Chapter 67: Trail of the Gatekeeper, Again
"YOU DARE TO FACE FAHVEN BU’UL! YOUR ROTTEN.."
’Yeah yeah yeah, Heard it all last ti sap for brains.’
The group wasted no ti heading into the boss room and imdiately got to work, not even given the boss a chance to finish his practised monologue. The group that entered, however, was not a group of three.
Instead their numbers were closer to a dozen, made up of all sorts of individuals, all with their faces hidden by masks, helts or hoods. It was like a truly proper raid team had entered instead of a trio of hopeful idiots.
The new group imdiately spread out, most of their number darting throughout the dungeon and positioning themselves near the treeline, waiting for their mont to strike.
When the Woats started to attack, it was mainly Belladonna and Figg that attacked, with Belladonna rushing forwards and Figg using vines to stab or crush those that were further away.
The mbers surrounding the tree-line occasionally fired mana-bullets, or slashed with their swords whenever a Woat got close, but it appeared as if they were keeping their input to a minimum, conserving their mana and energy for the real fight just like a normal party would.
When the last Woat was about to fall, Fahven Bu’ul raised his arms and thrust them into the ground, before roots erupted from the ground and speared through the party mbers closest to the tree line.
They let out screams of pain as Belladonna and Figg rushed forwards to et the boss, leaving the sacrifices behind without rcy or a hint of empathy. Even when Belladonna glanced over her shoulder to see Vestra being stabbed through the leg, and her body starting to turn to wood just like the last ti, she didn’t feel the sa rage.
Instead she just smirked and held in her laugh as the events played out just like before. Exactly as before, as if she was watching a recording on repeat.
’Way to go Vez. I never thought an illusionist could be so scary... If this is what she can do now, I can only imagine what she will be like when she gets stronger.’
Of course, the Vestra she was watching die was not the real Vestra. It was just an illusion, just like the rest of this party. The real Vestra was actually one of the innocuous looking spell-casters in robes near the back.
Every slash of a sword she endured, every punch she took, every ti she stood in the fire like an idiot. Every ti she did sothing strange that made people believe that she was a masochist or simply terrible at the ga, It was not because she enjoyed the pain. It was because she was learning from it.
It was only due to Vestra’s diligent study and dedication to her craft, despite the hardship, pain and ridicule, that they were so realistic. Although faces were still her weak point.
Those who took the illusionist pathway were too focused on images that tricked the optical sense. But Vestra had looked into the teachings of the Goddess Sylvi, and understood that all the senses could be and should be tricked for a worthwhile illusion.
The best way to learn how to trick them, was to learn the real thing. Sure, she could just make up the feeling, and most players would when they gained her level of understanding of illusions, but that would never trick soone who had actually been stabbed.
The only way to truly trick the mind of soone who knew, was to give them the exact thing they were expecting. At that point, their own expectations would do half of the job when it ca to reinforcing the illusion.
Fahven Bu’ul expected them to split up and for so to be sacrificed, so they did. He expected them to turn to wood, for whatever reason, and so Vestra fed her illusions her own experiences of being turned to wood.
Not just the physical feeling of it happening, but the fear and panic she felt as a result. All of it wove together just perfectly enough, that Fahven Bu’ul was deceived.
Had it failed, he would have simply kept attacking with the roots until their numbers were appropriately culled, or until he was burned enough. That was what the player community had learned through their runs and why the sacrifice tactic beca so prevalent for those who didn’t have a lot of fire based attacks.
’Phase one down. Now cos the difficult part.’
Belladonna thought to herself as she started to sprint across the open area. A vine erupted from the ground in front of her, intercepting her path before lunging towards her. However Belladonna made no moves to dodge it, and instead reached out to help it grab her.
It latched around her wrist, both its own strength and her continuing montum carrying her around in a circle, before the vine launched her into the air like a hamr throw.
Already shooting through the air at breakneck speeds, it wasn’t enough. Flas spewed from her feet as she poured all of her mana into the Glyph carved into her soles, even when it started to cook and sizzle her feet.
The Glyph was simple, only the symbol of fire. She could only control its size and output by fueling it more, and there was no protection against its wrath. But even when it started to burn her feet, Belladonna just grit her teeth and flew through the air with a trail of flas like a living rocket.
The usual tactic for this bosses next phase, was to hack at its legs while it stood in the water, constantly and slowly regaining health. It was almost designed to be a damage output benchmark.
Only with enough damage could you over co the healing and bring the mighty oak toppling down, so that you could get at the core within his chest.
That was the normal tactic, but Belladonna opted for a more direct approach. Streaking through the air, she shot far past its legs, above its torso and rocketed straight towards its head.
Small patches of dirt encrusted her knuckles as she set her infusion, and her muscles bulged enough to strain her armour as she cocked her fist back.
Just before she threw her punch, with a mad grin on her face, Belladonna shouted at the top of her lungs,
"ROCKET PUNCH!"
Reviews
All reviews (0)