All it took was a short-lived lapse in awareness for the first arrow to get by. Had we triggered a trap of some sort? I wondered, not wanting to consider the alternative that Derulo, the Minotaur, was an archer capable of attacking from such a ludicrous range. We were still nearly three miles out from the boss’s position.

  I heard Grace squirming on the ground but couldn't avert my eyes to assess her condition. Exactly four seconds passed before another subtle whistling noise emerged, and I spotted a second arrow cruising through the air from the corridor's vanishing point.

  I clapped my hands together, catching the arrow between my palms before it reached my chest and tossed it aside. Apparently, Derulo was not only a Minotaur but also a physics-defying archer.

  Using the time between arrows, I stole a glance at Grace, hearing the rest of our party running up behind us.

  “Don't look at me!” Grace shouted. “I'm fine.”

  That seemed unlikely. I watched the arrow pierce her chest with my own eyes. Another arrow flew in at a low trajectory, nearly skidding off the ground as if the bastard was aiming for my legs. I evaded the evenly timed barrage, drawing the attention away from Grace.

  “Stay down,” I yelled, narrowing my eyes down range, anticipating Derulo's next shot.

  “I said, I'm fine,” Grace leaned up from the ground, pulling the arrow from her torso. “This armor was enchanted to protect against one deadly blow.”

  Grace tossed the flattened arrowhead aside, examining her blown-out, tattered chest piece before she pulled it off, revealing a massive bruise glowing beneath her cloth shirt. “Looks like that was it.”

  Two arrows whizzed down the corridor, never losing an ounce of momentum. Their initial speed must’ve been unfathomable to reach us this quickly, which posed a massive problem. How were we supposed to get closer?

  I side-stepped one and snatched the other out of the air. At first glance, the arrow appeared entirely ordinary—a wooden shaft with a plain white fletching. As I concentrated my focus, the arrows became sluggish, like they were lackadaisical leaves tumbling in a gentle breeze, ripe for catching.

  My body moved effortlessly with the elegance of a professional ballerina, snatching one feathered missile after another despite the frequency between shots.

  “Do you have a mirror?” I asked, sashaying through a three-for-one special, catching all three bolts between my fingers.

  Grace pressed her back against the wall, making herself a smaller target. “What kind of question is that?”

  Six arrows flew at me in an uneven pattern. I unsheathed my sword and spun, deflecting the incoming cascade. “Never mind,” I muttered, with my hopes of spending my mastery and ability points dashed.

  Duskblade and friends showed up fashionably late and hesitated upon arrival. They stood dumbfounded, gawking onward as I played whack-a-mole against the interspersed volley. The gap between shots shrank further, turning into a continuous fire that was becoming hard to keep up without relying on Agility Burst.

  “Can I get someone with a shield up here?” I asked, slashing through another barrage.

  Thankfully, Duskblade intervened, jumping into the front-line, shield out, intercepting the flow of projectiles as Grace dove across the hall, taking cover behind our tank.

  “Well, isn't this place charming?” Duskblade grit his teeth and stomped forward. “Everyone, get behind me and keep your heads down. Steady Guard.”

  The party shifted on his command, falling in line as a silver aura swirled around Duskblade, concentrating along the edges of his shield, intercepting the barrage like a magnet.

  I appreciated the brief respite even if we were packed in behind him like a bunch of sweaty sardines.

  “Cyprus, give me your health potion,” Callum whined, tugging at my cloak.

  “Forget it. We might need it for someone useful,” I said. “The real fight hasn't started yet.”

  Joel peered over Duskblade's shield wall. “I can't even see what's shooting at us. Bastard must be a skilled longbow user.”

  Grace scoffed. “Cyprus claims it's a Minotaur.”

  “Minotaur gore, trample, bludgeon. They don't use ranged weapons,” Joel said, ducking down as Duskblade defended against a flock of projectiles.

  We naturally adopted a stop-and-go rhythm, gaining the slightest amount of ground by inching forward like turtles. Arrowheads pinged off Duskblade's curved slab of steel, splintering the wood at our feet as we pressed onward.

  It was too soon to break formation. Even if I used every ability at my disposal, I'd still fall short. The distance I needed to cover was too great. Meeting Derulo head-on with everything on cooldown felt like the worst option among several terrible choices.

  “How long can you keep that up?” I asked.

  “Steady Guard,” Duskblade shouted and charged ahead, legs shaking as he pressed forward. “This coward will run out of ammo before I give out.”

  It was a great bluff that rallied the party's confidence in their meat-shield. But his wavering posture suggested otherwise. Soon even a soft gust would be capable of toppling him and the hailstorm of sharp metal would have free rein to decorate our flesh. Yet, somehow, Duskblade pushed on, drawing desperate breaths, each step looking like his last.

  “We need to relieve this pressure. I'll draw the fire,” Callum said.

  Who the fuck said that?

  I did a double take, utterly shocked as Joel grabbed Callum's shoulders, holding him back from charging out of the tight-knit formation.

  “Don't think for a second those weak arrows could shake my will,” Duskblade bellowed at the top of his lungs, his words ricocheting down the passage.

  The incoming fire tapered off before halting altogether. Duskblade took a knee, resembling a sickly snowman that had insisted on a long hike along the equator. A faint outline emerged at the end of the straightaway, dialing itself into focus with each step.

  Even at a distance, Derulo resembled a roided up bodybuilder with inflated water balloon muscles that seemed to be on the verge of popping. Two enormous horns curved out of his dense bullhead. His chest and arms were human-like, albeit hairy and disproportionately huge even when compared to an oaf like Duskblade.

  The beast clopped in our direction on two hooves attached to chunky bull legs. A chain belt secured a golden speedo that did a poor job in securing the surface area of Derulo's testicles. However, what stood out more than its disturbing anatomy and choice of battle-wear was the siege contraption he cradled in his arms.

  A stack of steel bolts lay slotted in the center of the huge ballista with a flat chain pulled taut against a pin. Derulo leveled the device in our direction and fired. The air crackled as a heavy bolt surged downrange, followed by a second thunderous snap.

  “Dodge or die!” Duskblade shouted as he dropped low and rolled across the floor.

  In a place where science and physics meant a damn, those heavy bolts would've lost momentum and dropped off long before reaching us. Instead, they picked up speed, making the generous arrow fire from earlier feel like a mere friendly introduction.

  I intercepted the first bolt with my sword, knocking it out of the air and chipping my blade’s tip in the process. The second metal missile went wide, whizzing past me.

  A moist tearing sound erupted from the rear, accompanied by a gurgling whimper.

  Somebody died.

  I wasn't sure who, nor could I afford to care. It was a simple trap, intending to shatter our focus and distract us from Derulo’s impending approach, limiting our counterattack's potential. At least the boss was thoughtfully saving us a marathon's worth of distance as he charged forth.

  “He's dead! Eyes forward,” Duskblade yelled, his voice drowned out by panicked screams.

  Click.

  Boom.

  Click.

  Boom.

  Serrated metal tips sliced through the air, carrying the oversized bolts down the straightaway at a frightening speed. It seemed neither projectile was aimed at me.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Fuck, someone else is going to die.

  “Agility Burst,” I muttered under my breath.

  My senses bloomed. The rush of bonus stats swelled through my body as I lunged diagonally, snapping my chipped sword against the first projectile, sending it screeching across the floor. The cheap blade fractured, falling apart as the follow-up bolt glided by, too far out of reach. I pivoted around, hurling my ruined sword's hilt after it with low expectations.

  Ping.

  The hilt barely connected with the bolt's fletching, causing it to spin out.

  The minor victory was short-lived as I finally saw who ate the first round of ballista fire. Blood streaked down the hall, marking the path Oakley's lifeless body took from the projectile's impact. The boy lay crumpled on the ground, forehead touching the stiff shaft of the bolt that had impaled his sternum.

  I furrowed my brow, slightly concerned by my lack of emotion.

  Is this sad?

  The party's formation splintered. Callum was sitting on his ass with his back against the wall, clutching his knees, smothered in terror. Duskblade was still spent, barely standing on two legs out of sheer willpower while Grace and Joel hopelessly rummaged through a supply pack, using him as cover. But unless they were about to pull out an AR-15, it was a waste of time.

  Out of everyone, Tobias was the most collected. The boy positioned himself a few yards behind me, staring ahead with a calm expression.

  “I won't be able to deal with those arrows for much longer, and he'll be on top of us soon. Anyone have a sure-fire strategy they can pull out of their ass?” I asked.

  Agility Burst was already halfway through its duration, and I was wondering...

  Did I waste my cooldown on these useless bastards?

  “Found it.” Grace held two vials of white powder in her palm.

  I shot Grace a curious glance. “What's that?”

  “Flash powder,” she said, clicking the vials together.

  “He's almost in range.” Joel, the alleged archer, finally nocked an arrow in his bow and leaned forward.

  I awaited the next round of fire, but Derulo held off as if he was waiting for my stat boost to fade.

  The atmosphere somehow got worse as the Minotaur's shadow encompassed the hallway. Perception sure was a son of a bitch. This bastard looked beyond enormous now that he wasn't a million miles away. His unyielding shoulders were wide enough to block half of the passage, and his horns were practically scraping the ceiling as he tried closing the last stretch between us.

  Joel started rattling off arrows that the beast merely shrugged off like they were Nerf darts. As the corridor rumbled, I dug my feet into the floor, taking a defensive stance, preparing for the inevitable clash. Derulo's beady, sunken eyes locked with mine. A nasty grin spread across his face as he raised the ballista once more.

  “Look away,” Grace commanded as she pitched the vial.

  The tiny glass of powder twirled through the air, shattering between us and Derulo. An ear-splitting bang exploded, followed by a flash of light that seeped through the cloak I was using to cover my eyes. Ears ringing, I peered past the edge of the cloth, re-orienting myself.

  A muffled scream cut through the overwhelming buzzing.

  Grace lay on her back, clutching the mess of sinew and cartilage that used to be her left leg.

  “Now's our only chance, attack!” Tobias cried. “I'll tend to her wounds.”

  My stat boost was just wearing off, but the boy was right. This was our chance. Derulo may have gotten that shot off before the strange flashbang went off, but now he was completely stunned, wobbling backwards as he covered his muscled head with his hands, the ballista dropped at his feet.

  “Ultimate Arrow,” Joel said as he unleashed a barrage of three entirely average looking arrows.

  I rushed ahead while Joel shouted out abilities that I assumed didn't actually exist or, at the best, were completely ineffective. Each arrow simply bounced off Derulo’s leathery flesh. The beast roared, sensing my proximity. Clenching my fist, I jumped into the air, targeting a clean strike to his skull.

  Derulo peeked through the gaps in his 2 liter-sized fingers, smiling.

  Well, shit...

  He was faking it. The conniving bullman twisted his head, trying to gore me with his horns. My fingers slipped around the ridged surface, avoiding its pointed course.

  This asshole thinks he's slick.

  It turned out he was quite slick.

  As I kicked off his chest and flipped through the air, evading his fists, a hairy snake appeared out of his ass and whipped through the air, cracking against my chest. I crashed into the wall on the left side of the tunnel, feeling my ribs fracture and the air squeeze out of my lungs.

  When did he get a tail?

  There was no time to assess the damage. I rolled to the side, barely avoiding a follow-up strike. Each of my movements were filled with pain and desperation. Reaching for my belt, I pinched an emergency throwing knife from its loop.

  Derulo was careful. He kept just enough distance to harass me with a constant barrage of tail whips. If I used Dagger Step as a gap closer and didn't kill him in one strike, I'd die. And invisibility seemed useless since I was wheezing like a chain smoker on an uphill hike.

  “How dare you attack the Twilight Ranger's second in command, you scum,” Callum shrieked, charging forth with Duskblade behind him.

  “Cyprus, you don't think we'd let you have all the fun, right?” Duskblade boasted.

  Where the hell were you guys for the past 60 seconds while I was getting my ass beat?

  The onslaught of ranged tail slaps ceased as a rain of ineffective arrows pelted the back of Derulo's head, drawing his attention to the others.

  “Watch out for its tail,” I warned, using the sudden distraction to consume the rest of my health potion.

  Zero hesitation lurked in Callum's sword as he advanced. “Echoing Blade.”

  The edge of Callum's blade blurred with fire as he entered striking distance.

  Duskblade broke off to the left, dropping his shield as Derulo's tail surged through the air. “Steady Guard,” he choked as he intercepted the tail swipe.

  He absorbed the brunt of the attack, supporting Callum's opening. The man I previously regarded as a giant pussy flew forward as a level three, head first into a level ten. And although his weapon was engulfed in impressive looking flames, Derulo blocked the attack with his bare hands.

  “Huh?” a wide-eyed Callum stared up at the hair sizzling off the gargantuan pair of mitts. “Fuck.”

  Derulo counter-attacked, rearing its head forward. Coarse horns punctured through the top of Callum's skull like a straw breaking the seal of a juice box, killing him instantly.

  Their attack had been a good idea, pinching the enemy between us. It could've worked if Derulo wasn't so far out of our league. There was no lasting damage, but Callum's gambit bought enough time for my recovery and best of all, the beast had turned its back to me.

  Pouncing at my target, I launched my throwing dagger, aiming for the V-shaped gap between its legs. Derulo let out an agonized howl as the dagger found the crevice between his speedo. His tail flung Duskblade aside in a frantic race to find my neck.

  I sidestepped its lashing tail and drove a right hook into its lower back, which felt like punching a cast-iron pan at full strength. My hand shattered along with the bones in my wrist. But at least I wasn't the sad fucker lying face first on the ground with a punctured nutsack. I doubled back, eagerly awaiting an XP notification.

  Stay down. Just be dead.

  Duskblade gathered himself up from being strewn across the hall, cautiously eying the felled boss.

  Tobias tended to Grace several yards behind the action while Joel stood beside them with an arrow nocked in his bow.

  An angry squeal confirmed Derulo was alive and quite pissed off. Blood flowed down the Minotaur’s legs as he rose, rumbling off a string of unintelligible curses. He glanced in my direction, nostrils flared until an arrow pierced his shoulder from behind.

  “Take that, you bastard!” Joel shouted, celebrating his first successful attack.

  Before the so-called razor archer lined up another shot, Derulo scooped his ballista off the ground and emptied it downrange. The heavy bolts shredded Joel like a ripe tomato and tore through Tobias, pinning what was left of their tattered bodies against the ground.

  I swept the carnage with Karma's Gaze.

  Target: Grace

  Level: 3

  Karma: +570

  Additional Data - Second in command of the Twilight Rangers. Age, 26. Female…

  I wasn't exactly sure how it turned out this way. Chaos warned me, but I continued, purely out of spite.

  Shut the fuck up and turn that cow into chopped beef.

  Instinctively, I noticed my cooldown refresh as Derulo turned to face me. He lowered his shoulders and charged at a blistering speed.

  “Agility Burst,” I shouted, rushing straight on.

  While he tried goring me, I used his staggering height against him, rushing in low. I cocked my head back and snapped it forward. My forehead cracked into his trachea like a metal bat into a pinata. Big, bad Derulo thrashed backward, tail frantically whipping around. Although he was more intelligent than the goblin boss, unless he knew how to perform a tracheotomy, he was finished.

  Moments later, his fuckedness was realized. He collapsed, sprawling out face first across the floor.

  +1000 XP

  +350 Karma

  Through pure determination, Duskblade gathered himself off the ground once more, using his shield as a crutch. “Is he dead?”

  “Yeah, it's over.” I exhaled a sigh of relief, noticing the experience points must've been split between the three of us.

  Duskblade was now level five and Grace hit level four, despite her critical condition. She lay with her back up against the wall, eyes glued on her friend's mangled corpses. The tourniquet above her left knee kept her from bleeding out, but everything beneath it was torn beyond repair.

  “He shoved me out of the way,” Grace whispered, pointing at Tobias, who was skewered to the ground. “Why did he do that?”

  Nobody had an answer.

  Duskblade stood over Callum's body, speechless. “I'm sorry, friend. This was my fault.”

  My mind ran rampant, dissecting where everything went wrong. Of course, there shouldn't have been a level 10 boss to begin with, but we all knew when we first entered that this dungeon was far from average.

  Chaos suggested we turn back and even teased me about unlocking the entrance, which I wrote off without a second thought. Not that it mattered. Considering the quest, I never had a choice.

  Although Duskblade insisted on shouldering the responsibility, these deaths were on me. Yet, where was the guilt? Was it hiding under a rock, waiting to strike at a more opportune time? Maybe the minuscule amount of empathy I thought I had never existed in the first place. Either way, the lack of despair disturbed me.

  “Hang in there, Grace. I promise we'll get out of here,” Duskblade said, limping toward her.

  The pain flaring up my arm and into my torso gave me a strong sense of déjà vu. Though, compared to the others, I was practically unscathed. Duskblade was battered, bloody, bruised, and exhausted. And there was no telling how bad his injuries were underneath his armor.

  Our eyes met, and he admitted, “I don't think I can carry her.”

  “I've got her.”

  Grace let out a bloodcurdling yell as she hoisted herself onto my back with Duskblade's help. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders as she got into position, resting her head against my back. Loose strands of fiery red hair tickled my neck as I carried her. An odd, warm sensation raised goosebumps across my flesh.

  What the hell is this?

  “Something wrong?” Grace asked.

  “No, it's nothing.” I shuddered, my senses stumbling like an indigenous tribesman encountering 21st century technology for the first time.

  Metal clanged against the ground as Duskblade abandoned his shield. He approached Joel, waving his hand over the archer's body. “Please, Anise, Goddess of Light, guide these souls with peace.”

  Who the fuck is that? I'll really lose it if another god comes into play.

  Sparing one blessing for each corpse, Duskblade uttered one more prayer for Oakley before reluctantly grabbing the loot satchel from his body. Upon Grace's request, he completed the dirty work of searching through Derulo's crimson stained speedo, retrieving a slim iron key.

  “The chest must be at the end of this wretched tunnel,” Duskblade said.

  With clenched teeth, Grace sunk her fingers into my shoulders as I started moving. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable walk for the both of us.