to pounce. The warlock’s mana reserve had been given ample time to recharge, and he poured the magical energy on hard, easily breaking the creatures will.

-[ Update: Your party has received a new associate. Name: Undefined. Type: Level 2 shadow foal. HP102/250. Please name your new associate. ]-

The warlock obliged, and Shithead the Wonder Horse promptly rushed to his new master’s side. Craynor allowed a satisfied grin to spread across his face as he realized that his party had grown. As for the shadow stallion, it’s weak AI was finally beginning to grasp that it could no longer rely on its minions for sustenance, and the beast was slowly rising up upon its abundance of nightmarish, elongated legs.

“Three on one…” the tank scoffed, sharpening his blade on his axe. “I like those odds even better. Now come on, stop dicking about and let’s get the bastard. I want to see what an epic-class arcane blade is capable of.”

The tank began to casually stride toward his infinitely more powerful foe, the swagger in his step taking even the warlock by surprise. As he advanced, Craynor swiped at the air with his newly acquired epic-class weapon. The arcane blade left a trail of glowing mana in its wake.

How did he get so damn cocky? wondered Kriabal, charging his own lesser weapon as he reluctantly followed. He’s supposed to be the party’s primary tank, yet the crazy bastard doesn’t even carry a shield.

Kriabal turned to his own shield, the panting monstrosity that was now enslaved to his will. The mob’s HP was lower than the warlock would have preferred, thanks to its earlier tussles with the unfortunate noob. But it would grant him a means with which to back up his ranged attacks with physical damage, and against a creature with magical resistance, that could be a godsend. Satisfied with his new toy, he returned his gaze to the party’s tank. Then, he almost choked. Craynor, clearly not one who cared much for tactics, was standing directly in front of the shadow stallion, bold as brass, cleaving at the air in a whirl of mana-infused swordplay.

“Stop showing off and cut him, you stupid wanker,” bellowed a third, unexpected voice. It was followed by a volley of magical blasts, slivers of mana that cut through the air and sparked off the creature’s thick hide for a total of 21HP damage.

Nyx knew that voice well. It was the apprentice. To her relief, he too had survived, and he was evidently back in the fight. She should have known that the magic-users would be next to free themselves, their arcane nature granting them a higher resistance to the paralysis buff.

But on that note, she wondered, what the hell’s keeping the damn gun mage?

The boss made to charge the source of the ranged attacks, but Craynor swiftly took advantage of the apprentice’s distraction, launching into a spinning overhead chop aimed squarely at the femur of the boss’s front leg. In a flash of arcane energy, the blade sliced deep into the boss’s thick segmented limb. Inky black blood sprayed against the tank’s tattooed torso as his status-bot confirmed 200HP worth of damage. The creature howled in pain. But to Craynor’s horror, his powerful artifact had barely made it halfway through his opponent before becoming firmly wedged in the creature’s tissue, leaving him vulnerable. The shadow stallion writhed in pain, but only for the briefest of moments, its eyes fixing on the one who had sought to do it harm. Meanwhile, Craynor struggled, refusing to sacrifice his precious blade, pressing his foot against the beast in hope of leveraging the artifact free. It was an act that left the tank even more vulnerable, and the shadow stallion quickly took advantage, lunging at the warrior with its lethal, powerful jaws.

As the tank attempted to raise his axe in a futile attempt to block, yet another arcane blast peppered the beast, shaving off a further 28HP. This one had emanated from the warlock’s smoldering staff. His dominated beast was promptly ordered to join the fray, snapping at its parent like a terrier snapping at the heels of an Alsatian, and with a similar outcome. The hulking beast lashed out, taking the foal in its jaws and biting down hard, killing it instantly.

-[ NPC associate ‘Shithead the Wonder Horse’ has died. Familiars remaining in the party: 0 ]-

This was just the distraction Craynor had needed. Returning his axe to his inventory, the tank hefted his sword free with both hands, before rolling to safety, joining the warlock.

“Holy shit, that was a close one,” announced a grinning Craynor, springing to his feet. “Guess I need to charge the blade a bit longer next time I attempt something like that, eh?”

“What the fuck?” spat the warlock, ignoring the question. “What the hell were you playing at? You cost me my damn familiar with that stunt.”

“Aww, don’t worry, if our magical princess wants a new pony, there’s another one over there in the freezer cabinet,” scoffed Craynor.

“What?”

He pointed his axe toward the frozen mob at the back of the room. “The cryo-grenade that damned noob stole from me was only a level II enchantment, barely a patch on Nyx’s cryo-dagger. Its effect will probably wear off any minute. it looks like momma bitch is too distracted to bother us while she’s feeding, so I suggest you go work your magic now. That way, the bastard thing will already be on our side when it defrosts.”

He wasn’t sure about being referred to as the party’s ‘magical princess’, but Kriabal couldn’t argue with the tank’s logic and headed off to enslave the last remaining foal. Satisfied that this was going to do wonders for his fledgling leadership stat, Craynor turned next to the apprentice.

“Oi, Gandalf.”

Grandel grunted in reluctant acknowledgement.

“Make yourself useful. Start healing the poor fucks who came under attack by the smaller mobs. I’ll go finish off the foal the noob crippled earlier.”

Nyx watched as the tank left to steal a little XP, and the apprentice rushed to heal her stricken troops. To her surprise, Grandel started by placing his hands upon her, despite her obvious lack of damage.

What the hell are you doing you dumb fuck, she cried, albeit internally. You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up, or you’ll really need those healing skills by the time I’m done with you. Go find someone who actually needs your help.

Powerless to protest, Nyx stood in her pixel-based prison, her attention split between Grandel’s wandering hands and the distant gory sight of the boss mercilessly consuming its young. ‘Shithead the Wonder Horse’ had provided a momentary distraction, but it had hardly been a gamechanger before its death.

Damn that Craynor, she thought to herself. As the only active member of the core party, he was now in charge by default. And if his piss poor leadership got her mages killed as swiftly as it had Kriabal’s familiar, then the whole party was done for. That was when she noticed something else, something that shouldn’t have been there. Lurking in the shadows, shimmering as if corrupted, stood a female elf. She was glancing around with a look of concern on her annoyingly cute face. Then as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. Powerless to even point out the oddity, Nyx put it down to a glitch, until suddenly…

-[ Magical attack cleansed. Nyx has successfully broken free of the paralyze debuff. ]-

The voice in her head had barely finished its announcement before the wizard darted off to repeat the act on her fellow warriors.

Well, that was unexpected, she thought to herself. Perhaps there’s more than one way to ‘heal’ the troops.

Finally free to move, Nyx selected her status menu, scrolled to the ‘raid party’ tab, and checked the party’s stats. It made for unpleasant reading. Of the fifteen individuals who’d entered the chamber with her, seven were dead, leaving her with five barbarians and her three magic users under her command. Of those five barbarians two were tanks and two were berserkers, but all four were still imprisoned by the paralyze debuff. As, to her surprise, was the gun mage. Still, her hopes were increased slightly as an unexpected addition appeared on the list.

-[ Update: Your party has received a new associate. Name: GlueFactory. Type: Level 2 shadow foal. HP 181/250. ]-

The warlock had successfully dominated the final shadow foal and added it to their ranks. Nyx rolled her eyes at the name Kriabal had given the mob: ‘GlueFactory.’ Although to be fair, it probably summed up the creature’s chances of survival.

Kriabal was more than satisfied with his latest familiar. It had a lot more HP than his last pet, and thanks to the cryo-grenade, the beast had been powerless to resist his domination, costing him a great deal less mana to tame than he had first anticipated. He was even happier when his real leader rushed to his side, very much unfrozen.

“What’s your mana situation like?” she demanded.

“I’ve got 130 mana points available. It’ll be enough to lay down a few ranged attack spells, but nothing spectacular, given that thing’s resistance. If you could buy me some time to charge a more powerful attack, I think I might have a spell that can bypass the bastard’s magical resistance…”

“How long do you need?”

“No chance.” She rebuked. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re painfully low on numbers, and I can’t afford to take my only soldier with range attacks off the field, no matter how feeble they might be.”

Kriabal grunted, feeling slightly offended. Nyx didn’t care.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, urgency entering her voice, “the big bastard has just about finished its latest meal, and now that it’s run out of gatherers, I’d imagine it’s going to be coming at us directly. I need you to command your mob to-”

“Sorry, no can do,” cut in the warlock. “Ol’ GlueFactory here is still under the influence of the cryo-grenade. I can’t make him do shit.”

The amazon let out an exasperated gasp and turned to see how the wizard was progressing. To her relief, the last of the barbarians was shaking off his stiffness, and the apprentice was now looking nervously toward the gun mage. She understood why. Getting to that one was going to be a problem.

“Forget the gun mage for now,” ordered Nyx. “Can you do anything to help defrost this ugly bastard?”

She pointed to GlueFactory, expectantly. The apprentice nodded and over, getting to work on breaking the spell. She noticed that he wasn’t so hands-on, this time, and made a mental note to break those hands later.

“I want a spearhead formation with tanks to the front,” she bellowed. “Craynor at the point. Kriabal, I want you behind Craynor hitting that thing with whatever range attacks you can muster, you must be able to squeeze out another fireball by now. When your pet’s ready, don’t engage him. I want you to hold him back in case we need a distraction that’ll give us time to retreat. “BulldogBrit, SniperJoe…”

The two berserkers turned, the first was stretching his once-frozen limbs: a lion chested powerhouse brandishing twin axes forged from bone. The second was an oddly short barbarian, an actual dwarf IRL who was determined not to be typecast.

“I want you two with me, she continued. “We’ll circle around back, see if we can do something about that damn tail. Healer…”

The apprentice looked up from his attempts to counteract the cryo-grenade.

“…continue with what you’re doing, but stay within healing range and do your best to keep both sub-units topped up throughout the battle. Only risk a projectile attack if we’re all in good health and you can spare the mana.”

The wizard nodded his understanding and continued to work on the frozen mob. Craynor, in turn, ordered his troops into formation, while Nyx circled around the boss with hers in tow. And not a moment too soon. Having fed on its young, the shadow stallion was ready to return to the offensive.

It was time for the annoying humans to die.