Deeper in the dungeon, a battle was being waged on a much larger scale, and the end game had finally begun.

The shadow stallion threw its full weight into Craynor’s formation, the two shield bearers and their heavily tattooed lead absorbing the brunt of the damage. The line held, and as his muscular companions pushed back, the warlock released a hastily charged spell, raining down shards of sharpened ice upon the beast’s exposed back for 55HP of damage. Kriabal smiled. The magically hardened moisture had successfully pierced the boss’s thick hide, dispensing almost twice the damage achieved by his earlier fire-based attack. Its thirty-second cool-down was better suited to close combat than pyromancy, but it still left him completely reliant on the tanks for protection while he prepared to unleash another volley.

The creature thrashed its huge head as it roared in pain, shrugging back the tanks and wounding the weakest in the process. But Craynor was much quicker to recover than his level 3 and 4 associates, unleashing a devastating uppercut with his mana-enthused axe. The boss’s head rocked back, exposing its thick black neck. Just as the tank had hoped it would. He followed-up the strike with a mana-enthused sword-thrust to the throat, forcing the entirety of his remaining mana into the arcane weapon. Its multiplier effect paid dividends, allowing the magically-forged steel to penetrate deep into the horrific beast’s flesh. The creature howled and thrashed, but Craynor and the other tanks pressed forward, hacking at the agonized stallion’s nightmarish, spindly legs while the warlock hit it with yet another rain of ice. In total, they’d dealt a whopping -624HP of damage, over a quarter of the enemy’s max HP, and they were only getting started.

If only Nyx’s sub-party was enjoying the same success. As the beast weathered the frontal assault, it had been lashing its scorpion-like tail uncontrollably, making for an almost impossible target. The limb seemed to be capable of independent thought, its eyes constantly fixing on its attackers before striking. Which meant it could aim, and every strike by the tanks and the warlock only seemed to increase the frenzy of its rear assault. The swiping limb had already knocked BulldogBrit clear off his feet, and had glanced her for -32HP of damage when she’d attempted to drag him to safety.

Once again, the horrific stinger-laden face swung in her direction. But this time she was prepared. The amazon dodged the thrashing tail with an impressive leap, while SniperJoe simultaneously ducked under, both racing to climb the creature’s legs in the hope of mounting the beasts back and severing the tail at its crux.

Throughout all this, the apprentice continued to cast heal from a safe distance, firstly restoring the fallen BulldogBrit, then Nyx, before topping up the HP lost by Craynor during his initial shield-less block. Reinvigorated, Craynor broke formation and charged under the beast, trailing his blade across the creature’s underside in an attempt to slit it from neck to tail. When he finally rolled out from underneath, it was at the creature’s rear, joining Nyx and her disillusioned sub-party.

“What the hell are you doing?” spat the amazon. She had just been unceremoniously swiped from the creature’s leg, costing her another -40HP of her available 605HP, and was not in high spirits. “Get the fuck back into formation.”

“Relax, those guys can take care of themselves,” he insisted, blocking a strike from the creature’s tail before adding: “Hey, Joe, what the hell are you doing up there.”

The dwarf-sized barbarian was hanging onto the back of the creature for dear life. He did not look amused by the tank’s question.

“Trying to cut its bloody tail off, what does it look like?” he cried back, driving his sword into the creature’s rump to gain purchase.

“Leave that to me,” replied the barbarian with a smug grin, twirling his blade as he spoke. “This sword doubles my mana strength, I’m sure I have enough left to take care of that thing for you.”

He reached deep down inside himself, pushing the glowing energy into his arcane blade. The movement of pressure was palpable, as sheer force was willed directly into the epic-level artifact. Nyx ordered the unruly buffoon to return to his post, but the command fell on deaf ears, as Craynor leapt forward, deflected the wildly swinging tail with his axe, and followed the move up with an attempt to sever the tail completely. It fell short, but the damage was still impressive, slicing a deep gouge into the flailing extremity for a further -280HP damage.

“The tail itself is too heavily armored, you dumb prick” cried SniperJoe, “aim for the root.”

The amazon cursed under her breath. The tail was thrashing back and forth, giving Craynor an impossibly difficult target, while SniperJoe could do little more than hang on for dear life. Craynor was wasted in this role: it required precision and power, a balance she was much better suited to provide. But the knucklehead was too deeply engaged to pull back, wrestling the tail as he hacked away at it with his axe, ignoring the dwarven barbarian’s advice to aim for the stump. She ordered the revived BulldogBrit to back up his fellow barbarian, then circled around to assist the troops that her braindead tank had so callously abandoned, praying that they were still in one piece. She was just in time to witness one of the overwhelmed tanks howl in pain as his shield-arm was bitten clean off, shield and all.

Kriabal grimaced. He knew that the apprentice had no chance of stemming the tanks bleeding before the creature made its next move, and that the other tank was in over his head. A distraction was needed, or they were all headed for the shadow stallion’s stomach. He stumbled back, ordering his dominated pet to attack its parent. GlueFactory charged from the apprentice’s side without a moment’s hesitation, biting into the boss’s leg with no regard for its own safety. But the distraction came too late. The boss had already made its second lunge at the screaming tank, its head darting forward with uncanny speed. It clamped its powerful jaws around the defenseless warrior. Its attempts to bite through his upper torso were met with a layer of enchanted armor, but the shadow stallion was not going to be hampered by such trivia. It violently plucked the tank from the ground before attempting to swallow him whole, like a snake attempting to swallow down a rat in its entirety, albeit unsuccessfully.

The shadow foal continued to maul its former master’s leg, while the warlock unloaded what little mana he had remaining in the form of another shower of ice, but the combined damage was well beneath the boss’s notice. Suddenly, a sickening crunch signaled the weakening of the stricken tank’s armor, his cries confirming that the jagged rows of needle-like teeth had once again found flesh.

Dammit, cursed Nyx, as she rushed to her party’s aid. The thing gets distracted when it feeds. Craynor should have been standing ready to deliver a critical hit with that epic level artefact of his, that way the poor bastard’s sacrifice would have meant something.

“I’m out,” bellowed Kriabal, adding to the amazon’s growing list of problems.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” she bellowed, grabbing his ragged robes and yanking him face-to-face.

“I mean I’m out of mana,” he spat back, pulling himself free of her grasp, with a scowl. “And if considering that I’m the only mage who’s done two shits worth of damage to that thing, you’d better let me recharge.” With that, he summoned the shadow foal to his side, mounted it, and retreated to the shadowy corners of the chamber to re-summon his strength.

With Craynor still occupied by the creature’s tail, one tank halfway down the monstrosity’s throat, and Kriabal benched, the formation was in tatters. All that remained of Craynor’s sub-party was NightWolf, the cigar-smoking level 3 tank who’d drawn her ire earlier. And as she drew closer, Nyx noted that he was barely present at all. The barbarian was just standing there, mesmerized by the sight of his fellow tank’s consumption, cringing with every scream induced from his ally by the game’s alarmingly realistic pain settings.

She ordered NightWolf to strike the beast while it fed, but he stood there, transfixed. As she got closer, she realized that he was hyperventilating. Weakness like that could not be tolerated. Regardless of how the battle ended, Nyx decreed that this ‘warrior’s’ time with her party was finished. She’d have him bleed back to level 0 for his cowardice.

The gun mage remained frozen at the edge of the chamber, as worthless to her as the cowering tank. She ordered the healer to go shake the gun mage out of his daze, then quietly damned Craynor for leaving her in this position.

What use is a commander without fodder to command? she asked herself. Loathe as she was to play the role of tank, she was going to have to do the damn job herself.

Pulling up her inventory, she hastily selected a javelin-like spear, its metallic form laden with roughly etched arcane symbols. It was her most powerful item by far, and she didn’t want to use it. Rune infused weapons were hard to come by in the prison, and once the item left her fingertips, there was no guarantee she would get it back, before the bastard she planned to aim it at sent her for a respawn. But they couldn’t afford to lose this lair, so with no other choice she focused her mana, pushing it into the javelin. The metal grew hotter in her hand. Although poor in quality, the weapon could easily have held twice the amount. But charging it took time, and time was now of the essence.

-[ User: B.A.Barbarious has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 4 ]-

Just like that the stricken tank was gone, his items beyond salvage. But Nyx hadn’t intended to rescue him. She knew he was a lost cause from the moment the shadow stallion had plucked him from the floor. She was not acting to save her fellow soldier. She was acting to make the most of a stationary target while it fed on her men.

With all her might she hefted the javelin through the air, her considerable strength adding velocity to what was already a lethal item. With a satisfying crunch the weapon entered the side of the creature’s head, driving beyond the creature’s flesh until it shattered bone, leaving the beast howling in excruciating pain.

-[ You have struck the shadow stallion for -260HP. ]-

Nyx cursed the fact she hadn’t charged the item earlier. They’d taken a whopping amount of the creature’s energy thus far, given their limited numbers, but not as much as she’s like. Worse, she would now become the beasts primary target. Again, she ordered NightWolf to attack, attempting to shift the creature’s focus. But he just mumbled something incoherent in response, while striding back and away from the creature. Nyx found herself wishing that she had another javelin, just for him.

-[ User: SniperJoe has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 3 ]-

All eyes turned to the boss’s tail, as the barbarian-dwarf’s limp body was raised skyward, like a gruesome trophy, impaled on the end of the creature’s stinger.

“For fuck’s sake, this is getting ridiculous,” cried the amazon. “Craynor, BulldogBrit, get back up front. We need a new strategy.

She’d assumed that there would be time to form one. The enemy had made another kill, after all, and she assumed that it would distract itself with SniperJoe’s corpse, just like before. But perhaps it was learning from its mistakes. With a howl, the creature charged her, demanding vengeance for the shard of metal that hung from its face. Now on the back foot, the amazon drew her sword, preparing herself for an impact that she couldn’t hope to block.

Unexpectedly, the beast was intercepted by Craynor, who came dashing through the creature’s legs, plunging his sword deep into the belly of the beast as he ran. The creature lost its footing and fell, but not before the tank had rolled to safety. Hastily writing itself, the boss turned and began to charge at the powerful tank. Once again it was intercepted, this time by the dual bone axes of BulldogBrit as he darted underneath and sliced across its already weakened chest. Locking onto the new threat it redirected itself again, making to charge for the weaker barbarian. But now it was Nyx’s turn to interject, intercepting the enemy with a spinning overhead chop as it passed her by. The move used the beasts own momentum against it, and had been aimed at finishing what Craynor had begun on the weakened front leg, almost severing the damaged limb at its weakest point.

Kriabal seized the opportunity and began charging the attack spell that his leader had shortsightedly refused him earlier. Meanwhile, the apprentice continued to work on shattering the debuff that held the gun mage, cursing the arcane gunslinger’s continued paralysis. NightWolf simply stood on the sidelines, mouth hanging open in awe, ‘guarding’ the healer as he worked.

The three-pronged attack turned out to be an excellent strategy. When goaded into physical combat, the beast became predictable. Provided the blow dealt was deemed worthy of the boss’s notice, the shadow stallion focused its attention on the dealer, ignoring the others as they positioned themselves to intercept. Again and again, one would serve as bait while another struck, and the third moved into position to repeat the cycle. Before long, the boss was down to one-quarter strength. The plan was foolproof. Right up until the point that it wasn’t.

With a glancing blow to the creature’s underside, BulldogBrit failed to draw the creature’s attention, and barreled into Craynor, driving him back-first into the chamber wall mere meters from the healer. The blow caused the tank a hefty -300HP worth of damage. For a lesser warrior, this would have been a critical hit, but the tank still had two-thirds of his HP remaining. Craynor struggled to raise himself to his feet, but not even a tank of his caliber could take a blow like that and simply shrug it off. The hulking warrior was stunned and completely unable to defend himself.

“Grandel,” cried Nyx, “forget the damn spell-slinger and start healing Craynor. NightWolf, get the fuck over there and help.”

NightWolf, mere meters from the boss, just stood there and stammered, trying his best to come up with an excuse not to engage the impossible opponent. Seconds later, the beast’s huge jaws clamped down on the party’s main tank for a whopping 250HP of damage, his arcane tattoos glowing as they tried their best to shield him, before buckling in the face of the creature’s inherent magical resistance.

Nyx winced at the sight before her as she ran to assist. Craynor had taken two critical hits in rapid succession, and he couldn’t sustain much more. She approached the monster from behind, giving thanks for the small mercy that its troublesome tail was still occupied by its trophy, the gruesomely impaled corpse of SniperJoe. Kriabal dispatched his pet to assist, and BulldogBrit was also rushing to help, but neither would make it in time. With a cry, Nyx pushed her entire mana reserve into her blade and unleashed a devastating sword strike, attempting to sever the legs on the boss’s flank, shattering her sword in the process.

-[ You have struck the shadow stallion for -210HP. ]-

-[ Warning: Weapon durability has reached zero. ]-

The blade was completely shattered, but the shadow stallion didn’t fare much better. One leg was completely severed and another hung limp, its tendons barely clanging to the femur.

Nyx in turn hit the ground hard. Her body was completely spent. Channeling so much mana at once was difficult, especially for a barbarian, and her entire avatar now felt like a muscle worked to fatigue. She knew the consequences of such an act, but the tank was their best hope of survival, and she couldn’t allow him to fall. She only hoped she’d bought the healer enough time to get him back on his feet. BulldogBrit rushed in to drag his leader to safety, while the ominous creature awkwardly turned to face in their direction. They had become its primary focus again. Craynor was still on his back, unable to interfere. And even with the creature hobbled, their odds of outrunning it were slim to none.

Glue factory tried to intercept but was easily plucked from the ground and thrown across the chamber. The boss stared at the twitching body of its unruly child, before returning its attention to the threat that lay before it. Then with a flick of its tail, the barbarian dwarf was sent hurtling skyward, before the creature snapped upward like a dog jumping for treats, swallowing the warrior whole. And that was when Nxy realized just why the creature had been so keen to hold onto SniperJoe’s remains.

“The bastard has recharging its HP by feeding on us,” she gasped, cursing her inability to spot the leap in the creature’s HP sooner. The boss was now back to half-strength, and it looked angry.

The shadow stallion returned its gaze to the Amazon and her axe-wielding soldier. And then it charged.

“NightWolf, get the fuck over here and cover us with your shield,” demanded Nyx, “or so help me, I’ll find an interesting new place for you to store it. Spoiler alert; it isn’t your fucking inventory.”

The thinly-veiled threat was just what the panicked tank needed to shake him out of his trance. He rushed to join his two companions, raised his shield, and braced himself for impact.

The beast’s momentum was badly hampered by two missing limbs and a third that was all-but ruined, but the tier 4 boss still packed a punch, lowering its head and ramming the tank, throwing the entirety of its weight against the warrior’s weakly enchanted shield. NightWolf managed to grind the beast to a halt, gaining a defense point in the process, but he lost his footing, most of his shield’s durability, and half of his HP, falling unceremoniously flat on his back. While the apprentice cast heal on the dazed defender, BulldogBrit leapt forward, slashing with his twin axes to hold the attacker at bay, while Nyx just about hauled herself back to her own unsteady feet.

“Warlock,” she cried toward the shadows, “what the hell are you doing back there, stop tugging your fucking staff and join the attack.”

“I’m charging something that might fell the bastard,” he replied. “I just need a minute or two longer.”

Nyx wasn’t certain that any of them had another minute, let alone two. But she left him to it. There was no sense in ordering the mage to start on a new spell from scratch, only to have him cast a much weaker attack as a result.

BulldogBrit was bloodied, barely managing to defend himself from the shadow stallion’s snapping jaws, let alone strike his foe. Nyx on the other hand, had regained some stamina but was running dangerously low on weapons. She checked her inventory. Her last hope was her cryo-dagger, but she doubted she’d get close enough to use it. She was about to select it anyway and join the stricken soldier in his worthy death when a war-cry rang out, the familiar taunt of the party’s chief tank. He was charging from the rubble, his body moderately healed by the apprentice, the air thick and distorted with the mana that swirled around his blade. As a tank, Craynor could convert damage into mana. And he’d taken a lot of damage. Nyx held her breath as the taunt took effect, the creature’s resistance weakened by its desire to see the one who had caused it so much pain dead. It spun to meet the challenge. But just as the tank prepared to deliver what he knew would be the killing blow, a crackle of arcane energy tore off his right kneecap, sending him tumbling to the cold stone floor.

What. The. Fuck, thought Nyx, as all heads turned to the source of the arcane blast. It was the gun mage. He was standing arm outstretched, pistol smoldering with the tell-tale vapors of mana that all but confirmed his guilt.

-[ User: SpellSlinger69 has quit the party. Magic users remaining under your command: 2 ]-

The boss pounced, snapping at the tattooed tank who could now do little more than fight the hulking beast from his back, desperately attempting to defend himself against its biting jaws, but with no way to press the attack.

“Nyx, take cover,” screamed Kriabal, gesturing to the gun mage. The traitorous spell-slinger was aiming his weapons squarely at the party’s leader, preparing to sever the head of their troop. Unable to interrupt his own spell, the warlock ordered his battered familiar to its shaky feet, willing it to intercept the gun mage. Powerless to protest, the creature forced itself upright, ignoring the pain that lanced through its broken body. Its master’s command was all, and his will would be done.

The creature galloped across the chamber toward the gun mage, before suddenly breaking off and launching its teeth at the neck of the party’s healer. The warlock stared in disbelief as his pet began to maul Grandel. Stunned by this occurrence, he was pulled to his senses by an explosion of arcane energy, as hardened mana erupted from a set of arcane pistols, sending magical bullets flying across the chamber with the intention of ending the party’s leader.

NightWolf got his shield up, but only just. The badly damaged item shattered under the impact as it was struck by a rain of tightly charged mana, injuring the tank’s lower-right arm and further dropping his HP.

Nyx let out a gasp of relief. It had been a close one, but the useless lug had just about redeemed himself. She turned and addressed BulldogBrit. “You! Get over there and tear that fucking gun mage a new one. Try to use your orc-bone axes for cover. They have magical resistance, so they should negate the turncoat’s bullets.”

The berserker grunted in agreement, raised his huge axes like a makeshift shield, and began to charge his newly appointed opponent.

Next, she turned to the dazed NightWolf, abruptly snatching his axe from his hand. Reaching into her inventory, she selected the cryo-dagger and pressed the arcane weapon into his empty palm. The tank just stared at her, bewildered.

“Do you know what this is?”

“A ehhh… cryomancer’s dagger?” he replied, nervously.

“Yes. Enchanted by the same wizard responsible for Craynor’s grenade. But this item doesn’t have a stored charge… it converts mana.”

She pointed toward the boss. It had its back to them, occupied by its attempts to maul Craynor. NightWolf could see where she was going with this, and he didn’t like it. As a tank, he generated his mana chiefly through defense, and stopping the boss in its tracks had fully charged him.

“You’re the only one of us left who still has a mana reserve worth a damn,” she continued, confirming the strategy. “You’re going to redeem yourself by driving this dagger into the boss’s flesh, then pumping every bit of mana you have into the blade. With any luck, you’ll have enough to freeze the bastard. Understood?”

NightWolf completely understood. He’d seen that look in Nyx’s eye before. Typically, before she slit an enemy’s throat and had their spawning point bricked up, leaving them to infinitely respawn into starvation. There was nothing the shadow stallion could do to him that would be worse than his leader scorned.

“L-let’s see how he likes it, eh?” the tank replied, his tone betraying his intended bravado.

The scorpion-like tail tore into NightWolf’s flesh as he rushed the creature from behind, but he was built for pain and easily shrugged the strike off. A split-second later, Nyx was at his side, engaging the stinger, giving him the opportunity to push forward toward his goal. Finally, he reached the creature’s vulnerable underside. Without hesitation, he thrust the dagger deep into the boss’s flesh, all the way to the hilt. The tail thrashed, but the amazon kept it occupied. As commanded, NightWolf began to charge the blade with mana. It fueled the weapon’s enchantments, cryogenically charging first the blade, and then the beast itself, seizing up the boss’s powerful muscles, slowing its frenzied attacks, until finally, it was frozen in place. Craynor fell to his back, his stamina all but exhausted, his HP now barely more than 100. Then he laughed. The battle was turning.

Finally, some breathing space, thought Nyx to herself, before bellowing: “Kriabal, what the hell are you playing at. Call your pet off the apprentice before it kills him.”

“Nothing to do with me, boss,” shrugged the warlock. His staff was glowing, barely able to contain the power gathering within. “Best guess, the bastard boss learned my dominate spell just by observing it. It’s got its minion back.”

“That’s not all it’s got,” shouted Craynor, hastily pulling his last vial of healing potion from his inventory and pouring it over his ruined knee. The gruesome injury immediately began to regenerate, bone and cartilage knitting together to regenerate that which was brutally shed. “The thing’s controlling SpellSlinger.”

“Nyx suddenly understood why the creature had spent so long fixating first on the warlock, and then on the gun mage. It had learned the dominate skill, that much had been confirmed. But all that time spent staring at her arcane gunslinger must have been an attempt to cast the damn thing. The beast had broken the players will, and taken control of his avatar. That meant for the sake of the mission, he too needed to die.

“Someone put down that fucking gun mage,” she yelled.

Bulldog Brit endeavored to do just that, having finally maneuvered close enough to the shooter to land a killing blow. He drew back his mighty bone axe, and in doing so, left himself completely open to attack. His brains exited the back of his skull in a blaze of arcane gunfire, a critical hit that easily floored his avatar in a flash of mystical energy.

-[ User: BulldogBrit has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 2 ]-

That distraction dealt with, the deadly shot was quickly followed up by yet another, as a ripple of hardened mana flew across the chamber, finding its way into NightWolf’s vulnerable neck. The impact sprayed his huge torso with blood, forcing him to drop to one knee.

“Don’t you dare let go of that fucking dagger,” bellowed Nyx, unsympathetically. “Grandel, heal him, now!”

“Physician, heal thyself,” cackled the gun mage manically, before firing off another round, coldly executing the apprentice with a shot to the temple.

To the would-be assassin’s surprise, Grandel still stood. Granted, he was swaying, but death had not claimed him, thanks to his own hidden trump card: a resurrection buff. The powerful spell kept him on his feet as his HP slowly began to refill, but he was powerless to act while it worked its literal magic. Seizing the opportunity, GlueFactory delivered a bloody exclamation point, sinking his teeth into the defenseless mage’s throat before ripping it from his avatar for a second critical hit.

-[ User: Grandel has died. Magic users remaining under your command: 1 ]-

Nyx cringed. She knew that the spell-slinger had 7 points in accuracy, 6 in mana generation, and a secondary skill in assassination. That made him a one-man critical hit dispenser. She hurriedly surveyed the chamber-turned-battlefield. With the apprentice’s death, the light of the mana-orbs would fade in minutes, and fighting whilst holding a flaming torch would only make things even more difficult for them. But at least Craynor was back on his feet. He was dealing heavy damage to the frozen boss, giving the bastard a taste of its own medicine, and proving just how powerful his arcane blade really was.

Blow after blow rained down on the motionless beast, as the tank hurried to deal as much damage as possible. She’d never seen a blade with such pure access to a warrior’s mana flow, and she prayed the weapon would get the job done before his fellow tank inevitably lost consciousness from blood loss, ran out of mana, or both. The gun mage began firing on Craynor, whittling the tank’s HP away from a safe distance as he did his best to draw the warrior away from the true target.

The warlock couldn’t be relied on to interfere: he was multi-tasking, doing his best to regain control of the shadow foal while continuing to charge his attack. Focus split, Kriabal couldn’t quite break the boss’s hold on his former pet. But he was holding it in check, and Nyx could live with that: it freed her up to target the treacherous gun mage.

The amazon charged him, leaping to pluck her javelin from the shadow stallion as she overtook its ominous frozen mass. The arcane gunslinger charged to meet her, dodging a javelin throw before rolling underneath what should have been a devastating slash of her newly acquired axe. SpellSlinger69 wasn’t the first gun mage she’d battled, and Nyx knew exactly what was coming next. She spun on her heel and took a backhanded heft at the empty space behind her, decapitating the spellcaster as he sprang to his feet to shoot her point-blank in the back of the head.

-[ You have killed user: SpellSlinger69. XP gained: Armed combat: +30. Accuracy: +30. Mana bonus: 100 mana points. Rep effect: Neutral. This kill was an act of self-defense and carries no penalty. ]-

-[ Level up! You are now a level 8 amazon berserker. Max HP +50. Max MP +70. You have gained one unallocated base point. ]-

Nyx looked to the others. Craynor was still slashing away at his defenseless opponent, his impressive stamina refusing to relent. His mana was spent, but he’d still managed to drop the helpless beast to just under a quarter of its overall HP, sheer determination and a quick succession of blows compensating for his drained MP. NightWolf on the other hand, was a different story. The heavily injured tank looked dead on his feet, his avatar pale, his arms trembling as he fought to hold the blade in place, pushing what little mana he had left into the hulking creatures frame. Blood was pouring down the side of his neck as he fought to maintain both consciousness, and the mana flow that was so vital to their plan. He looked like he would collapse any minute. And if he did, the creature would be free.

She hastily called up her status menu and put the unallocated base point into healing. Then she rushed to aid Nightwolf. She couldn’t risk attempting to transfer the dagger, lest the broken flow of mana give the boss a chance to slip free, so she pressed her hands upon the tanks bloody neck, forcing her own mana into the wound, willing it to close. The new skill was still weak, but at such close range (and the extortionate cost of 137MP) it was enough to slow the bleeding. She prayed it would keep the warrior upright, while they finished off their quarry with what little strength they had left.

She’d only just joined Craynor in his task when the other shoe dropped.

“I’m out of mana,” cried NightWolf.” The announcement was followed by a cry of the more agonized, guttural kind. The creature added its own howls to the chorus, as it slowly raised the tanks corpse into view atop its tail’s deadly stinger.

-[ User: NightWolf has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 1 ]-

…rang in Nyx’s head, confirming what was already painfully obvious. He’d wasted her mana healing the cretin when his own mana was all but spent. And worse, the shadow stallion was free.

“Don’t let it eat him,” she cried.

“So we can steal his armor?” enquired Craynor, optimistically.

“So it can’t use him to get its strength back,” she replied, with a scowl. “Eating us is how it regains its HP.”

Without warning, a shadowy corner of the chamber flared. It was Kriabal, and he was struggling to maintain a grip on his staff, its gnarled wood glowing with pulses and waves of arcane energy.

“Get the fuck out of the-”

The sentence went unfinished as the staff exploded into splinters, unable to contain the overclocked spell held within. Cobalt energy shot across the chamber, casting a hazy blue sheen between summoner and target. It hung overhead like the sinister corpse of a rainbow, before beginning to crackle with arcane energy. Nyx and Craynor had no idea what was happening, but they knew danger when they saw it, running for cover as huge shards of ice began to form above their heads. Crystal shards the size of the average rogue began raining down on the confused boss, its neck taking a heavy blow, driving it to the floor with a hardy crack. Nyx could only watch in amazement as the rain of ice fell, often shattering against the stone floor, but catching the beast with increasing frequency.

The warlock smiled as he watched his handiwork. Attacking the beast directly with magic was futile, the spells ran off it like water off a particularly frightening duck’s back. But using magic to craft weapons had been his loophole. The summoned shards of ice were merely formed by magic, then simply released like projectile weapons, allowing gravity and their sharply-pointed weight to do the rest. The creature had no resistance against the onslaught. Besieged, it fell to its side a bloody mess, howling in agony.

It wasn’t the only bloody mess. NightWolf’s corpse was pounded to red mush, his remains trapped under a particularly heavy shard that now pinned the boss’s tail. Spell subsiding, the creature attempted to raise itself up, but quickly fell. It had been reduced to a broken, shambling mess.

What followed was a seemingly endless barrage of hacks and slashes as the amazon and the barbarian attacked its broken body, slicing away the last remnants of the once impressive beast’s HP. Their mana was spent, but it didn’t matter: the creature’s death was little more than a formality. No longer focusing his attention on the ice spell, Kriabal easily reaffirmed his control over GlueFactory, and the beast joined the one-sided fight, tearing bloody chunks out of its parent with its teeth. Even Kriabal himself joined the physical assault, repeatedly kicking at the beast in an attempt to grind his unarmed combat stat. He desperately hoped that luck would grant him the killing blow, and the extra bonus that came with it.

This continued until the creature breathed no more, with a lucky Craynor landing the killing blow, much to Kriabal’s chagrin.

-[ Announcement: Congratulations, you have defeated a tier 4 boss. You have claimed the Lair of the Shadow Stallion. Rewards will be allocated individually, based on player contribution. Please check your status window for updates. Note: Contractors are not true members of the party and have been penalized -50% XP. ]-

Kriabal cursed his status as a lowly contractor. “-50%? That’s bullshit. We’d all be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

Craynor, ever the antagonist, took this as his cue to brag about his various bonuses and rewards. He’d gained two whole levels, more than anyone else in the party.

After the players finished checking and allocating their new stats, the boss’s corpse was promptly looted. Nyx claimed a new sword with an inbuilt flame buff, Craynor a helmet that increased his resistance to magical attack, and Kriabal gained a new, vastly superior staff. Even GlueFactory received a reward, a potion that could be used to permanently boost the pet’s intelligence. This was no coincidence. As the last four standing after such a high-level kill, the system was obliged to reward them with items befitting their individual nature.

A few moments later, the apprentice’s mana-orbs finally flickered and died. Kriabal generated a flame to light their more traditional torches, and the exhausted warriors sprawled out next a few meters from the corpse of their aggressor, their stamina all but spent.

“That fucking Dungeon Warden had better appreciate this,” growled Nyx, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from her inventory. She offered the contraband to the party’s tank, who simply waved her off.

“Fuck the Dungeon Warden,” he spat in reply. “Whatever noob ends up living down here better appreciate what we just went through to save them from bunking three to a cell.”

“Speaking of noob’s,” she continued, “what the hell was with that swords-noob who just suddenly appeared out of nowhere?”

“The shield should drop any moment,” replied Kriabal, feeding a piece of the shadow stallion to his new pet as he spoke. “G’rrak spoke to him. Maybe he’ll have some answers for us.”

“And if he doesn’t?” asked Craynor, as he stared lovingly at his new arcane blade and helmet.

“Then we’ll just have to track the noob down and kick the answers out of him,” replied their leader, with a smile.