The Last Experience Point

Chapter 99: The Reunion

As Adamus meditated quietly in his small, nondescript office, the sights of the world down below trickled steadily into his mind. The dragon had now begun its brutal rampage, and though it made for a gruesome, disquieting image, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat pleased at the sliver of hope that lay behind the carnage; the science teacher, it seemed, had found one of the ability combinations that could dramatically change the outcome of the raid. Of course, it wasn’t the combination itself that surprised him—he had known from the start that it was one of eight possible methods the Galterrans could use to bolster their chance of success—but rather, it was that it required two human guild-leaders who were currently at war with one another to work together; it also required an analytical mind to conceptualize the use of abilities in a very different way from how they were typically called upon.

But most importantly, Adamus knew that what was taking place right now on Galterra was both a validation and vindication of the system. Were it not for the dragon, neither the two humans nor the Elvish queen would be willing to cooperate; yet there they were, working together, as were many such other humans and Elvish. Perhaps, with any luck, their temporary comradery might even see them putting an end to their hostilities should they persevere; maybe war need not rear its ugly head after all.

“You’re really going to let him die, aren’t you? You’re really okay with this?”

Adamus ignored Eilea. The woman, Gods bless her, was an emotionally driven mess. She was far too empathetic—to the extent that she was missing things that should have been obvious to her, and in so doing, she could foresee only the darkest of possibilities. Unhidden and on the most outward edges of her mind, Adamus could see that she had surrendered any remaining trace of hope that Zachys Calador might survive the raid; Eilea had now convinced herself with far too great a certainty that his fate was sealed.

To be clear, the boy was more likely than not to perish, but the odds of his survival were nowhere near as low as what Eilea currently believed. By Adamus’s estimation, Zachys Calador had perhaps a one in three chance of triumphing over the dragon: hardly favorable odds, yet nevertheless far greater than the 0.2% chance that Eilea had calculated. And this was not due to some lack of intellectual merit on her part, either. When calm and objective, Eilea’s intellect was a match for his own. Sadly, the woman drew too many impulses from her heart, and because of this, she often missed what was right in front of her.

“Don’t let him die, Adamus. There might not be another like him ever again.”

And if there isn’t? So be it, then. Choice begets consequence, my dear.

“You’re a bastard!” she shouted in his head. “Every day that goes by, I despise you even more!”

He could feel Eilea’s anger but also her sadness. She was not of sound mind. Even now, she was still unable to see the young science teacher’s plan slowly coming into fruition. Clearly, Eilea was not even aware of the eight possible ability combinations that provided better chances of success than those she’d calculated.

By far, the strongest possible interaction would have been to use the unique ability of the woman known as “Alixa” in combination with the Shadowfang, “Fluffles,” which could have created a chain that, when combined with Zachys Calador’s Phase Slash, might have slain the dragon in just two or three hits. Naturally, that was an exceedingly difficult-to-see move, and so Adamus did not look down upon the science teacher for not having found it. That he had discovered any of the eight at all was an impressive feat worthy of praise. But would just one be enough? Sadly, it most likely would not, but…certainly, there was still a reasonable chance.

With a growing sense of intrigue, Adamus continued his passive, yet keen observation of the events unfolding on Galterra, eager to see for himself how the boy would fare. Yet he was becoming ever more distracted as Eilea continued to nip at his mind, expressing her anger through an unpleasant poking sensation that caused a secondary wave of prickling-like pain to radiate down his shoulders.

At first, he was content to simply ignore her prodding, but like a petulant child, she continued to peck at him, and before long, blood began pouring down his ears and a tumor began forming on the frontal lobe of his brain. Adamus sighed. Must she always act in such an immature way? The woman was thousands of years old. He expected better of her.

Briefly taking his attention off Galterra, Adamus repaired the brain damage and removed the tumor, then forcibly ejected Eilea from his mind. Now, with her presence no longer disturbing him, he returned to observing the raid.

The next few moments would be the most critical of all. Truly, the lives of billions were hanging in the balance. And though Adamus wished them the best, he would not interfere: not under any circumstance. No, if the Galterrans deserved to have a future, it was here and now that they would have to prove it. Together, they would have to stand and fight for their continued existence. That, in essence, had always been the point of the system. And it was a value he simply could not compromise on.

No matter the cost.

*****

The dragon roared, and Zach clenched his teeth in frustration. Things weren’t good. Everything was falling apart around him. The screams of dying men and women permeated both the air and his Comm, and it was getting more and more difficult to keep from becoming despondent. He knew he had to hold strong. He knew he had to overcome his doubt. But it wasn’t easy. With each cry of anguish, he was forced to suppress a growing sense of hopelessness. Nothing had worked out the way it was supposed to. There was simply no denying that fact. The raid looked like it was about to collapse, and the resulting agitation threatened to break his focus. Even still, he fought to keep his morale from plummeting as he struggled to tamp down on all the pessimistic thoughts that were running through his head.

Bending his knees slightly, Zach spun his body in a counterclockwise direction. His glimmering blade gripped tightly in both hands, he cut deeply into the neck of the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth immediately in front of him, causing a single large spray of blood to shoot out of the creature’s throat, slicing it so that its head now hung awkwardly off the side of its neck while dangling from a thin strip of flesh. With a weak half-chirp, half-gurgle, the beast collapsed, having been finished off for good. Not a second later, Zach leaned back and away from a claw-strike that came from the one to its left, which had been aimed at his own throat.

As a +19000xp popped up in the air before him, he eyed his next target, ready to destroy it. He was breathing heavily, though it was not from exertion but from his nerves. A sense of urgency was flooding into his senses, one that was made worse each time the ground shook at semi-regular intervals, the result of another roar from Ziragoth; it reminded him that there was no time to waste. They needed to break through. They needed to break through now!

Everything’s going to hell, he thought, trying not to let despair weaken him. What if it’s too late? What if we’re already screwed?

BG1 had now completely wiped. This included all of those who’d attempted to retreat as well as the few members who’d stayed to fight; their corpses were face down on the grass, and a great many of them were in multiple pieces. Spider, the second-in-command of the GSG, was one of them. He’d been the last to die, having fallen in battle just a moment ago while suffering a truly awful death. His limbs had been torn from his body, and then his armless, legless husk had been burned alive. Yet, despite this, he had not cried out in pain: not even once. Instead, he’d released nothing more than a bitter grunt before his charred form fell forward and became still.

With BG1 totally annihilated, BG2 was rushing forward towards the dragon along with a few additional members of BG3. Donovan had ordered BG8 not to attempt to rescue the corpses of BG1 until BG2 had established aggro. This meant that the twenty-minute timer during which Olivir could revive the dead was ticking away, and given that more than a hundred badly mangled, disfigured corpses were strewn all over the place, Zach couldn’t help but fear there might not be enough time for Kolona and Olivir to bring everybody back. Not to mention the time it would take to haul them all to where the two vampires were residing.

I have to trust in them, Zach thought. I have no other choice.

At the head of this newly, hastily assembled formation, Donovan bludgeoned any adds that were in front of him as he continued his disorganized, mad dash towards Ziragoth with the rest of BG2 and a handful of BG3 following close by on his tail. Yet, even as they rushed onwards, the adds they had been fighting continued to follow behind and nip at their heels, and at the same time, the adds that BG1 had not managed to finish off turned and aggroed the group as well. This meant they had to defend themselves from attack at both the front and rear of their formation while recklessly powering their way towards Ziragoth. Certainly, they were taking on a whole lot.

“Fuck!” Donvan swore over the Comm as a chunk of his ankle was torn off by the mouth of one of the level-90 boss spawn. Having already been brought back once, if he died a second time, there would be no returning for him. It only increased the sense of urgency that Zach was feeling. He needed to get over there before Donovan was taken out of this world for good. As things were, he doubted Donovan would survive much longer. He doubted anyone would survive much longer, including those in BG3, BG4, BG5, and BG6.

Somehow, all four other battlegroups were now doing pretty terribly, and though Zach could not be certain as to why, he strongly suspected it was due to an overall drop in morale among the raid members. BG6, in particular, should have been doing way better than they currently were. Right now, they were struggling badly—and there was no physical reason for it, at least none that Zach could see. Even having lost a number of their members from the dual fireball strikes earlier, the primarily Elvish battlegroup was capable of putting up a much greater fight than they currently were: Zach was positive of that much. BG5, as well, should not have been faring so poorly. Earlier, they had been easily holding their own, but now, they appeared to be in a situation quite similar to the one that Zach himself had been in yesterday with the GSG; from the looks of things, they were heading towards a slow, inevitable defeat.

Everywhere Zach looked, he saw the raid members faltering. Everyone was doing poorly. Everyone. Well…okay, maybe not everyone. There was, as usual, one exception: Kalana. She was currently blazing across the battlefield while performing acrobatic feats on a whole different level.

Fighting in front of the wall, she decapitated one of the mobs with her daggers before backflipping herself halfway up to the top. Then, somehow, she was able to kick off the stone in such a way that it brought her into a second backflip, which took her the rest of the distance up, whereupon she landed deftly on both feet. Then she launched herself in the direction of a weary-looking tank, tore her dagger across the mob he was fighting with enough force to pull aggro right off of him, and continued running along the top of the wall while relieving several more tanks as the adds she aggroed trailed behind her. This culminated in her leaping back off the wall, landing in a roll along the grass, and diving at several more of the mobs while the four or five she’d just aggroed ripped apart a section of safety railing so that they could jump down and chase after her.

Clearly, his girlfriend was capable of looking out for herself. She also seemed to have a really good sense of where she was needed and what she could do to contribute the most at any given time. Yet, even with her assistance, Zach knew that the tide was not going to change. Not even Kalana was going to be able to put the raid back on course. And thus, Zach realized he had no choice: with everything going to shit, he was going to have to trust in Vim Alazar. He was going to have to go along with whatever crazy scheme Mr. Oren, Fylwen, and Peter had cooked up.

“If there was ever a time not to fuck with someone,” Zach said, nervously sending a glance Vim’s way, “now is that time. Are you serious about what you just said to me?”

The diminutive, acerbic leader of the Royal Roses gave a quick bow of his head. “Yes.”

Zach exhaled, more out of surprise than anything else. “You’re going to cast something on me that confuses me, poisons me, cuts my stats in half, makes my wounds worse, and prevents anyone from healing me. Did I hear that right?”

“That about sums it up,” he said. Then, with a grin, he added, “Oh, and it gets rid of any stat-enhancing buffs you might have on you.”

“And this is supposed to help us beat the dragon?”

“That’s right, Zach.”

Zach guffawed. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. This is revenge for my insults earlier.”

“It is not,” Peter said, answering in Vim’s place. “Verily, there is a reason the four of us have been chosen for this battlegroup. Though it pains me to admit, we have need of Sir Alazar.”

Zach shifted his eyes to Fylwen for reassurance. It was an unconscious act that reminded him of just how much he now trusted her—and also how strange it was given his view towards her such a short time ago. Briefly, the two made eye contact, and then she nodded at him. “This is the only way we can win, young man.”

“B-but how?” Zach asked, flummoxed.

“I have a spell,” Fylwen answered, sidestepping around a lunge from the mob she was fighting then delivering a blazingly fast series of slashes to its face with her shortsword. “It’s called Gift of Nature’s Embrace. It is a curative that relieves my target of poison, sleep, paralysis, and confusion.”

“Okay, so…so Vim’s going to poison and confuse me, just so you can un-poison and un-confuse me?”

“Correct.”

“What about the other effects? And what’s even the point of all this?”

“That, Zach, is where my ability comes into play,” Peter replied. With an agility that looked natural, he riposted with his rapier, then pierced the mob in front of him right between the eyes, dealing 19,500 and taking it down to around half health.

“What’s yours do?”

He smiled in a way that was both confident and cocky, yet oddly earnest as well. “Blessing of the Angels. It’s a legendary non-unique anti-debuff. Essentially, it reverses any stat-debilitating effects that have been put on you.”

Zach, at a whisper, began repeating the words back to himself as he thought on them. “Reverses the effects of any stat-debilitating…” He gasped. “Wait a minute. By ‘reverses,’ do you mean…?”

“That’s right,” Fylwen said. “Your stats will go from being cut in half to being—”

“—doubled!” Zach shouted out, finishing the thought for her. Then he again looked over towards Vim. “Is that right?”

He nodded. “Yes, but only for ten seconds, Zach. And it’s a spell with a high exertion cost, so we have to be tactful in how we use it. My stamina is not great, as I’m usually too busy governing to exert myself physically. But…yes. For those ten seconds, you will be twice as powerful as you are now. I imagine you’ll even be able to block and parry the dragon’s attacks, if only for those ten seconds.”

Zach couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was wild. Could abilities really work together like that if combined in such a way? If so, he might actually be able to stand toe-to-toe with that Gods-be-damned wyvern. It also meant that Mr. Oren really did know what he was doing, and that Zach’s fears that this was some secret plan to have him killed were just paranoid nonsense after all.

It’s just that it sounds so elaborate and crazy.

Trying to get over his shock, Zach reminded himself that none of this would end up mattering at all if they didn’t hurry. “We need to get through these things first.”

“That is indeed correct,” Fylwen said.

Peter slightly lowered his head in what Zach took to be a gesture of agreement. “Let us dispose of these wicked beasts quickly and be on our way.”

From the sound of shouts, it looked as though BG2 were now charging at last into battle with Ziragoth. Zach had to pry his eyes off them. There was a part of him that felt compelled to watch, as if to quell his concerns. But the longer it took to tear their way through these mobs, the greater the chance Donovan or Zephyr would end up permanently dead. And so, Zach returned his full attention to the mobs before him.

Of the twenty Cursed Defenders of Ziragoth that they’d been forced to deal with, fifteen still remained. Zach had killed one, Fluffles had stolen one, and Fylwen and Peter had killed one each. The Valkyries had also taken one down as well. Or wait…scratch that. It appeared they’d taken down another two as well just this very moment, as evident by the dual +19,000xp that appeared in the air relatively near to one another in the distance ahead. So then, that left thirteen to be slain, of which nine were still tangling with the Valkyries, and he, Peter, and Fylwen now dealt with one apiece. A final, stationary Cursed Defender of Ziragoth was still caught in Vim’s root, a decent chunk of its health already missing.

Okay. Let’s do this.

With his hands shooting flames and a dark smoke trailing on his breath, Zach felt more powerful than he ever had before. Despite only being level 20, his stats, unbelievably, were now the highest of anyone on the raid, living or dead. And while Ziragoth the Awoken might’ve been a truly gruesome threat, these bipedal, avian-lizard hybrids were no longer the menace they’d been to him yesterday. He likely didn’t need to be so cautious while fighting them. More so, he probably needed to up his level of aggression.

Stepping forward then immediately bending his knees, Zach moved into—and beneath—an angry swipe from the claws of the mob in front of him. Then, shooting back up to his feet, he raised his blade high and went in with a vengeance, ready to unleash a series of quick, unrestrained, and perhaps even reckless slashes that he hoped would cut the monster into pieces fast enough that it wouldn’t even have time to retaliate.

He began by whipping his sword from right to left, cutting off a large chunk of the mob’s nose as well as a piece of its lower jaw. The force of the blow also took it off balance and almost caused it to be knocked onto its side. As it straightened its body, Zach raised his blade yet again and prepared to bring it directly down on top of the creature’s scalp, hoping to split its head down the middle. Yet an instant after he connected with the first strike, he immediately paused—and even made a slight yelp—as a whole bunch of colors and sights filled his vision all at the same time, startling him and causing him to halt just as he’d been about to lash out a second time.

A dark green aura had formed in an outline around his body while a sound similar to an engine being started accompanied a grid of circularly shaped red lasers, which surrounded him like a cage. And while all that was happening, the already bright morning became even brighter as about fifty star-shaped emblems made of pure light burst into existence and surrounded the mob he’d just hit.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Zach was stunned into a sense of outright confusion. But very quickly, he realized what had happened: he’d just proc’d three different abilities all at the same time, with two coming from his sword and one coming from his gloves. From his blade, he’d proc’d his stamina restoration, which he now saw had increased his duration remaining on Unleashed Phase all the way to 20:05, and from his gloves, he’d given himself minor blessing of strength, which increased his strength by 15 for 30 seconds. Finally, he seemed to have proc’d the light ability of his weapon.

Ahead of him, he watched as the roughly fifty star-shaped emblems of light all collapsed and converged into one another until forming an incredibly, blindingly bright glowing orb that surrounded the entirety of the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth. Then, as it had last time, this orb exploded noiselessly—and the result was an absolute shower of blood, guts, and chunks of feathers and flesh that covered him like the earlier downpour of rain as the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth was blown to bits. Zach actually had to spit out a bunch of feathers as he found himself drenched in gore. By the time the light had faded, there was no longer any sign of the mob in front of him: it had exploded into so many pieces that there was nothing left of it. Thus, even before he saw the damage number, he knew it was safe to assume that he’d killed it in one shot.

621,519

“Amazing,” he whispered to himself, even as he had to spit out another feather. It faded out of existence while it was still floating down to the grass, and thankfully, the awful taste in his mouth faded along with it, though only partially. He could still taste raw animal blood, as it seemed that, like many mobs, this creature’s blood did not vanish with the rest of it.

+19000xp

“I am glad to see the sword has found a suitable master,” Fylwen remarked, delivering a final, fatal slash to the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth before her. Running her gladius along its neck, she cut through most of its throat and nearly decapitated it, dealing 25,700 damage and putting an end to the creature.

+19000xp

“Begone from my sight,” Peter growled, his rapier disappearing through the scaly chest of another one of the creatures, felling it.

+19000xp

Zach opened his mouth to speak, then reflexively ducked his head as the ground shook, though this time, it was not from the dragon’s roar. Once again, Vim had called down giant, ground-splitting boulders from the sky, which astonishingly did not break the root that was binding his target as they slammed into it one after the next. It was forced to simply remain in place and suffer the abuse as boulder after boulder began crushing it and ripping it apart, each dealing over 15,000 damage. Naturally, this confused Zach.

Though no one had ever explicitly told him so, Zach had thus far been under the impression that, aside from something like a fear or a stun, damaging an enemy while crowd controlled would break the hold over it; this, he’d concluded based on the way everyone yesterday had been so careful not to touch anything that had been rooted, mesmerized, trapped, or put to sleep. Yet Vim seemed to have no trouble pummeling the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth while it remained completely immobilized.

As though noticing his confusion, Vim said, “My root is T3.”

Zach nodded even though he had no idea what that meant. But based on context alone, it probably implied that, if a root was T3 or higher, it did not dispel upon damage. “Gotch’a.”

HP

13,900/300,000

Name

Cursed Defender of Ziragoth 6R

Level

90

With just a small portion of its HP remaining, Fylwen seemed poised to bring an end to the creature. With a single, graceful motion, she stepped forward, raised her gladius, and prepared to strike the finishing blow, putting it out of its misery. Yet a moment before her shortsword connected, a thought popped into Zach’s head: a realization of an opportunity far too important to miss. It was only now, in this moment, that it really dawned on him what was possible while he had such astoundingly high stats—specifically, his intelligence, which was currently 225 while under Phase Level 3. This was significant, because half of 225, rounded down, was 112. And these mobs were only level 90, which meant…

Gods! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.

“Wait!” he cried out to Fylwen a mere instant before she dealt the killing blow. “Don’t kill it! Stop!”

“Wh-why in the Gods not?” she asked, sounding both impatient and confused. Yet she managed to pause just a moment before ending the creature. Even though it was rooted, it could still move its head around just enough to take a vicious bite at her. Thankfully, she pulled back, and it chomped down on nothing more than the early-morning, summer air.

Rather than waste more precious time answering, Zach sheathed his blade and extended his arm in the mob’s direction, his palm open, flames shooting out of the center of it. With that, he activated Card Capture, and now, the fierce, level-90 Cursed Defender of Ziragoth was reduced to nothing but a white wisp of light, which lifted up a few feet before sailing across the air in the direction of his waiting, open hand.

“Ah, so that’s what you had in mind, young man.”

“Yup.”

Plucking the wisp out of the air, it turned into a card upon contact, and now Zach held what looked like a hand-illustrated depiction of the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth. Actually it was a breathtakingly beautiful, artistic painting that showed dozens of them running together as a herd, with others in the background depicted as sleeping or eating some kind of dead, wooly-haired animal. Based on the background imagery, the scene took place under the light of the moon in a desert-like, sandy, and rocky plains. At the top of the card, in shiny, white lettering were the words: Cursed Defender of Ziragoth.

Even as he now held the card in his hand, he found it hard to believe. He, a level 20, had just captured a mob that was level 90. It was incredible; no, it was beyond incredible. And Gods, what a beautiful looking card, too! If not for the fact that a single wasted second could mean the difference between success and a raid wipe, Zach would’ve really enjoyed taking a closer look at the illustrations. But as things were, he was already wasting too much time. So, rather than give it so much as a second look, he shifted his eyes to where the Valkyries were engaged in battle against the remaining boss adds, and eventually, his eyes settled on one add in particular: a mob named “Cursed Defender of Ziragoth 6T.” The mob, Zach noted, was getting very, very close to death. Everywhere it moved, it left behind a trail of blood that was leaking out of multiple puncture wounds while it nipped away at a particularly agile and fast-moving Valkyrie, which Zach saw was wielding a heavenly, ethereal spear that gave off a constant, golden light.

Despite the mob’s attempts to bite the Valkyrie, she easily evaded its fast and highly aggressive teeth before seemingly finding an opening. Flying forward, she made a high-pitched cry and ran the lizard-avian hybrid through with her spear, piercing it for 20,001 damage. It released a loud, chirping-hiss, then retaliated with another bout of failed biting attempts, all of which the Valkyrie avoided with ease. But more importantly, the mob had now fallen below the 5% health threshold that was required for Zach to successfully use Card Capture. And so, even as the Valkyrie flew upwards almost a dozen feet into the air, turned her spear so that it faced downwards, and then dived at the ground as if to deal the finishing blow, Zach activated Card Capture.

Rather than strike the Cursed Defender of Ziragoth, the Valkyrie’s spear instead penetrated the grass-covered soil with a dull thud as the mob was transformed into a wisp of light, which darted across the world and into Zach’s waiting hand, transforming yet again into a card. Eying it for just a split second, Zach was fairly sure it was identical to the first in every conceivable way, and with that, he scanned the remaining seven creatures to see if there were any other opportunities to create even more—and he nearly found one, too.

The mob called “Cursed Defender of Ziragoth 7C” looked like it was ripe for the taking, but Fylwen, along with Peter, who had rushed in and had begun assailing the remaining mobs along with the Valkyries, both unleashed an attack on 7C at the exact same time. Peter jammed his blade into the creature’s chest while Fylwen hacked off part of its face. Together, their combined efforts dealt enough damage to bring it from what Zach estimated to be around 11% health all the way to 0% in a half-second flat. Thus, it died before Zach ever had the chance to call upon his ability.

+19,000xp

LEVEL UP!

21(20)

Strength

+2(207)

Luck

+2(143)

XP Required for Level 22

170,000

Zach frowned. So, it was back to this again, was it? Back to these meaningless, painfully useless level ups, where his stats grew so minimally that they might as well not have grown at all. Yet, oddly enough, he was only mildly annoyed by the worthless level up, because he was starting to come to grips with the fact that he really was different from everybody else. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, and it certainly wasn’t something he was truly ready to accept, but somehow, he just knew that, lurking around the corner, there would be more unsettling level ups to come like the ones he’d had yesterday. And honestly? He wasn’t sure if he’d rather have more of these or more of those. He shivered just at the memory of that experience. It was yet another thing he needed to process after the raid was over and he finally had time to slow down and reflect—assuming he survived, of course. He would also need to find a way to get over his death on Archian Prime, the fact that he’d killed people, how he’d been ready to torture Varsh to death…

Not the time, he told himself. Later. Not now.

Zach pulled his mind off the unhelpful, distracting thoughts, and then he widened his eyes as two more opportunities presented themselves in quick succession: one from a mob that had been hit in the head with a flail, and another from a different mob that was being taken apart by a massively sized broadsword. Twice more, Zach called upon Card Capture, and twice more, he acquired fresh new cards. Now, in his right hand, he held four identical cards, all of them Cursed Defender of Ziragoth, and with his left, which was still extended, palm open, he hoped to gain at least a few more. He had a feeling he was going to really need these. Unfortunately, his opportunities were starting to run dry.

Now that the Valkyries outnumbered the remaining Cursed Defenders of Ziragoth, the winged, heavily armored NPCs, combined with Fylwen, Peter, and Vim, proved to be overwhelming, and in a matter of just a few moments, they massacred the last few adds too quickly for Zach to snatch any more than just one final mob, which brought his total number of cards to five. The rest were put down so fast that the one Zach captured was still flying over as a white wisp as they died. Oh well. At least he got another huge boost of xp.

+19000xp

+19000xp

+19000xp

+19000xp

Now, with all twenty mobs either dead or turned into cards, there was a brief pause—one so slight it barely qualified to be called a pause at all. Yet within this brief instant in time, Zach could suddenly feel the weight of the world begin to shift onto his shoulders. With their obstacles slain, it was obvious what would come next. In a way, he almost wished there were more of the adds to fight—or something else that barred their passage. Because lacking that, he knew what would have to happen now.

“The way ahead is clear!” Peter cried. “Let us hurry!” Upon speaking those words, he turned his head to Zach while pointing his finger directly at the dragon. “It is time. Attack!”

And just like that, the fear returned in a flood. Even though he’d known that this was what they were fighting to do, the gravity of what was being asked of him could only be understood in this moment as he stared at the massive wyvern and truly began to appreciate the enormity of the situation. All at once, Ziragoth seemed to appear even larger than his already massive size, both in the physical sense and in the shadow cast beneath the dragon’s towering figure. There it was, with its serrated, razor-sharp wings, and its elongated, spiked tail—every part of the dragon came across as deadlier. The wyvern’s gigantic, ferocious form looked invincible. But even worse: it fought as though it were invincible, too.

Having now dealt with the adds, Zach was able to spare a moment to see how Donovan, BG2, and the few members of BG3 accompanying BG2 were faring. And the answer was emphatically not good. In fact, it was only here, in this brief period of observation, that Zach could finally understand why Mr. Oren had been bickering with Donovan a short while ago. It was only now that Zach could truly make sense of why his former science teacher had looked so troubled following the spectacular barrage of arrows and magic that had ripped apart Ziragoth during the raid’s first phase. At the time, Zach had been offput and confused due to Mr. Oren giving off the impression that he found the magnificent display of power to be weak or lacking. But all of that made sense now. And the reason it made sense was actually quite simple: it was because Mr. Oren had been right. It had been lacking.

Finally, it all made sense to Zach. Whatever calculations Mr. Oren had been doing in his head in that moment—they had all been correct. And now, Zach really did understand why Mr. Oren had pleaded with Donovan to change the plan and send BG7 in from the start. It made perfect sense now why Mr. Oren thought it was a waste to have anyone other than Zach tank the dragon in phase 2. It was because of the utter, sheer futility of it. This…this display before Zach…it was the very definition of pointlessness. It was the perfect, quintessential example of what it meant for something to be hopeless.

Right now, before his very eyes, Zach watched as every manner of weapon and magic was brought to bear against the dragon, and all of it, every single last attack, ice-based or otherwise, landed for just a single, solitary point of damage. No matter who it was that attacked, and no matter how or what they attacked with, the result was the same across the board: 1 damage. Not a single point more. And Mr. Oren, clearly, had known that this would be the case.

So that was why, Zach thought, horrified, a shiver traveling down his spine.

“BG7, where are you?” Donovan screamed over the Comm. “We can’t hold him much longer!”

“We’re coming!” Zach shouted back. Yet despite his words, he remained right where he was as he attempted to figure out why his legs suddenly wouldn’t move. His feet now felt as though they weighed ten tons.

HP

24,999,423/25,000,000

Name

(T10) Ziragoth the Awoken

Level

70

Zach looked on, horrified, as the dragon began obliterating BG2. Although they’d succeeded in drawing aggro, they weren’t going to last long at all. Gods, it was so one-sided it was beyond hopeless. Not only was the dragon virtually immune to every single one of their attacks, but Ziragoth’s own attacks were so overwhelmingly powerful that it was like watching a bunch of infants trying to take down a fully grown lion.

No matter how strong the tank, and no matter how large the shield, each time Ziragoth let out a loud roar and attacked, the dragon would smash the shield to pieces and instantly kill the tank hiding behind it, or it would otherwise wound the tank badly enough that there was no chance of them getting up to continue the fight. And worse: it was taking out multiple tanks each time it struck, too, as well as those who had the misfortune of being nearby.

Zach watched as it released another loud roar, which caused the ground to shake as it lifted itself up off its legs so that it was partially upright. Then it smashed its body right back down with massive force, causing two tanks and five DPS to be crushed beneath its weight; all but one died outright, and the sole survivor—an older man wielding a staff—had both his legs and arms twisted into unnatural positions. His torso, too, was bent so far back that Zach did not know how it didn’t snap off. The man opened his mouth to scream, but no sound seemed to escape his lips. Yet Zach didn’t even need sound in order to hear his wailing; no, he could just as easily hear the man’s cry through the look of anguish in his eyes. He was totally crippled—beyond what Zach reckoned a healer could fix. And to add even more horror on top of it all, he was then attacked a second time while his horribly injured body writhed on the grass in agony, only now, it was from three of the nearly thirty adds that were still viciously attacking them from both sides of the formation.

Feeling just as paralyzed as the suffering man, Zach could not pull his eyes away. He observed, unblinking, as the already brutalized adventurer was devoured by three of the Cursed Defenders of Ziragoth. His throat was ripped out of him, his legs were chewed off, and Zach could tell from the pure misery in his face that, despite the injury to his back, he could still feel every sensation of it while remaining totally unable to cry out for help or make a sound. In fact, not a single raid member other than Zach was even paying attention enough to realize that this had happened to him at all. It was an awful, mentally scarring sight. And yet, despite this, it was what happened next that truly struck fear into Zach’s heart.

Ziragoth, having just been taunted by a tank positioned directly behind it, whirled its body around to face its new target. And in just that one act: in merely the act of turning its body around, it somehow managed, likely not even intentionally, to kill four more adventurers, all from the GSG, and all of whom were shredded alive by its mercilessly sharp wings, screaming in pain as they bled out. Due to the nature of the wounds, it caused so much red to stain the previously green grass that Zach became nauseous and unwell at the sight of it.

But the true terror of it all was not in how the dragon had killed them. No. It was the way in which, based on its movements, it hadn’t even been trying to attack those four. It had only been trying to turn itself around. And yet, incredibly, that alone had been enough to split four seasoned, veteran adventurers nearly in half. Three men and one woman with years of experience who were likely way stronger, smarter, and braver than Zach was. And they had died in agony just because the dragon had turned around. That was the extent to how deadly this fire wyvern actually was. That was what awaited him.

And it hates me, he thought. It wants me personally. It wants to make me die slowly!

Zach trembled, his lips quivered, and his eyes began to run with tears, as he watched the four adventurers beg for help as their intestines were spilled out of their lacerated stomachs. One of them, a young, orange-haired man, lowered his eyes, which were widened in disbelief, and he looked fearfully down at his fatal wound. Then, as if either disoriented or desperate, he tried to shove his own guts back inside his body, his hands becoming soaked with his own blood. Even as he lay there on the ground, writhing, struggling, and fading, he was soon put out of his misery, as the dragon stomped down on him on its way towards the tank, flattening him there and leaving him resembling something no longer human.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I don’t want to be here! Zach thought, panicked, suddenly struggling to breathe. Please. I don’t want to be here. I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS!

“Zach,” Fylwen whispered.

He shook his head. “N-no, I can’t.”

“Zach!” she said again, this time shouting at him.

He tried to answer her, but it took him a moment before he could speak, as he could no longer breathe. Why, though? Why couldn’t he breathe? Where the fuck was his oxygen? He was gasping so hard, but the air wouldn’t go to his lungs the way it normally did. His heart was beating so fast, too. He felt like he was losing control of his limbs. His hands were shaking, and he was beginning to sweat.

“I c-c- I can’t!” he cried, tears flowing from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not brave. I’m not.” He shook his head. “Please don’t make me do this. Please!”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You have to.”

“I CAN’T! I CAN’T! I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T!”

He tried to flee, and she tightened her grip on him. But with Phase Level 3 powering his body, he managed to rip his arm away, though it put him off balance and he fell onto his rear, dropping all five of his cards in the process.

“You have to!” Fylwen screamed, now sounding as desperate as he was.

“Why? Why do I have to?”

“Because!” she shouted, pointing. “My daughter is running into battle to take your place!”

“K-Kalana?”

“Yes!”

And now, he became aware of the voices over the Comm in a way that he hadn’t been before. How long had they been yelling at each other? He couldn’t recall.

“Leave him alone, Alex!”

“We need him, Kalana. You can’t replace him.”

“I’m gonna handle it. It’ll be okay.”

“Listen to me. You cannot take his place. We have to get Zach to—”

“Don’t you dare, Alex! You heard what he said. He can’t do it. I’ll never forgive you if you force him!”

“You’re not strong enough. You can’t—”

“I SAID LEAVE ZACH ALONE!”

What was happening? What was he listening to? Why was Kalana rushing across the grasslands in the direction of Ziragoth? Why was she telling Mr. Oren to leave him alone? Had any of Zach’s outburst been picked up over the Comm? Oh, Gods, no. Did Kalana hear him this way? How many people had just witnessed his cowardice? Were they all laughing at him now? Was the whole world sitting around and letting out laugh after laugh at his expense?

Zach pressed his knees into his chest, covered his eyes, and began to weep. He was glad the flames burning in his hands were not actually hot and couldn’t hurt him, because otherwise, he might have blinded himself. Then again, maybe that would be better than having to see all the horrors taking place around him.

“He’s shattered,” Peter said, sadly. “Fylwen, he cannot fight. The boy is broken.”

With his hands covering his eyes, Zach could hear her disappointed, perhaps even disgusted, sigh, but he could not see the look on her face, for which he was grateful. “He needs to pull himself together.”

Vim said nothing. Zach wasn’t sure if that was somehow worse than if he had made one of his deep-cutting, biting remarks instead. Zach used to believe that, if Kalana was in danger, it would give him the strength to fight no matter what. That was how it usually worked, didn’t it? So what was different this time? This should’ve been like any other time he’d overcome his fear. So why? Why was he paralyzed? Why wouldn’t his body move?

“Young man,” Fylwen said, her voice coming across as oddly calm despite the situation taking place around them—despite her daughter rushing towards the dragon.

“W-what?”

“If what I had done to you in Archian Prime…if the horror I inflicted has played a part in all this, I am so truly sorry.”

Zach rocked himself back and forth, sobbing into his palms. “I’m fine. I’m going to get up and fight. I will.”

“He shall not,” Peter said. “And we ought not be wasting time here consoling the boy. His pitiful state is surely a shame, but alas, we must press on.”

“Perhaps,” Fylwen said. “But give me one more moment with him.” Zach could hear her taking a deep breath and moving closer towards him. Then he felt her stirring beside him. She was taking a seat near him on the grass. He felt her put a hand around his shoulder. “You know that Kalana is going to die if she fights, yes? Surely you must know this.”

“I do!”

“And you swore to me you would protect her.”

“I will!”

“But you’re not.”

“I can’t control…I don’t have any control of myself. I’m so scared. I want to get up and fight, but I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

There was a brief pause, and of all things, a microsecond of quiet, and then the dragon roared, the ground shook, and Zach buried his face even more deeply into his burning palms.

“It was those four men who died, wasn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Those four men,” Fylwen said. “The ones whose guts were spilled all over the ground. That’s what put you over the edge, is it not, young man?”

Zach didn’t know. He had no idea if it had been that specifically or the whole situation. He didn’t understand why his courage had collapsed. He hated himself so much right now. He hated that he was even capable of this level of pathetic, mewling cowardice. It wasn’t like he was choosing this. He couldn’t control himself. Really, he couldn’t.

“How do you think you’re going to feel,” Fylwen continued, “when that happens…to Kalana?”

“Happens…?”

“My daughter. She could die that way. You know this, yes? Picture her in your mind. Her stomach ripped apart. Her guts emptied out. What would that look like to you? I want you to imagine it. See her, Zach. See the way her skin looks when it’s been torn open, and her insides are falling out of her. Do you suppose Kalana would bleed as much as those four? Can you imagine it? That will be her fate if you don’t—”

“No!” Zach yelled.

He inhaled sharply. And just like that, everything changed. It was like a bullet had been fired straight into his soul. An image flashed in his mind, one that was so vivid it was as though it were being broadcast to a screen behind his eyes. He could see her: Kal, his Kalana, the love of his life. Fighting so that he wouldn’t have to. Because he was too afraid. The dragon…its wings…he could see them ripping her apart, just as Fylwen described. He saw it. He saw it so clearly.

No! No, no, no, no, no!

In the span of a second, his fear turned to an unbearable feeling of urgency and agitation, which soon gave way to a deep, monstrous, and primal rage. He screamed both externally and internally just at the very thought of it. But it was more than just a thought, wasn’t it? It was happening. It was happening now.

Before he even consciously realized he was back on his feet, he’d already grabbed his cards, unsheathed his blade, and summoned all five Cursed Defenders of Ziragoth; this, as Peter, Vim, and Fylwen all called out for him to wait. This confused him—at least at first. Because it actually took him a moment to realize that, with tears raining down his eyes, he was blasting forward, running for all he was worth in the direction of the dragon, and at a speed far greater than he’d ever moved before.

Closer and closer he came—and so too did Kalana. The dragon: it was looking at her. It was looking at her knowingly. It knew what she meant to him. It had told him as much through Fluffles. But it was okay. Because he would arrive there first. He had to. He fucking had to!

“ZIRAGOTH!” he screamed as he exploded across the grasslands, his sword gripped in both hands while his five level-90 minions fanned out beside him, with three to his right and two to his left. They had no trouble matching his speed, either.

Having called to the dragon, he was unsurprised to discover that the dragon heard him. Oh, it indeed did. This was made clear as it stopped everything it was doing to turn its terrifying face in his direction. Its cruel, golden, lizard-like eyes were gazing directly into his own: and not for the first time. He’d stared into them before, but now, they were larger, and they were eviler, too. They’d met once before, the two of them. And now they were meeting again.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Zach did not buckle. No, not this time. Fylwen’s words had gotten to him in just the way they needed to. They’d lit that fire. He didn’t care if he died anymore. He was too far beyond that point. He was too deep beyond that point. That image of Kalana…it had broken straight through his fear. And now, as he threw himself at Ziragoth, he could hear voices shouting behind him.

“Gods! He’s going to get himself killed!” Vim shouted. “Cast now, cast now!”

“Make sure you get the timing right!” Fylwen called. “They should all come in at almost the same time, but they must be in the correct order!”

A mere instant before he came face to face with the dragon, something strange happened. There was a bizarre, diamond-shaped metal plate that had appeared beneath his feet, which he for some reason was stepping on. And surrounding this plate were silver-white chains that formed the same diamond shape as the plate around him; it was as though he was being confined to this small area, unable to move off this makeshift, diamond-shaped platform around his feet.

Then, for a fraction of a second, he felt weak: so, so weak. And confused, too. He even forgot where he was and what he’d come to do. He felt sick as well. He felt like he had to cough and sneeze, and his head ached with a pain far worse than a migraine. But before he could really contemplate his change in condition, he became covered in a brownish-green light, and before his very eyes, he saw a transparent, almost holographic, wavy tree in the air. It was a rippled, unstable image that was almost like a mirage. And upon its appearance, the confusion left his mind, and so too did the feeling of sickness. But the weakness remained—or at least it did at first.

Then came a beautiful, golden halo of light, and he became bathed in it. It washed away his weakness, and along with it went all of his fears and all of his worries. Now, he felt excited. He felt energized: charged-up. And angry, too. Way angrier than he’d felt in a good long time.

And all this happened in the split second before he ran into combat against Ziragoth, who released yet another, massive roar and peered down at him with obvious hatred and malice in its wicked eyes. It roared at him twice more, each one louder than the last, and with enough force that the ground beneath Zach’s feet began to shatter while parts of the wall crumbled even as people were still fighting on top of it. At least one of the adventurers fell off and became devoured by a waiting pack of adds below. Yet Zach maintained his balance, undeterred.

Following another, even more intense roar, Ziragoth lifted its right, serrated wing, which was massive enough to create a shadow that darkened the area around Zach. And then, after one more vengeful-sounding roar, it swung its wing down on Zach, a sickening whistling sound pervading the air as it came burning towards him. So massive compared to his own human size, it was like being attacked with a board the size of a city street.

And yet, Zach stood his ground. He shouted right back at the dragon, and with all his might, he swung his sword the moment before impact. He felt the collision; it sent shockwaves down his arms and back. And it was in that very moment when he saw it: surprise in those golden eyes, the pupils of which widened as the dragon’s wing was parried with enough force that it actually put the dragon off balance. Screaming out his rage for all he’d endured, Zach bent his knees and then sprang up, leaping into the air while lifting his blade above his head, rising higher and higher above Ziragoth, who’d almost been knocked over.

As Zach began to fall, and as gravity granted him more and more speed, he gritted his teeth, tensed his body, and let all the anger and hatred that existed within him give power to his will and his might. He bent his torso slightly backwards, he lifted his blade even higher above himself, and then, finally, with all his strength, he swung his sword of Light Amidst Darkness directly down on top of Ziragoth’s scale-covered face—and he could tell right away that the dragon felt it.

Along with an animal cry loud enough to be heard for miles, a jet-like spray of blood, and a knocked out fang the size of a shortsword, Zach clobbered the dragon so fucking hard that its head slammed down into the dirt with enough force to cause it to bounce right back up again, resulting in what looked like a thousand fragments of several shattered rocks being blasted around the wyvern in every direction, as well as an immense volume of dust and blades of grass. Then Ziragoth’s head crashed down a second time, and there was no mistaking its moan of pain.

722,511

Zach landed on both feet. Then, his nose curling and his brow furrowing with hate, he mentally ordered his minions to tear their “daddy” to pieces the same way they’d tried to do to him. And to his satisfaction, they obeyed. Now, all five Cursed Defenders of Ziragoth bolted forward, making frenzied, chirping hisses as they began to scratch, claw, bite, and tear into the downed dragon, which released another deafeningly loud roar as the level-90 mobs began ripping into it for slightly more than a thousand damage per scratch or bite.

“Valkyries!” Peter cried. “Attack!”

“YES, SIR!”

And just like that, it had begun. The ten seconds having past over him, Zach lost the sudden rush of power that had enabled him to do what he could have never imagined was possible. Yet in that one strike, he restored his courage, and maybe even his dignity. Briefly, he met Peter’s eyes, and he could see that he’d regained the man’s respect, too.

“Let us end this evil once and for all,” he said, even as the dragon stirred and began to lift its head. “We will do this, Zach. We will!”

Zach nodded, though he did not reply. In his ear, he could hear the voice of Donovan once more barking out orders.

“BG2,” said his relieved-sounding voice over the Comm. “Get back to fighting the adds. BG8, now’s the time: collect our dead and get’em to the vampires before the fuckers spoil. Go, go, go!”

The most important thing that Mr. Oren had ever told Zach was that what made someone a man was following through on their actions, not escaping with their underwear clean. Zach hoped to make it through today while doing both. If not, he’d prioritize the first.

Gods, he wanted this nightmare to end.