The other adventurers stopped their idiotic dancing as soon as they saw their companion get crushed like an egg and swung into action.

Well, the Knight and the Rogue did, anyway. With cries and curses, they darted out of the minotaur’s range and readied their weapons for battle. Bright golden light swirled around the Knight’s sword, and the Rogue’s daggers turned green, dripping with energy that hissed as it hit the floor.

Holy and poison, eh? Badax sighed. Both of those were huge pains in the ass to deal with.

Their last companion, on the other hand, went completely still and the color drained from his face until he looked like he was made of chalk. His eyes, now too bright for his face, grew wide as he opened his mouth and started screaming.

Badax winced as the shrill screeching echoed off the walls and made his ears ring.

“It’s a fuckin’ minotaur, Gaston! We’re all gonna die!”

Badax took a quick step forward and sank his fist into the wailing man’s stomach to shut him up. It wasn’t intended to be a fatal blow, but the minotaur had heard enough screaming for today, thank you very much.

The Knight raised his sword. He was tall and muscular, with wavy golden locks and a jaw that looked as if it’d been chiseled out of marble. His eyes glowed with the same golden light as his sword as he spoke.

“You’ll pay for your evil, foul monster! I swear upon the crest of my order, the groves of holy oaks, and all things that are pure in this world that I’ll slay you in the name of –“

His sentence, like his life, was cut short as Badax smashed through his guard and buried his axe in the Knight’s skull. One threat dealt with before it had the chance to become a problem.

With a snort, Badax yanked his weapon free and looked at the Rogue.

“This is why I hate dealing with you humans,” he said. “Too much talking.”

Clea the Rogue didn’t answer. Instead, she brought her daggers together and vanished from Badax’ sight. Her silence was a mark in her favor, but if she believed that something as simple as a Shadowstep was going to help her survive, she was sorely mistaken. After all, though he could no longer see her, the skill did nothing to get rid of her scent. While Badax made a great show of looking from side to side and growling – even throwing in an exaggerated “Where are you” to sell it a bit more – the minotaur had no trouble following her path across the floor to get behind him. Rogues that dealt in poisons could be tricky sometimes, since they had a habit of throwing projectiles that stung like motherfuckers when it came time to remove them and Badax definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with that if he could help it. Instead, he’d let her get close before showing her that his ignorance of her position had all been an act.

However, just as he spun around with a grim smile to do just that, one of her knives sank into the left side of his chest. Since she was still a dozen feet away, that could only mean one thing: the bitch had thrown it! No fair!

Badax stumbled as the entire right side of his body burned like a bonfire before going numb. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like it was three times its regular size. Swirling shapes filled his vision, and then Badax felt very cold.

[You have been poisoned!]

No shit?

Another knife whizzed through the air, but it bounced off Badax’ thick fur and clattered useless to the floor. Activating Shake It Off, Badax grunted and forced himself to stand. He couldn’t properly wield his axe with only one working arm, so he left it on the ground and lunged forward to grab the Rogue in a murderous hug instead. Thankfully, he was so big that he didn’t have to really worry about aiming, and he felt the woman’s tiny body against his own as he brought his arms together. He squeezed and squeezed with all his strength until he heard the snap he was listening for and she stopped squirming.

He dropped her on the floor and spat. Good fucking riddance.

That left only one adventurer, and he was still ashen on the ground as Badax stumbled over to kill him.

“P-p-please don’t!” he blubbered. “Let me go and I’ll never join another adventuring party ever again. I p-p-promise!”

Badax knelt down and looked into the man’s terrified eyes.

“Wazzurclass?” Badax asked. His voice was a slurred mess, thanks to the Rogue’s poison, but the man seemed to understand the question all the same.

“I’m a Bard,” he said. I’m no good at fighting or anything like that, so please let me live!”

A bard, huh? Badax hadn’t seen any of those before. He looked over at the man’s tool, the strange stringed thing that made the weird noises and pointed.

“Wuzthat?”

The Bard’s eyes followed the minotaur’s finger. “That’s my guitar. You can have it if you let me live. How’s that sound?”

Badax shook his head. “Duzzintworklikethat.”

That was another irritating thing about humans. They always thought that they could barter when they couldn’t. It was sad, really. Without another word, he gave the Bard the same treatment as the Rogue and leaned back to catch his breath.

[Victory is yours! You have gained 20 experience!]

In other words, he’d gotten barely anything at all.

The poison was still roiling through his blood, but minotaurs were hardy creatures and he was already feeling a bit better. He crawled over to the center of the room and pushed the charred goblin out of the way. He blinked to clear his vision and looked around until he spotted the small blue tile on the floor that would let him get in touch with the floor boss’ office.

He pressed it and there was an entirely too cheery plink as a pixie’s voice filled the room.

“Yes? How can I be of assistance, minion?”

“This…is…Badax,” the minotaur said, speaking slowly to make sure that every word came through clearly. Damn his thickened tongue! “Mini-boss…of floor four…I…have…dealt with…the adventurers…in room…seven. Requesting…cleanup.”

“Understood, Mini-Boss. We’ll have a crew of goblins up there right away. Do you require healing?”

Badax said that he did not and the pixie thanked him for his service.

“The Mistress appreciates your hard work,” she said before her voice faded.

Badax stared at the dead goblin and shook his head. The sight bothered him more than it had any right to.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said to the empty room before getting to his feet. The ache from the poison was almost gone, and Badax was sure that after a few days of rest, he’d be fine. Looking down at his defeated foes, Badax felt empty. Their bodies would be taken down to the crematorium and burned with the rest of the lair’s garbage, and then that would be the end of them.

He spat once more. This was all wrong.

The malaise had ruined him. He was not the minotaur he’d always been. He remembered his many battles – though their edges faded with the years – and he knew he should have been thrilled at the sight of the broken bodies on the floor. His mind told him that he should revel in this victory, and that he was supposed to taste the sweet delight of barely slaked bloodlust.

But he did not.

No, in fact, Badax felt a little sick in a way that had nothing to do with the poison. Would it really have been such a big deal to let the Bard live? What could such a man do to threaten someone as mighty as the Mistress? Nothing. Not even if he’d brought back a hundred, or a thousand, or ten thousand more like the others on the ground. The Mistress was simply too strong to be defeated.

This had been nothing but pointless violence.

For the first time in his life, Badax wondered if, just maybe, the adventurers had the right of it. Maybe the Mistress and the rest of the minions down in the lair were evil and deserved to be destroyed.

He shook away the thought, but it’s shape lingered in his skull as he walked over to the guitar.

Though he’d never been one to take trophies from his enemies – the thought never crossed his mind before, not to mention that his quarters were so small he could barely fit all of his personal belongings – he bent down and lifted the guitar up off the ground.

It was tiny compared to him, and so delicate that he feared he would break it if he looked at it wrong. Regardless, it’d made pleasant sounds in the hands of the Bard, and Badax wanted to hear them again.

Something stirred in his chest as he turned around and left the room. It was no more than a flicker, a wisp of something yet to be.

Maybe the secret to getting rid of the malaise was learning something new.

Badax certainly hoped so.