So this is it, huh? It looks more impressive from up close., I comnted.
Before us stood the arena we had previously seen from a distance. Now that we were actually here, its true size beca apparent. It wasnt quite as wide as the theater that had served as the previous boss area, but what it lacked in width it made up for in height.
Instead of the dull gray Cerion and I had co to expect from the city of tears, this arena was made out of light-brown cubes and columns. Its individual building blocks looked like they had been carved out of larger sandstone, rather than made out of the small bricks this city seed to love using.
Cerion and I were looking up at a massive statue depicting an unard man, guarding the entrance to the giant arena behind it. Apart from his helt, the man was stark-naked, standing regally as it looked down at us.
That thing isnt gonna co to life, is it?, I asked.
I doubt it. This isnt an earth-affinity dungeon, after all. I guess the ghosts might still be able to possess it sohow, though, so keep an eye out., Cerion warned conspiratorially.
A sign below the stone statue spelt out its na in a few sentences, though I couldnt read the language it was written in. The problem didnt even lay with the languages words, but rather with the alphabet they were written in. Usually, the system conveyed ones status through a language one understood. If one didnt speak or read any language, you would instead get a vague feeling about your stats and skills. One advantage humans had over monsters was that we were able to get a more specific picture of our capabilities and that we could plan out our future growth.
This system language-adaptation was sothing most people took for granted. With dungeons seeming like system-generated instances to , I found it strange that it would use a foreign language like this.
It spells an imitation of an imitation of a statue., Cerion explained.
I frowned. Cerion could read that gibberish? Of course he could. Because why wouldnt he?
What language is that? Im not the most learned person, as you like to point out,, I joked, but Ive never seen anything like that.
Cerion chuckled.
I didnt think you would have, no. This is Erantel, a language that sotis pops up in dungeons. As far as Im aware, no one actually ever spoke it, though. Dungeon delvers had to decipher it letter by letter. My father made study it. He said so puzzles and riddles in dungeons require you to be able to read this language. The fact that its here might an that it holds so kind of clue to a mystery that we need to know to clear this boss.
I slumped forward sadly.
So no straightforward fight for once?
No straightforward fight this ti, Arthur. Sorry to disappoint you., he replied, laughing.
What a weird na for a statue though how about that sign above the arena entrance there? Isnt that the sa language?, I asked.
Cerion squinted and nodded.
Hold on, I cant make it out from here, he replied, approaching the archway.
Once he got close, he started muttering as he tried to decipher its aning.
It says: an imitation of an imitation of an arena. Just more of the sa imitation stuff. I guess well have to deal with a shapeshifter?, Cerion pondered.
I chuckled.
Quick! Tell sothing only the real Cerion would know!
I never wash my hair because it curls if I do!, he shouted back with an embarrassed tone.
I recoiled.
First of all: how? Secondly, youre disgusting., I replied, smirking.
Coming from the greaseball that goes entire quests without washing up once, that hurts, Arthur., he said, wiping away a non-existent tear for dramatics.
Hey! You know there's no point in washing up if were only gonna get covered in goblin blood two seconds later!, I protested.
Cerion waved away my comnts and focussed on the entrance to the arena again.
If it is a shapeshifter, just ask him why I dont frequently wash my hair. Ill ask you the sa question. Alright, are you ready for the final fight of the day?, he asked.
I cracked my knuckles and drew my sword.
Im always ready!
~scene transition~
As Cerion and I entered the arena from the entrance, we followed the hallway until it opened up into the actual arena itself. We once again found ourselves in the center of the seating area, looking down at a large circular pit with a sandy floor. On all sides of the arena, archways were carved into the walls, revealing tal bars that separated the inside of the arena from the pathways that the combatants would have to travel down.
We stealthily peaked into the pit, in search of our, possibly multiple opponents, but we couldnt find anyone or anything out of place. The arena was empty, the seating area was empty, hell, even the section ant for the rich was empty.
Where is this fucker hiding?, I growled.
Lets scout out the area carefully. Lets sneak through the seating area first. Look for anything out of place., Cerion said.
A few minutes later, we reconvened, neither of us having found anything nearby. With no other option, we jumped down into the fighting pit, which would have been large enough to hold dozens of individual fights all at once. The walls of the pit were decorated with red symbols and drawings, which stood out from the brown brick the rest of the arena was made out of.
As our feet hit the ground, the arena started to shake. Cerion and I drew our swords and looked around wildly, preparing for a fight at any mont, for threats from any direction.
Instead, the arena lit up in blue. From down in the pit, we could see the seating area shine like a beacon, as blue ghosts appeared one by one, filling the seats.
I activated my [Dark Blade Maelstrom] imdiately, covering Cerion and . We couldnt be sure they wouldn't just rush at us, after all.
Instead of the screaming Cerion and I had co to expect of the dungeon-born monsters, the crowd started to roar as if they were an actual audience watching a gladiator match. The seating area for the richer people had filled booths, just like the common seating. In the center of the area, a single ghost was sitting on a central chair, a throne, almost. I couldnt make out what it was doing from a distance, but it raised its arm to the sky.
A mont later, the tal bars of one of the arenas entrances started to rise, opening a large pathway. Cerion and I tensed up as we heard tal scraping loudly against stone, slowly becoming louder and louder.
After a few monts, a giant mass of tal erged from the pathway. The heap of steel nearly didnt fit its large pathway and spilled out onto the arena floor.
Now that I had a better view of the mass of iron, I could make out that it was made from chains and weapons. Swords, spears, daggers, an entire array of weaponry made out its amorphous, shapeless body. All of the tal moved as if the creature was breathing, scraping against each other and making a constant, horrendous racket.
Is that the boss? Do we just ignore the audience or what?, Cerion asked.
I grunted.
For now, I think so, yeah. We can always run if things get dicey. Nothing here seems fast enough to keep us in the arena if we try to run. Fighting the crowd and whatever that is at once seems like too much for a tier 3 dungeon. There must be so restrictions., I replied confidently.
Alright. Dont forget about that whole imitation clue from earlier. There has to be a reason for that to be ntioned., Cerion said.
I nodded and prepared myself, pushing more and more mana into our surroundings.
The amalgamation of weapons continued to creak and crack, this ti actually changing shape. It slowly rose up and twisted the chains that seed to make up its body into strings and thick wires, until it started to vaguely resemble a mans figure, in the sa way that a troll might resemble a man.
It crossed its steel arms and flexed its chain muscles, causing the weapons in its body to jut out like spikes. From its back, sic chains tore free, each with a sharp spike attached to its end, dancing around the steel monsters body like tentacles.
So that was what that dagger symbol was referring to, huh, I muttered.
I shivered slightly. The last ti I had been forced to deal with tentacles, I had seen the swamp terror kill one of my colleagues.
With both parties finally ready for battle, the crowd started chanting louder and louder, forcing to turn down the strength of my hearing by using [Flexible senses]. It was just getting too distracting.
I wanted to co up with a quick plan, but the steel amalgam gave no ti to do so. Instead of charging forward, its floating chains elongated and flew right at us.
Shit! Ill block its assault! Get out of the maelstrom and look for an opening!, I shouted. The unnaturally large and fast spikes tore through the air. Cerion nodded and activated his movent skill right as I increased the amount of dark blades spinning around in a cyclone. Before I knew it, the spikes were on top of , piercing into my manifold defenses. I had co to rely on my maelstrom for defense, because it blocked nearly all basic attacks, despite its inherently disjointed nature.
Even now, it blocked all six spikes, though their length gave a cold sweat. From up close, I could see that they were nearly two ters long. Even if my defenses blocked most and made them ricochet, one of them had pierced right through most of my blades, only stopping inches from my sword, which I had moved to block just in case.
Shit. It seed that defense wasnt the way to go this ti. As I thought this, the tal spikes dislodged themselves from the sandstone they had ricocheted into and started to move around my cyclone like snakes. The six chains beca four as two left and flew in another direction, to harass Cerion, I supposed.
The remaining four slowly inched around , never attacking, but always aid right at like hungry predators. Frustrated, I decided to go on the offence and attempted to cut one of the chains in half with an extended arc of [Overloaded sword]. The black scimitar of mana tore at one of the snake-like chains, which deftly avoided the incoming attack by bending out of the way, narrowly avoiding it. From behind , I could hear the sound of tal clashing against mana constructs, a sound eerily similar to glass cracking. I turned around and found another two spikes pierced halfway through my maelstrom. The two that had gone after Cerion had snuck up on while I wasnt looking, nearly getting past my defences!
Infuriated, I threw together a berserker-overloading combo, keeping an eye on all six of my opponents again.
After a few missed arcs, I finally landed a hit on one of the chains. My mana crashed into the thick tal chain. For a mont, nothing seed to happen, until I saw the overloaded mana destabilize and detonate. Clearly, those chains were filled to the brim with mana, otherwise my overloaded mana wouldnt have reacted to it at all.
When the mana settled, only a small crack had appeared on the chain. I had to squint to even see it, and the chain seed no less dexterous than before.
Before I had any ti to think, they were flying at again. Two spikes dug into the ground, tearing up the sandstone surface above them as they tunneled under my maelstrom, while the other four took stabs at my defenses looking for weak points.
Shit! Underground? Really? I couldnt co up with any imdiate counter asures, and while my maelstrom had worked as a defense, it had hardly left any damage on the spikes themselves. The chains, on the other hand, were super flexible and fast because of the absurd amount of mana coursing through them.
Seeing no alternative, I abandoned my position and my expelled mana and apparated near where Cerion and the tal monster were fighting.
When I appeared on the other side of the arena, I found Cerion clashing with the tal monsters arms, which it used as clubs to send him flying and black his water-based ranged attacks. As I charged up more mana, I took a second to think.
The arena had left us clues about imitation. The monster we were facing hardly seed possible to beat: even my strongest attacks didnt leave a mark. It outclassed us in every way. On top of all that, the monster didnt seem to fit this dungeons the of water-based ghosts. The ghosts in the crowd seed to fit the the, but the monster itself had no glowing eyes or enraged, red features. No, it was just a hunk of moving tal. Then it hit .
Cerion! That thing isnt the boss! Its a fake! A ghost must be nearby, controlling it! Maybe all of the ghosts are! Lets charge into the crowd!, I shouted as he fought.
What if that enrages this golem?, he replied, shouting over the crowd.
Do we have any other choice? That thing is too strong!
Cerion montarily turned to , before focussing on the fight again. From a distance, I could see the tal spiked returning to the tal amalgam. They were about to focus on Cerion, which would almost certainly an his loss, when a torrent of water swept Cerion off his feet and threw him into the stands, where he started swinging his sword like a madman, cutting his way through the crowd of blue ghosts.
It seed the ti for hesitation had passed. The ti for action had co.
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