It was time for me to fight, or die.

Thanks to my shameless act of thievery I had two options available to me: block or parry. Okay, technically I had three options, but using the heavily armored amazon as a shield was the sort of dick move I would expect from Samusk, and not indicative of the player I aspired to be. Besides, Nyx was potentially my means of joining a powerful gang. Using her to block an enemy attack probably wouldn’t enamor her to me, or get me in Kronan’s good books, for that matter.

The tendril was heading straight for my unprotected face. Mind made up, I swung the blade with a well-timed parry, knocking the lethal tip aside. The sword was heavy, but thanks to my impressive strength stat, it was nothing I couldn’t handle. And boy did it feel good to finally have a weapon I could use. Unfortunately, while the ‘epic’ item was more than capable of deflecting the mob’s assault, what it wasn’t doing, was hurting the bastard. My precious mana had stayed put, and the land shark’s HP barely budged as metal clashed with bone.

Bollocks.

Without hesitation, the tentacle twisted back on itself with the intention of lining up for another strike, this one aimed at my (pathetically unarmored) torso. I barely positioned my bracer in time, blocking the creature’s jab with my arm. The item did its job, easily absorbing the impact, albeit at the cost of a few durability points. With a sigh of relief (and the digital equivalent of adrenaline now pumping through my avatar) I raised my sword and lashed out in a wide arc at my twisting foe. It was righting itself for another strike and couldn’t hope to recoil from my attack in time. The arcane blade finally drew blood, but the cut was frustratingly shallow, barely slowing the writhing tentacle as it withdrew then immediately renewed its assault.

Why the fuck isn’t this working? I cursed. I’ve willed my mana into the damn thing already. Do I have to fucking will it out again?

As I deflected another lunge from my would-be impaler (again, barely scratching the bastard in the process) it occurred to me that forcing the mana out of the blade was probably exactly what I needed to do. Otherwise, how would the mindless instrument know how much of my precious mana supply to use up? Admittedly, this crash-course in VRMMORPG’s was really starting to piss me off. I didn’t mind a bit of trial and error, I was new to the game, after all. There wasn’t even a bloody forum to check for tips.

“Siriso, if you can hear me, I’m really not appreciating the learning curve in Atone Online. Sort it out, would you?”

My prayers fell on deaf ears, as the impact of the tendril struck my bracer hard. I tried to return the favor, but its recoil was to fast, leaving me cleaving the air like the amateur I was.

“I’m serious,” I continued, venting my frustrations to the supposedly omnipresent priest who put me here. “Don’t you at least have a fucking dungeon rat I can practice on or something?”

Things were looking bad. Even if I continued to block every strike, it was painfully obvious that my stamina would run out before my opponents HP. And running would just give it an easy target. Lacking options, I readied myself as something much deadlier than a dungeon rat twisted in mid-air and banked toward me, knowing that even with my high endurance, one successful strike on the creature’s part could easily separate my noobish head from my noobish body. I raised my bracers to block, but this time, the snake-like appendage missed its mark. The bone-tipped spear suddenly nosedived, dragged down by the unexpected weight of a cluster of ice that had formed around its hilt almost instantly.

Kriabal. Thank the gods.

“Stop playin’ wiv yer tentacle and get her the fuck out of here,” he cried, pointing to the huddled zeros at the back of the room (you know, in case I needed directions). “I’ll hold the wriggling bastard off.”

With that he summoned another blast of ice from his staff, fusing a lower segment of the tentacle to the floor. Sensing that the warlock was now the greater threat, my attacker began slowly dragging its once-lethal tip across the floor and away from me. But it was now burdened by huge blocks of ice in two points, and the weight was too much for it. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

I lay Nyx down, raised my blade overhead as if preparing to chop a log, and brought the weapon down hard on the vulnerable appendage. As I did so, I imagined all of my energy flowing through the arcane weapon, unleashing it as I sliced deep into the beast’s tender flesh. Somewhere behind me the land shark howled in pain. And when I heard the next status message, I smiled.

-[ You cut the land shark for -60 HP damage. ]-

-[ Congratulations: You have channeled mana into your first successful attack, dealing an impressive amount of damage to an opponent whose level greatly surpasses your own. You have developed a new skill: mana manipulation, level 1. XP required until level 2, 100. ]-

Fuck yeah. I’d buried my blade deep into the bastards hide. Not enough to sever the limb, admittedly. But I’d only used a quarter of my MP and if the howl was anything to go by, I’d really gotten momma boss’s attention. Which admittedly, wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

I turned to the main battle, fearful that the next thing I saw would be three tentacles racing out to meet me, but to my relief, my sword-wielding allies were still keeping the remaining trio of tendrils occupied. Unfortunately, so were our vulnerable axe-men. Tiny and Kraitos were now heavily bloodied, a worrying sign that too many of the land shark’s strikes were slipping through. And the reason why was obvious: Grom was looking exhausted, and three dead guards were now lying at the NPC guard’s feet.

Dammit, if Grom falls, Kraitos and I will lose his leadership buff. Where the hell is that damn apprentice, he’s supposed to be healing them.

Looking to the blocked exit and the huddled zeros gathered there, I cursed Tiny for ordering the rabble to hold back. They seemed content to let us take most of the damage, like a pack of vultures waiting to swoop in and finish the creature off for the lion’s share of the XP and whatever items they could loot from our still-cooling corpses. While on that train of thought I cursed the damn independents among them. Things were getting desperate, but the cowardly swordsmen and barbarians who’d declined Grom’s request (and ignored my own) were still cowering amongst the zeros in the hope that it all worked out without them having to get their own hands bloody.

Bastards! If only I could command them into action, like I did Samusk, I thought to myself, the urge to dominate rising once more.

I shrugged off the thought and refocused on the tentacle at hand. It had pulled away to a safe distance and was repeatedly striking the ground, desperate to break free of its icy burden. Again, Kriabal ordered me to get General Nyx to safety. I took her in my arms and dragged her to her feet. To my surprise, she was now almost capable of supporting herself.

Perhaps her stunned debuff is finally wearing off. Gods know we could use the reinforcements.

I held up her head and looked into her eyes, praying for the focus that suggested she’d finally made the transition from ‘luggage’ to ‘ally’. As I did so, I was taken aback by her avatar’s beauty. In truth, the part of me that had played games such as this in my youth expected nothing less: these sorts of games were heavily marketed toward horny pubescent boys, after all. But I understood that as a human prisoner, her facial features were all her own. And they were stunning. If we’d met under more normal circumstances, she would definitely be cringing at one of my appalling chat-up lines by now. As I prepared to do the needful, I wished that our first interaction could be something a little bit more romantic.

Oh well, here goes.

Without further hesitation I slapped her across the face, figuring that it was the most urgent way to waken the drowsy warrior from her daze. I’d barely withdrawn my hand when a muscular arm shot out, clamping down hard on my windpipe.

-[ You are being choked by an amazon warrior. A DOT effect has been initiated. 5HP penalty per minute for the duration of the attack. ]-

“Whoa, t-there” I gasped, “S-saved you.”

The amazon’s eyes were fixed on me and they were full of fury. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that fell from her lips was a glitched, garbled mess.

Fuck, that isn’t good. Neither for that matter is the damage over time effect she’s having on my windpipe.

To my relief, the grip on my throat relaxed. The awkward moment had been interrupted by the warrior’s pressing need to fall unconscious again. The fact that even my damsel in distress wanted to kill me wasn’t lost on me. I really was the dungeons most slappable noob.

Oh well. She’s still my ticket into a decent gang, so I guess I’d better rescue her anyway.

I sighed and hoisted her avatar over my shoulder. I was about to retreat from the battlefield when suddenly I was overwhelmed by a torrent of status updates.

-[ Enemy user: B.A.Barbarious (level 3 barbarian berserker) has died. Congratulations, as a member of the war-party responsible, you have received a reward. XP gained: Unarmed combat: 20. XP until next unarmed combat level: 40. Agility: 5. XP until next agility level, 39. Defense: 5. XP until next defense level: 42. Resilience: 20. Warning: resilience XP has been rejected. Cap reached. Max HP +5. Max MP +5. Mana gain: +10. ]-

Well, well, that was good to know. I may have failed in gaining the trust of sleeping beauty, but when it came to back up, it seemed that my three ugly sisters would more than suffice. With an assist from Kriabal, my half-orc allies had finally ended the rogue hybrid and were riding a crest of adrenaline. As I reallocated the resilience XP into perception, Trok and Grimmie dove on the thrashing tentacle pinning it down, allowing Kriabal to fuse more and more of its length to the floor with his ice spell. And with that, I had all the breathing space I needed.

Everywhere but in my damn windpipe.

-[ You are being choked. A DOT effect has been initiated. 5HP penalty per minute for the duration of the attack. ]-

The amazon had hooked her arm around my neck and was pressing down hard. There was a sudden flurry of movement as she shifted her weight off my shoulders and fell backwards. I tried to pull her away but the savvy amazon didn’t let go, grabbing me in a front face-lock and taking me with her. Falling to her back she drove my head into the unforgiving granite, busting open my forehead.

-[ Amazon warrior drives you headfirst to the floor for -20 damage. ]-

Crimson began to pour into my vision. To make matters worse she hadn’t released the hold. I was being choked to death.

“I’m trying to bloody rescue you,” I cried, elbowing her in the ribs to no avail. “Give me a fucking break.”

And yes, those are the wrong words to use when dealing with a powerful confused warrior who happens to have you by the neck. Thankfully she declined the accidental invitation to murder me in cold blood, releasing her grasp. Either she’d come to her senses, or she’d finally realized that there was a much bigger threat to worry about.

“You’re that swords-noob from the boss raid…” she began.

I didn’t hear the rest. Because I’d just received the worst status message imaginable.

-[ Leader: Grom has died. Grom’s Guerrillas have been disbanded. ]-

-[ Warning: The loss of your war-party’s leader has removed all buffs provided by his leadership. Building -3. Perception -2. Rep -2. Strength -1. Resilience -1. Charisma -1. Luck -1.]-

“Oh, holy hell. That’s all we fucking need.”

Horrified, I turned to witness the aftermath of the barbarian’s death. Two tentacles were protruding from his huge back, having burrowed all the way through his avatar, spearing him in in a pincer movement. Then just as suddenly, they pulled in opposite directions, ripping his stricken avatar asunder.

Fuck!

As I stared in horror the amazon also watched. Unlike mine, her expression was one of indifference: cold and dispassionate, as if completely unfazed. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and spoke.

“You picked Grom as your leader? Fucking Grom? You were doomed from the bloody start.”

“Shut up,” I spat, surveying the gory scene. “If I wasn’t trying to save your ass, I might have got a mana potion to him in time. Now I can’t even read the others HP.”

With the death of Grom, Kraitos had been forced to move to defense, tanking to cover Tiny while the two remaining NPCs assisted. Tiny meanwhile remained fixated on hacking away at the base of the limbs, lost in a haze of bloodlust and brutality.

Cursing my lost perception buff, I demanded that Nyx tell me how they were doing. Somewhat taken aback by my new set of balls, she confirmed that Tiny and Kraitos weren’t exactly on death’s door, but that the same couldn’t be said of the NPC guards.

“Don’t we have a damn healer?” she asked.

“There’s an apprentice hiding somewhere, but good luck finding him. Why the hell did you attack me?”

The question was ignored as Nyx bellowed an order to our front line.

“You lot. Retreat from the boss, asap. We need to regroup and come up with a new strategy.”

The four warriors immediately did as commanded. Even the NPCs. Of course, if I’d been hammering away at the boss on the front line while everyone else was dying around me, I’d be glad on an excuse to retreat, too. With that General Nyx made to stand on her own, cried out, and fell to her backside again.

“Why can’t you stand?” I asked, helping her up again. “Is it the dazed debuff? Is it still active?”

“No, it wore off ages ago,” she replied, accepting my aid and thankfully not attempting to powerbomb me in the process. “I think I’ve been poisoned. I can barely control my damn avatar.”

I thought back to the infected hybrids and prayed that that was all it was. The way she became fixated on me after I slapped her… it had been worryingly mob-like behavior.

Choosing not to panic her with my half-cocked theories, I turned to Kriabal and the half-orcs, who seemed to have things under control. But even so, Trok and Grimmie’s attempt to bludgeon the trapped tentacle was going painfully slowly. They needed a swordsman.

“I’m getting you off the battlefield,” I declared. “I need to go and help-”

“Shhhh, I’m checking my status messages from when I was unconscious. Dammit, I was right. Poisoned. And my status menu’s bugged to hell.” She sighed and pushed me aside, finally standing under her own power (if a little wobblily). “Okay swords-noob, here’s the plan, listen up. I’m forming a new war-party…”

She opened a messaging window and added combatant present.

“You’re leading us? Thank fuck.”

“I’m not leading us, swords-noob. You are.”

“What?”

The message was sent. I’d been copied in, and horridly opened it.

OFFER – Alliance request from General Nyx.

General Nyx has requested that all warriors present join a temporary war-party lead by user: Shade.

Goal: Survival.

Type of alliance: Temporary.

Reward: Increased chance of survival. Possible favor with Clan Kronan if successful in protecting their investment.

It was followed by another message, tailored specifically to me.

OFFER – Alliance request from General Nyx.

General Nyx has requested that you lead a temporary war-party on her behalf.

Goal: Survival.

Type of alliance: Temporary.

Reward: Increased chance of survival. Possible favor with Clan Kronan if successful in protecting their investment.

Accept Y/N?

“I’m not fit to lead,” I protested.

“Neither am I,” she spat back. “I’m barely clinging to consciousness as it is. And in case you’ve forgotten, I tried to kill you. Whatever’s infected me is influencing my behavior. If I took control it might spread-”

“But why me?” I cut in. “Surely Kriabal-”

“We need a powerful fighter with the leadership required to pass a buff down to his troops. And gods help us, pathetic as it is, you’re the closest thing we have to that.”

“I only have two points in leadership because I possess the Ring of the Rising Alpha. Surely if I was to lend it to the warlock-”

“Say he did pass his skills down using the leadership buff. What use is a mana generation boost to a bunch of braindead h’orcs? They need your strength and resilience, not a bunch of magic-based stats that they can’t bloody use.”

“Good point,” I reluctantly admitted.

I suddenly received another message professing to be an update to the previous offer.

Bonus reward: No retribution for items stolen from the corpses of the raid party.

Accept Y/N?

The thinly veiled threat quickly sold me on the whole ‘leader’ thing. I hurriedly clicked ‘yes’ and was immediately hit by a flood of pending messages that had been reliant upon my answer.

-[ Your offer has been accepted by Kriabal (Warlock, level 6). ]-

-[ Your offer has been accepted by HarryPothead (Wizard’s apprentice, level 2). ]-

Still alive, then.

-[ Your offer has been accepted by Trok (Half-orc, level 2). ]-

-[ Your offer has been accepted by Kraitos (Half-orc, level 4). ]-

Level 4. Holy crap! He must have been seriously grinding his XP while hacking away at that boss. Good on him.

-[ Your offer has been accepted by Grimmie (Half-orc, level 3). ]-

-[ Your offer has been accepted by General Nyx (Amazon, level 8). ]-

What?

I looked at her, stunned.

“I won’t be following your orders if that’s what you’re thinking, noob. I just need access to the war-party’s status screen to see what we have to work with. Someone needs to come up with some bloody tactics, even if they aren’t technically the leader. Now go make yourself useful, leave me to study this.”

I turned to the bulk of my allies. Kraitos, Tiny and the two remaining NPCs were now on the backfoot, attempting to join us while parrying the strikes of the remaining tentacles. Then I returned my gaze to Kriabal, who was still fusing his own battered assailant to the floor with wave after wave of ice. He looked exhausted. Still, he seemed to have things well in hand, so I took the risk of ordering the half-orcs from his side to mine. I handed Trok a mana potion, which was met with a ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?’ glare.

“Get it to Kriabal, it should keep him from emptying his reserve. Once you’ve delivered the potion, go retrieve the Blade of Swiftness. I tossed it a few meters from where the raid party fell, so it should have avoided being respawned.”

“You know that my kind has a penalty when usin’ swords, right?”

“I understand that. Once you’ve retrieved it, bring it directly to me.”

Trok nodded and went on his way, like a fantasy-themed courier service.

Next, I scanned the crowd at the back of the room. Locking onto the fleet-footed swordswoman who’d both saved me earlier, I messaged her the sword in question’s stats: a shameless bribe to coax her to abandon Tiny and join my party, instead. She’d impressed me during our skirmish with the hybrid soldiers, and I could seriously use another sword-wielder in my ranks. (It wasn’t that I could wield both blades at once, after all… not at my level, anyway.) Offer sent, I turned to my new minion, Grimmie. At level 3 he was easily the stronger of the two half-orcs. That made him the obvious choice for a more dangerous delivery: getting a mana potion to Tiny. Upon receiving his orders, the half-orc looked to the retreating tank and his ugly face sank: he knew fine well that he’d drawn the shorter straw. But to his credit, he obliged me without complaint.

Yep, I could really get used to this ‘leadership’ thing.

In acknowledgment of my first true flourishes of leadership, a status message announced that the useful stat had finally generated its first base point, bringing my ring-enhanced total up to 3. A subsequent message confirmed that this would further boost the skills-buff received by every member of my party.

Result.

So just when things seemed to be going reasonably well, a cry rang out from behind me. The missing hybrid had finally resurfaced, and it was laying into Kriabal and Trok with little regard for its own survival.

Where the hell did that bastard come from? Does he have a cloak of invisibility or something?

“Crap!” I declared, turning to General Nyx (who was still engrossed in our war-party’s stats.) “I have to go and help them. Will you be okay?”

“The hell you do,” she spat back. “I’ve just read your full stat sheet. Get up front and take the pressure off our two flagging tanks.”

“Me?”

“Your strength to speed ratio is better than anyone else out there. And that muscle allows you to carry a barbarian-class sword without being overburdened, most swords-noobs would need both hands to even attempt to wield that thing. Also, your higher strength and resilience means you have a naturally higher HP than the other new spawns. Like it or not, you’re a tank.”

“But I can’t abandon Kriabal-”

“Fuck Kriabal!” she spat, cutting me off and confirming who the real leader was. “He’s just a damn warlock, and if he can’t put down that hybrid, he deserves to die. Now take my armor and go help the others retreat.”

Okay, I’ll admit it. I blushed.

“What the hell’s with that look on your face?” she snapped.

“Um, well… it’s not that the invite to get you out of your armour isn't a welcome one, but I ah… don't think it’s my size. I’m pretty open-minded, but cross-dressing isn’t really my thing…”

“It’ll adapt to your avatar, you fucking idiot. Gods, you really are a noob.”

Ah.

Without a hint of shame, she removed her armor. I did my damnedest not to stare at her impressive avatar like the pervert I am.

-[ You have been gifted a heroic-level breastplate. Item class: rare. Defense +6. Durability 188/200. ]-

-[ You have been gifted a set of heroic-level leg plates. Item class: rare. Defense +6. Durability 160/200. ]-

-[ Set bonus: Defense +2. ]-

Heroic level? Wow, not too shabby. That’s a +10 boost to my defense stat.

Eyes still closed (because I’m a gentleman, dammit. And yes, a criminally violent gentleman with an epic-class weapon and the mana to back it up… but in a situation like this, surely that’s the best kind, right?) I slipped the item onto my own torso. I opened my eyes and looked down. To my relief, I wasn’t wearing an armor-plated bikini with chainmail floss up my ass-crack. It had molded to my torso, just like the amazon said it would. Meanwhile, her own modesty was now covered by a skimpy set of leather underwear.

Blimey, even her undies have a better defense than the outfit I arrived in. This lady is tough.

“I’ll be wanting that back, obviously,” she stated. “But for now, you’re going to need it. You’re finally starting to look like a real tank, albeit a twinked-up version.” She reached into her inventory, removing a glass vial. “Take this potion. It’s the last item I have, but it’s no good to me if I can barely fucking stand.”

-[ You have been gifted a fury potion. Bestows speed +1 and strength +1. Duration five minutes. Durability: 6/8 ]-

“I burned through all of my other items fighting that bastard earlier,” she continued. “Even broke my fucking sword.”

She gestured to ‘that bastard.’ It was slowly following a retreating Kraitos, Tiny, Grimmie and the guards, raining down blows on the two tanks with its remaining tentacles.

“Hang on,” I gasped, “you mean you don’t even have a weapon? I have to get you to safety-”

“Fuck that. Get your shapely ass over there and help the tank’///..%7*…

With that, the amazon’s words turned to a stream of glitching code, and she fell unconscious to the floor.

Shit! Not again.

Kribal and Trok were still battling the remaining hybrid, which meant that I was torn between a battle on two fronts and an unconscious sexy general in need of a rescue. Worse, I was supposed to be leading these poor bastards. As if I didn’t have enough to focus on, a glowing dwarf suddenly materialized in the space beside me.

“What the fuck? Samusk? How the hell did you manage to respawn here?”

“I’m bound to yeh now, Einstein,” he replied, looking like a badly dubbed movie as the system attempted to sync his freshly built body to his consciousness. “What did yeh expect?”

“This is perfect. When you’re fully synced can you get this woman to safety?” I pointed to the bloodied amazon. “See if you can get HarryPothead to heal her. The coward’s hiding around here somewhere.”

“I’m not draggin’ that half-dead bitch around,” huffed the dwarf. “Look at that muscle mass. She must weigh a bloody ton.”

“That ‘bitch’ is General Nyx,” I added. “You know, the amazon we’re trying to impress?”

The dwarf mysteriously gained the strength necessary for the task and promised to drag Nyx to safety the moment his respawn completed.

Great, that’s one problem sorted. Now there’s just the small matter of my troops.

Kriabal and Trok were still holding their own against the badly injured hybrid and the frozen limb of the boss was powerless to interfere. Satisfied that they probably could hold their own I ran to assist the souls retreating from the front line. But to my surprise, I wasn’t the only one charging in the boss’s direction. Tiny had broken ranks from the retreat, and he was headed directly for the land shark. For a moment I thought he was suicidal, but then his powerful axe began to glow.

Ah. Grimmie delivered my mana potion, then.

Tiny hoisted the Axe of Tallos overhead. It began to blaze like the sun, delivering a devastating gash to the beast’s side as he brought it down hard on his enemy. The mob to howled in pain, but Tiny wasn’t done. The strike was followed by a second burning flash of mana, a powerful blow that severed one of the beasts remaining tentacles completely.

Wow. Credit where it’s due, that tough son of a bitch doesn’t back down. Hang on. Why the hell is he running away?

“Enraged buff,” cried a voice from behind me. It was Kriabal.

“What?”

“Every time the bastard’s HP reaches a trigger point, it gains a full minute of orrffff-”

The sentence was cut brutally short as the warlock was swatted to the floor by the tentacle I’d considered to be neutralized. It was now frantically lashing in all directions.

I’m going to assume that an enraged buff is the mob equivalent of a fury buff.

The thing’s strength was definitely enhanced: even the block of ice was being hefted around with ease. What was once its unwanted burden was now a bludgeoning weapon, and to make matters worse, it was still tipped with that deadly bone spike.

“Sever the bastard,” cried Trok, glaring in my direction as the bone-tipped bludgeon sailed over his bald grey head, almost decapitating him in the process.

“Oh yeah, sure. Because it’s that easy,” I moaned, raising my blade and rushing to meet it.

Just as it reached me I ducked, just as Trok had. I spun and righted myself, only to see that it was already doing the same. But its momentum was spent, and the next strike was easily parried to the floor. I pressed the attack and my sword connected, shattering the bone that had sought to puncture my avatar. The second heft of my blade landed just below the block of ice, severing the end of the limb completely.

-[ Level up! You are now a level 3 swordsman. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 80. Max HP +30. Max MP +50. Mana gain +50. ]-

-[ As a result of your recent ..of your primary skill, the resilience cap has been raised to 7. ‘Scrappy dude’ bonus has now been added. XP until next resilience level: 80. ]-

Well, bang goes my perception cheat for a while, I thought to myself. But this is a time for sword-skills, not study, so I’m sure as hell not complaining.

I allowed myself a cringy whoop of “yeah, who’s the man?” No one answered, but I didn’t care. The neutered tendril was finally retreating, so I knew the answer. I pushed the welcome mana boost into my sword to replace what I’d spent and charged to meet my next victim: the hybrid.

“Incoming,” cried Kriabal, his face a picture of fear.

“Don’t warn him,” I protested, bringing my sword down hard on the mutated barbarian’s back. “I’m trying to save you.”

“Not you, you fucking idiot,” he cried, driving his staff through the fallen hybrid’s head for the killing blow, before pointing it to the area behind me. “The bloody boss.”

Oh crap.

I turned from the dying hybrid to see my worst nightmare confirmed. The hulking land shark was powering toward us, its tiny hind legs driving it forward with a speed I’d thought impossible. It had lost all interest in Tiny and the others and was coming directly for me. That was when I learned a very important lesson about fighting mobs. Never draw the ire of a boss monster when it’s off its face on adrenalin.

Shit! I guess it’s time to test out that new armor, then.