99. Final Boss (V)

Zane had a cheat code for close combat. It was called Sage Mind.

He was just an okay boxer. But with Sage Mind he felt everything coming. It was like having lightning-quick reactions, but better—he could react before reacting was possible. It made fist-fighting so much fun. He felt like that guy from the Matrix sometimes. He didn't move as slickly—usually he just looked like he was blundering all over the place. But his opponents kept missing, to their consternation. Which was also very fun to see.

He went in feeling maybe a little too confident.

He knew he hit hard. This thing had some levels and some Laws on him, sure. But once he got a few good Rising Storm Slashes in, he knew he could take it.

The Treant lumbered toward him. And Zane lumbered at it. He drew out his Chains and wrapped his arms. He wrapped his torso. He made his body as dense as it could go. To fight a heavyweight he had to be a heavyweight.

And this thing was a real chunker. Not only was it all Elemental steel, it was like four times his height. Sickly green roots branched its Titansteel skin like poison veins. It had glowing hollows for eyes. Its bark mouth was wide open, bellowing.

Zane struck first. Rising Storm Slash!

The Treant threw right back. He felt the intent of it—he ducked it with ease. His Axe swung in a lovely arc, headed straight for its craggy face.

Then he felt something weird. The Treant was trying to grab him. But not with its limbs—

He jerked suddenly sideways. Not only his body—his Axe too. Shit. Suddenly he was tilting all over the place. He missed his Axe; he stumbled to find his footing. A massive shadow fell across him. He looked up.

That pillar of a fist was falling on him. A pillar of ultra-dense steel, who knew how many tons, looming over him.

He barely had time to throw up his arms. He took it on his Chain-wrapped guard. It still felt like getting hit by a train; the force rippled through his body; he felt it everywhere, down to his toes. He cratered into the ground, bounced hard, flipped over twice, and somehow landed on his feet, panting heavily. His head was still buzzing.

What was that?

He thought back to its Skills. Magnetism. It had to be.

It could affect Spirit Weapons too? And his body, even?

He was made entirely of metal.

He frowned. This was tricky.

But he could still work with this. He spat out a bloody tooth, nodding. He just had to use his brain a little more.

They charged each other again like two clashing rhinos. He threw a slash and it slugged a haymaker. But this time he made sure to pay extra attention to mind—how it shifted.

The moment he felt magnetism about to yank him, he tracked where it was going. Down left. So at the same time he leaped up and to the right, willing his Axe off-target—on purpose.

The moment that brutal magnetic field struck him he felt like a bird caught in a tornado. He couldn't help being dragged along. It was so much stronger now he got up this close.

But since he'd jumped the other way it dragged him right where he wanted to be.

He thought he was pretty clever until it punched him in the face.

He heard bones popping like bubble wrap, felt an explosion of pain, went cartwheeling head over heels. He ate shit. He made a nice long ditch in the bough.

Ow.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘!

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟝%

He groaned. His face was broken. Again. He was pretty sure it spent more time broken than not today. It was a good thing Level-ups set everything right again. Reina really liked his face—he imagined she'd be pretty bummed if he came back with his nose sideways.

He knew what happened. It was his own dumb fault.

To use Sage Mind he had to map intent to the real world, which was already finicky. And he had to feel how that Treant perceived magnetism, and feel the way it thought about directions—but it was looking at him, so he had to mirror it when he moved…he got confused. He overshot.

But that was okay.

He breathed in heavily through his mouth. His nose was such a mess there was no using it anymore; right now all it did was spew blood.

So far, not great. But he figured it was like riding a bike. He knew it'd get easier and easier. He wasn't sure why he was so confident, given, well, everything. But he was. He was smiling, even.

He leaped at it again. It bellowed, tried hammering him, tried wrenching at him with that magnetic field—and this time, he matched its force perfectly; it dragged him up-left, he went down-right. He almost matched his timing perfectly too. A little off, but good enough. Its pillar-arm sailed right past him; its whole body sailed past him, and he scored two clean gashes down the backs of its knees.

It bellowed, ratting the bough. He could hear the fury, the pain in it. When it charged him it tried messing with him again, but he timed it just right. He got the direction bang-on too. He came out the other side untouched. It sported two fresh scars up its torso. Scars blazing red, crackling white. The Stormfire smoldered, taking hold.

Zane wasn't cutting off limbs like he was used to with Rising Storm Slash. But he was scoring deep burns. And the more burns he inflicted the more they stayed, marking angry glowing lines up and down its body, sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, steadily. He was bleeding the Monster dry, cut by cut.

He danced out of the way like a matador, let it bull-charge past him, and gave it a swift one-two up the nose, clocked it with a wild hook on the side of the head as it swung back, then ducked a massive swing. And its whole face glowed red; it really did look like it was bleeding all over. It tried dragging him down but he planted his feet hard. It tried yanking him as he ran but he rode it like a wave and just kept slashing.

He grinned bloodily. He was getting the hang of it. Like riding a bike.

One exchange after another. And his belly, its arms, its back, its legs—there were little fires everywhere. Steel started melting out of the wounds because he was burning the whole thing down. It was starting to wobble. It was going down slowly but surely, by degrees, like how a cruise ship might sink.

Yes. It was all about the execution. Staying cool-headed even after he'd gotten half his health remaining deleted. Sticking to the plan and doing what he knew he had to do. If Evan was still watching, Zane might've taken a moment here to dispense some more sage advice. A common mistake he noticed in these kinds of situations, especially when near death, was that people started panicking. In his opinion, you should not do that. Just stay calm. If you found yourself panicking, stop.

He made a mental note to inform Evan later.

Anyway.

The Treant was going down. And it could feel it too—it was getting desperate. Zane could feel a thick dark undercurrent; it was cooking up some sort of plot. He frowned.

Then it burst out and just charged him, swinging wildly. It bellowed at him . It felt like getting shouted at by a wind tunnel. It was doing something quite silly—it ran straight into his slashes. He got in four or five clean shots; it didn't seem to care. It just kept swinging, all defense forgotten. It fought like a rabid animal; magnetism yanked in randomly this way and that. All it wanted to do was get him off his feet.

He had to admit there was something uniquely striking about a Level 100 thirty-foot-tall steel goliath running at you, swinging its windmill arms, bellowing as loud as it could.

But Zane followed his own advice. He kept his head, sidestepped and made it pay. If it wanted to be dumb, he'd let it. He was carving it up pretty good.

Only now he had a new problem. He was trying to keep all its intents straight, trying to make sense of its mind so he could dodge all its nonsense—but even the Treant didn't know what it was doing. It just knew it was going nuts.

He tried leaping out of the way. And it caught him. A good solid hook to the belly. It hadn't even meant to swing that way, but these things happened when you flailed wildly. He spat blood as he flew; he felt a string of organs that'd just healed burst open again.

It got lucky.

Or maybe it made its own luck? Regardless it got him pretty good there.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙!

𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟝𝟘%

𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟝𝟘%

𝕍𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟝𝟘%

The Treant loomed over him, heaving with triumph. A dense magnetic field glued Zane to the ground. Those massive limbs crashed down—

But a new power was coursing through Zane's body. The single strongest boost he'd felt all day. It set his nerve endings on fire.

He spun out of the way hard; the blow streaked past him, thundering the grounds. And he slashed.

And when he landed he nearly took the arm off at the joint.

This time, his Stormfire took to Titansteel like it was dry wood.

The Treant was shocked. How was he so fast? How was he hitting so stupidly hard? It tried flailing at him, tried grabbing him, but it was like fighting a whole different beast.

If you got Zane to Critical Health, you better hope you'd crippled him. If not…

He gave it another slash, leaped out of the way before it could even turn, and carved it up again.

If not, you were in for a bad time.

A 50% increase in Strength, a 50% increase in Speed… Evan had his super-state. Now it was time for Zane's.

He was a touch from death. But the Boss was in another world of hurt.

It reached for him. He wasn't there. It swung for him. He swung right back, and he was the one who landed.

The Treant knew it just had to touch him. But it couldn't; it was infuriating. But all it could do about it was scream.

Zane was too fast. Too strong.

He just poured on the offense, over and over and over, unrelenting—building, if anything. And he was smiling madly; he was really enjoying this. Left, right, making bleeding crosses crosses on bleeding crosses, carving a new statue out of this block of crude steel—he started to laugh.

It stumbled.

He wasn't sure what blow did it. It probably wasn't any one blow. But all of them were burning at it all at once, bleeding it out. It added up. The Treant stumbled again—then it knelt, keeled over. And Zane was all over it, raining Axes.

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕦𝕡!

ℝ𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝕊𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙 𝕀𝕀 -> 𝕀𝕀𝕀

A little late, he thought. But he'd take it. His Stormfire was eating through the steel faster—his Axe head gorged several inches deeper with each cut. By then it wasn't even necessary.

The thing went still. He hacked and hacked—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!—until—

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

𝔹-𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝔻𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕!

Then a sea of essence rushed into him, blinding him.

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟡𝟞 -> 𝟡𝟟

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟡𝟟 -> 𝟡𝟠

Zane breathed out. Ahh… there was that post-fight bliss. The air rushed down his lungs, crisply cold. The moon washed him in a pure cool white. Everything was pleasantly still.

He saw essence pouring into Evan too—there was a flash as the boy Leveled up. He didn't move though. He was far from waking up. His body might be healed but his soul still needed a while. He'd burned himself out pretty bad.

But Zane would take care of him. He had a feeling Evan would like it back at Luminous Faction Headquarters.

Where the Treant used to be, there was a treasure. It looked like a walnut the size of his head; it was veined green and its skin with pure Titansteel.

𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕕 (𝔹+)

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖. 𝔸𝕟 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕝𝕒𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟; 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙, 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕖𝕟𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥. 𝔽𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.

Ooh.

He put it in his Bag of Holding. Yes. This would come in handy very soon.

The Beacon spawned not far from him—on the same bough, right next to a hidden stairwell on the far side. He suspected it went straight down to the ground floor.

The dungeon chest spawned with it. It was the size of a tank. A Titansteel safe ribbed with fist-sized bolts, sporting a giant steel lock, gleaming a little. He'd never seen a B-rank dungeon chest before. It sure looked impressive. He wondered if its treasures measured up.

He cracked it open eagerly.