Nick stumbled backward, gasping as one of the bricks struck his arm and spun him sideways. His confusion quickly turned to panic upon glimpsing the full size of the monster pushing aside broken portions of the wall.

  It was a gargantuan beast, at least four times Nick’s height. The twisted horns upon its head brushed the ceiling. Its arms were three-fingered, its chest, rounded and strangely bulbous. Two legs, muscled and with four clawed toes, carried it over the rubble. Its head was insectoid, with two bulging round eyes on either side and a proboscis coiled underneath. The eyes were crystalline, akin to clouded diamonds. The proboscis sparkled like blue cobalt. Its skin might have once resembled black chitin, but much of it was faded and gray, as if the monster were slowly turning to stone. Its every movement groaned with the heavy sound of a controlled avalanche. Wings spread from its back, wide and like a butterfly’s. Once, they might have been beautiful, but now they were solid gray rock. Despite their thinness, they were much too heavy to lift, so instead they rested like a cloak upon the beast’s back, cracked and with pieces broken off from the exterior edges.

  “What is that?” Nick asked, his eyes stretched wide as the thing took another lumbering step.

  Matagot: Level 48 War Beast (Sinifel)

  Armor: Chitin, Tier 5

  Special Classification: Construct

  The war beast that will kill you like it did my previous captor, you foolish pillager. He also sought treasures, and so I brought him here to his doom. May you die as he did.

  Matagot lifted its left pincer, and Nick immediately turned to dive. His feet left the ground moments before it struck, smashing a deep crevice into the temple’s floor. Nick landed awkwardly and rolled up to his feet, lightning crackling around his left hand. That first hit told him all he needed to know about this fight. One blow from that pincer and he was a temporarily dead man.

  “I didn’t even do anything!” he shouted, unsure if he was arguing with Sorrow or the war beast.

  You have trespassed. It is enough.

  The proboscis vibrated, the only warning Nick had to lift Sorrow in the way. The long coil of cobalt shot out from the thing’s face, its sharpened end aimed straight for Nick’s chest. It collided with Sorrow, striking it on the flat edge and pushing it into Nick. The impact sent him flying to a hard landing on the stone, but he considered that a far better fate than being pierced.

  What I’d give for some armor, he thought. He rolled onto his back, lifted his arm, and fired a straight into the war beast’s chest. His aim was true, though the bolt sparked a pitiful fraction off the beast’s health. He noticed the red bar above the war beast was already significantly low, and not from his own attack. A little over a quarter remained of a health bar that seemed almost grotesquely long.

  It’s old and damaged, he thought as he pushed to his feet. That means you have a chance.

  Lying to yourself aids no one, pillager.

  “No lie,” Nick muttered as he sprinted right at the thing. “And you’re going to help me kill it.”

  Matagot lifted an enormous foot and stomped, trying to squish Nick mid-charge. He angled about it, but the impact of its landing reverberated through the ground and sent him stumbling forward. When Sorrow struck the beast’s leg, it was less of a slash and more of a panicked flailing. Sorrow deflected off the pale gray muscle. The sound it made was like stone hitting stone.

  The beast shrieked, a weirdly high-pitched sound for something so big. Nick planted his feet, determined to do better on his next swing. Sorrow struck the thing’s calf before bouncing right back off with another loud clack. The beast lifted the damaged leg and kicked. Nick tried to leap aside and was only half-successful. The impact sent him spinning to the ground, a chunk of his health vanishing into pain in his ribs and chest.

  Nick pushed to his feet as the thing lumbered closer, its proboscis twitching. Every hit from Sorrow seemed like the bite of a mouse to the war beast.

  “Tier fifteen,” he muttered. “This really the best you got, Sorrow?”

  I owe you nothing, pillager, not even a goodbye when Matagot turns your bones to powder.

  The war beast tensed, and so did Nick, uncertain what it planned. The answer came in a sudden, tremendous sprint from one side of the temple to the other. Nick’s instincts took over. Avoiding it was impossible, so the only way out was through. He charged right back at the war beast. No timing its steps, no pretending at judging anything correctly, just a panicked leap between its feet. He landed, jarred his wrist, and then rolled to a stop. The war beast’s foot smashed the ground inches from his head, but it did not touch him. The temple rocked as the war beast rammed the other side, supports cracking and glass shattering.

  Nick stood, extended a hand, and drained the last of his mana in two bolts of lightning. He wished he could take satisfaction in the combined damage, but relying solely on Sorrow to finish the job felt like a daunting task.

  “What’s wrong, beast?” he shouted as he barreled in, avoiding a swipe from one of the thing’s arms. He tried not to think of how badly it would hurt—

  A strike from the war beast would inflict approximately two hundred forty to three hundred sixty-five percent of your maximum health

  —and failed, so instead he banished his fear with recklessness.

  “Can’t you squish me like the bug I am?”

  The war beast turned, its left arm smashing through the wall of the temple. Glass and plaster rained down, and amid that chaos, Nick drove Sorrow straight into the thing’s left knee, deep enough to earn himself a grim, satisfied smile. He tore the weapon free, then sprinted between the thing’s feet yet again when it reached for him. Massive fingers pounded the floor so that cracks spider-webbed all the way to the other wall. Nick slashed the other leg twice, then sprinted to escape.

  Matagot took two steps in pursuit, then paused. With what appeared to be tremendous effort, the wings on its back lifted slowly. Then they dropped, the right one cracking in half. Chunks fell to the ground, and the war beast grabbed one in its hand and lifted it. Nick’s eyes widened at the sight.

  “Oh shit,” he murmured as the beast pulled back to throw.

  A projectile of eighty pounds thrown by a war beast possessing twenty-three physicality would do approximately—

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The broken chunk of wing was in the air before Cataloger could finish explaining why it would turn Nick into paste. He crossed his arms and braced for the horrendous pain and inevitable waking in his bed.

  Instead, a massive wall of ice burst into being before him, starting at his feet and then rising to curl back into a protective dome.

  Spell: Ice Dome

  The chunk of wing hit the ice, splitting it down the middle with a massive crack and sending puffs of frost jettisoning in all directions. It did not break through, which allowed Nick to lower his arms and gasp a sigh of relief as the dome crumbled.

  “Frost?” he said, turning. To his surprise, she came not from the entrance of the temple, but from above. A path of ice—

  Spell: Icy Path

  —stretched down from a gap in the roof all the way to the floor, allowing her to slide down to join him. Ice sparkled about her fingertips as she readied her sword.

  “Having fun without me?” she asked.

  “Great fun,” he said. “Glad you made it.”

  The war beast roared, the sound again weaker and pitched higher than felt right. It lumbered closer, the broken wing bouncing atop its shoulder while the other dragged along the floor.

  “I don’t think your friend agrees.”

  Frost flung an at the war beast’s face and then dove left as Nick dove right. Its two fists blasted where they’d been standing. When it withdrew, it left a crater in the stone several feet deep, exposing broken rock below the foundations of the temple. Nick slashed Sorrow across the wrist of the nearest arm for a paltry amount of damage. Still no blood. Nick wondered if the thing could even bleed.

  Is it alive? he asked Cataloger.

  It is a sentient being created in the age of the Sinifel

  It is a beast of stone made flesh, Sorrow helpfully added. Embodying the rage of the calamity that comes for Yensere when it is swallowed by stagnation and complacency.

  The two answers combined were sufficient. It also explained why it looked like it was turning to stone—it was reverting to what it had once been.

  Angered at the cut, the war beast dodged another to smack at Nick with clawed fingers. Nick tensed, read the direction wrong, and failed to fully jump out of the way. A claw scraped across his chest, and he gasped at the tremendous pain from a deep gash below his ribs. His vision flashed red as his health plummeted almost 90 percent. The impact sent him flying, and he rolled twice before coming to a halt.

  Damn it, he thought as he jammed Sorrow between two bricks of the stone floor and used it for leverage to push back to a stand. Can’t make a mistake like that.

  With him out of the way, the war beast turned its attention to Frost. She held her sword up and at the ready, a ring of frost circling around her upraised left hand as she prepared another spell. Whatever she expected, it was not the sudden, lunging attack of the proboscis. It lashed across her abdomen, and she screamed as it tore into her silver chain mail. The impact sent her spinning, and she landed awkwardly on her stomach. Blood pooled beneath her.

  “Frost!” Nick shouted, sprinting. He slid in the blood so he landed on his knees, and he grabbed her with his free hand. With his other, he held Sorrow up as a paltry defense against a foe outweighing him by a thousand pounds.

  Four thousand nine hundred and three pounds, to be exact

  “I’m fine,” she said, sounding otherwise. Her eyes widened as the shadow of the war beast fell over them. “Oh shit.”

  Nick looked back up, sharing her despair. They’d whittled the war beast down to nearly 10 percent of its health, but their luck had run out. Nick had no magic left, and his sword would do nothing against the pair of fists raised to smash them both into jelly.

  But Nick and Frost were not the only ones with magic available to them.

  Spell: Fire Bolt

  The first bolt struck the war beast right in the proboscis, charring across the cobalt. The next two struck its chest, the impact sounding like a collision of stone. The brittle chitin cracked and broke under the strain of the heat. Nick gasped, and when he glanced over Matagot’s shoulder, he saw Violette sliding down the Frost had built from the gap in the rooftop. Her hands were raised and her fingers wreathed with flame.

  “Stay away from them!” she shouted, and let loose her strongest spell yet.

  Spell: Fire Meteor

  A tremendous, seething ball of flame far larger than her flung from her fingers. It hit the war beast in the face, colliding with such impact it snapped the thing’s head far enough back to crack the stone that ran along either side of its neck. It then exploded into flame that swirled about its entire body, blackening the stone and making a mockery of the chitin’s protection.

  This time the beast’s screech was deeper, slower, and clearly pained. The thing stumbled on unsteady feet, then collapsed. Its unbroken wing wedged into the crater it had punched, then snapped at the joint, the heavy stone rumbling as it broke apart into several more pieces.

  “Finish it,” Violette shouted as she dropped to one knee. Sweat lined her brow, and she gasped for breath after the exertion of that massive spell.

  Nick grabbed Frost by the hand and yanked her to her feet. They said nothing, only exchanged glances before sprinting together toward the fallen beast. Each raced up a leg, across the chitin, and to its breast. Frost plunged her thin sword into where its heart might be, while Nick went higher, Sorrow aiming for its throat. It recoiled in pain from Frost’s hit, its health pitiful, flickering as Nick readied his thrust.

  Light flickered in the monster’s bulbous eyes. Its low, moaning groan suddenly shifted, and Nick shuddered as a part of his mind twisted. Perhaps it was Cataloger, perhaps it was the creature, but somehow, he understood the war beast’s words despite their not at all resembling human speech.

  My city, Matagot spoke, the words rumbling out of the small hole underneath its proboscis, which cracked, uncoiling and losing color. Where now my city?

  In Nick’s grasp, Sorrow grew warm.

  The poor thing has guarded our ruins for an age, he said. Give it peace.

  Nick shoved Sorrow into its vulnerable throat, no easy feat given that the creature’s flesh was almost entirely stone. The war beast shuddered underneath Nick’s feet. Its arms collapsed, fingers dragging grooves into the mangled floor.

  Where now my people? it asked. Its diamond eyes clouded over, turning fully white. Little flakes peeled off the sides.

  Aah, there you are…

  The body went limp and lay still. In the sudden silence, Nick gasped as his experience bar flashed into his vision and rapidly filled twice over.

  Reassessment

  Level: 9 (+2)

  Statistical Improvements:

  Agility: 5 (+2)

  Physicality: 5 (+1)

  Endurance: 4 (+1)

  Focus: 7 (+2)

  Mana: 49 (+14)

  Archetype Changed—New Categorization: Adventurer

  Nick yanked Sorrow free, and he wished he could celebrate his growth. Instead, he stared at the gargantuan thing and spoke with Sorrow in his mind.

  How beautiful was Matagot, he asked the blade, when its wings still had color and its flesh was not stone?

  It seemed Sorrow was taken aback, and it took him a moment to answer.

  I wish you could have seen it, pillager, striding in all its glory down Abylon’s streets. Gossamer wings the color of flame, crimson in the center and bright yellow along the edges. Sleek black chitin for armor. Eyes sparkling like diamonds. No war beast was alike, each one the proud culmination of an artisan’s life.

  Sorrow’s voice hardened.

  I once thought all of them had died in the war against Vaan. I was wrong.

  “Nick!” Violette shouted, stirring him from his thoughts. He turned and smiled at the small woman racing toward him.

  “Hey,” he said. “I guess I should have believed you when you said you could handle yourself.”

  She hurried across the war beast’s still body, easily keeping her balance until reaching Nick. She halted before him, then paused awkwardly.

  “I thought we’d lost you forever when you fell,” she said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “He’ll try,” Frost said, sheathing her sword and checking the wound on her abdomen. She winced. “That’s going to need some stitches. How about you, Nick? Going to survive?”

  He gestured to the slashes given to him by an errant blow.

  “Survive, yes. Be in pain for a long while? Also yes.” He climbed down from the war beast, then held on to one of its arms to steady himself. “Tell me you know a way out of here.”

  “That we do,” Violette said, hopping down with a flourish of her red coat. “And if you manage to not fall through any floors to even deeper, unknown civilizations, I’ll show you the way!”