75: Double Team Curb Stomp

75: Double Team Curb Stomp

Leaving the dungeon, I squinted against the sudden glare of the noonday sun. Was it always so damn bright? While shielding my eyes with a hand, I pulled up the ingame menu and sent a message to Paisley, asking if she could meet me at the dungeon entrance.

Her reply came through quickly, saying she'd be here soon, so I sat on a stone block and waited.

She came trotting up over a rise fifteen or so minutes later and waved as she approached. Her shoulder length, wavy hair was rioting in the mild breeze, and she kept pushing it out of her face. “Keiko!”

I waved back. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Of course,” she said, looking me up and down inquisitively. “Did you finish already?”

I shook my head and smiled wryly. “It's a bit too difficult for me to solo, considering my level.”

“Huh...” she said, looking sceptical.

I laughed quietly and held my hands up, trying to signal my honesty. “It's true. I got hit by the dragon’s black fire breath attack, and when I transformed, I popped— my e-health went too low.”

Her eyebrows lifted and pulled together in concern, even as she chortled, “Oh no. Your tiny form nerfs your effective health that bad?”

“It's only taking my Con’ down like twenty percent, so it must've been just enough to tip me over,” I shrugged. “Point is— I can't solo that place... but it is full of undead...”

Her smile grew, and she glanced hopefully at the entrance. Her deep brown eyes were hopeful when they wordlessly flicked back to meet mine.

“So...” I said, fighting a grin. “Dungeon date?”

“Dungeon date?” She asked, giving me a soft but incredulous look.

My eyebrows rose, half suggestively, and half in challenge.

She took a second to think, her black leather shoes idly scuffing the damp, packed dirt. “Okay. Okay, fine. Dungeon date.”

My heart bloomed, and I hopped to my feet, taking her hand in mine. “Yay! This will be fun! Oh, but we should probably come up with a strategy, because neither of us can take much of a hit...”

Laughing, she followed me through the portal.

The darkness hit instantly, and it took my eyes a second to adjust. Apparently, Paisley didn't need to do the same, because she let go of my hand and walked forward, looking around.

“Man, that's so fucky. Bright, cold day, then bam, eternal night,” she commented. Her eyes fell on the glowing battle standard. “Oh, this place.”

“The three dudes at the start managed to kill me the first time,” I said, staring daggers at the wisp as it arrived to bob and sing to us.

“Oh, that... sucks,” she said with as neutral an expression as she could muster. When she met my eyes, she realised that I saw right through it, so she laughed, “Okay, it’s funny, but like... I know you’re good at this game, Keiko, but thinking you can take on a level sixty dungeon when you’re level thirty is...”

“Hubris,” I finished for her.

Reaching out, she ran a hand down my arm again, sending a small, shivering frisson across my skin. “It’s very optimistic.”

“Thanks for being gentle,” I said with a wry shake of my head. “Come on. Let’s go— I want to see you obliterate these assholes.”

“Grogu moment,” she muttered, and began to approach the upcoming trash mob encounter. Then, she stopped and looked at me. “You go trigger their spawn.”

My sword howled, it was a cherry blossom hurricane, glowing with pink and white energies. As it cut the air, I spun, matching the dragon’s speed while my foot touched down briefly on one of its spines to boost myself further. The glowing weak spot was right there— waiting.

With all my might, I hacked into the dragon’s neck. Scales snapped, dead flesh was sundered, and a split second later, a second afterimage of my sword slammed home— twin Claw Duplicity and Ascendant Slice together. Two lengthy damage numbers flew outwards like dislodged spinal segments, and then I was past it.

My arc took me down into the destroyed pile of bones, where I had a split second to watch as Paisley’s attacks landed.

She had her flute unwrapped and held to her lips with one hand, while the other was outstretched. Concentration creased her brow, and her eyes flared with determination.

From her hand, I caught the briefest glimpse of a jagged black trail linking her to the boss. Then, abruptly, a bolt of blackened lightning connected.

The impossibly sharp snap of lightning rocked the quiet dungeon, and to my utter shock, the blow actually threw the dragon backwards out of its spawn animation. It flew over me, spinning— its wings working with desperate instinct to control its unscheduled change in trajectory.

Snap-crack. Another bolt hit home before the monster had even landed. Sudden premonition had me twirling through the air, leaving a trail of ribbons. The third hammer-blow bolt of black lightning whipped past, right into the undead boss’ head.

With Ribbon Roll on cooldown, I turned to Scatter Dash. It took me in close, and a flash of inspiration had me applying Psychosomatic Sunder on the illusory other Keiko. The phantom sword swing cut deep through the remaining flesh on one wing. That was fun.

I didn't have time to think about the implications of that information, though. We couldn't afford to pump the brakes on this train.

Without bothering to touch down, I loosened my grip on the hilt of my katana and narrowed my attention down to a point. The sword slipped from my fingers, but not my control, and it blurred around in a vicious arc, sheathed in bright green light.

Six illusions jumped free of my body, blades hungry. Each one tore into the reeling dragon, exacting a chisel’s toll on its health bar. Between their attack and Larkspur’s follow-up blade-beam, a machine-gun burst of whistling red projectiles flew past me.

Paisley's spikes of deadly magic and my green energy blade landed together, chunking the dragon’s health further while it wailed— confused and in pain.

Neither Paisley nor I had any mercy to give. Named Mark was about to come off cooldown, and Ascendant Slice wouldn't be far behind it.

Twisting tendrils of darkness suddenly burst up out of the ground, grasping at the boss with sharpened tips. I jumped after them, Pinprick Strike already honing the tip of my katana down to a deadly point.

My wings whirred frantically, propelling me into a lunge that carried my sword into the dragon’s chest. I was rewarded with an instant thudding explosion, and a spray of bone and dry, grey dragon scales flew up out of its back.

When I drew back, I noticed the wound on the boss had a subtle caustic green outline. My acid was getting to work.

A blur in my peripheral vision was all the warning I got, but it was enough. My sword came up, its flat side shimmering with Imbue Parry— a desperate attempt to block the inevitable. It was only partially successful.

Claws caught on the blade, saving me from evisceration, but the force of it was enough to throw me onto my back in the dirt. I swung blindly in response, catching a second swipe and cutting into the dragon's palm. In the corner of my vision, Fae Feedback activated with one stack of its outgoing damage buff.

However, the boss was looming above me now, and its gullet began to glow with a sickly black aura. Aw, hell.

Triple bolts of necrotic lightning hammered the boss right in the face, stunning it and saving me from imminent death. I took the opportunity and placed a Named Mark on the boss. This time, the glowing point was on the opposite side of the neck from the last one...

Huh, I wonder...

Jumping up, I activated Twin Claw Duplicity and Ascendant Slice in tandem and hacked at the weak point. Bold red text informed me that my attack was as beefy as it'd felt, and— oh, shit!

“Paisley!” I called, leaping back from the dragon. “Weak point kill! The neck!”

Being friends with the fantasy equivalent of heavy artillery had a lot of perks, and there had never been a better example of those perks than now.

A stream of fast, deadly magical spikes flew past— fast enough to drag my braid around in their passing. Her aim was perfect. Pieces of dragon exploded in all directions, but there was one large chunk that had me sighing with relief. The head slammed down among the bones of long dead soldiers, having never raised any of them to fight us. We'd done it.