Scorpion and floor boss

From the mist skitters a grotesque, dog-sized scorpion, its carapace a deep, chitinous red that gleams like blood beneath the embedded crystal lights.

Every movement is sharp and deliberate, its many legs clicking against the stone with a dreadful rhythm. But it's the tail that commands all attention; arched high and twitching with anticipation, its barbed stinger glows with ember-bright heat. (picture)

With a hiss like cracking wood, the stinger erupts, belching a stream of fire that scorches the air in a blistering arc. This is no ordinary beast, this is a living siege weapon, born of ash and venom.

The air reeks of scorched stone and burning dust as the red-armored scorpion scrapes its claws across the ground, tail arched like a poised executioner's blade. I narrow my stance, boots grinding against the stone floor as I shift my weight, eyes fixed on the beast.

With a metallic shriek, the creature lunges, mandibles snapping. A gout of flame spews from its raised stinger, searing across the room in a blistering wave. I dive sideways, barely ahead of the inferno.

I right myself onto my feet and charge. The falchion arcs down with a roar of obsidian steel, but the blade glances off the scorpion's carapace with a hollow clang, drawing only sparks.

Undeterred, I step around the lashing tail and strike again, this time aiming for a joint. The edge bites deeper, splitting a seam in the chitin, but still, the beast shrieks and fights on.

It pivots, trying to corral me against the wall. Another jet of flame hisses past, missing me by inches as I throw myself low and to the side, landing in a crouch. Gritting my teeth, I rise and close the distance.

A third strike finds the soft underside of the thorax, black ichor sprays the floor, and the monster stumbles. Its tail jerks for one final, desperate strike.

It's too late for the scorpion.

With a grunt, I drive the falchion upward in a two-handed thrust, straight through the gaping wound. The red scorpion spasms, emits a shrill, metallic cry, and collapses in a heap of steaming limbs and shattered armor.

[Slain: Fire scorpion lvl 3 - 18 EXP]

"You have a real talent for combat, I think. Even at a low level, you seem to have a decent battle IQ."

"Thanks, but I can tell my sword skills are lacking. It might be worth recruiting someone who has sword skills in the future so I can learn from them."

I know for a fact that levels do not equal skill. Having a higher level will not allow me to anticipate, parry, or deflect an opponent's strikes. At some point, repelling boarders or boarding ships ourselves will be necessary, so being skilled in swordplay will be necessary.

Reaching level 4 takes me another 4 rounds. So far, it seems to take me only 2 hours per level in this dungeon as we keep diving at this pace, but Kaelin has agreed to hold the questions about my quick levelling speed until we get back to the ship tonight.

I decide that the 15 attribute points I gained from these 3 new levels will be divided between [Strength], [Vitality], and [Agility].

My new status looks like this:

[Name: Leon Maxwell]

[Race: Sky Sovereign]

[Level: 4 XP 8/219]

[Primary Class: Fighter lvl 4]

[Secondary Class

-Sky Captain lvl 4

- Resident lvl 1 ]

[HP: 180/180]

[MP: 110/110]

[Strength: 18 (+1)]

[Vitality: 18]

[Agility: 18]

[Intelligence: 11]

[Wisdom: 11]

[Unused Skill Points: 9

[Unused Attribute Points: 0]

We line up to take on the floor boss, and only 2 groups are ahead of us. Nobody is solo, and Kaelin tells me that although she can beat the floor boss solo, she would much prefer to take it on with a group

I tell her to let me fight it alone and only step in if she thinks I might be in danger.

As the door opens for us, we walk inside, anticipating a difficult fight against the floor boss. The chamber is enormous. Far bigger than any of the previous chambers.

There are multiple light crystals embedded in the ceiling, and the chamber has no shadowy areas.

At the opposite end of the chamber, the aether mist begins to swirl, coalescing into a humanoid shape.

A figure steps forward, its footfalls utterly silent despite the weight of death it carries. A skeleton, impossibly tall and lean, but far from brittle. Its bones are black as volcanic glass, glinting with a wet, unnatural sheen. It moves with a terrible grace, as if performing some ancient rite of execution.

Where hands should be, there are only weapons: long, scythe-like blades fused to its arms, curving with a grim elegance. Wisps of shadow trail behind its limbs like smoke, as though the darkness itself obeys its will.

Its empty sockets glow a deep, hateful crimson. It does not roar. It does not speak. It simply raises its arms and comes forward, a harbinger of cold death and silence. (picture)

Kaelin had told me that the floor boss on level 3 is an Abyssal Reaper, but her description did not do it justice.

The Abyssal Reaper glides out of the mist like an obsidian spectre.

Its eyeless skull tilts toward me, as if sensing my heartbeat.

I raise my falchion, steady despite the chill crawling up my spine.

The reaper moves, soundless, sudden.

The first swipe comes low and fast. I hop back, narrowly avoiding the hooked blade. Sparks fly as my falchion meets its scythe in a ringing clash. The Reaper pushes forward with unnatural strength, forcing me to sidestep and parry. A second scythe slashes down. I drop to one knee and roll, feeling wind rush past where my head had been.

I spring to my feet and retaliate, falchion flashing in an arc that bites into its ribs. Bone cracks, but doesn't break. The Reaper turns, unfazed, and swings again. 

I barely dodge and land a second blow on its shoulder, then a third at the base of its spine, but it barely reacts. Its body is unnaturally dense, each strike slowed as though carving through stone. The creature lunges, scythes blurring in a windmill of bone and steel. I throw myself into a dive, slide beneath it, and slash upward, scoring its spine.

I am panting now, sweat beading on my brow. It's not just the fighting, it's the pressure. The dread. The thing radiates death like heat. 

My survival instincts are on full alert, but my adrenaline is also surging. The euphoria from this fight makes me grin, makes me happy!

The Reaper wheels around and strikes again. I leap off the floor and drive my falchion into its collar. A harsh crack rings out. I land hard, skidding back with a grunt. One of its arms droops, damaged, but it still stands.

Kelin stands at the back of the chamber, unflinching. She knows not to interfere, not to interrupt my death battle with this shadowy bastard. I will defeat it alone!

Then it charges.

I duck, spin, and strike again, connecting twice. The blade sings, sparks flying as it glances off denser bone. Too shallow.

I grip the hilt with both hands. Ready to exhaust myself to destroy it.

"[Boosted Strike]!"

The blade ignites with crimson arcs of energy as I dash in, slipping beneath a swing and stepping into the monster's shadow. With a roar, I drive the falchion upward through its ribcage, splitting black bone like wood. The energy surges into the skeleton, splintering its core from within. The Reaper staggers, obviously on its last legs.

It isn't dead yet, but I can correct that oversight.

I rip the blade free and spin, intoning [Boosted Strike] once again, putting all my weight into the final blow, a horizontal slash that cleaves through its neck.

Bone erupts in a burst of shadow and dust. The Reaper's scythes twitch, then fall slack. It collapses to its knees, then crashes to the ground in pieces, lifeless.

[Slain: Abyssal Reaper lvl 3 - 90 EXP]