The monster had been blessed with a lot of advantages, but it wasn’t a track-athlete. That much was readily obvious. It was fast for its size, but not enough to close the gap between them, and he could only count himself lucky for that.

  He’d have had no chance if it had both speed and size at its command.

  As it was, he outpaced it easily enough, weaving between the hand-spires until the thunderous rumble of its pursuit had faded into the distance. Flynn eventually ducked into the shadow of one of the structures, sweat trickling down his brow as he took a breath.

  He wiped his brow. Phew. That’d been something. He’d had dreams of being chased by big monsters once or twice – an unfortunate side effect of indulging too often in DnD content – but the real-life experience was something else.

  His perverse danger-happy side liked it. His rational side wanted to smack the other senseless. He could only stand between them, soaking in the fear and joy like a heady drink.

  Glancing around the corner, he saw no sign of it anywhere, though he faintly heard it rampaging around.

  Good.

  He had some time.

  Flynn spent his hard-won peace desperately trying to figure out a way to beat the thing. Its plates were too tough for his shots to penetrate, and none of his spells had any real damage potential. He could distract and hound it, but that’d be a pointless waste of mana if he couldn’t follow through.

  He’d need to aim for the vital bits: the portions where its armour was thinnest or where it was unarmoured entirely: its eyes, its neck and its mouth. Anything else and he’d just be prickling it for ages. Easier said than done, though.

  Flynn sucked in a deep breath.

  He’d need to learn what it could do before he went all in. Its limits and abilities, everything. It’d take some doing, and a lot of risk.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, he knew, but it was all he could think of with the cards he had on hand.

  Cheek sent a pulse of comfort through their bond, probably having sensed his nerves. He thanked the little guy for the support. He’d need as much of it as he could spare.

  Finding the monster again hadn’t taken much work, largely because it was a very large, very loud being. It was still ambling about, almost languid in its speed as it tried to find him. Above it, the timer followed. Forty-nine minutes, it read. He still didn’t know what it was supposed to be counting down to.

  Was he expected to beat it before the time ran out, or simply survive that long? Or was something even worse going to happen at the end of the forty-nine minutes?

  Flynn felt a nervous tizzy fill his gut, even more so than it already had. Suddenly, he felt like taking his time might’ve not been the best plan.

  Oblivious to his worries, the monster immediately charged as soon as it’d spotted him; its fists raised. Dodging its wild attack with deft footwork, Flynn loosed an arrow at its face. It turned away, protecting its eyes by aligning the shot to its thick hide instead.

  The arrow plunked off uselessly, only to explode with blinding light. It flinched away from the explosion, momentarily blinded by the light, and he grasped at the chance presented. Multiple arrows were fired rapid-fire at its throat, the largest of its vulnerable areas. He hoped that at least one would score a hit, but the monster was clever.

  It turned away from him as soon as he’d loosed his first arrow, and all his shots bounded off its armoured back. He exhaled deeply. It probably hadn’t seen his shots coming, so it’d taken away his targets instead.

  Flynn wasn’t worried by the display of battle-smarts. He’d expected as much from a boss. He’d also expected the fight to be a long one. That was fine. Fuck the timer. He would wait for his moment. He wasn’t about to lose himself to impatience.

  The teen dashed around, looking for an advantageous angle. The boss was quick to recover, its black eyes searching for his figure.

  He’d already put some space between them by then, and he was prepared for it to start the chase again. Unexpectedly, the creature suddenly stilled and then sucked in a deep breath, its chest inflating like a balloon. Flynn’s eyes widened. He knew the start of something dangerous when he saw it.

  He immediately legged it for the nearest hand-spire, only barely managing to take cover behind the structure before the boss upchucked a massive wad of fluid onto where he’d been stood a second earlier. The brown-green liquid sizzled and bubbled as it simmered on the floor, faint fumes wafting off its edges where it was actively melting the stone beneath.

  A second slower and that’d have been him.

  Right.

  No sir, no thank you. He wanted none of that action, though the information was useful. He broke out into another run, loosing another volley of shots just to annoy the creature. If he could bait it into another belch like that – its throat had been mighty vulnerable as it’d drawn in that breath, and he didn’t think it could barf at him as it turned.

  It could work. The monster opted to run at him instead, its arms outstretched, ready to squeeze him into paste if it managed to catch him. Occasionally, he’d fire a shot, but mostly he was running. Testing. Figuring out what pace worked best to keep him ahead without wasting unnecessary energy. Figuring out how quick it was to react to things, and what else it had up its sleeves.

  At times he'd just Shroud up and watch it while catching his breath. It never seemed to know where he was, even when he’d maybe been unadvisedly close. Just like the shitlings, it likely had good vision, but that was all it had.

  His illusions had worked fine on it, as he’d carefully tested with a few Spectacle Arrows and an Illusionary Self without giving away the fact that they were illusions.

  Good for him. Bad for it.

  Though something struck him as odd the longer their fight drew on. After having fought a grand total of two other types of monsters for a good half day by then, he’d humbly claim the title of Earth’s premiere monster expert, as his traits could attest to.

  And all those monsters had something in common that this thing did not.

  Viciousness. The apes and its lesser kin both had bayed for his blood. Craved it. They’d desperately, hungrily tried to kill him with all they had to their last.

  But this thing? It hadn’t made a noise so far. Even now, its expression was calm. Contemplative. Hardly the face it’d worn in the carvings. It was like its mind wasn’t even there or it was just going through the motions. He’d wondered if that was the arrogance of being so much stronger than he was, but that explanation hadn’t felt right to him. He was sure that it was something else at play.

  This thing was too mysterious for his liking.

  He made a note of the thought as he dashed around another of the monster’s sweeping attacks and then loosed a shot. It almost hit its eye, but it managed to dodge at the last second. Flynn couldn’t help the upwelling of irritation that filled him, though he made sure to not let it turn him impatient.

  Focus. He had time still. His chance would come.

  And it did. The monster eventually stopped, and its chest started to expand in that now familiar motion. Flynn’s hand was a blur as he drew the drawstring and released an arrow straight at its neck. It would hit; he was sure. It had to.

  Only it didn’t. The monster had aborted its attack with impossible ease, and the arrow struck impotently against its chest even as it started to charge forwards thrice as fast as it’d been before. It’d fucking feinted him! Flynn swore and threw himself aside just as the monster swept past. Air slapped his face from the sheer speed of its charge, throwing him off slightly as he leapt back onto his feet.

  Stumbling up, he swerved to eye where the monster had already turned about and was readying another charge. He didn’t know where that speed came from – maybe it’d been testing him just as much as he’d been testing it. Maybe it was a track-athlete after all – but he knew that he couldn’t let it wind up again.

  A Spectacle Arrow landed in front of the boss moments before it took off, and a small glacier of spiked ice jabbed towards its face. It flinched away, gifting him the time he needed to Shroud himself before he cast an Illusionary Self.

  The monster was quick to figure out that the ice was just an illusion, and it waded through without missing a beat, barrelling towards his false image. The fake didn’t bother firing. Cheek was by his side so any arrows would just give the game away. Instead, it retreated, an uncomfortably believable look of fear plastered on his own face in the distance.

  The creature didn’t look like it intended to let him get away. Maybe the illusion had annoyed it, though its expression remained even. Its legs tensed as they’d done the last time, and then it erupted into another bum-rush. It caught up with the fake in seconds, its arms outstretched to catch him like a fielder running for a baseball.

  The Illusionary Self didn’t dodge. It might’ve not been able to, or maybe it figured that its job was done. Whatever the reason, the monster’s fingers reached for his head and clenched, only to grasp at smoke.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The image disappeared, and Flynn saw on its face the first genuine expression it'd showed since the start of the whole shebang. Surprise coloured its alien features, and it lasted until the boss realized that it’d lost control. Its momentum was too great, and without his fleshy body to slow it down as it’d expected, it was forced to tumble onwards.

  Right onto a hand-spire. Surprise turned to alarm in a heartbeat, and the monster desperately tried to direct its bulk away from the structure. It only mostly succeeded. One of its arms clipped the edge of the spire, shattering a chunk of its engraved surface into rubble with a loud crack.

  The impact sent the boss reeling, its charge turned into a spin as it wildly danced over the plains before it finally came to a dizzied stop. For a second, it simply sat there, and Flynn wondered if there was opportunity to be found in its moment of confusion. He made to throw off the Shroud and raise his bow when the monster shot back up to its feet, freezing him in place.

  Its gaze snapped to the tower; black eyes wide like saucers. It quickly bounded back to the structure and carefully studied the damage it’d dealt, its massive hands tracing over the ruined stone like an artist would a damaged painting.

  There was a deep sadness in its gaze, and Flynn found himself wondering why?

  Why did it look so sad? The spire had already been ruined. The damage it’d dealt was a tiny crack in an already shattered structure.

  And yet its lament was painfully evident. Something didn’t add up.

  The monster had barely shown any interest in their fight all throughout, but one of the hand-spires was slightly harmed and suddenly it was Mother Teresa tending to the sick.

  He frowned.

  Were the spires representative of its power somehow, or were they meant to be a part of the fight? What was the point of showing him the story then? Would they all activate later to give it a big power spike, or maybe they’d start to birth hordes of shitlings all around him.

  He hadn’t considered it before, but he was surely considering it then. Suddenly, the boss wasn’t the most dangerous foe anymore. He eyed the timer above its head. Forty minutes remained. Until what?

  Until everything went to hell? Until it rained down shitlings all around him?

  Flynn carefully walked a short distance away, far enough that it couldn’t blitz him even with its newfound speed and dismissed the Shroud.

  “Hey!” he called out.

  The monster turned to him then, and finally he saw a hint of anger bloom in those dark orbs, as if he was to blame for ruining the spire. He raised his bow and took careful aim. The monster roared, a horrid, deafening shriek. Still, he wasn’t cowed and continued to draw until an arrow manifested on his fingertips.

  He loosed before it could attack, but his aim was purposely off. The arrow would miss the monster entirely, but it still moved to put its girth in the way of the projectile. It bounced off harmlessly, but Flynn was satisfied. It’d defended the spire again.

  That was a weakness he was happy to abuse.

  “Cheek, shoot at the spires near the monster. Only the spires. Normal arrows only. Make them as powerful as you can.”

  The little bow chittered. It’d been meekly slung over his shoulder the whole fight. He didn’t want to risk it flying free against a foe that might be able to break it, and Cheek certainly hadn’t seemed enthused to go.

  But at his command, it fluttered free.

  An arrow was sent arcing towards a spire, and the monster immediately jumped to swat it away. Flynn had Shrouded himself in that moment. The creature turned back, and he could see in its eyes a sudden wariness. It looked about for him but was quickly distracted again by an arrow zipping towards another spire.

  ‘That’s right buddy. Keep ‘im busy.’

  Cautiously, Flynn circled towards the creature whilst Cheek had its attention. He crept until he was stood behind it and then waited for his moment to come. It didn't take long. The monster shifted to swat away another arrow, revealing a gap in its armour above the nape of its neck.

  Flynn took careful aim, keeping his nerve until the moment where the gap was widest, and then he threw off his Shroud and loosed. The arrow flew with unerring precision, and for once, the monster proved too distracted to respond.

  The arrow found purchase in soft flesh and dug in deep, black blood erupting around it in a gory spray. The monster stilled, its rage and alarm frozen on its face. Another arrow from Cheek struck it just beneath a rib-plate in that moment of surprise, though not as deep as his own, and a second from Flynn cut into its unarmoured cheek. Flynn readied another shot, this time aimed at its mouth, when the creature twisted towards him, dark eyes rimmed by black blood.

  He saw a piercing, frenzied hate in its gaze, and knew immediately that he wouldn’t have the time to land the shot. He instead aimed low, dismissing the mana arrow to instead summon a Spectacle. It’d give him cover to Shroud again, and then he’d wait for his chance once more, and then rinse and repeat until the job was done.

  At least, that’d been the plan. But he should’ve known better than to expect smooth sailing from a boss fight. The monster swept its arms out and cried with all the air in its lungs. Its voice washed over him like a tidal swell, a nearly palpable force pushing him a step backwards whilst Cheek was entirely thrown away by the sound, its small form barrelling through the air until it slammed against a spire and was unsummoned.

  He grimaced, his bow almost dropped as he tried to cover his ears, before the sound crept into some deep part of him, carrying with it a song thick with pain and agony. His eyes widened and he rose to meet its gaze.

  It’d grown larger, more powerful and frenzied in the scant second that’d followed. Some sort of upgraded state, clearly, but that wasn’t what drew his interest. His eyes danced over its expression.

  The anger and hate it’d worn morphed, tainted by an all-consuming grief that tickled at his mind. Why, he wondered again as thoughts abounded in his brain. Why would it grieve? Why was it sad? Why...

  Unless.

  His mind’s eye flashed with images of what he’d seen in the corridor before. Of a city on fire. Of dozens of little creatures struggling against an untouchable foe. Against a destroyer of thousands, if not millions. But what if it hadn’t been the destroyer. What if...

  Flynn swallowed thickly, the thought a wildfire that’d erased all other considerations. The monster was readying itself for another charge. He didn’t have time. He wasn’t sure if this would work. It might be perhaps the most intricate illusion he’d tried to date, but the worm was in his brain, and he couldn’t help but try to see it through. He summoned a Spectacle Arrow and loosed it at a spire too far from the creature to stop him.

  It grimaced and still leapt with a speed that sent shivers crawling down his spine, a small crater of dust erupting from the sheer force of its launch. It was almost a blur as it sailed through the air, its hand outstretched towards the arrow.

  But it’d been too far away, and too late. His arrow struck against a gouged-out hollow near the top of the spire, and there was an explosion of colour and shape. Flynn watched with bated breath as his spell congealed into a dark mound of solidified earth that roughly filled in the spire’s ruined section. It wasn’t perfect, but it almost made it seem as if the spire was whole again.

  The monster landed with a nimble grace, and though Flynn was readied for it, it didn’t try to attack him again. Its attention was solidly gripped by his illusion. Eyes wide, it studied the whole spire and then slowly turned its gaze back to him.

  Flynn raised his bow, and the monster tensed. He drew back, and it remained still, even as he took aim at another broken spire. The second illusion was a twinge more imperfect than the last, but if the monster took offence, it certainly didn’t voice it.

  Flynn loosed several more Spectacle Arrows over the course of a minute, and with each one the rage and sadness seemed to drain away from the boss until nothing remained but a look of pure wonder. It stared at the illusions blooming before it, spires coming to life as accurately as he could manage. It was after the eighth shot that he stopped, too drained to risk another without crippling him energy.

  Distantly, the monster stood quietly observing the sight of an alien city coming to life. It’s second state was gone by then, and it had returned to its original form. Blood freely trickled down its body from the wounds he’d dealt, but it didn’t seem to care.

  It was enraptured, and Flynn realized with surprise that it was... crying. Black tears sneaked down its cheeks, mingling with blood and dust as it dripped to the floor.

  “You’re not a destroyer, are you?” he asked softly as he dared take a step forward. It turned to him, an all too human expression on its face.

  “You didn’t destroy your city – the city in those carvings, did you? You were... its protector. These ruins... these are the ruins of your home, aren’t they? You protected the sh- your smaller kin. You were trying to save them.”

  It said nothing. Did nothing. It just stared at him for an uncomfortably long time before it loosed a long, shuddering breath. All emotion drained from it then, like water down a sieve.

  Two of its meaty arms rose, and Flynn had to suppress the instinct to raise his bow. It didn’t feel hostile, whatever it was doing. One of the arms reached towards the back of its neck and with an audible squelch wrenched out the arrow that he’d buried inside. His brows shot to the roof of his head. It did the same again to the arrow under its ribs and the arrow in its cheek and it did it all without a single wince or flinch.

  It raised the arrows up towards him.

  “Did not save.” it said, surprising him with its soft, almost gentle tone, and then again when he realized that it'd spoken an alien tongue that he somehow perfectly understood. “Did not protect.” it repeated. “Failed. I... understand now. Had to see to know. It will never...” it paused, as if the words it was trying to say were almost too difficult for it to speak. “...never come back. Never home again.”

  It smiled then. “No longer... a slave.”

  And then it shoved the arrow into its head, right through the eye socket.

  Flynn flinched. “W-What the fuck?! What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Die free.” it said, its voice strained as it shoved another arrow through its other eye, and the last through its throat with enough force that the thud echoed like a drum beat all around him. The creature wavered then, its legs weak, but its smile only grew as it raised its sightless face towards the illusions around it.

  “Good last... thing.” it gurgled with great difficulty. “Good... way to die.”

  And then it collapsed, dead.

  You have earned levels

  8 >> 10

  You have earned a trait

  The David

  Achievement Trait - Legendary

  Requirement: Slay a monster at least ten levels above your own alone.

  +5% to all Stats.

  Trait Item: Mask of the Goliath

  Mask of the Goliath

  Armour - Mask

  Middling Graded

  +5 END +5 STR +5 SPD

  A mask carved with the face of a powerful beast brought down by a lesser foe.

  Item Spell: Goliath’s Rage

  Goliath’s Rage

  Item Spell - Rank 1

  Only usable at low health. Flood your veins with Goliath’s Rage, greatly increasing your Physical Stats for 5 minutes. When the spell ends, you are afflicted with Goliath’s Lament.

  Goliath's Lament greatly reduces all Physical Stats for 30 minutes.

  You have earned a class spell

  Veiled Arrow

  Veiled Arrow

  Class Spell - Rank 1

  ?

  Loose a variable number of arrows that can home in onto a target. Only one of the arrows is real, the others are illusions. The true arrow has its penetrative power increased.

  Flynn blinked. “What in the name of the almighty fuck just happened?”