“Not bad,” Hammer says conversationally, “but how long can you keep it up? Your body has to be getting tired. Wipe timer’s counting down too.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. Another lava eruption behind me punctuates his statement. It’s closer than the previous one, lessening the amount of available maneuvering area, and more are on the way. Devs don’t let you dick around in an encounter forever. My sides ache from oxygen debt, my muscles are on fire, and the whole chamber is going to be full of boiling magma pretty soon. I have to end this quickly, but how…?
Hammer yawns, exposing the wet pinkness of the dragon’s throat.
“Looks like I win this one, Ashura. A pity. You’ve been worthy prey.”
That’s when it hits me. The passageway leading in—of course. No one’s tried it before, because it’s a horrible idea, but it makes sense within the Game’s logic. There’re always clues to the encounter, for those who pay attention, and there’s always more than one way to win. Successfully pulling it off, though, is going to require some finesse, and no small amount of luck.
Time to play Jonah. The gummies are gonna love this.
“Slend,” I subvocalize on our private channel. “When the dragon ate you, where were you positioned?”
“Underneath chest. Claws don’t reach. Uses mouth.”
“Perfect. Any tells when it came down?”
“Black eyes. Shark eyes.”
“Got it. Kiro?”
“Yeah?”
“Be quiet. Don’t distract me.”
Another angry huff.
Lava erupts again, bare centimeters from my spine. Time to move. Above and around, the cavern walls are almost pure gold, glyphs covering us in a dome of brilliance, millions upon millions ignoring whatever grips them in the real, instead watching me in the spotlight. The twinge of nerves and adrenaline hitting my stomach is like the purest high in the world, banishing all sensation of pain. If I make this work…
I reverse the sword’s grip in my hand, setting the blade back along the length of my forearm, dull side in, chisel point almost touching my elbow. A lone stringed instrument sustains a high note, the entire cavern seeming to hold its breath. My hamstrings and calves tense, muscles coiling, and then, almost unthinkingly, I’m in motion, feet gliding over the rocky ground. My mind falls into the dreamlike state of full combat, at one with my body, reactions coming before my brain even has time to craft a response.
Hammer attacks, swiping with one clawed hand, but he’s not fast enough to do more than ruffle my hair with the wind of its passing, talons brushing past my face scant millimeters away. I continue my sprint, then roll to the side, avoiding a swing from his other hand. That one passes by my feet, slicing a thin layer from the bottom of one boot, a sliver of my sole. I plant my left foot and push myself back upright, running directly toward the copper-green chest of the dragon, momentarily left open by Hammer’s lunging sweeps. Lava bursts behind me, but it’s a distant thunder in my ears. Flame lances blast the ground, cratering explosions nearly lighting me on fire, but the shifting movement pattern I’ve adopted helps me avoid a direct hit.
It’s like running a hundred-meter sprint through hell.
The last lance explodes behind me, and I stagger to a halt directly beneath the dragon’s chest, breathing hard. A towering head stares down at me, nearly twenty meters up, swaying back and forth on a supple neck. With a sudden rush, scaly arms slam down behind me, blocking off any retreat. Hammer chuckles.
“Impressive, but now there’s nowhere left to run, is there?”
Blood-spattered lips peel back to reveal stained fangs once more.
“I will relish this moment. The mighty Ashura, finally brought low, your reign atop the leaderboards ended. Any last words?”
I smile tiredly, adrenaline high gone, lactic acid burning my legs and arms, cramps threatening to seize my limbs, but my blade steady in my hand.
“Yeah. Eat me, Hammer.”
Double rows of teeth shine in the blinding light of glyphs surrounding us.
“With pleasure.”
A nictating membrane slides over the dragon’s eyes, turning them the dead black of a burnt-out viewscreen. I summon up the last of my reserves, willing my body to obey me one last time, fighting through the toxic by-products of my own muscles.
“Ash!”
Kiro’s voice sounds in my head simultaneously with the dragon’s strike, but I can only focus on one thing right now, and it has to be the descending maw. Time slows, the gaping mouth growing larger and larger in my field of vision. I suck in a deep breath, lungs pressed to bursting against my chest. Right before the rows of teeth seem ready to close on my upper body, I jump, arms extended above me, pushing with every ounce of strength I possess, my own lips pressed tight.
The warm wetness of the dragon’s throat engulfs me, closing around my body like a fleshy glove, pressing in from all directions. I feel teeth snap beneath my feet, but Hammer is too slow. With a snarl, I plunge my sword into his ridged gullet and pull myself deeper into the fetid tunnel.
Hot air swirls around me, the noxious fumes stinging my eyes, but I keep going, stabbing the blade in again and again, kicking my feet for purchase, holding my breath to avoid being poisoned. Acid burns along my exposed flesh, corrosive digestive juices breaking down my skin, but I wall the pain away. I can feel the dragon spasm and shake, Hammer frantically trying to dislodge me from his throat, but I go deeper, worming my way forward. Frozen breath hammers my lungs, carbon dioxide starting to build up to dangerous levels, and finally I feel an opening in front of my outstretched hand. Silently, I thank the hours spent learning the anatomy of creatures that live only in imagination.
Not much time left before you suffocate. Stomach’s in front, which means the heart should be… there.
Two quick cuts, my blade’s keen edge slicing an opening in the striated esophagus lining, and I reach through to feel the pulsating wetness of the dragon’s heart, a thickly muscled mass almost as big as a child. Another slash opens it up, hot blood gushing out in torrential spurts. The sword’s handle grows slick in my hands, Hammer’s thrashing death rattles nearly jarring it loose, but the comforting grip doesn’t fail. It never has.
I keep cutting and pushing my way forward, metal sliding through muscle, then fat, then finally skin, oxygen deprivation spots flashing against my eyelids, and suddenly I’m sliding wetly from a slit in the dragon’s belly—a shockingly violent birth.
The brimstone air of the cavern fills my lungs. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Sobbing, laughing, shuddering, I stagger to my feet and howl victory at the overwhelming glyphic light, brandishing my sword like a talisman, dragon blood streaming down my arms and face, bathing my body in a gory shroud. I am scalded, burnt, not quite whole, yet wholly alive. Magma explodes around me, triumphant horns making the very air shake, and though I can’t hear the roar behind the glyphs, I know it’s there nonetheless.
Just another encounter.
3
[Molting a Polymer Skin]
“Fucking hell, Ash. I still can’t believe you pulled that off. You’re nuts, you know that? Absolutely certifiable.”
Wind’s voice comes drifting from the dragon’s corpse, where she and Slend are carving off various useful bits, their bodies restored to life after I successfully took down Hammer. Kiro pokes glumly at the dragon’s tail with his staff, his expression downcast, no doubt blaming himself for not being more useful, upset at the chastising Wind and Slend gave him for not maintaining comms protocol, angry at me for bringing him into an encounter he didn’t feel prepared for.