Zariel channeled all his light—his faith—into his shield. Pure light wrapped around the party and formed a protective dome of gold. If this was truly to be the end, then he would die first as a tank and paladin.
“Your name?” the gunner asked, placing the barrel of her rifle on the paladin’s shoulder.
“Zariel.”
“Evo. It’s been an honor,” she said. “Mind if I use you?”
The paladin looked straight ahead and prepared himself to tank the impossible.
“Thanks.”
Evo tinkered with her rifle, loading a special kind of ammunition and clearing the chamber with a satisfying pop.
“You might want to cover your ears,” she cautioned.
The rifle began to hum.
“Good luck.”
A puff of smoke, and the rogue vanished from view. The warrior scoffed. In the blinding light cast by the boss, the rogue’s shadow was obvious. He was running, but there was nowhere to run to. In a final, desperate attempt, she charged at the being with her axes.
The chanter and the warlock both accepted their fate, albeit in different ways. One meditated, holding his staff across his arms like it was a baby. The other knelt his head and conjured a small flame in his hand, admiring it.
“Die… permanently?”
The bard looked down at the cleric.
“Surely the gods will save us, right?”
The cleric’s lips began to tremble.
Tears.
Color or gray, they were obvious.
“I-I’m sorry...” the cleric said, wiping away the tears. “I want to save you all. I just don’t know how…”
The bard gently placed her harplin on the floor, taking care not to damage the delicate strings. She wrapped her arms around the crying cleric, embracing her for what was to be the first and last time.
]
“Cowards! If you are to die, die fighting!” the warrior roared.
Zariel knew his role. To protect.
He had never faced a foe such as this.
He had never seen an ability like .
But perhaps he could tank it. He had a shield. He had his light. It did not matter the foe or the attack. Anything could be blocked if the barrier was strong enough. His body was that barrier.
There was a heat radiating next to his face—a growing, emerald green light at the end of the barrel that was fighting desperately against the surrounding gray. It went from green to gray, oscillating between the two.
“Get out of the way, you stubborn warrior!” Evo yelled.
No response. Axes continued to swipe through the air.
The gunner smacked her lips.
“Typical.”
She used Zariel’s sturdy shoulder to angle the barrel towards the sky.
Overhead, the two halves of shadow continued their dance. They soared through the air, as if they were chasing something.
“Maybe I’ll have better luck with those things…” Evo whispered under her breath.
Zariel looked up, following the gun’s barrel. He saw flashes of something in the sky. Temporary glimpses into another realm.
There, eight figures waged a battle. They were little more than splotches of color against the gray. One fended off a horde of flying creatures. Another leapt from platform to platform, absorbing pillars of energy. Two stood on nearby platforms: one on the left, one on the right. He knew what they were fighting.
The two halves of shadow descended upon them.
“Fire.”
The gunner obeyed the paladin’s command, unleashing a wide beam of energy into the sky.
It exploded, blanketing the sky in smoke.
??? [██??????????????????] 10%
Suddenly, the rifle’s weight lifted off his shoulder.
A disappointed sigh. It wasn’t enough to kill.
“That was all I had,” Evo said.
He could no longer see the other battle being waged.
[██████████████████??]
“Die well, pal.”
Zariel prepared himself, channeling all of his energy into the light barrier that surrounded the party. Only the warrior had chosen to fight outside of it.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Die, you glowing bastard, die!”
A massive orb of darkness hovered overhead. There was no sky or tower anymore. Just an enormous sphere of black that had consumed the smoke lingering in the air.
A spark.
A glint of light appeared in the void that the boss had created.
??? [▏??????????????????] 1%
“I will win!” the warrior yelled with glee.
She was a blur—a frantic whirlwind of axes and bloodlust.
Zariel lowered his shield. He doubted it was the warrior’s doing, but he could not deny the growing light in the darkness.
[██████████████████?]
“Fight!” Zariel ordered. “Use everything!”
The paladin charged forward while the gunner tracked the shadowy halves descending around them.
He issued the rallying cry. The final orders that all their lives hinged on.
The chanter sprung to his feet and followed after Zariel, staff at the ready. Elemental energies resonated within the warlock’s orb.
A beam of fire surged forth, accompanied by falling icicles that rained down.
Even the cleric was fighting, sending darts of magic that accompanied the bard’s more potent magical attacks.
Zariel looked back and saw everyone attacking.
Everyone, except the rogue. The cloaked figure stood on a distant ledge overlooking the abyss. He had nowhere else to run.
The rogue turned his face, and the two of them saw one another across the hellscape.
Zariel trusted that he would do the right thing.
??? [???????????????????] .1%
Color came rushing back. And for a brief, fleeting moment, two worlds collided.
Above, eight figures battled against two enormous halves of shadow. They were glowing, their armor adorned with enchantments and dyes he had never seen before.
Zantori Citadel was the newest raid. It had the best loot.
But what they wore was far superior.
In that other world, two fighters stood before the boss.
One held two axes, twirling them. The other held a sword and shield, radiating a subdued light.
Their weapons fell to their sides.
“It’s all up to them now.”
A familiar voice. It was confident, yet tired.
Zariel thrust his sword into their common foe. The paladin’s sword and the warrior’s axes struck in unison. To his surprise, he glimpsed daggers arcing overhead.
??? [???????????????????] .01%
The eight of them gave everything that they had.
[███████████████████]
And then, oblivion came.
Darkness surged forth, gnashing with tendrils and teeth of shadow.
Without hesitation, Zariel raised his shield and ran forward to meet it. But just before the darkness of oblivion reached him, light subsumed it.
“I WILL BE WAITING.”
When the searing light faded, Zantor stood before him.
His shield had been raised to meet oblivion, but now his sword lay embedded inside the demon, his hand firm around its grip.
Zariel stood perfectly still.
Dozens of possible explanations for what he had just experienced raced through his head: demonic illusions, hallucinations, dreams, and more. The master of the citadel was frozen in place. Even the flames had somehow stopped mid-flicker.
Zariel’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword and pulled it out.
“Be gone, demon.”
The flames vanished.
Zantor fell backwards with a mighty crash on the crimson-soaked tiles. Demonic blood bubbled and hissed as it mixed with the human blood of Zariel’s raid team.
ZANTOR [???????????????????] DEAD
A sword and shield lay on the ground.
Zariel fell to his knees and ripped off his gauntlets. It had been so long since his skin had felt the air. He rubbed his face and eyes with his own two hands and wondered if it was truly over.
“Zariel!”
Casttee rushed to his side, frantically casting every healing spell at her disposal. “Are you hurt?”
“Finally.”
The warlock pushed past the two of them and towards the glowing light emanating from Zantor’s corpse. “That horned gremlin better have my new tome—agh!”
A bola snapped around the warlock’s legs, causing him to fall face-first into a pool of sizzling demonic blood.
“Get this—get this off of me!” he managed to scream through the foul liquid.
The ranger sprinted past her fallen ally, and the other four members of the team followed with cheers and shouts.
Zariel did not join them. He had won, but he did not feel the relief victory typically brought. As always, Casttee bombarded him with questions about his health. The paladin paid them no mind.
“Or perhaps the fire left a disorienting debuff on—”
Zariel looked at her, trying to push away the overwhelming exhaustion he felt.
He forced a smile.
“Zariel…?”
He rose from the ground.
“We won,” the paladin said hesitantly, as if he was trying to convince himself.
She returned a cautious smile.
“ won,” she told him. “I don’t know how you did it…”
He looked down at his hands. He didn’t know either.
Then, he noticed.
It was difficult to tell, but his hands were different.
A speck of darkness danced across his skin, no larger than a dot from a quill.
He blinked, and it was gone.
But he felt it.
A soft, small hand fell over his, covering where the dot had been.
“Come on!” she said, pulling him towards Zantor. “Let’s see if you got that sword and shield after all!”
The raid party stood around the fallen demon. They were barely able to keep themselves still.
“You’ve looted every boss so far,” the ranger said. “We figured it’d be bad luck to break tradition now.”
Zariel gave an appreciative nod.
He put on his gauntlets. Now fully equipped, he placed his hand over the great demon and banished it. Demonic flames consumed the boss, leaving only a chest adorned with human skulls and bones.
Disgusted, Zariel kicked it open.
Everyone crowded around him, eager to peek at what treasures lay inside.
“Damn it!” the ranger blurted.
“W-what? What is it?” the warlock asked, rolling over blood and stone as he tried to get closer to the team.
Zariel could not believe his eyes. His first clear.
“That’s our tank!”
The cleric beamed with pride as Zariel reached inside.
[Zariel has looted the Sword of Zantor, Gear Score: 600
[Zariel has looted Zantori Shield, Gear Score: 600]
He gripped the chain-wrapped hilt and familiarized himself with the sword’s balance. The hanging chains made the sword heavier, but not so heavy that it was unwieldy. Zariel slashed the air, and the chains lashed at where he had struck with a whip-like crack.
The shield was wrapped in chains as well. Fitting, considering they were trophies of his victory over the prisoner of the Citadel.
[Zariel has achieved Gear Score 600
“Well deserved,” Casttee said proudly.
“Untie me!” the warlock shouted, straining to see the newly anointed strongest paladin in Atrea.
The ranger ignored the warlock’s pleas.
“Untie him,” Zariel ordered.
Instantly, the ranger obeyed.
“About time you get me out—"
His eyes fell on Zariel, now the highest gear score possible. In fact, everyone’s attention was on the paladin.
They all respected him.
In that moment, most envied him.
One was smiling.
“Don’t get any ideas now,” Casttee chastised the group, pushing away her smile. “They’re his. He earned them! What are you two going to do? Launch your arrows with a shield or summon lightning with a sword?”
The two troublemakers of the group—ranger and warlock—looked at one another and shrugged.
“I guess we’ll get lucky eventually…” the warlock said in surrender.
“Do you think he’s the only one with that gear score?” the ranger asked, gazing suspiciously long at the sword.
Zariel gripped it tightly. If she had her way, his new weapon would be disenchanted and sold for an eye-watering amount of gold.
“If we were first, then it’s impossible for anyone else to be gear score six—”
The warlock’s eye’s widened. “Were we first?”
All seven looked to Zariel.
He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. They were not the only raid team he had fought alongside today.
“Only one way to know for certain,” he said, walking towards the exit.
“To Revenshein.”
