Tier Four Dungeon: The Stronghold (Floor Three)

  Objective: Defeat the Ironmonger (0/1)

  Objective: Disable or Destroy the War Machine (0/1)

  Objective: Survive (0/1)

  Completion: 68%

  Open Environment: Dungeon monsters can leave this dungeon for limited time periods.

  Open Floor: Once triggered, the dungeon’s bosses will roam freely.

  Alarmed: This dungeon’s monsters will alert other monsters near them, and will flee to find reinforcement.

  Lethal: Aspects of this floor’s environment will be instantly lethal to delvers and monsters alike.

  Environmental Hazard: This dungeon’s denizens are not its only threat.

  The third and—hopefully—final floor of The Stronghold opened before us. A red bull’s snorting face glared at us from the wooden floor; right next to it, a stone ring belched fire into the air. Buildings lined both sides of the court. From above, they’d looked like houses, but now that I was closer, it was clear they were workshops.

  We stood inside one of those workshops as the fire and acrid smoke from below slowly cut off. With the Red Furnace shut down, there wasn’t anything producing smog or heat on the second floor. It took a solid minute for the gray smoke to disperse enough for us to make out the details in the next building over, though. It was open on the side, and iron plates were being stitched together. Not welded, but stitched with living bramble.

  And orcs were starting to yell and shout. “Keep your heads down,” I whispered as Tori headed for the entrance. I grabbed her and pushed her down behind a work table with similar iron plates.

  “They’re going to know someone’s shut down their furnace,” Tori shot back. “We need to move fast. Alarms are never good news in my games.”

  “But this isn’t one of your games, is it?” Erika asked. “You need to focus on what’s real.”

  “Did you use that one with your kid, too?”

  “Tori, focus. Not on what’s real, but on the fight,” I said. The Charge resonance was shockingly thick here; I could hardly pay attention to anything else, but I was trying to force my mind to ignore it. We didn’t have time for Voltsmithing. Not here. Not now.

  The orcs’ shouting had reached a crescendo, and I watched the dots on my Bio-Electric Scanner. They were breaking into small squads and moving from building to building. We were still far enough away that we didn’t have a squad aiming for us, but it’d be only a few minutes—if that—before we received unwelcome guests.

  We needed to not be here when they showed up. Ideally, we needed to be wherever the Ironmonger was, killing him and shutting down his machine.

  The Ironmonger turned out to be at the far end of the stadium, under what had once been the hoop but was now a massive crane built into a wooden wall. I recognized the boss by his enormous hammer. It looked familiar, but different. No spikes, a single head, and a more limited spin radius than my Trip-Hammer, but a similar tool nonetheless. And, of course, it leaked Charge with every spike he hammered into the monstrous cannon’s frame.

  The Ironmonger: Level Seventy-Five Elite Dungeon Boss

  Current Difficulty: Extreme

  The Ironmonger was once a lead engineer for his people. He designed cities that were the jewel of Solemnus-Six. Now, he finds himself in a strange world filled with strange sights and stranger people. His belief in his people is strong, and though his circumstances are beyond what he knows, he understands what he must do: conquer this world, learn to use its resources, and find a way to return home. His first conquest? Chicago.

  Alert - This boss’s allies will be alerted to intruders’ presence if any monsters escape.

  Armored - This boss takes reduced damage from weapons designed to cut.

  Juggernaut - This boss will continue fighting after receiving lethal damage.

  He was also completely encased in metal. It was like he’d seen the Autoplate Pauldron and finished the design; every joint screeched as he moved across the War Machine, setting stitched plates into place with his own strength and ignoring the crane. He was strong—or at least, his armor was. I couldn’t see an inch of skin under the suit.

  As we filed through the gray fog around him, he turned and shouted. A dozen other orcs—the low-leveled kind, not the big ones—rallied around him. He heaved the linked iron plates our way. They crashed onto the Work Floor’s wooden boards, bounced, and then flew high overhead as Tori Levitated them and Pushed them away. Zane started casting, and the air around him heated up as Carol positioned herself between him and the group of orcs.

  I only had eyes for the boss, though.

  He wasn’t just an orc. He wasn’t just a boss. He was also a Voltsmith. The first Voltsmith I’d seen so far in the Consortium’s Integration of Earth. He could teach me so much. There was no way he was powering that suit, his own hammer, his gauntlet—I recognized it as a Voltsmith’s Grasp—and the War Machine all at once. It wasn’t possible to have that much Charge. He had to know how the Grovetender’s Heart worked.

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  “I want him alive,” I said quietly.

  Tori stopped mid-casting. “You’re serious?”

  “I am. He knows too much to kill.”

  She rolled her eyes. Then she focused on dropping a Gravity Well where the boss was. He threw himself to the side, iron screeching, and dodged it. “Hal, we’ll try, but no promises.”

  “That’s all I can ask for.” I revved the Trip-Hammer and charged the armored orc as a fireball exploded amongst the assembled orcs. He rushed toward me, ignored a second fiery explosion, and brought his hammer up.

  The ratchets clicked. The hammerheads triggered. They spun, and they made contact. Sparks filled the air as steel slammed into iron. The torque ripped the Trip-Hammer from my grip and knocked the Ironmonger across the room. His armor strained as he picked himself up. I dumped all three drones onto the ground and rushed for my hammer. Their rail guns fired one after another. Pinprick holes appeared in the Ironmonger’s armor.

  Fireballs exploded. Orcs screamed. A system message rolled in.

  Alert: The orcs on the Stronghold’s third floor have been alerted to your presence.

  I rolled my eyes as I charged the Ironmonger again. He was bleeding from his three wounds, but acted like he hardly felt them. None of them looked like they’d be lethal on a human. They probably weren’t on an orc, either.

  Erika dashed by. “Must’ve missed one! Sorry!”

  “Don’t say sorry! Just stop them at the…” I looked around. There was a narrow spot between the War Machine and a workhouse hut where we’d come in. “There!”

  “Sure,” Erika said. She changed direction and sprinted toward the choke point. Her sword and dagger were out.

  “And don’t shut down magic! We need Tori and Zane in the fight!’

  “Sure!’ she repeated.

  A hammer-blow landed on my shoulder. I rolled with it, but something still crunched inside. My Body points helped me ignore the break. But it was definitely a break. The Ironmonger loomed overhead, his hammer raised.

  I caught his hammer with the Voltsmith’s Grasp, but before I could drain its Charge, the massive, armored orc twisted and jerked the weapon out of my hand. Instead, I fired a rail gun shot right into his stomach. I expected him to double over. Instead, he completely ignored the wound.

  How? Even the other orcs had reacted when they’d been hit. I stared at the wound—and at the three my drones had punched through his armor. He was bleeding. But he wasn’t bleeding blood.

  “How did you—“

  My question cut off as the Ironmonger’s hammer slammed down into the floor where my head had just been, sending splinters across the room. Tori Pushed the Ironmonger away, and I rolled to my feet and got my hand back on my own hammer. He wasn’t just powering his armor and weapon. He wasn’t just powering the War Machine. He was powering his entire body with Charge. He was a Charge creation.

  The Ironmonger turned toward me, eyes glowing orange, and I knew right there that I couldn’t stop him. Not without destroying him.

  But I could destroy him.

  The orc’s hammer slammed down again. I didn’t bother blocking it. Instead, I side-stepped and swung my own. It slammed into the Ironmonger’s armored leg, right above the knee, and the whole thing bent in backward in a twisting, screeching mess. The boss barely reacted. He pivoted onto his other leg and kept up the attack, dragging the wreckage of his devastated joint behind him. No pain, no nothing.

  But Charge leaked out of the impact. If I could keep the pressure up, or if I could find an opening, I could end this fight right here. The only problem was the Ironmonger—and his Voltsmith’s Grasp. He had to know what I wanted to do, and there was no way I’d get a good opening to do it. I’d have to make one.

  The Ironmonger’s hammer swung. I stepped back, using its leg to my advantage and maintaining space. The Voltsmith’s Grasp didn’t have any shots left. So far, he hadn’t used any of his own glove’s powers, but it was only a matter of time. As he pressed forward, I kept moving back, toward Carol.

  She was still bodyguarding Zane—who’d found something new. The fiery, smoke-belching hole we’d seen in the floor earlier wasn’t the only one, and he’d cast a spell that gave him control over a source of fire rather than creating his own. As his spell ripped across the swarming orcs overrunning Erika, they turned into so many experience orbs on the ground. It was awe-inspiring, and I stopped for just a second to think about his applications against the Fireborn Crusade.

  Then the Ironmonger closed the gap, and I had to react.

  His hammer lashed out. It crashed into the haft of my own, cracking the steel axle and bending it awkwardly. I tried to pour Charge into it for my own counterattack. Nothing. No. Not nothing; Charge leaked from it as the weapon expelled its energy. I threw it aside and charged. My free—and injured—hand caught it. The Ironmonger wrenched at his weapon, and I flew through the air and slammed into a work building.

  Bramble and iron shattered across the room, but I kept my grip, and when the boss ripped his weapon up, the Voltsmith’s Grasp wrapped around his own glove, and I started draining Charge from the Ironmonger.

  It took the boss the better part of a minute to die. The entire time, his screams and shouts grew more and more mechanical, and more and more faint. Parts of his armored body shut down one after the other, until all that remained were two burning-orange eyes. Then they, too, shut down, and the notification I’d been waiting for appeared.

  Boss Defeated: The Ironmonger

  Dungeon Delvers who were not in the arena will receive fifty percent of your team’s experience.

  Level Up! 68 to 70

  Two levels? Four points? I hadn’t gotten such a windfall from a boss in a long time. The first point went into Body, repairing most of my worst injuries. Then, three more went into Charge. And just like that, I had over one hundred of it.

  Then it was time for the loot.

  Corpse of Iron (Legendary)

  The Corpse of Iron is awarded to this team for killing the final boss of the Stronghold without physically destroying its body. Its purpose is unknown.

  The Warhammer (Rare, Charge 25)

  +8 Charge OR +8 Mana

  The Ironmonger’s hammer, this weapon is powered by Charge.

  War Machine’s Trigger (Epic, Charge 5)

  +12 Mana

  The War Machine would have been the terror of Chicago. Now, its triggering device is in your hands. The user adds a stacking debuff to their spellcasts, reducing their target’s defenses each time it applies.

  Flask of the Fiery Furnace (Epic, Charge 13)

  +6 Body, +6 Mana

  This flask, which refills daily, allows its user to imbibe a powerful buff that increases their fire spells’ damage for one minute and gives them the Elite status effect. Three uses/day.

  The Warhammer was interesting, but I only had eyes for the Corpse of Iron. Nothing else mattered, and the Trigger was Tori’s as sure as the Flask was Zane’s. But of course, I ended up with both the hammer and the corpse; the first went over my shoulder, feeling a bit too heavy and short, while the second ended up in my inventory along with the ruins of my Trip-Hammer.

  Then all that remained was shutting down the War Machine. That took only a few seconds before its Charge drained into the air, resonance spiking until it was all but overwhelming. Then the Union Center was quiet. The few orcs that were left had fled, and there was nothing left to do here but meet with the survivors on the West Side, then go home. And I couldn’t wait for that. I had so much to learn—and so many experiments to try out.

  And the first one was the Grovetender’s Heart.