“What’s the plan?” asked Medusa, expectantly.

“The half-orcs’ have been stockpiling rocks on the balcony,” I explained, pointing up to where my grey-skinned troops lay in wait. “When shit starts to fall, I’m hoping the boss will rear up to counter-attack-”

“Hoping?” gasped Kriabal as he limped to my side. “That’s a big fucking assumption to make, lad.”

The older warrior was breathing heavily, and bleeding from several mob-inflicted stab-wounds. For a moment I considered giving him my last health potion, then decided against it. The plan called for tanks’, and I’d likely need an HP boost of my own before the battle was through.

“Grom’s perception told him that the land shark’s biggest weakness was its underside,” I began, addressing all assembled. “But it wouldn’t register as a weak spot unless there was a way to access it, would it? So, to get to the sweet spot, I’m betting that we need to make the big ugly slug look up. That’s where the trap comes in. If the half-orcs’ successfully draw its ire, it’ll have no choice but to rear up and retaliate.”

Medusa agreed with my logic, providing me with some much-appreciated backup. Kriabal however, looked unconvinced.

“Too many ‘ifs’ for my likin’,” he eventually declared, before conceding: “but I guess it’s the only plan we have, eh?”

“That’s the spirit,” I beamed. “Good to know we’re all on the same page.” Next, I turned to Kraitos, Gunner and Tiny. “Until the bastard’s in place, that spiked tendril is our top priority. We need to do everything we can to shorten its reach.”

As if summoned, the tendril in question turned its attention from the tanks’ and came swinging right for us. Medusa was the first to move, her impressive speed buff all but guaranteeing her escape. She seized Pandora and yanked the timid swordswoman from the path of the mutilated limb. I quickly realized that it was up to me to do the same for the exhausted warlock. Grabbing a handful of his pauper’s robes I dragged him to the ground, as the tentacle crashed down upon the spot we’d been stood in seconds beforehand.

“I’m not trying to say you’re overweight or anything,” I scoffed, rising to dust myself off. “…but hauling your ass to safety has finally levelled up my carrying capacity. Thanks for that, mate.”

“Duck, you fool,” came a gruff reply.

Kriabal dragged me back to the floor as the other tendril whooshed overhead. I stared at my would-be executioner, wide-eyed as it swung into the distance for another run at us. Had the warlock not grabbed me, I’d probably have been decapitated. I thanked him and nervously returned to my feet, assessing the chaotic scene. Medusa and Pandora had easily dodged the attack and were readying themselves to attack. I was relieved to learn that the tanks’, barbarians’ and apprentice had done equally well to avoid the creature’s wildly flailing offence. But the gun mage had not been so lucky. His body had been smashed against the chamber wall by the powerful limb, reducing his upper torso to little more than a sticky red pulp.

Shit. That’s one inventory even I won’t be looting.

The huge mob just sat there, observing, content to let its wildly swinging tendrils do all the work for it.

Dammit, move your slovenly ass. I need you under the balcony, you ugly fuck.

Going against every one of my survival instincts I let loose a roar and rushed the dawdling beast. My blade sparked as I brought the sword down diagonally across my opponent’s impossibly huge fangs. Very little damage was dealt, however. I could feel the heat of the beast’s breath on my weary avatar as the mouth slowly opened to protest my actions, but my attack hadn’t been enough to draw the beast toward me. I struck it again, then again, yet still it didn’t advance: even more frustratingly, the deadlier of the two tentacles twisted to engage my troublesome avatar in its owner’s stead. I spun on my heel, parrying its boney blade as the limb twisted and jutted in a desperate attempt to pierce my unprotected throat. The limb was powerful, but to my relief, it was no swordsman. My skills had been increasing throughout the battle and I easily deflected its attempts to skewer me, opening up multiple wounds in its infuriatingly tough flesh with a flurry of mana-infused swordplay. Bleeding, the snake-like opponent twisted away from me in search of easier prey. It didn’t take long to find it. The warning had only left my throat when another unwelcome status message entered my head.

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

That was the moment that the apprentice breathed his last: he’d been stabbed in the back while he toiled to patch up our weary tanks’. Just like that, we’d lost our only healer.

Despite his wounds, our final magic-user fought on, struggling to encase the slippery limb in blasts of magically-charged ice. But Kriabal was looking increasingly weary, gasping for air like a sixty a day pipe-smoker. His spells grew visibly weaker and failed to find purchase on his powerful target. Our tanks’ on the other hand had finally gotten their second wind. The duo was now going full lumberjack on the boss, hacking furiously into the land shark’s flesh, all in the vain hope of severing the troublesome tendril. But to my horror, they were attacking the wrong one.

“Kraitos, Tiny, wait! Don’t waste your strength on the shorter limb. We need to prioritize the spiked one. It might be able to reach the balcony.”

“But this one’s almost severed,” protested the half-orc, wiping the mob’s tar-like blood from his sweat-drenched brow.

Unconcerned by my orders, Tiny grunted and continued to swing his axe hard into the boss’s badly split hide. His weapon went deep, and the creature howled in pain.

“But if we sever it, the bastard is bound to get enraged again,” argued Kraitos, hoisting up his axe as he spoke. “I can lead the ugly prick right where we want it.”

Dammit, but we aren’t fucking ready, yet.

I rushed to intervene, but it was too late. The well-intentioned tank took another hefty swing, severing the shorter tendril from its owner. The mob went apeshit.

“Now,” cried Kraitos, his guttural voice almost drowned out by the enraged land shark’s howls of pain. As the one who’d drawn the beasts aggro, only he could lead it into our trap. And he didn’t hesitate, selflessly rushing to draw it under the balcony. The furious mob began its pursuit, and the tank’s fellow half-orcs’ didn’t waste any time. A shower of granite rained down from above, shattering indiscriminately against boss and chamber floor alike. Once again, I found myself diving for cover.

As I’d expected, most of the rocks were too small to stand a chance of slowing the beast down. But as a huge spiked shard was toppled over the ledge, I felt hope. The enormous hunk of granite penetrated deep, invoking a howl more pained than any the beast had uttered thus far.

“Enemy struck for 150HP damage,” bellowed the half-orc responsible, echoing the status message he had no doubt received upon committing the act.

“436HP remaining,” added Medusa, for the benefit of those poor noobs’ who couldn’t read the creatures stats (you know, like me).

I pulled myself onto my knees and surveyed the scene. The boss had reacted exactly as I’d hope it would: enraged, it had lunged forward to chase Kraitos, then instinctively reared up to reach for its overhead attackers. The swordswomen and barbarians were already taking their positions, racing forward to strike at the boss’s vulnerable underbelly. Kraitos was at their lead. With the boss’s aggro shifted to the troops above, he was working himself into a frenzy, burying his bone axes deep into the creature’s vulnerable underside. But that wasn’t all I noticed. Tiny and Skullfucker had vanished. A quick scan of the chamber confirmed that they had dragged Agooma to the sidelines. They seemed content to watch our final push from a ridiculously safe distance.

Damn that pair. I’ll bet they used ‘rescuing’ the witch as an excuse to fucking retreat. And now they’re letting us do the dirty work, while they stand back and wait to pick the bones clean.

“What are you bastards waiting for,” I cried, rising to my feet. “This isn’t a fucking spectator sport. Get stuck in!”

“Not bloody likely,” came the infuriating reply from the oddly lanky barbarian. Tiny didn’t even answer. He just stood there with arms folded, smirking at me.

“Good luck polishing off the last four hundred or so HP by yourselves if we all die, then,” I yelled back, charging at the beast with my arcane weapon raised.

I knew that there was still one tendril remaining, the deadly bone-tipped limb that had cut down the apprentice. But I could only pray that Kriabal had it in hand: thanks to Tiny’s treachery I was desperately needed up front. Thus far, Kraitos and Medusa were the only ones making any real impact. Pandora and the two noob barbarians rained down sword-strikes in an attempt to open up the creatures hide, but their basic weapons and their inability to channel mana left a lot to be desired against such a resilient opponent, even when presented with its weak spot. As the only blade-wielding bad-ass who could channel mana into heavy-duty damage (well, the only one who’d bothered to show up, at least) I had a responsibility to get myself up front, and fast.

I’d almost reached the fight when my path was cut off by Trok’s falling avatar. His muscular grey body dropped from the balcony head-first, his cranium exploding in a wet crimson mess as he forcefully met the unforgiving granite floor. I looked up in horror to witness the tendril responsible sweeping across the balcony, indiscriminately clearing away rubble and bodies alike. A second thud signaled the end of Grimmie. He too had come down with a fatal case of gravity. He wouldn’t be getting up again.

-[ User: Trok has died. Half-orcs remaining in your war-party: 2 ]-

-[ User: Grimmie has died. Half-orcs remaining in your war-party: 1 ]-

Two more icons disappeared from the list of combatants in my war-party, replaced by the worryingly familiar skull and crossbones icon: badges of dishonor earned by a noob leader who had failed to protect his men. Again, I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier actions. How could I even consider cutting the dead to hog the XP? Yes, my remaining fighters currently needed it a lot more than they did: they were respawning in a nice safe cell while it was left to us to battle on. But it wasn’t fair. I resolved to earn my fallen allies as much XP as possible by finishing the job, dismissed the somber status messages, and pushed on.

I announced my arrival by slicing into the beast’s underside with a mana-infused strike for 30HP of damage. Not too shabby. And my arrival seemed to give the remaining combatants their second wind. Even the pair of reluctant noob barbarians’ were fighting like they actually stood a chance of landing the killing blow. But their rally was frustratingly brief. Without warning, the land shark’s mass began to plummet.

“Pull back, before you’re all crushed,” cried Kraitos, breaking away to retreat. “It’s coming down.”

I knew that Medusa would instinctively pull Pandora from the wall of certain death that now descended upon us, but Kraitos was my chief concern. His avatar was built for strength, not speed. I threw my weight against his bulky avatar, and with a little help, the orcan tank made it clear. Only just. Poor Brawn, however, was not so lucky. Unable to escape in time, the noob barbarian was crushed under the beast’s colossal weight as a sickening crunch announced his undignified end.

-[ User: Brawn has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 0 ]-

Watching his fellow noob leak out from under our hulking opponent did absolutely nothing for the morale of Tiny’s pressganged barbarian recruit. He gave an emphatic ‘fuck this’ and scrambled to his treacherous master’s side, leaving our rapidly shrinking group to contend with the fallout.

I turned to Medusa. She was holding Pandora in a tight embrace as if she’d almost lost the most important thing in the world to her. Seconds later, she almost did, as I barely parried the bastard tendril in time to prevent it from skewering their avatars. Satisfied that the balcony was now cleared, it had returned to finish us off, almost bagging itself a two-for-one special to announce its arrival. That near miss was our weary groups wake-up call. Kraitos returned to severing duty, while Medusa Pandora and I formed a protective circle around him, desperate to keep the flailing stinger at bay while he worked to sever it at the root.

“The balcony troops,” groaned Kriabal, staggering over to join our defensive line. “I failed them-”

“Join the club,” I spat back. “You can help me make it up to them, but later. For now, I need your head back in the game and your ice magic weighing down that fucking tendril.”

He nodded and began to charge his staff. As the tentacle came in for another strike, things were looking increasingly bleak. I could really use a lucky break. My oddly inactive luck stat must have finally agreed, because as I lunged to stab at the advancing tendril my arcane sword penetrated it, skewering the limb just below its own boney blade. Calling on my 7 points of strength I began to twist the tendril to the ground, ordering Kriabal to hurry the fuck up and freeze it to the floor before it slipped free. But to my horror, no ice was forthcoming. The knackered old coot was gone.

“Up there,” cried Pandora, pointing to the rope ladder. Kriabal was climbing to the balcony, and he’d almost reached the top.

“What the hell?” I gasped, struggling to hold the thrashing mob in place as I cranked my head to address him.

“Keep that thing busy,” he cried back. “I’m goin’ fer the ice attack.”

“I needed you down here, you stupid git.”

“Sorry boss, I have’ta put things right. Gonna rain a small ice storm down on the bastard.”

“But you’re spent,” protested Medusa. “You can barely stand.”

“No worries,” he called back. “I’ve been gifted some mana…” he glanced across the chamber to the equally weary-looking witch, throwing her a wink. “Should be enough to get the job done. But it’s up to you to make sure this counts, swords-noob. Next time the fucker rears up, shove that bloody blade of yours right through the underbelly and into its damn heart.”

“Sure thing,” I replied, trying my best to sound like that was going to be super-easy and that we weren’t all totally screwed. Because you know, morale. Secretly though, I was pissed. First Kraitos had ignored my orders, and now it was Kriabal who was going rogue. Yes, his plan might actually work, I’ll admit that. But how was I supposed to level up my leadership if everyone kept running around doing their own thing? Slavery really was the way forward, I mused.

I ordered Kraitos and the swordswomen to open up a can of whoop-ass on the struggling tendril before it had a chance to pull free. Between the orcan tank’s axes and Medusa’s epic sword, they made short work of the slender tip, quickly severing the shard of bone that had caused us so much trouble.

As the lethal tip of the tendril fell to the ground, the bloody limb desperately tried to jerk itself free of my hold. My arms felt like they were about to explode, and with good reason: I was basically arm-wrestling a boss. But I held my ground. And the system seemed to recognize that, because…

-[ You have acquired one additional base point in strength. Rank has increased to 7. XP required to reach rank 8: N/A, cap reached. Recommendation: Increasing your swordsman level will raise your strength cap. ]-

Hot damn. I thought I was still on 5. I must have gained another level from the group XP bonus. Having big strapping half-orcs’ in my war-party is seriously paying dividends.

“I’ll go join the warlock,” announced said big strapping half-orc, pulling me from my thoughts. I gave him a look that was intended to communicate ‘the hell you are, help me hold this bastard down.’ Sensing my reluctance to let him go he replied: “I’m a lot stronger than those other two half-orcs’ were. Perhaps I can topple one of those god-awful golden statues and bring it down on the ugly shit.”

I conceded to Kraitos logic and redoubled my effort to keep the wounded tendril down, giving thanks that my strength increase had made the task noticeably easier. Throughout the exchange, the swordswomen had continued to do their damnedest to rob the limb of its deadly reach, hacking away at its vulnerable flesh a little further down its length.

Three sword-wielders vs a soon-to-be-enraged land shark, I thought to myself, as Kraitos began to climb. All I have to do is land the deathblow on the fucker who could probably inhale me as quickly as he could look at me. No pressure, then.

There was a whoop of joy from behind me as Medusa finally severed a larger length of the tendril. The amputated section fell slack in my arms as the mutilated limb pulled away and made its break for freedom. We all turned in unison to follow its frenzied path, and then my heart sank.

“No, no, no!” I cried, powerless to intervene.

What happened next, I watched as if in slow motion. The heavily bleeding tendril lashed out and struck the warlock, knocking him clear of the rope ladder. He flailed through the air like a rag doll, with nothing but the hard stone to break his fall. Along with everything else. The sound his body made as it hit the floor was sickening, but watching our plan fall apart before my very eyes? Even more so.

Undeterred, Kraitos powered on, scaling the rope ladder and quickly hauling himself up onto the balcony.

“Attack!” I cried, turning to my fellow sword-wielders’. “Do whatever you can to draw that thing’s attention. Don’t give it an opportunity to take down Kraitos like it did Kriabal.”

The swordswomen nodded and followed my lead. We rushed in unison to assault the creature’s unguarded flank, letting loose a flurry of swordplay that the overgrown mob couldn’t hope to ignore. I hit the creature hard, slicing away my opponent’s life energy like a madman, then depositing the freshly earned mana into my blade. Meanwhile, Medusa and Pandora relied on precision, targeting the many blinking eyes that littered the creatures hide. With each of us competing to draw the beast’s aggro, I was oddly relieved when the haggard tendril picked me as its target. I had the best defense of our tiny group by far: if anyone could take a strike from the flailing limb, it was me.

As my potential death sailed toward me, I heard a mighty crash from above. It had to be the statue toppling. Knowing that the plan was finally back on I fought all the harder, doing my best to strike a balance between building my mana reserve and doing enough damage to draw aggro, relying on my bracers and Nyx’s armor to absorb as much of the damage as possible.

The standoff continued with an occasional successful strike from my enemy, but my armor took the brunt of the damage. As I fought, Medusa and Pandora continued to blind every blinking eye within their reach. Then like divine intervention, the golden deity’s face finally began to peek over the ledge. The face was almost comical as it slowly slid into view. I silently prayed all that all of that axe swinging had power-leveled my friend’s strength to the task and fought on to keep my enemy distracted.

I was starting to believe that we actually had a chance of winning again. So of course, that was when things took a turn for the worse. The boss’s panoramic view of the lair must have alerted it to the movements occurring above. Deciding that the things hacking away at its sides were little more than an annoyance in comparison to the damage that may come from above, the tendril suddenly pulled away from me. It reached overhead, its tip disappearing from my view as it slid over the balcony. Seconds later, I received the status message that I’d been dreading.

-[ User: Kraitos has died. Half-orcs’ remaining in your war-party: 0 ]-

Aw crap no! This fucker’s little flourishes of intelligence are really starting to piss me off.

When the tendril returned it was with the limp body of my orcan friend hanging from its bloody grip. The bastard thing had crushed the tank’s windpipe. He hadn’t stood a chance. I stared in horror at the mob’s grotesque trophy, brooding on my failure. Deep down, I knew that it had been our inexperience that had caused the builder’s death: we hadn’t amputated enough of the tendril, leaving it with a reach that was still more than capable of attacking the balcony. The mistake had cost our ally dearly. But I could at least console myself with the builder’s earlier words: he’d gained a lot more from this battle than he’d lost. It was now up to me to earn him a little more.

“I’m going up on the balcony,” I declared, sheathing my sword.

The announcement drew a pair of bewildered looks, not least because I would be leaving the two lower-level swordswomen to fend off a level 4 boss by themselves. When I explained my intentions (to finish what Kraitos had started and not to, you know, hide) the declaration was met with nervous nods of understanding. That concern was immediately escalated, as a cry of warning was let loose from Pandora. I turned, albeit too late. The next sensation I experienced was one of searing pain. The flailing tendril caught me square in the face, breaking my nose, leaving me floored and stunned.

-[ Land shark’s tentacle bludgeons you for -40 damage. ]-

Owwwww! Thank the gods we severed the sharp end, or I’d be little more than a gory blade-decoration, by now.

A quick check of my status menu confirmed that one-third of my energy bar had been taken by the strike. It was worrying to think that the creature could deliver so much damage with just one blow despite my armor buffs. It was only the frenzied nature of the attack that saved me. Once content to play the long game and strike out with accuracy, the beast was now indiscriminately lashing out in pain. And judging by its immediate switch to the swordswomen, it was trying to injure as many of us as possible with its limited resources.

I stumbled back to my feet, but the dazed debuff did its best to hold me back. I felt slow and heavy, as if my avatar was being weighed down by too many pieces of armor. A foggy glance around me drew yet more concern: the battlefield was getting worryingly empty. That made me an even more obvious target for the remaining tendril, even with the swordswomen doing their damnedest to draw its ire until I recovered. We needed more bodies to overwhelm the land shark’s solitary limb. So, like a bastard, I summoned one. I called out to my recently respawned slave, ordering him to once again draw the beast’s attention. Unable to resist my command he ran to my aid. To my surprise though, this time he was joined by three others.

So, he’s recruited a few zeroed decoys of his own, eh? What did you promise them in return, you sneaky little git?

Oh well, whatever the savvy dwarf was offering, I sure as hell wasn’t complaining about the extra help. Speaking of help… I turned my attention to our so-called ‘allies’.

“Any time you axe-holes’ feel like tagging in, feel free to join us,” I yelled, goading Tiny and his pair of turncoat barbarians. My attempts to drive them into action were not successful, however. Worse, Agooma was lying bleeding on the floor at the tank’s feet, suggesting that her own attempts to rejoin the battle had not met with her master’s approval. That was when my blood really began to boil.

Turn that anger to the task at hand, I told myself. Level up now. You can teach the bastard barbarian a lesson later.

Samusk and his helpers had finally reached us. They circled the mob, desperately attempting to distract the final tendril. With my blade sheaved, I can’t have looked much different from the other weaponless prisoners, from the mob’s perspective at least. And the fact that I wasn’t running around the place begging for a stabbing like the others could only work in my favor. But I knew the distraction wouldn’t last for long.

I told Medusa and Pandora to sheath their own weapons and retreat to recharge their stamina. Then I began to stumble toward the balcony, cursing the brain-fog caused by my dazed debuff. As I clasped the rope ladder to steady myself, I looked back over my shoulder. I was just in time to witness a bald-headed dwarf as he succeeded in his attempts to draw the beast’s attention. Intercepted by the final tendril, he earned a brutal strike to the neck for his efforts, draining his tiny HP bar instantly.

Someone else I owe a favor, then.

I turned my back on the brutal scene and awkwardly began to haul myself up the ladder. I was only halfway up when yet another scream rang out below me. This time though, the voice belonged to a woman. Panicked, I looked down on the squirming mass of monster below and was relieved to learn that it had been another zero and not one of my sword-wielding allies who had met their bloody end. I had to give Samusk credit: it had been savvy of him to recruit others to aid him in his task. If he hadn’t, we’d almost certainly both be dead by now.

As the debuff finally faded (and another anonymous zero cried out in pain somewhere below me) I hauled myself up onto the stone balcony and surveyed the chamber below. Then I turned to the task at hand.

The balcony had more depth than I’d first realized, and I was impressed by the distance Kraitos had hauled the statue before his untimely death. The herculean act must have totally maxed out his strength stat (and bolstered my own in the process... the extra XP from the leadership stat truly was a godsend). But for now, I had more immediate concerns than stats. Chiefly, a huge metal statue that needed to be tossed over the ledge and onto the enemy below. Simple, eh? I got behind the base of the statue and pushed with everything I had.

Fuck, that’s heavy. Is it possible to give yourself a back injury in this game? I wondered? Given the rate at which I’d been accumulating damage since I got here, I suspected that the answer was a firm ‘yes’. Oh well, just one more in a long list of injuries, then.

My body began to complain as I strained and struggled to push the golden deity further over the ledge. It was easily ten foot in height, an already about a quarter of the way past the ledge. If I could just get it halfway, I knew that gravity would do the rest. The effort required though, was insane: my stamina bar was dropping at an alarming rate, and my straining muscles felt like they were getting ready to burst. As yet uneducated in the limits of my mana manipulation skill, I attempted to push my remaining MP into my hands for a much-needed strength boost, but it was to no avail. If such things were possible, I didn’t have either the skills or knowledge to accomplish them. Yet. The barbarian sword had been made to channel mana. My calloused hands clearly hadn’t.

A scream from below pressed the urgency of my task. It was immediately followed by another disheartening message.

-[ Your slave ‘Samusk’ has died. Again. You really should be more careful with your property. Time until respawn: Five minutes. ]-

What the hell? Even my status bot is giving me attitude, now?

I was relieved that the scream hadn’t come from either Medusa or Pandora. But it meant that the last distraction was gone. That all but guaranteed that my allies would be the land shark’s next target. They would rush back into battle to ensure that the boss remained under the balcony. That thought spurred me into action and a burning sensation shot through my back and arms as I forced the golden god toward his fate. Metal scraped against stone, resisting me with every push. My stamina continued to plummet. But with one final heft, the metallic god finally stopped teetering on the edge and fell.

-[ Through an impressive feat you have gained one additional base point in strength and another in stamina. Error: strength cap reached. Recommendation: Increasing your swordsman level will raise your strength cap. ]-

“Incoming!” I yelled with my last gasp of breath, collapsing in a heap the moment the gaudy golden statue disappeared from my view. I was too exhausted to crawl to the ledge and witness the end result, but a status message told me everything I needed to know.

-[ Enemy struck for -180HP damage. ]-

The beast below howled in agony. Knowing I’d caused it was extremely satisfying. The second scream, however, was not a welcome one. I tried to lift myself and rush to the ledge, but my stamina was spent. It was all I could do to pull myself to the edge and gaze down upon the scene below. That was when I realized that my luck had run out. The now fallen god must have rolled from the boss’s curved back, crashing down beside it. This wouldn’t have been an issue, but for the fact that Pandora was stood next to it, at the time. She’d survived: her screams were evidence enough of that. But her legs were completely crushed, leaving the swordswoman pinned to the ground, bleeding and unable to retreat. A panicked Medusa was at her side, desperately attempting to assist.

-[ Would you like to reallocate your unused strength point to another skill? As this is a full base point, the 50% penalty will not apply. ]-

…chimed in my status bot.

Yes, but piss off, I’m kinda distracted right now.

-[ Reallocation delayed. Warning: base point shall be forfeit if not redistributed within 24 hours. ]-

Just as I’d expected, the huge beast bore up in a futile attempt to reach me. But Medusa wasn’t there to take advantage: she was completely fixated on Pandora, gagging her partner’s screams in the hope that the vulnerable fighter would go unnoticed.

“We only have a short window before that thing loses interest in me and comes crashing down again,” I cried, desperately attempting to get my ally’s attention. “I know Pandora needs help, but we won’t stand a chance of saving her unless you get your ass back in the fight-”

Medusa either chose to ignore me, or she wasn’t registering my words. The warrior was lost in her own crumbling world. She struggled to roll the statue from her fellow fighter, but I knew its weight all too well. It wasn’t going anywhere. I continued to demand her attention. Eventually, she responded.

“She’s dying, you asshole.”

“Medusa, we-”

“You don’t understand! She’s all I fucking have. I can’t let her zero out. We were supposed to leave this prison together.”

I cursed the missed opportunity that was slipping through our fingers in front of me. And that was when I noticed the tendril. It came lashing over the stonework, and in my exhausted state, I barely dodged it in time. Predictably, the thing had sent the tentacle to find the one responsible for its pain.

I needed to buy more time for Medusa, in the hope that she would get over the shock and pull herself together. I pulled my assassins dagger from my ankle-strap and threw it at the creature, praying that my small amount of luck would help it find purchase in one of the creatures many eye sockets. The sliver of steel struck its soft blinking target, further angering the beast and leveling up my accuracy in the process.

That’ll piss it off some more, I reckon. Whether that equates into more attack time though, is anyone’s guess.

Exhausted, I awaited my inevitable bludgeoning, throttling or whatever else the snaking limb could possibly have in store for me. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was about to hear a status message announcing further death. Unexpectedly, it wasn’t my own.

-[ User: Kriabal has died. Magic users remaining under your command: 0 ]-

-[ Warning: Your entire war-party has died. ]-

Rub it in, why don’t you? But hang on, what? Didn’t Kriabal die already?

A quick scan of the battleground below revealed that the tough old bastard had crawled back to the rope ladder to assist me. His injuries were too great and ultimately, he’d bled out in the attempt. But his death had granted an unexpected side-effect.

-[ Last man standing buff activated. Mana +20. Stamina +20. 20% bonus to all stats for 1 minute. ]-

I looked at my stamina bar. It was barely a quarter full.

It ain’t much, but I’ll take it.

I glanced at the agonized Pandora, trapped under the fallen god. Then to the Huddled zeros at the other end of the room who were depending on me. ‘Endure this today, for a more comfortable tomorrow’, I’d told them. Cursing those words, I pulled my weary avatar back to its feet, charged my arcane blade with mana as I did so. Then I raised my bracers to protect my head and threw myself over the balcony, sending my avatar crashing into the stonework below.

-[ You have been injured in a serious fall... ]-

Owwwwww! No shit…

-[ …which would have been fatal if not for your luck and resilience. Your left arm has been broken in two places… ]-

Oh, I wondered why it was facing the wrong way. Thank-you, captain fucking obvious!

-[ …costing you -50HP. Warning: you have lost the ability to actively carry more than one item. Warning: Defense provided by bracers has been halved. ]-

I was in agony. And I was down to 25HP was gone, just like that. I’d give anything for a health elixir or a healer, right now. But having either, I would have to get creative. I desperately wanted to increase my perception, but that wasn’t going to keep me alive. So I took the gamble of re-allocating my unused base point into a new category: healing. The status announcement proclaimed that I now healed naturally at twice my previous speed and that healing potions were now 20% more effective. It wasn’t really the boost that I’d hoped for: even with my recovery time halved, it would still take hours for me to naturally recharge, and I couldn’t imagine that my opponent would be prepared to wait.

Dammit. Oh well, it’ll be a boost worth having in the long run, at least.

Ignoring the pain, I dragged myself to my feet and stepped over the crimson barbarian pancake that had once been Brawn, aiming my blade straight for one of the existing wounds in the creature’s underside. I had no idea where to find the heart: land shark anatomy wasn’t exactly my specialty. But I reasoned that after the statue incident, I was surely due a little luck again. Alas, I quickly learned that my luck had most definitely run out. Although my blade struck deep, it must have missed every one of the boss’s vital organs, dealing it a paltry -25HP damage.

Seriously? That’s it?

I tried to withdraw my weapon for another attempt, but whatever inner working I’d struck, the blade was now stuck fast.

Oh, fuck no.

The beast began to drop, leaving me with little choice but to relinquish my sword and dive for cover. It pained me to leave the powerful weapon behind, but it was nothing compared to the pain I would know if the bastard fell on me.

Yet more pain shot through my mangled arm as I landed hard on the unforgiving floor. But I wasn’t the only one howling in agony. The boss had brought its full weight down upon my weapon, and the arcane blade hadn’t shattered. The creature’s anatomy was tough, but the unforgiving stone floor even more so, driving the upturned sword deep into the beast’s vulnerable underside.

-[ Your well-laid trap has used the land shark’s momentum against it, dealing -125 HP damage. ]-

-[ Level up! This was a strategy worthy of a master swordsman. Sword-skills +1. ]-

Are you fucking kidding me? Whatever higher power hands out the XP around here seems to think that I left my blade in the enemy’s stomach deliberately. I sure as hell wasn’t complaining, mind. I’d robbed my opponent of 125HP through a damned fluke. There was still one pressing concern, however. My arcane blade was now buried deep within the boss’s anatomy. I needed to get my hands on another weapon, and fast.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one looking to finish the job. The land shark was equally keen to dispatch the waning thorn in its side. A blur of flesh was sweeping toward me. It was that battered bastard tendril. With only my bracers to deflect the blow, I raised a single arm to block, cursing the other as it hung limply by my side. I was pretty much consigned to my respawn when a second flurry of movement ambushed the first, intercepting the mob in a flash of steel. Medusa parried the blow, risking her life to draw aggro, and saving my own in the process. Relief washed over me, but I didn’t even get the opportunity to thank her. She was distracted, her attention split between the flailing limb and Pandora’s wellbeing. I tried to rush to Pandora’s side, to ease her concerns and leave her free to fight. But it was too late: devoid of mana and badly injured herself, the swordswoman was easily overwhelmed. The Blade of Swiftness was knocked from her grasp. Given her lack of armor, what followed was inevitable. Her broken avatar convulsed in the tentacle’s grip then fell to the ground, its rib-cage completely crushed.

Dead. Just like that, another ally was gone. For Pandora’s sake, I had to make her death count for something. I owed her that much. And to do that, I needed to get my hands on her sword.

The swinging tendril attempted to catch me off guard, but I’d thankfully regained a little stamina. I dodged the blow, but only barely. As it sailed overhead, I dove for the discarded blade, cursing as I landed on my mangled, useless arm. But the fingers of my other hand found purchase on the hilt of the epic-class weapon. I swore to avenge the gutsy swordswoman and to save her companion. Then I cursed some more when I realized its mana supply was completely empty.

Crap!

Worse, I had no precious mana to feed it: I’d stockpiled all of my own mana into my precious arcane blade, and that was currently buried somewhere deep within the creature’s underside. The tendril was upon me before I could drag myself to my feet. I fought from my back, weakly fighting off the flailing limb, but delivering little damage, and losing a further 10HP in return. Beyond my wildly lashing opponent I spied SkullFucker, and for a moment I thought that the worthless barbarian had finally grown a pair and decided to rejoin the fight. But that hope was short-lived. He was merely dishing out orders to the rabble’s zeros’.

What the fuck is he playing at? If those are my reinforcements, I’m screwed.

The rabble’s zeros came running toward us, and for a moment I thought it might be the distraction I needed. But when they charged past me and began to cluster around the rope ladder leading up to the balcony, I realized that I was the distraction for them.

If this is karma getting me back for using their mates as a diversion, I guess I kinda deserve it. But do they honestly think they’ll be safe hiding up there? Didn’t they see what happened to the half-orcs’?

Whatever they were up to, I couldn’t let them distract me. Not while this bastard thing was threatening to knock my final few HP out of me. A lucky strike caused it to retreat for a moment, granting me a scrap of much-needed mana that I hastily banked, but it would be nowhere near enough to sever the troublesome tendril.

As it reared up, I readied myself for the next attack but without warning, rocks began to rain down from above. They were small, bouncing off the creature’s thick leather hide like droplets of rain bouncing off a well-weathered umbrella. Then I heard a familiar, distinctive voice. It was Gary, and he was shouting orders to the others, demanding that they put their backs into it if they hoped to escape the chamber on their own terms.

The crazy bastards are trying to draw aggro.

A hail of granite continued to fall, but the blows it dealt were weak. The issue was that the rabble were all operating as individuals, and Gary told them as much, demanding that they pool their strength and band together to lift one of the larger stones. I watched the tendril swing hypnotically a few yards from my broken avatar, as if trying to determine its chief priority. Seconds later the decision was made for it as a slightly more substantial chunk of granite was hurled over the edge and onto the creature’s back. It didn’t deliver a fraction of the damage dealt by the statue, or even come close to the earlier attack by Trok. But the creature now had much less HP to spare, making the annoyance much more pressing. Determining the overhead attackers to be the greater threat, the land shark reared up once more, determined to face its assailants. And with an equal amount of effort, I pulled myself back to my feet, cursing the pain that ran through my mangled limb.

A more sensitive individual might have been pissed that the boss considered this pack of level zero workers to be the greater threat, but I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. Of course the rabble didn’t stand a chance as the tendril began to sweep the balcony clean. But that didn’t concern me. What did concern me, was that I now I had an opening. And Tiny sensed it, too.

“Attack,” he bellowed, stirring his two barbarian followers to action.

Shit. They weren’t trying to save me. They were just drawing its attention for their asshole boss. If that bastard thinks he’s going to swoop in and steal my kill, he’s got another thing coming.

Thankful for the little stamina I’d regained I ignored the falling bodies and charged at the boss, thrusting the mildly-empowered Blade of Swiftness into the beast with as much force as I could muster.

-[ You have cut the land shark for -15HP damage. ]-

You’ve got to be kidding me. I know my mana is low, but that’s just pitiful.

The bodies had stopped falling so I instinctively turned to check for the tendril, fearful of it turning its attention to Pandora, or glancing me and robbing me of my last 15HP. To my relief, it had moved to intercept Tiny and his crew, halting their advance and buying me precious time to press my own attack. I began hacking at the creature’s underside, but I was weary and lacking mana, so my blows were frustratingly weak. I was really getting a lesson on the benefits of owning a powerful sword. So with that, I decided that it was about time I took mine back. I sheathed the blade of swiftness and thrust my hand into the oozing wound left by my arcane blade, forcing my hand underneath the creature’s leathery skin. Grasping the hilt, I gave thanks that the weapon felt loose. Whatever it had become embedded in earlier must have snapped when it was suddenly thrust deeper by the unforgiving stone. With a heft, I withdrew the sword from the boss’s body like Arthur pulling Excalibur from an insanely gross stone. Its power hadn’t faded. And it felt damn good.

Tiny and his men were still slicing HP from the last tendril, so technically the killing blow was anyone’s to take. But I was in the best position by far to do the most damage. It was now or never. I drew back the blade and-

-[ You have been gifted 100MP by Agooma. ]-

What? Thank the gods.

The old witch had powered me up, just as she’d done for Kriabal, earlier. I checked the blade’s mana count. It was full to the brim. Now that was one handy trick. And it very telling that she had chosen to use it on me rather than her own leader. I decided that I owed her a beer.

Hell, if this works, I owe her a whole damn keg.

Praying that the boss would be kind enough to drop a six-pack upon its much-desired death I flashed the witch a quick smile and poured the mana into my blade. The runes glowed blue as the power was hungrily absorbed.

Tiny cried out in pain somewhere behind me. I turned to see him lying on the ground nursing his leg, trying his best to stand but failing miserably. SkullFucker and the other barbarian were nervously hanging back, ‘protecting’ their master as the tendril attempted to finish the job.

My kill, not yours… I thought to myself.

I hastily picked an already weakened spot and drove my blade deep into the boss’s underside. I’d maxed my strength since the last time I’d tried to punch the arcane blade through the bastard’s hide, and the mana made my job all the easier. The supercharged weapon sank deep into the creature and my status bot proclaimed…

-[ You have struck the land shark for 75HP damage. ]-

The howl was unlike the ones I’d heard earlier. The creature’s cries had once been defiant. Guttural. Pissed off. This, however, was a cry to be pitied. Little more than a gradually fading whimper. I withdrew my weapon and pulled back, just in time to avoid being crushed by the falling mob. But this time, the tendril did not rush in for vengeance. The beast lay completely still. And in my head, a fanfare sounded.

-[ Congratulations: you have dispatched a powerful boss. Your war-party have reclaimed this territory from a deadly infestation. Tales will be told of your bravery. ]-

-[ Special award: you have defeated your first monster. New trait earned, monster slayer. ]-

Yes. About fucking time.

-[ Special achievement alert: you have landed the killing blow upon a creature that was over one hundred times your superior. This is a heroic act. Rep +3. Special achievement bonus: one skill level will be added to all primary and secondary skills and traits. ]-

Wow!

-[ Level up! You are now a level 5 swordsman. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 92. Max HP +20. Max MP +20. ]-

-[ Level up! You are now a level 4 thief. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 98. Max HP +10. Max MP +10. ]-

-[ Level up! The slaveowner trait has reached level 2. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 16. Max HP +10. Max MP +10. ]-

-[ Channeling the life energy of a boss is no easy feat. You have gained one additional base point in mana manipulation. Rank has increased to 3. XP required to reach rank 4: 52. Max MP +40. ]-

I was stunned speechless by the flurry of rewards. And yet they kept on coming.

-[ Your arcane blade has absorbed the soul of a powerful enemy. Weapon up! 20% more damage will be delivered per strike. MP capacity has been doubled. Your blade is now mildly sentient and has gained the ability to regulate its own mana use. ]-

-[ Special raid bonus: You are the raid MVP. Leadership +2. ]-

-[ Boss bonus: Max HP +100. ]-

-[ You have gained four unallocated base points, one for each level possessed by your defeated enemy. Spend them wisely. ]-

And then, finally, came the cherry on top…

-[ First kill bonus: All gains from this kill have been doubled. ]-

Ho-leee shit! All this time I’d been cursing my inability to land my first kill. Now it was paying dividends. Life in the prison was about to get interesting.