The Fireside Ascent formation moved swiftly across the slick, slate tiles of Floor 172. Their rapid progress through the preceding sectors had been so intense it had left the stone walls trembling. Now, they faced the massive, arched entrance that clearly marked the boss chamber.
A massive, nightmarish creature, a grotesque hybrid of reptile and bird, detached itself from the gloom and descended. Its metallic beak snapped, and a tangle of tentacles, like a nest of furious vipers, writhed from its throat. The shrieking sound it emitted tore through the darkness and vibrated off the jagged ceiling spikes.
"I do believe that's a Snalgas. Noisy, but not all that strong," Lynder stated, shielding his ears from the dreadful sound.
"Mine," Eryndra said, launching herself from a standstill to meet the diving beast in mid-air, ignoring the lashing tentacles that whipped harmlessly against her armor.
Her fist connected with the creature's beak, shattering the metal like cheap glass and driving the monster into the floor with an impact that shook dust from the rafters. Truman followed up instantly, a precise beam of thermal energy piercing the stunned creature's skull before it could recover, dissolving the Snalgas into golden particles without it ever landing a single attack.
"Scratch one ugly bird," Truman announced, walking over to the loot pile to retrieve a heavy object that clattered against the stone. "Well, look at this. Matches the one you're already wearing, Orin."
He tossed the ring to Orin, who caught it with a fumble, nearly dropping the supplies he was holding. Squinting at the archaic runes etched into the band, Orin read the inscription aloud. "Giants… Second."
He slid it onto his finger next to the first one.
Air around him warped, a sudden density pressing outward as mana flooded his frame, coalescing into ethereal black plating that materialized around his shins, forearms, and chest. The Ethereal Armor of the Silent Giant responded to the amplified call, but the weight was immediate and crushing, forcing a grunt from him as his knees bent and his boots cracked the stone beneath them.
"Chest piece... still too heavy," Orin wheezed, struggling to take a single step under the burden. He focused, dismissing the torso plating with a flicker of light, leaving only the gauntlets and greaves shimmering with dark, translucent energy.
Freed from the anchor, he stood upright, testing the weight of his limbs by punching the air, the gauntlet trailing a wake of distorted light that dragged his body forward with the momentum. "Whoa, so light!"
"Good, you're less squishy," Roy said, gesturing to the exit. "Let's move."
Floor 173 opened into a cavern vast enough that the ceiling was lost in a swirling gray mist that vibrated with a constant, low-frequency hum.
"Hoolahs," Lynder identified, pointing toward the upper darkness where thousands of shapes moved in a chaotic, high-speed cloud. "Giant bat-like vermin. Fast, aggressive, and numerous."
Truman stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "I am best suited for this. I will wipe them all out with a single shot."
"Hold on," Eryndra interrupted, stepping in front of him. "I haven't hit anything real in ten floors. These are mine."
"Inefficient," Truman argued, gesturing at the cloud. "Their numbers risk friendly fire if we engage simultaneously. My blasts cover the area instantly."
"I don't care about efficiency, I care about smashing things," she growled.
"Why are you guys talking about who's going to fight what?" Roy shouted, stepping between them. "Go and mess them all up together!"
"If we both go, our attacks will overlap," Truman explained, sounding annoyed. "Friendly fire is a statistical certainty. Just let me do it."
"Then flip a coin or something," Roy snapped before Eryndra could protest further. "Just get it done, we need to hurry."
FDR reached into the loot bag slung across his back, rummaging for a moment before producing a heavy gold coin. On one side, a grotesque, bloodshot eyeball stared out; on the other, a meticulously engraved, furry butt.
"I pick ass," Truman stated immediately.
"Hey! I wanted to pick ass!" Eryndra shouted.
"Coin in air," FDR announced, flicking his thumb.
The coin shot upward, clearing the group's height, clearing the stalactites, and continued rising, accelerating with a high-pitched whine that abruptly vanished into a sonic boom.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The sound of the coin punching through the ceiling layers faded into the distance, leaving a small, perfectly round hole in the rock above.
Roy stared at the hole, mouth slightly open. "Well... I guess just... yeah. I don't even know what to say right now."
"Let me help," Orden chirped, stepping forward.
He twitched two fingers, and dust from the floor swirled upward, condensing rapidly into a hard, stone disc. He caught it and presented it to Roy with a beaming smile.
Roy looked at the coin. "Orden… this has a butt on both sides."
"Yes!" Orden agreed happily.
"No, they need to have different symbols," Roy explained, voice strained. "Because how do you know which one is which?"
"I know," Orden said, pointing. "But they both wanted butts. And if you look, one is a girl butt and one is a boy butt."
Roy stared at the stone coin for a long, silent moment. The will to argue evaporated, leaving only a profound, exhausted acceptance.
"You know what, I don't care anymore," Roy said, waving a hand at Truman. "Truman, you're up."
A small, involuntary chuckle emerged from Truman as Eryndra pouted, her arms crossed petulantly over her chest. The surrounding air thickened rapidly and seemed to hum with anticipation.
"Brace yourselves," Truman shouted, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere, his own stance shifting from amused observer to battle-ready commander. He stepped decisively to the front. "I'm gonna throw out a big one."
Lynder, ever the pragmatist and the voice of dry cynicism in their small, eccentric group, sighed audibly. Without prompting, he raised a hand. A silent command flowed from his fingertips, and an instant later, a shimmering dome of shadow coalesced around the group that let just a little light through. A suffocating blackness of true void-magic that provides a subtle barrier against external scrutiny and, more importantly, against the concussive force Truman's 'big one' was likely to generate. "Always the theatrics with you lot," he muttered, though a faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his outstretched arm, betraying the sheer effort of the initial deployment.
Before the shadow dome could fully settle, the smooth, metallic sound of articulated joints signaled a new presence. JFK, the Presidroid, stepped up directly behind Lynder, his synthetic eyes glowing with a calm, analytical light. He raised his own hand, a stark contrast to Lynder's organic movement. From his fingertips, complex, glowing runes began to flow. These intricate glyphs layered themselves over Lynder's shadow dome, reinforcing the structure with inhuman precision, locking the shifting, fluid shadows into a far more stable, rigid form.
Lynder immediately bristled, his eyes flashing gold as he looked over his shoulder at the Presidroid, annoyance and perhaps a hint of wounded pride in his tone. "Is my magic not enough?" he challenged, his voice low and tight.
"For a standard offensive spell, yes, your magic is more than sufficient to negate the collateral damage, Lynder," JFK replied calmly, his focus absolute on the complex layering of the energy matrix and his seamless integration of their powers. "But for what comes next," he paused, the final rune snapping into place with a subtle thrum that resonated within them, "for sure. We are about to be hit by the force of one of the hardest hitting Presidroids. The enemy has yet to realize how screwed they really are. Just watch."
Truman stood alone outside the barrier, a solitary figure facing the descending, monstrous cloud. He spread his arms wide, the lights on his chassis flaring with intense, burgeoning power as he began to weave the complex spell.
"Fission: Fat Lady."
Instead of the contained sphere he had relied on before, this construct manifested without a shell. A blinding, jagged star of pure white energy bloomed between his outstretched hands, screaming with the sound of tearing atoms. With a small wind up, he tossed the orb high and watched it detonate. The pressure wave hit Lynder's barrier first, a physical sledgehammer that drove the reinforced dome of mana inches deep into the solid rock floor. Then came the thunder, a continuous, deafening roar that vibrated in the marrow of everyone present.
The cavern's ceiling ceased to exist. Rock, the intricate lace of stalactites, and the entire Hoolah swarm were instantly vaporized, replaced by a churning, incandescent cloud of superheated dust and plasma. The blast wave scoured the walls, expanding the cavern's circumference by fifty feet in every direction. And despite reinforcement, the barrier had multiple large fractures in it.
Blinded by the intense light and the sheer force of the assault, Lynder felt a chill run through him. "What sort of hellish creations are you..." he managed to whisper, more in awe than in fear.
When the light finally receded, Truman stood alone in the center of a newly formed crater, its surface rendered glass-smooth, steam rising from his battle-scarred armor.
"Cleared," he announced, the single word a statement of brutal finality.
They pressed on, a grim determination etched on their faces. Though they were only there for a minute or two, they still saw enough to be disturbed by the charred hellscape of Floor 174. It was a vast, echoing cavern with no other sectors, still thick with the acrid smoke of recent fire. The obsidian-black floor crunched beneath Eryndra and Truman's boots, littered with the skeletal remains of what had once been complex golems and, disturbingly, the calcified husks of the defeated. The air was oppressive, heavy with the metallic tang of residual heat and the silence of absolute ruin. Finally, they reached the precipice, a gaping, irregular maw in the floor of the cavern. They paused only for a moment to exchange a silent glance before plunging into the dizzying, spiral descent into the depths of Floor 175.
Floor 175 was a chaotic mosaic of ancient ruins and suffocating vegetation, but the scenery barely registered in comparison to 174 as they tore through its sectors. The Presidroids, Lynder and Eryndra carved a path with detached, casual efficiency, leaving behind them a wake of pulverized monster remnants and stirred dust. The Trio remained securely nested in the center of the Fireside Ascent, catching the loot JFK collected and tossed back.
As the group rounded the final bend toward the boss chamber, the air grew thick and metallic with the unmistakable scent of blood.
The massive stone doors of the chamber were gone, and not in a gentle way either. They were clearly annihilated, blasted outward and shattered all around. The corridor ahead was choked with that shattered stone, splintered wood, and the tangled, twitching bodies of monsters. These were Chimeras, yet not the textbook variety of lion, goat, and serpent. These were grotesque, chaotic amalgamations of various beasts. Wave after relentless wave spilled from the destroyed doorway in a panicked frenzy, clawing over one another in a desperate rush toward something close by.
"Looks like another dungeon break," Lynder breathed, his voice tightening to a wire.
Through the shifting, monstrous torrent, desperate flashes of blue and crimson magic were visible, punctuated by the high, sharp ring of steel against bone. A team had been driven back, cornered into the far angle of the antechamber, their defensive line visibly buckling under the sheer, brutal weight of the Chimera pack.
Orin, squinting through the dust and haze, suddenly gasped, a sharp intake of breath.
"Oh hey! Andri, Rava, look!" he shouted, pointing a gauntleted finger. "It's them!"
Roy frowned, struggling to see past the thrashing, gore-splattered monster heads. "Who?"
Rava stepped up beside him, and the color instantly drained from his face as he recognized the desperate, cracking shouts echoing from the corner. He swallowed hard, a visible effort, and his voice came out a strained whisper.
"...Lantern Quay."