Your Own Worst Enemy

In a battle against a large, bulky opponent, it’s common sense to use their size against them and look for opportunities to sneak around and perform tricky maneuvers. That was my mindset when I told Meri the next plan of attack, anyway.

Sam busies herself with distracting the pimp in close-range combat, dodging his thorny whips and leaping away every time he tries to deliver another devastating kick. After I give the Princess and the Mage fair warning, Meri unhooks one of her flashbang grenades. The Shield Maiden throws it from behind Pimpington underneath his legs.

The boss monster makes the awful decision to look straight at the new threat below him, and it goes off.

Before he can even register what Meri just did, the three girls cover their eyes and immediately hear the sound of the monster falling onto his ass once more. “Mothafuckin’ FUCK, I read Fleetfoot’s reports bout that shit, but damn! My eyes, my mothafuckin’ EYES!” He screams, rubbing his eyelids in vain.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna look directly at that shit. Only an idiot would do that!” Sam smirks as she rushes in, jumping up so she can slam her sword down on the stone-shaped heart that I thought looked suspiciously like a weak spot. It cracks a little bit, and while it does inflict some pain, it’s not as devastating as I was hoping for.

Rather than attacking, Zutiria uses the brief opportunity to catch her bearings.

Meri closes the distance enough to stab Pimpington’s shoulder with her buckler’s sword, but by the time she gets there, he’s already mostly recovered. He swats her away with his hand, but the Shield Maiden doesn’t lose too much ground thanks to activating her cleats.

I caution her right before the boss maneuvers his tail to strike Meri’s back. After twisting her body, she catches the sharp tip with her buckler. It was a sizable impact, but before Meri can even try to lop the tail off, it’s already en route to stop a new slash from Sam’s sword.

As the long, black appendage coils around her blade, the Princess is met with frustration as she wrestles the pimp’s tail for control over her weapon. “C’mon, bitch! I already got a fucking headache. I don’t need you going and giving me another one!” She says with a deep, exhaustive grunt.

That tail is giving us more problems than anything else in his current, transformed toolkit. We need to get rid of it.

I see Meri trying to gain a better position to move towards Sam, but Pimpington is continually whipping his vines at her. Even if I had Sam continue grappling the tail, Meri wouldn’t make it there in time to cut it off. My only option is to check with the Mage...

“Zutiria, is there something you could do to slice off Pimpington’s tail while Sam holds it in place?”

‘There’s always some I could do. The question is, how much more spellcasting can I even take today...?” I know she can’t emote her text, but I read that one with an exhausted voice behind it. Zutiria has been through more spellcasting in this one night than I’ve ever seen her manage.

It’s a miracle she’s not been knocked entirely out by now.

I collect my thoughts with a sigh. At my side, the head maid frowns as she reminds me, “We don’t have much time. Mistress Samantha’s losing her grip, nyaa.”

“Do it,” I wave my hand dismissively, knowing we don’t have many other choices.

The silent readies her staff to perform magic, her staff surging with darkness once more. “S-Shadoette,” Zutiria whispers, wincing as the magic takes its toll on her body.

‘Sorry, Sammy. This might feel weird for a second...’ The Mage gives Sam a heads-up moments before the Princess’s shadow crawls up off of the floor. It becomes a complete second Sam, albeit made of blackness and void. This shadowed Sam isn’t unarmed, either. It has a perfect replica of the Princess’s sword.

“W-W-What the fuck...?!” Sam starts chattering her teeth from a sudden chill she appears to be going through. It’s made worse as her healthy pink skin loses its sheen, becoming pale and almost sickly-looking. To give her proper credit, the Princess doesn’t let her grip slip for even a moment.

“Why does Mistress Zuzu use so many scary-looking dark spells, nyaa?” Peri asks innocently enough as she shirks away from the surreal sight.

“I’ll let you know as soon as she tells me,” I sigh. I’d like an answer to that too, someday.

Zutiria gestures with her right hand, her fingertips glowing with the jittering, anti-light of encroaching darkness. Hacking its sword against the pimp’s tail, the shadow strikes with precision and brutality.

One attack on the tail is not enough, so Zutiria compels it to slash again like a butcher trying to hack through bone. On the third attempt, it succeeds. The end of Pimpington’s tail finally severs, and Sam tumbles onto her back.

The evil tail twitches like a dying snake until giving up in wretched defeat. It goes limp around Sam’s sword, dying at long last. The Princess is able to shake it off just as soon as the color returns to her face.

“Fuckin’ HELL, I just got that thing, I- AUGH!” Pimpington has no time to complain about losing his newest appendage. Meri is already upon him, slashing his leg from a blind spot.

“Don’t let up! Sam, help me out, please!” Meri cries out, rallying the Princess to attack in tandem with her.

Sam grins eagerly and runs toward the enemy. “Long as I don’t gotta sit through any more dark magic, we’re good, Meri!”

For another few minutes, the fight continues without major incident.

Meri and Sam keep Pimpington occupied by strafing about and taking potshots at him with their blades as soon as they see an opening. There are a few close calls, but they avoid his whips, his kicks, and his claws every time he tries to advance on them. Whenever he gets hit, he mumbles some vague, villainous nonsense before attempting to rush back in without any new strategy.

Something dawns on me after seeing him repeat his actions so many times, and I feel the urge to speak to our foe. After enabling the voice transmission, I make my presence known on the battlefield. 

“You’re pathetic, Pimpington. All of this is just... pathetic.” Everyone stops what they’re doing and starts paying attention to me.

Pimpington raises one of his sharp eyebrows, saying, “S’cuse the fuck me, Master?”

“You know something’s not right here, don’t you?”

Snow makes a concerned expression, “Myaster, I don’t see what taunting the enemy will accomplish.” When I return her look with a determined glare of my own, she nods and backs off. Like any good maid, Snow knows not to overstep her bounds.

“...This pimp ain’t got no idea what yo’ bitch-ass is talkin’ bout.” His aversive words belie his true thoughts.

“You just keep slipping further and further away from who you used to be. Look at yourself... this isn’t you. This transformation of yours completely goes against your fighting style and everything you’re good at.”

For just a moment, the boss room is quiet and still as the morning air. Sam and Meri eye the lumbering pimp, planning their next move as they strafe around him. Meri seems less than thrilled that I’m practically pumping the pimp up, but Sam’s serious expression show’s she’s thinking along the same lines as myself.

Pimpington sharply inhales through his flared nostrils. With closed eyes and a hollow voice, he asks, “So what? That’s how life works. Ya go down one road, it fucks ya up, so ya take a different one, and ya keep gettin’ fucked up till ya can’t get fucked up no mo’. Ya feel me?”

“Yeah, pimp. I feel you. But the only road left for you to go down is the one leading to your defeat.”

“Dude! Nice one-liner, Boss!” Sam smirks.

‘Personally, I’d give it a four out of ten. Try harder next time, Sir.’ 

“It was a little weak,” Snow purrs in a smug, slightly snotty tone.

Everybody’s a critic.

Pimpington lowers his head. His long, curly black hair falls down the chiseled sides of his sharp face. As his tattooed fists tighten with rage, the man loses even more of himself to whatever hole consumes him.

“I don’t care what I become, and I don’t care what I look like. This pimp’ll do anything it takes fo’ securing our revenge. I’ve had just about enough out of y’all thinking things just got easy up in here, understood? Remember this when I’m done finishing off yo’ girls, Master; ya brought this on yo’ self...!”

The monster tears through the tense air with a sad, guttural wail that shatters the soul. Pimpingtin grips his weapons so hard that the thorns dig into his hands. Crimson blood begins to trickle out of the cracks of his fingers.

Letting loose a cruel attack, his violent vines strike Sam and Meri square in the face. Knocking back one and inflicting pain on the one who refuses to be moved. Each girl now bleeds from where the sharp rose thorns tore into their cheeks.

Crashing his hoof down on the blonde, Sam pushes back with the flat of her blade before he can squash the pesky adventurer like an ant. As soon as Sam throws his weight off, Pimpington steps back and steadies himself just in time to avoid falling over. He scowls from the effort it took, though.

His movements are getting less sluggish.

My taunting was a double-edged sword. The enemy is now focused on putting himself together, but he’s also burning through whatever reserves of energy he has left.

I can’t tell who his enemy is anymore. Part of me wants to push Pimpington even further, but I need to watch myself. I could end up making things much, much worse...