Deacon swallowed hard as the Grovebound Warden's low growl rumbled through the forest. As it began to make its way toward him, its claws scraped against the earth, sending up small sprays of dirt and light dust clouds. An attempt that Deacon assumed was used to obscure his vision, one that didn't make much sense considering its large size.
The fungal growths on its back pulsated with every step it took, and occasionally they would burst at random and spew yellowish gas and pus into the air before the ruptured growths would knit themselves back together and start to bubble up.
Deacon dove to the side, barely dodging a swipe from its clawed paw. The ground quaked as the Warden's paw slammed down where he previously stood. Its barbed tail whipped almost immediately in his direction upon the lack of blood staining its paw, unleashing a cloud of toxic spores and yellow mist that shot towards him.
He coughed, stumbling back, swords flashing as he sliced through the spores. The Mycelial Grasp hissed, its tendrils releasing poisonous clouds that met the Warden's own. The beast howled, its bark-like skin blistering and steaming from the toxin.
Each strike hissed as the Mycelial Grasp released poisonous clouds from the fungal tendrils entwined around his weapons. The Warden howled in pain, recoil evident as its bark-like skin blistered and steamed from the toxin.
It's not as tough as it looks, Deacon remarked as he took notice of the damage he inflicted on it. But like all Floor Bosses, its health pool is still insane.
But the beast was relentless.
It charged again, faster this time, its mask splitting open in two to reveal teeth, teeth that snapped shut inches from Deacon's face.
Deacon ducked under the snapping jaws, stabbing his left flame-wreathed short sword into the soft tissue beneath the creature's neck. The fungal tendrils on his gauntlets writhed violently, spewing more poison into its pierced neck.
The Grovebound Warden lurched back from the pain of both the blade cutting into its neck and the poison that was eating it from the inside, letting out a screech that sounded like a forest collapsing, trees splintering and crashing in a deafening cacophony.
Its massive body curled inwards, priming the bark plates and fungal growths on its back, slinging chunks of charred bark and steaming blood into the air. Thick, yellowish sap seeped from the gash in its neck, hissing as it dripped onto the ground, scorching the earth.
Deacon didn't give it time to recover.
He surged forward, right blade arcing low as he ducked under a retaliatory swing of the Warden's thorned tail. The blade bit deep into its hind leg just behind the joint, where the bark gave way to rotted muscle. The Mycelial Grasp pulsed eagerly, as the poison within its body erupted into toxic spores, which sent the Warden roaring in pain.
Deacon twisted the blade before yanking it free. "You're a tough fucker," he muttered, sweat and blood running down the side of his face.
The Warden roared again, its fungal nodes beginning to pulse in unison now. With each pulse, more of its gas vented into the air. The forest itself seemed to react; vines slithered from the soil, curling around tree trunks, and the air grew thick, suffocating.
Deacon immediately held his breath. What is this? A debuff? A field effect? Both?
The haze thickened fast. It rolled in waves; dense, yellow-green mist curling low across the roots, spiraling up tree trunks, turning the forest floor into a swamp of toxins.
Deacon couldn't hold his breath forever.
He dashed backward, coughing once despite himself as bits of the mist found their way into his nose, and that was enough. The gas burned as it scraped down his nose and throat, a searing tingle that spread into his chest. His vision flickered. Limbs slowed. Mycelial Grasp tightened reflexively, sensing danger, its tendrils twitching like nerves on fire.
Then the Grovebound Warden was on him, faster than he could react..
The beast's tail lashed out, clipping his side like a whip of barbed iron. Pain exploded across his chest, flinging him off his feet and into the air. As gravity called, he tumbled and skidded through wet dirt and tangled undergrowth until he hit the base of a tree, stars blooming across his vision.
"Ghhh, f-fuck," he gasped, rolling to his knees. The world swam, and his left arm began to spasm.
He could feel blood slick and hot beneath his tunic. Two ribs, maybe three, were definitely cracked.
The Warden snarled and began to circle. Its fungal nodes beat like a second heartbeat, louder now, and the rhythm at which they pulsed matched the pounding in his skull.
Deacon pushed himself up with a grunt, one knee buckling before he steadied. The spores had gotten into his bloodstream. His health and stamina bar ticked downward.
Nausea bloomed in his gut.
"Alright," he rasped, raising both short swords. "You want to use poison, you demented, fat Tree Ent? Fine, let's use poison."
The Warden lunged at him for his words.
Deacon dodged, barely, its claws tearing furrows in the ground as he slid under its body, carving his left blade across its underbelly, causing black sap to gush out of its wounds.
Tendrils from Mycelial Grasp snapped outward, anchoring themselves inside the wound and vomiting another plume of spores inside the beast.
The beast shrieked and twisted violently, causing its right hind leg to slam onto Deacon's back as he attempted to dodge away.
Deacon flew through the air and slammed into the side of a tree, its bark cracking around him. His head throbbed, and for a moment, he couldn't move as his head was embedded into its bark.
Deacon immediately sucked in a breath and grunted through his teeth to burn through the pain of his nose breaking. His ribs and clavicle arched like never before, and blood slicked down the lower half of his face.
But he wasn't down, not this easily.
His hand trembled as he ripped himself from the split tree trunk, body sliding down to the roots. The Grovebound Warden had already turned again, its mask gaping open, a gurgling growl echoing through the forest like a funeral drumbeat, openly mocking him.
Deacon spat blood. "Alright," he hissed, digging into his belt pouch, pulling free two daggers from his hip, and digging his short swords into the ground beside him. "Let's tango."
He activated Undying Flame and cast Flame Armament in tandem.
In response, the world around him warped with heat.
The steel of his daggers ignited with sudden fury. The tendrils of Mycelial Grasp thickened, bark-like plates hardening over them, spores glowing faintly green amidst the blaze.
He dug his right foot into the dirt as the daggers in his cocked-back arm shot forward.
The first dagger struck the beast's shoulder like a cannonball.
BOOM!
A small eruption of flame and spores detonated on impact. Bark blew free in chunks. The second dug into the Warden's neck, just beneath a fungal node, which had caused the green gas to combust instantly in a swirling flash of poison-tinged fire.
The Warden reeled, howling. Its limbs thrashed. A vine-laced root shot toward Deacon from beneath the soil, but he sidestepped, just barely, while ripping out his short swords from the ground, and surged forward, flames trailing behind him.
He leapt high, eyes locked onto the cracked mask.
"I'm gonna enjoy busting up your face, just as you did mine!"
Midair, he brought both short swords down, flame surging from his body like a blast furnace. The short swords connected with the top of the Warden's skull with a loud crack as the mask shattered in a burst of bark and bone.
The real face beneath was revealed: twisted muscle and fungal growth, a warped semblance of a feline skull fused with pustules.
The creature screamed and slammed its body against the trees, trying to dislodge Deacon from it.
Deacon held on, teeth clenched, fire blazing brighter as Flame Armament peaked.
He stabbed again, left, then right, each strike exploding with searing fire and poisonous fog that worked in tandem with Undying Flame. Mycelial Grasp drank deep from his mana, feeding the spores into the wounds until the Warden's flesh began to slough and liquify faster than it could regenerate.
The beast bucked wildly.
A final swing from its thorned tail sent Deacon flying again, but this time, he blocked the strikes with his short swords as he flipped midair, twisted, and landed in a crouch, skidding to a stop. One knee dug into the ground, and blood trailed down his jaw.
The Warden staggered, smoke rising from its back. Its fungal nodes pulsed irregularly now. Gas leaked in uneven bursts. Legs trembling.
Deacon's fire had waned somewhat, but his grin had not.
"C'mon," he said, breath ragged, "That can't be all you can do right? Where was all that bravado from earlier?"
The Grovebound Warden let out a warped, wheezing snarl. Its mask had long since shattered, exposing a warped face of half-rotten sinew and pustules. Its claws dug into the ground as it lowered itself, preparing for one final charge.
Deacon rotated his shoulders, wincing as something popped in his back. "This is endgame right here," he murmured, letting his short swords drop low to his sides. The flames still blaze along their blades
The Warden surged forward in a clumsy, powerful sprint, thorned tail whipping wildly behind it.
Deacon sprinted to meet it.
They were about to collide mid-field before Deacon slid low under its paw swipe, his right blade flashing up to carve through the beast's front limb, severing its tendons. The Warden screamed, twisted itself to slam its shoulder into him, which sent Deacon rolling backward across the mossy earth.
Pain lanced through his bruised chest, but he kept moving.
Deacon came up into a half-crouch, pulled a dagger from his boot, and, with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying. The Mycelial Grasp's tendrils were already poisoning its blade within the time it left his hand.
THUNK!
The poisoned dagger buried itself deep into the creature's left eye socket, causing it to let out a choking howl, stumbling back.
Deacon was on it in a blink.
He leapt onto its back, barely holding steady on its thrashing body, and plunged both flame and poison-wreathed short swords into the base of its neck, just above the largest, still-pulsing fungal node. The Mycelial Grasp responded with a violent shudder, pumping concentrated toxins into the exposed flesh.
The pustules burst.
A flood of yellow-green gas erupted from the creature's back, and Deacon was swallowed in it.
He dropped down behind the beast, coughing violently, vision swimming. His skin burned. His eyes stung. The spores were eating at him.
The Warden's massive body swayed once… twice… thrice.
And then dropped like a felled tree.
Boom!
It didn't get up.
Deacon stood over the corpse, chest heaving, his entire body slick with sweat, blood, and residual spores.
*[The Grovebound Warden – Floor Boss Lv 6] has been slain – XP has been given.*
*Your Race has reached Lv 6 – Points allocated, +1 Free Point*
Wave 5 has been completed!
A slow grin spread across his battered face.
"Was that all?" he muttered hoarsely, then laughed as he looked up toward the statues of the Three Sisters. The vines had now wrapped fully up to their midsections.
Just as Deacon had uttered those words, a figure shimmered into existence a few feet away from him.
Moriah.
She looked just as she did in her photo; sharp eyes, dark lipstick, high boots, and an outfit that could've walked straight out of a supernatural noir thriller, a black velvet corset.
"Thank you, young hero," she smiled, eyes softening as she stepped closer to him. "My home's protection against the Three Sisters of Fate has been restored. As the only one to not only have found but completed my Quest, I wish to offer you a boon on your journey up the Tower."
Deacon's brows furrowed for a moment, pursing his lips as his eyes flickered to the side – at his Quest Page.
Floor Two – Defiance of the Thread:
The Cursed Forest of Moriah, long shrouded from both the gods and fate, is now on the brink of collapse, weakened by time and the enforcers of fate that are invading the forest on the behest of the Three Sisters of Fate to overcome their binds.
In the heart of the Cursed Forest of Moriah lie the statues of the Three Sisters of Fate: Urd the Writer of the Past, Lachesis the Weaver of the Present, and Morta the Spinner of the Future, whom were bound by Moriah the Defier of Fate.
In order to restore and reinforce the spell cast by Moriah on the forest, the following ritual must be completed to perfection:
— Locate the Three Sisters of Fate statues hidden within the heart of the forest.
— Pour the contents of the Porcelain Bottles on their respective statues.
— Face and survive 5 Waves of Judgment. The more Stages completed, the longer the spell to hide from both the gods and fate will hold.
Floor Completion Criteria:
▸ Locate the Three Fates' Statues. ✔
▸ Offer the Vials. ✔
▸ Survive successive waves of hostile entities sent by the Fates.
Time Remaining: — ∞ —
"Then why does it say that I'm not done yet?"