NOVEL NEXT 198. Close Quarter Combat
198. Close Quarter Combat
With all parties trapped inside a steel cage, the task couldn't be simpler. Go for the kill. Within the tight confines of the elevator if at all possible, but if need be, the Day-siders were prepared to take it all the way down to Floor 20.
Realgar opened the proceedings by layering his spells. [Dusk-] and [Twilight] combined into the tried and tested time manipulation effect, giving Serac and Trav the 'future-sight' edge while leaving DREAMPROWLER in the lurch.
[Excision] remained a concern but nowhere near as relevant as it'd been on the surface. Unless the Night-side Oathkeeper also had access to an elevator that delved straight down the riverside bluff, they'd be hard-pressed to keep up with the moving venue. All the more so the deeper underground they went.
The Serac-Trav duo was able to focus on what they did best: smite the bad thing in front of them. In this case, the Field Boss in question took up nearly half the arena by itself. A much tighter space than Serac was used to, but she was more than eager to test her mettle.
And wouldn't she know it? Three Realms into her journey, she had just the thing for close quarter combat. A shadowy familiar of her own, in the form of a rampaging maceman. Serac was already on the correct chamber for it, which meant all she had to do was point and shoot:
[Chamber Three: HAIR TO HAIR]
Nothing happened.
What? How could this be? Thinking she'd made a mistake, she squeezed the trigger again, only for an unimbued bullet to shoot out of Chamber Four and ricochet off the elevator's metallic wall.
In [Dusklight], she saw DREAMPROWLER uncoiling a counter with enormous dark claws. She was forced to duck out of harm's way in [Twilight], even as she used the time discrepancy to try and comprehend just what the hell had (or hadn't) happened.
By now, she knew REVOLVER like it was a part of her anatomy. The weight of it in her hand told her three Cartridges yet remained in the cylinder. Which meant she'd somehow cycled past Chamber Three without firing. The bullet in question sat blithely—obstinately—in its chamber, having refused to come out and play!
As the realization hit, Serac laughed with whole-hearted amusement.
The sensation was baffling, inconceivable, and exhilarating. Two halves of Serac's soul occupied the same liminal space and vied for supremacy, yet there were no hard feelings between them. Indeed, they each respected the other's agency and accepted the challenge of co-existence for what it was.
I get it, Serac thought to herself—in about as literal a sense of the word as possible. This is a test for me to prove my worth. 'You' don't wanna come out and play until you're sure I'm up for the game. Well, just you wait and see. Soon, you'll have to prove to me you're all that you're cracked up to be!
As a contest of a different sort raged inside Serac, the physical battle went on in the elevator. In the time it'd taken the Rakshasa to screw her head back on, the Tidereigners had already exchanged blows.
DREAMPROWLER the shadow-furred tiger dwarfed even Big Stag ORD. The latter nevertheless put his antlers up for primary tank duty. He'd already taken a claw swipe to the face, leaving a visible wound across one of his slitted eyes. His Health bar had also taken a hit. But thanks to the buff from [Shepherd's Gift], there was plenty more where that came from.
While her Stag partner tanked, Little Doe DLEE made a fleet-footed nuisance of herself. [Steadfast March] all across the elevator's limited dimensions, deployed with impunity thanks to the extra Mana borrowed from her Oathkeeper. Her hooves, tiny as they were compared to the tiger's massive claws, left their marks just the same. Chip damage quickly built up into discrete pieces to be shaven off the boss's Health bar.
Even Trav got in on the action right away. With both his companions up, he didn't meet the 'conditions' to activate [Shepherd's Stand] (which is a good thing!). That didn't stop him from giving a few good whacks with CROZIER whenever he could.
To this already one-sided affair, Serac added her own point-blank firepower.
The first thing was to channel off [Metabolic Shift]. [Rumpepromp] would've caused friendly fire in such close quarters, while PULVERIZER gave Serac a shield with which to block tiger claws as needed. Next, she concentrated on peppering the big brute with her six-shooter, testing different damage types along the way.
An unimbued bullet landed to the tune of [99!]. Not terrible, but clearly well-mitigated. As soon as she was back on Chamber Two, she channeled on [Appetizer] and saw her per-Cartridge damage jump to [152!].
Much better! The answer moving forward. Luckily for Serac, her Templar colleagues had been generous in their hospitality, giving her plenty of [Satiety] to burn.
There was no time (nor really much room) to make things complicated. When in doubt, keep it simple, stupid. Serac would stick to one damage source and one alone, all while keeping an eye out for DREAMPROWLER's counters.
Realgar's layered spells gave the good guys 'future-sight'. ORD stood his ground and kept the time mage safe. All while the combined DPS of Serac, Trav, and DLEE pelted DREAMPROWLER from all directions, whittling its HP at a steady rate.
The fight was going well. So well, in fact, to allow for real hope it could be finished right here inside the elevator (and perhaps without the need to call on VOIDLING, after all). Yet Serac had been in this business long enough to know boss fights never went so smoothly from beginning to end.
Case in point: DREAMPROWLER's sheer tankiness was already prolonging the fight. Its Health bar was far from the biggest Serac had come across, but its mitigation profile was certainly up there with some of the sturdiest and most 'balanced'. Serac's Zealous-imbued bullets did decent damage, but Trav's and DLEE's Primal attacks struggled just as badly as Physical.
The Day-siders were winning, to be sure, but perhaps not fast enough for comfort. By the time the elevator had rumbled halfway down the shaft, Serac had managed to land about [2,000!] points of damage. To this the Travertine group added another [1,000!], taking DREAMPROWLER's Health down to roughly two-fifths full.
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If they could maintain the steady diet of harm—or perhaps proc a Poise-break soon—surely, the fight would be theirs. And yet, halfway down the shaft, Serac had begun to detect some worrying signs.
It took her a while to actually understand what was changing. First, [Dusklight] showed DREAMPROWLER spinning into her for a counterattack. She quickly reacted in [Twilight], bringing PULVERIZER up to block. But then—
[171!]
The attack went through for considerable damage! Claws the size of machetes went over PULVERIZER before it was set in place, thereby raking Serac across her cinnabar face.
Odd. Prior to this, she'd already mitigated several claw attacks to the tune of around [80!] each. She must've been too slow this time. Or…
Was it that DREAMPROWLER had become faster?
There was no doubt about it. Serac's 'other half' confirmed her observations by curling her bloodied face into an eager sneer. Eager for the momentum shift and the challenge that was sure to follow.
DREAMPROWLER is adapting to the time discrepancy! It was the only logical conclusion. It's managed to rise above [Twilight] and bring itself 'closer' to [Dusklight]. Before long, it's going to catch up altogether!
Indeed, it didn't take 'long' at all. Soon after Serac connected the dots, DREAMPROWLER crouched on all fours, its shadowy fur standing on end to make it somehow larger than its standing height. Something big was coming, and yet, [Dusklight] failed to show what it was. The time advantage had well and truly been erased.
All while its Health bar dwindled, the tiger had been hiding its 'claws', in a manner of speaking. Now, with the Day-side trio unable to predict the future and react accordingly, DREAMPROWLER finally bared all.
[Breachspawn Technique: NIGHTMARE STRIPES]
A burst of dark aura. The color of blood seeping out of a surgical wound and mixing with grime, soot, and rust. The aura shot outward, not to harm, but to confound.
Serac was confronted by a truly awful sight. Zacko lay sprawled in a strange room, surrounded by strange instruments. He looked asleep—or perhaps dead?—with his shoulder split wide open like one of the Butcher's victims.
Muscles and bones swelled out of the wound to fill Serac's vision, sinews and strips peeling away and drooping as though rotten. Even more disturbingly, a tiny pink figure jumped to and from each crumbling tissue, handholds slipping away before its padded fingers could find purchase. It was Renna trying and failing to escape the molten lava that was Zacko's anatomy.
For at least a Ksana, Serac reeled under the apparitions, more confused than horrified. Yet, not for nothing was she a veteran of hell and a stalwart champion of her friends. The fact DREAMPROWLER had chosen this image as Serac's 'nightmare' meant that it knew Zacko and Renna. And that thought alone fueled her fiery resolve. To stand her ground and fight back.
Alas, not all souls inside the elevator were on the same page.
Whatever vision had assaulted Travertine had also shaken him to the core. So much so the deerherd now knelt Poise-broken upon the metallic floor.
DREAMPROWLER, still bristling from head to toe, rounded on the easiest target. Both DLEE and ORD jumped to their Oathkeeper's defense, crossing antlers once more to shield Trav from a killing blow.
It was a feint! DREAMPROWLER spun again, claws now flying toward Realgar in the corner. The Viceroy remained on his feet, his mild countenance betraying nothing of what he made of the evolving situation. He'd yet to channel off his layered spells, however, and besides which, he was too slow to react.
So, Serac reacted for him.
Deacon Edin had no love for Viceroy Enright and his haughty, manipulative ways. But right now, they were allies in mortal combat, and Serac was ever a champion of her friends. She vacated her corner of the elevator and jumped to the opposite end, PULVERIZER poised to intercept the attack.
But this too was a feint! DREAMPROWLER spun a third time, now ducking under Serac—liquid in a way unique to feline creatures. In the end, its intent hadn't been to attack any of its Day-side adversaries. Instead, it pounced for the elevator door.
[Breachspawn Technique: TIGER MAUL]
The tiger 'mauled' the wrought iron and steel wires that had hitherto barred its escape. The door collapsed into a folded sheet, as easily as crumpling a letter. Beyond it spread the stale air of a Catacomb floor. DREAMPROWLER didn't hesitate as it bounded off the metallic cage and into the myrrh-lit corridor.
Realgar reacted first, frantically working the lever. The elevator—which suddenly seemed to Serac a primitive and stupid invention—screeched to a shuddering halt, just barely before it passed by the corridor altogether. After that, it was a mad scramble to climb over the floor and squeeze through the opening, with an incensed Realgar berating his Cardinal into action.
The Day-siders gave chase. But hope had long fled. By the time the trio had run the length of the hallway, Floor 10 of the Catacombs was completely deserted, save for the Mriga ancestors resting in their sarcophagi.
DREAMPROWLER had made its escape. [Excised] back to the safety of Night.
"Raarrrghh!"
Realgar roared. A startling burst of raw emotion from one usually so composed. He punched the wall with a closed fist, destroying a myrrh torch while likely also shattering his own knuckles. If he felt any pain, he showed none as he rounded on Travertine with wild, enraged eyes.
"You!" Spittle flew into the much larger man's face. But Trav was a mere shadow of his usual self, shoulders hunched in meek submission. Even his deer companions cowered behind him like a pair of scared children. "This is your fault! How could you let an illusion reduce you to a sniveling wretch? We almost had it, don't you see? All that work and preparation, and it was all for nothing, thanks to you and your—"
"Shut up."
"Excuse me?"
Realgar spun, just as fast as a shadowy tiger, toward an outrealmer and her irreverent interjection. Certainly, Serac had grown tired of the Viceroy's mudslinging (and even regretted coming to his aid inside the elevator), but that wasn't why she'd interjected.
No, she wanted Realgar to shut up so she could focus. On the ambient ripples and the murky picture they painted.
If DREAMPROWLER's Oathkeeper was able to [Excise] here, that means a parallel of this floor must exist on the other side. This far underground, though? Do the Night-siders have their own version of the Riverside Necropolis?
But no, the picture was murkier than that. Filled as it was by grime, rust, and strange instruments. And haunted by the dead of a fresher persuasion.
Whatever the ripples were trying to tell her, Serac—both halves of her—was sure of one thing:
This fight isn't over yet.