Meanwhile, beta squad and Craig attempted to wound the brute as much as possible. While the soldiers weren't of much value, Craig was able to score a few damaging shots to the ogre's head, notably blinding the brute in one eye.
Moneybags was so obsessed with Pete by this time, however, that it thought the blinding had somehow come from Pete's blade. Moneybags increased the severity of its attack, swinging furiously even though the damage Pete had done to its right wrist was exacerbated by the heightened effort.
Blood still poured from the wound, and the brute's right hand hung limply. After a few more swings, it became clear that the ogre's right hand was held in place only by a thread of skin and muscle and could fly off at any moment. That offered little in the way of comfort to Pete, however, as he monopolized the ogre's attention, forced to sprint back and forth in an effort to stay ahead of the brutal attack.
Clearly frustrated by its inability to kill Pete, the now one-eyed ogre swung its arms out to the side and thrust its chest-laden belly out. The brute's right hand broke free from its wounded wrist, and the hand, chain, and chest flew into the air, arcing back over rows of gathered Company soldiers as Moneybags bellowed a vicious curse.
"Yous beefin' crabby crab muckers got nuff mucky muck!" the ogre spat, its voice a sickening, blubbery gurgle as a wave of sickly green mist spread out from the slick interior of its mouth.
The mist stank of rot and corruption as it spread outward from the ogre's body, moving too quickly for Pete or beta squad to avoid. The stench of rotten eggs was accompanied by a debuff message.
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[Craig] That debuff has nullified my Debtor's Curse relic. I need 500 Belch Bucks for it to operate.
Pete dove to the ground, rolling and dodging out of the way of another swing from the ogre's flail as the brute began to attack once more.
[Pete] What does that lose you?
[Craig] Twenty percent accuracy and critical strike damage.
[Pete] Fuck!
Blood flowed from the stump of its right hand, but the massive creature didn't seem to care. While it had one less flail to attack with, Moneybags was swinging with greater ferocity, its one good eye fixed on Pete as though nothing else mattered.
[Craig] I'll make do. The added buff you've given me should help with the damage reduction.
The surrounding troops kept their distance, watching in awe as Pete darted left and right, always keeping just ahead of the ogre's lethal swings. Blood and spittle sprayed from the brute's mouth as the wound on its eye wept blood down into its mouth. The creature grunted and blubbered a series of unintelligible insults, swinging its remaining flail while Pete directed his remaining squad to pepper the brute with bullet fire.
Craig began firing once more, his shots more carefully timed and aimed specifically at the ogre's head. The more damage the goblin did, however, the harder it seemed to target the brute's remaining eye as the rest of the flesh surrounding the initial wound had puffed up and swollen into a series of bleeding welts.
Given this fact, Pete ordered beta squad to shift their focus to the ogre's remaining arm, reasoning that if they could damage that arm significantly enough, the brute's primary attack would be effectively nullified. That thought was interrupted, however, as the giant's chest suddenly opened outward, blubber giving way to a large ribcage, which spread outward to the accompanying sound of cracking bone and wheezing flesh.
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A sickening stench suddenly filled the fighting circle, stealing Pete's breath and forcing him to back further away a moment before a large, badly rusted steel chest lunged out of Moneybags with its lid snapping like the jaw of some rabid beast. The chest seemed to have a will of its own, metal lid clanking as it chomped toward Pete, linked to the ogre by a length of thick intestine rather than chain.
The sudden shift in attack forced Pete to change direction and sprint to the left, moving behind beta squad as the rabid chest snapped after him. The group automatically moved toward Pete, forming a defensive formation with the hobgoblins up front like a protective wall as Pete ran behind.
The snapping chest opened wide and crunched down onto one of the hobgoblins with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed and the troop roared in agony as its torso was clamped within the chest's maw. Like a hungry animal, the chest opened and closed, something like a fleshy tongue licking out from its interior and wrapping around the poor hobgoblin, pulling it in as the chest's jaws continued to chomp.
Pete used the distraction to continue running, moving behind beta squad and circling around to come up where he hoped the hobgoblin couldn't see him. Blade still held in one hand, he sprinted in closer, using the opportunity to focus on the hobgoblin's remaining hand, which still gripped the chain and flail.
With the brute's chest cavity opened up, its arms were both held back, its remaining hand just above Pete as he brought the combat blade down as hard as he could manage. Learning the lesson from last time, the moment he struck that initial blow, Pete levered the blade up and down so that it didn't stay stuck in the bone and pulled it free as the ogre spun around to see what had attacked.
It leered down at him as the chest that was still devouring the hobgoblin trooper was pulled back toward the open cavity in the ogre's belly. Pete swung the blade a second and third time, moving to always stay in the brute's blind spot. On the third swing, he took a chunk of flesh off the wrist, exposing bone. He was drenched in sticky blood, the pungent stench of the ogre's insides bringing tears to his eyes as he darted back and ran for cover.
Something caught his legs, smashing into his right shin and sending him tumbling to the ground. Pain ripped through his body, but Pete ignored the sensation, scrambling on all fours and continuing to get clear as the remaining three members of beta squad charged forward and interposed themselves between Moneybags and their captain.
As the devouring chest slid into the ogre's belly and the cavity closed up, it swung around, bringing the flail around in a low swing that caught the final hobgoblin in beta squad in the torso. The impact was so brutal that it immediately killed the hobgoblin, pulped the soldier's insides, and cracked a dozen different bones. The sudden jolt, however, combined with the damage Pete had done to the ogre's wrist, was sufficient to wrench the brute's hand clean off.
Hobgoblin, chest flail, and severed hand all went tumbling across the ground, and Moneybags let out a gurgling scream. Three shots fired in rapid succession, and the ogre's head bucked backward as it stumbled and fell.
Pete was already running. He shifted trajectory, heading directly to the ogre's head, blade poised to strike as the brute hit the ground. It flailed about with the bloody stumps of its arms, forcing Pete to approach from the rear where it couldn't reach him.
He brought the blade down in a two-handed chop against the exposed throat of the chest-laden ogre, hacking as though Pete was attempting to cut down a tree. Blood fountained as he hit an artery, spraying the area in hot blood while handless arms tried to bat Pete away.
Pete gripped the blade tight, bringing it down again and again, cutting through blubbery flesh and trying not to choke on the river of blood pouring into his face. After three more strikes, he was slammed in the side by the ogre's right stump and forced to retreat.
Wiping blood from his face and gasping for breath amid the rotten stink that hung in the air, Pete backed away and hoped that the injuries they'd dealt would be sufficient to end the ogre.
Two goblins moved up beside Pete, one with a sharp cut running down his face, both holding their own combat knives as they stood protectively in front of their captain. Pete didn't think they'd fare too well if the ogre survived and decided to attack once more, but it was comforting to know that the troops under his control would assume a defensive position when not given a direct order.
With one final heave, Moneybags roared, spraying blood out of its mouth before falling back against the ground, limbs going limp, body sagging under its own weight. Pete watched as the giant figure began to deflate. Instead of turning to ash like the regular demon enemies, the brute sank in on itself like an old balloon, rapidly losing mass and flattening as though some vast weight were pressing down against the body or gravity had suddenly increased tenfold.
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Still breathing heavily, Pete looked over to see Craig waving from his position atop one of the hobgoblins who was still positioned on all fours. Pete turned to look out at the river, noting that several more shields had been brought out along with a fresh group of troops, and they'd positioned themselves to form a protective wall lining the near riverbank.
As he wiped his bloody combat knife on the side of his trousers, Pete wondered how long it would be before the mortars started up again, or the enemy sent something worse out to meet them.
[Craig] Well done, Captain.
Pete grinned at that.
[Pete] Well done yourself, Lieutenant.