38. The Battle of Mount Saint Helens (I)

Where the Molten Phoenix's lair was a vast expanse, the Brimstone Golem's was a cramped bedrock cell. Its walls were craggy and bleak. The ground was shattered, run over with cracks. Wisps of smoke curled out, lit red by a magma glow.

It looked like a prison for a demon.

The boss itself lay dormant at its center, a pile of rocks scribed over with glowing purple runes like some unholy shrine. Smoke drifted out from its joints. Zane checked it out as they got close.

𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝔾𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕞 (𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟞𝟛

𝔽𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [ℝ𝕒𝕣𝕖]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖-𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕚𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕒 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖. ℙ𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝.

𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 (ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟]

𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕠𝕝𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖, 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖. 𝔸𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖-𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕟𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕖𝕟𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙.

The Golem's weaknesses were the joints.

He felt a stab of disappointment. That's it?

"What's the plan?" said Avery.

"I'm going to punch it," he said.

"You'll what now?"

He was already striding into the lair. "Don't interfere."

It rose to meet him, red eyes flickering on, and bellowed.

He supposed it was time to test his theory—that he could make any fight fun if he handicapped himself enough. Fuck it.

He put up his fists. Let's go.

The Golem raised fists of its own, three times the size of Zane's, probably a hell of a lot heavier too. They burst into blinding streams of crackling flame.

Then it charged him.

He charged it back. In fights his mind always ran on tactics—how to sneak this shot through, how to get that skill to land where he wanted, how to trick the enemy. He shut that part of his brain up, grinned, and just threw.

His fist crunched against its face. His hand erupted in pain, but he was pretty sure it hadn't broken. He was pleased to see he'd blasted off a chunk where its nose had been.

Then it ripped him in the belly, and all the air went out of him. Its other hook slapped off the head, turned him nearly all the way around. He stumbled away. It marched after him, and he licked his bloodied lips. Okay. I see you.

This time, it came straight for his head, swung like a batter, and he ducked, smashing an elbow into its chin. It staggered back, and he ripped it once, twice to its midsection, blasting square holes in the black stone. It let out a metallic screech. It reached out to grab him, and he cracked it in the face. It stumbled over itself; he pivoted, ripped it up the middle, pivoted again, and served it an uppercut that nearly took its head off.

At almost the same time, something struck the side of his head. He went down. He heard Avery yell something. The world spun before his bleary eyes; he felt very wobbly, unsteady, and he stumbled back, trying to get his bearings as the boss lumbered toward him. Somehow it must've whacked him when he wasn't looking.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝟝%

He hadn't even seen what hit him—it had to be that Skill. He loved it. This thing was putting up a fight! He lunged for it again, cracked it once, twice, thrice, felt its fist crunch into his ribs, spun with it, and his elbow took off the last of its mouth. It blasted him up the nose and broke it instantly—he heard it crack in three places. He slugged it back and shot off a chunk of its arm. He couldn't tell what its health was, but he figured they were pretty even.

They sloughed on in this brutal back and forth. It struck and broke him, and he struck and broke it back. Back and forth and back until—

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝟘%

This might go down to the wire.

To his annoyance, though, the golem seemed more durable than he was. When it broke his arm, he couldn't punch anymore. When he broke its arm, it kept clobbering like usual. It seemed unfair. The fight started to turn.

He slugged it. Then he was on the ground again, spitting out blood, spitting out teeth, a huge white noise roar in his ears. He groaned. It must've snuck that Skill through again.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟝%

He scrambled up, and it clocked him in the eye so hard he nearly went down again.

"I swear to fucking God, Zane—" Avery was saying.

He grinned. She was right. Enough playing around. He'd had his fun. They were getting to the point where there was a chance he might lose this thing, which would be an incredibly stupid way to go. He figured this was a good line to draw.

When it came at him again, he had an idea. He wound his fist all the way back.

It swung for him. He dodged, turned, and brushed off an old trick he hadn't used in ages.

A blinding crescent swept through the air.

Titan's Fist!

He caught it near the chin—or where its chin had been before he'd blasted it off. The point where its head met its neck. All the force of his essence, all the force of his body, poured into that point.

The golem's head blasted off, hit the ceiling, cracked back against the ground, and bounced once, twice, thrice, four times, before rolling at last to a halt.

The body fell limp to its knees.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝔾𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕞 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟!

𝔻𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟: 𝕄𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥 ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕤 (𝔻) 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕

Avery looked nonplussed as he walked back.

"I don't believe it," she said. "You went fistfighting with a literal chunk of rock. And won."

"Mm."

"That's the most you thing I've ever heard."

***

He took some time to heal before they left. A couple of hours, soaking in essence, and he was pretty much patched up. They started making their way up the long, winding trek to daylight.

After a long climb, they broke out into the open again. The sunlight was a revelation. Avery hummed cheerfully.

"So tell me about this settlement of yours," she said. "I want to know what my new home's like."

He wasn't sure where to start. "It's called the Luminous Faction. It's led by Reina—she's a very competent lady. She runs the place. I'm just…there." He paused. She was the one who made the hierarchy and took care of the day-to-day. He was a little fuzzy on how to describe it all, to be honest. "There's lots of people there. Maybe a thousand by now? We've got a solid army, lots of Level 20s, a few 30s. There's lots of… forest."

He realized he was doing a horrible job actually describing the place. "… You'll see when you get there."

"I meant like—are there beds? You know, running water and stuff?"

"… yes. We're not animals."

"Oh good! I was worried. No offense. I thought you were the leader at first, so I kind of imagined it was a bunch of cavemen hitting each other with sticks." She grinned at him.

He decided to ignore that. "You can join the scouting corps if you like. Or the warriors."

"Woah, woah! Hold on there. I'm not doing any of that. I just want a place to stay—I'll do my own thing, help out here and there, y'know?"

They were passing through a grove of ash trees, walking through a barren valley.

"I'm bad with authority," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I—wait."

She stilled. "Something feels weird."

"What—"

"Shhh!"

He stood there, looking at her, watching her face change. At first, she seemed baffled. Then her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open a little. And the color started draining out of her face.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh no."

"What?"

"Oh, that's... That's a lot. How hadn't I heard them?! Oh—they were waiting, they had to be. They knew."

One moment there was nothing.

Then his mini-map was ringed with white dots.

Dots pouring in fast—there must have been hundreds.

He turned and saw them cresting the hills behind him. He turned again, and there they were, all round. "It's Marcus, has to be," she said. Her voice was getting shaky. "That's a division's worth!"

Instantly, Zane drew his axes. "Stay close," he said. Just as they started pouring down the hill, he threw up a Cyclone—first revolution—

He hissed, stumbling back. It was like he'd been struck by a lightning bolt, straight in his heart. For a second he couldn't think. The Skill was broken—the axes flopped away.

He looked up and saw the person who shot him. A lanky, sharp-eyed, hawk-nosed man clad in an iron gray uniform. He held a huge blue bow strung up with a flickering white string. It buzzed with electricity.

𝕁𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝔹𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕥 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟞𝟟

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝕊𝕟𝕚𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕝

The archer smirked at him. Already the man was drawing a second arrow.

Zane almost said 'get behind me' but the enemy was there too. They had them surrounded. Just like that. They were mostly in the Level 40s. Small, but with this many of them…

And at their fore, five men sauntered up, all clad in brutal gray. The archer was one of them. Another was a thickly bearded, middle-aged man as big as Zane was. A greatsword as big as he was lay slung over his shoulder.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕣 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕟 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟞𝟙

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝕎𝕒𝕣 𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖

There was a squat, bald, broad-shouldered one, shield in one hand, cudgel in another.

𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕤 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟝𝟝

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝔾𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕟

A red-headed man with black gloves and cruel, mirthful eyes.

𝕋𝕠𝕟𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟞𝟜

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝔼𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕣𝕪

Then the man at the front, the smallest of them with the biggest pin. He reminded Zane of a sewer rat.

𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕪 ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕪 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟟𝟙

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕣

Clay cackled. "Savage Sage! Zane Walker! Fancy meeting you here. We were just looking for you. You've been a very bad boy."

He licked his lips. "You've made my boss very, very angry. What was that you said? 'I hope they bring someone stronger next time?'"

How had they heard that?

"Well?!" Clay swept his arms across the hundreds of soldiers pinning them in. "What do you think? Strong enough for you?"

He laughed a wheezing laugh. Nobody else did.

Zane tried to reckon the odds. He was strong now, true, but how strong? A Level 55, a 61, a 64, a 67, and the 71… like three Brimstone Golems, and a creature far stronger than that Phoenix boss… all coordinated as a team.

And they were surrounded by grunts. There was nowhere to go.

Not good.

It seemed Avery had come to the same conclusion. She was staring at him, wide-eyed. "We have to get out of here," she said. "We—hrrng!" She fell to the ground, spasming.

That archer had shot her so fast neither of them could react. That arrow… it was laden with Minor Laws, Laws of Lightning.

Avery was still shaking, seemingly on the verge of blacking out.

"I was speaking," said Clay, lips pursed. "Didn't your parents teach you manners?"

"I," breathed Zane. He was trembling. "Am going to kill you." He didn't say it to Clay. He said it to the archer.

"What a coincidence!" said Clay, grinning deep-yellow teeth. "I'd very much like to do the same to you. You should know, by the way—" He ripped open buttons near his chest and showed a glowing yellow crystal there. "The boss is watching. So let's put on a good show for him, eh? You've really pissed him off! He doesn't just want you dead. He wants to see you squeal."

Strangely hearing that calmed Zane down. He was still furious, but not because of what Clay said—he couldn't care less less how much they needled him. He was furious they dared touch Avery. He'd been on the verge of lunging after them. Then Clay opened his mouth, and Zane realized that was exactly what they wanted.

His blood was hot with rage; his mind was cold with rage. He had to think. That archer was drawing another arrow. He had to clear out all these grunts, had to whittle down the pack, but he had no time to set up his greatest weapon. And worse, it was Avery lying here, almost catatonic. If he went after them… what would happen to her?

…Had they caught him?