The room has doubled in size. One hundred square meters of damp, gray stone. The smell and the noise make my blood run cold. “Goddammit…” Kim whispers.
There is an army in front of us. Ten Porci Generals, massive, their bastard swords scraping the floor, form an impenetrable front line. Behind each of them, swarming like maggots on a wound, ten small Porcis squeal and stir. One hundred and ten monsters. The difficulty just spiked from ‘Hard’ to ‘Suicidal’.
“There… there are… there are too many of them!” Chris panics, raising his shield which suddenly looks tiny against the pink tide.
I run the numbers. Even with our boosted stats, we’re going to get overwhelmed. If we get flanked, it’s over. The ten Generals raise their swords in unison and let out a war cry that makes the walls shake.
“ROOOOOAAAAR!”
The horde charges. The floor vibrates under the stampede of one hundred and ten bodies. “Kim!” I yell. “Spray and pray! Fire into the pile! No precision, just area damage! Chris! Don’t try to parry, just try to survive! Backs to the wall! Turtle up!”
We press ourselves against the wall. It’s our only advantage. They can only come from the front. The first wave hits us like a freight train.
CLANG! CRACK! THUD!
Chris is a hero. He blocks three Generals’ swords at the same time, grunting under the effort, his feet sliding on the stone. Kim is firing frantically, every bullet punching through two or three small pigs, but for every monster that falls, three more take its place.
I’m in melee with two Generals. I parry a sword strike with my lid which rings like a gong, and strike back by planting my shovel in the foot of the first one. He screams, but the second one takes the opportunity to hit me with a pommel strike in the ribs. “Argh!”
I stumble back, breathless. My health bar dips. [HP: 280 / 310]. It’s manageable for now, but it won’t last. The pressure is too strong. We’re suffocating. “Ben! Do your thing!” Kim cries out, reloading her mana in a panic. “Make them explode!”
I look at my skill. [Public Nuisance]. I’ve got two options. The Expansion Mode, the ‘Miasma of Exile’ version that kills everything for 150 meters. But the cooldown is 24 hours. If I use it now, I’m naked for the ‘A’ room and the ‘S’ final Boss. I can’t waste my ultimate on trash mobs, even if there’s a hundred of them. I’ve got the Standard Mode left. A stench-based shockwave that saturates the air within a 10-meter radius.
“[Public Nuisance]: Aura Activation!”
I keep the blast radius tight. A 10-meter sphere around me. The smell is the same as in the tall grass. A chemical and biological atrocity. The result is instant. The Porcis entering the 10-meter circle collapse. Their nervous systems, saturated by the nasal assault, shut down.
But there is major collateral damage. Behind me, I hear a wet, suffocating sound. Kim turns a lovely shade of green, her eyes streaming with tears. She tries to aim her rifle, but her hands are shaking so much she could miss an elephant in a hallway.
“Shoot… dammit… shoot!” she screams at herself, before doubling over, retching violently.
Chris is worse. He is on his knees behind his shield, one hand pressed over his mouth, the other clawing the floor. He isn’t tanking anything anymore, he’s just trying not to die of asphyxiation.
“Sorry guys!” I shout, my nose buried in my collar, which filters absolutely nothing. “It’s them or us!”
The two Generals, though stunned and scratching their snouts, are more resistant. They are on their knees but still try to raise their swords blindly. Kim can’t shoot. Chris can’t block. I’m the only one still operational. “Alright, time to take out the trash!”
I rush at the first General. He is busy vomiting bile. I don’t give him a chance. I pivot my shovel and bring the edge down vertically, with all my strength, on the top of his skull.
CRACK. “That’s one!”
The second General, blinded by tears, swings his sword wildly at thin air. I duck under the blade whistling over my head, and deliver a front kick to his chest to knock him onto his back. He falls heavily. I jump on him, pinning his weapon arm with my foot, and use my trash can lid as a blunt weapon. I bash his snout, again and again, until he stops moving.
BONG. BONG. BONG.
“Kim! Clean up the small ones!” I yell as I stand up, covered in black blood.
Kim, with a superhuman effort, holds her breath, stabilizes her rifle on the shoulder of the prostrated Chris, and fires three quick shots blindly into the pile of Porcis convulsing on the floor. It’s a massacre without glory. It’s dirty, it’s slow, and it smells like death.
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I deactivate the aura. We’re alive. Dirty, stinking, scarred by the stench, but alive. Chris crawls away from me to breathe ‘fresh’ air near the wall—which still smells like an old dungeon, but compared to me, it’s lavender.
“We’re taking a break,” I declare, sitting down heavily. “A real one. We don’t move until our bars are full.”
We spend an hour recovering. Chris polishes his dented shield, Kim counts her imaginary mana bullets, and I stare at the A rune. “If we follow the logic,” I say, “A is the summit before the Boss. It’s the final stretch. It’s going to be hard. Probably double the B floor.”
“We can do it,” Chris says, pumped up again. “We survived the sea, we survived the pig army. We’re ready.”
I nod, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Once we’re ready, we get up. Tight formation. We step onto the A circle.
Flash.
The air that hits us is scorching. Dry. Loaded with ash. I open my eyes and almost fall backward. The room is not one hundred square meters. It’s at least five hundred. It’s a huge cavern, an underground cathedral. And it’s packed. “Oh… shit,” Kim whispers.
It’s an invasion. A pink tide spreads before us. 503 Orcs. A swarming mass of basic soldiers. In the middle, 50 Generals in heavy armor. On the flanks, I spot red robes: 5 Fire Mages, pyromaniacs who already have flames dancing between their fingers.
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: Porci General Mage | Level: 5
[Statistics]
- HP: 100 / 100
- Magic Attack: 30
- Magic Defense: 30
- Speed: 10
[Skills]
- [Equipment]: Fire Staff (Burn Effect).
And in the back, on a throne of rough stone, surrounded by two giant Commanders—two and a half meters tall—there is the Orc King. He’s colossal. A mountain of pink flesh over three meters high. He’s obese, but he doesn’t seem heavy. There’s a disturbing fluidity in his posture, a predatory agility that contradicts his monstrous mass. I run another quick [Analysis], just to torture myself.
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: Porci Orc King | Level: 7
[Statistics]
- HP: 650 / 650
- Attack: 90
- Defense: 90
- Speed: 20
[Skills]
- [War Cry]
- [Execution]
- [Royal Authority]
“It’s not winnable,” I let out instantly. “It’s mathematically impossible. We’re three against a legion.”
The Orc King stands up. He points his axe toward us and howls a guttural order. The 503 monsters turn toward us, banging their weapons against their shields.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
I don’t think. I don’t look for a strategy. “RUN!” I yell. “EVERYONE ON THE CIRCLE! WE’RE LEAVING!” I grab Chris and Kim by the collar and pull them back, onto the rune we just arrived from. We pile on it, panicked. “Activate!” I shout at the floor.
Nothing. The rune stays dull. “Why isn’t it working?!” Chris cries.
A red notification flashes before my eyes.
[Error]: Teleportation impossible.
[Reason]: Combat engaged. You cannot flee your destiny.
“Dammit!” I swear. “It’s a Combat Lock! The doors are locked as long as we have aggro! We’re trapped!”
The first ranks of Orcs charge. The ground shakes like an earthquake. “TURTLE FORMATION!” Kim yells. “BACKS TO THE WALL!”
We press ourselves against the back wall. Chris plants his shield, Kim shoulders her rifle, and I raise my shovel with the energy of despair. The shock is titanic. Chris takes the charge of five orcs at once. His shield bends, his feet plow the ground, but he holds. He screams in pain and effort. Kim is firing like a maniac, every bullet finding its mark, but for one Orc that falls, five others take its place.
I’m in melee, mowing down legs, smashing skulls, but they’re too many. I take a pommel strike, a gash on the thigh. Suddenly, a massive shadow covers me. An Orc Commander, a brute two and a half meters tall, detaches himself from the melee. He’s got a war hammer made of rough iron that must weigh as much as a motorcycle. He doesn’t give me a chance. He raises his weapon and brings it down vertically to crush me like a nail. I don’t have time to dodge. I’ve only got one option. I raise my left arm in a desperate reflex, putting my only protection between my skull and death.
The hammer connects with my Trash Can Lid.
CRUNCH. It’s the tearing sound of cheap metal giving way against a force of nature. I’m thrown three meters back like a bowling pin, rolling in the dust. I stand up, dazed, my left arm numb. I look at my hand. I’m still holding the handle. But around it… there’s nothing left. The lid has exploded into a rain of twisted shrapnel.
“Shit! My shield!” I yell, throwing the useless handle at the face of the Orc. “That was a vintage lid, you asshole!”
The Orc laughs, a guttural sound. I’m exposed. Defenseless. As soon as I hit the ground, the rest of the pack understands I’m vulnerable. It’s a feeding frenzy. A wave of Porcis throws themselves on me. They pile up, trying to crush me under their numbers and their stench. I swing my shovel frantically, the handle vibrating with every impact against helmets and bones, but they’re everywhere. Rusty blades cut my arms, boots crush my ribs. I’m suffocating.
I watch my health bar drop. It falls at a terrifying speed under the multiple small hits. [HP]: 62%… 58%… 52%…
“We won’t hold!” Kim screams, her voice broken by panic. “The Mages! They’re charging a spell!” I look up. In the distance, the five Fire Mages raise their staffs. A massive fireball begins to form above them. I look at Chris who is weakening.
“No choice!” I spit. “The ULTIMATE!”
It’s a waste. It’s my trump card for the final Boss. But if we die here, there won’t be a final Boss. I focus on my skill [Public Nuisance].
“EXPANSION MODE! ACTIVATION!”
I release everything. The 24-hour cooldown kicks in. A greenish shockwave, visible to the naked eye, explodes from my body. It’s the [Miasma of Exile] times a thousand. A stench capable of killing an elephant from a hundred meters away.
The gas spreads at the speed of sound. It instantly mows down the Orcs piled on top of me, killing them instantly before they even hit the ground. Then, the deadly cloud expands and hits the front lines of the charge. It’s working! The wave of death moves toward the King.
But the Orc King does not move. He takes a deep breath, swelling his monstrous chest. He opens his maw and lets out a roar.
“ROOOOAAAAR!”
The sound hits my gas cloud head-on. The pressure is so great that the air is violently pushed back. In a second, my [Miasma of Exile] is dissipated, swept away, blown out like a candle in a hurricane.
My ultimate… canceled by a shout. “It can’t be…” I whisper, drained.