Mage Tank

There was the sound of scraping stone and the obelisk rose from the pile of broken glass that was once Kaleidoscope. Its runes lit up and beams of energy connected to our bodies, distributing our stats. I dutifully confirmed that I now had 8 points banked, then closed the screen without distributing them. Everyone else took a moment to drop them where they wanted and we got a loot notification soon after.

Your party has slain Subject C-209, “Kaleidoscope”: Extradimensional Entity, Grade 20. Your party receives the following rewards:

1) 20 Emerald Chips

2) 1 Mirror Essence

3) 1 Crystal Essence

4) 1 Prismatic Mask

Party Leader has set chip and currency allocation to: Even Distribution.

You receive: 4 Emerald Chips.

Party Leader has set item allocation to: Master Looter

I pulled out the mask the moment it hit my inventory. I wanted to make sure we made the most of what limited time we likely had.

It was made of the same crystalline substance as Kaleidoscope, its translucent surface a pearlescent sheen of chromatic reflections. The face consisted of intersecting straight edges which gave it a polygonal appearance, uniform across its surface except for two holes for the eyes and one for the mouth.

Prismatic Mask

Draw the line.

Requirements: INT 20, Mystical Magic 20

Effects:

1) +20 mana regen

2) Whenever you cast a spell that creates a line extending from you, you can duplicate that line in a different direction by spending mana equal to the spell’s mana cost.

3) Whenever you are targeted by a spell that is a line, you can spend mana equal to that spell’s mana cost to redirect the line in a different direction extending from you. If you do, the spell has no effect on you.

“That’s interesting,” I said. “I don’t have any good spells for it, though.”

“Ohhh,” said Etja, her eyes widening as she studied it. “I can make any of my spells into a line!”

“True. But, you’re focused on Charisma casting because of that passive you have. Do you even have 20 Intelligence?”

She shook her head.

“No. Although, maybe the passive would apply to the mask as well?”

Her eyes went distant as she pulled up her character screen, then shared the text of her passive with me.

Cantor: The many years of ritual and song once used as worship are not easily forgotten, and the rote of these rituals carried through your forebear and into yourself. Whenever a spell you cast would call for INT, you may choose to engage in ritual performance while casting; if you do, you use your CHA instead.

“I dunno,” I said. “The ability specifically talks about spells. You also have to do your Mirtasian dance while casting to get its benefit.”

Etja bit her lip and furrowed her brow. After a few seconds, her features lit back up into a smile, looking like she was about to shout “eureka!”

Instead, she shouted “I have an idea! Before I try it, though, does anyone else have a use for the mask?” She looked around at the party.

“You and Arlo are the only two who even have Mystical Magic,” said Xim. Etja gave me a hopeful look and I shrugged, then handed her the mask.

“Okay, good,” she said, holding the mask in her two upper hands. “Because if this doesn’t work, it’ll probably break it.”

Normally I might have questioned taking such a risk with a rather unique and powerful item, but we were on the clock and didn’t have time for a debate. Besides, if Etja couldn’t make it work then it was just another lump of treasure for the Closet. We weren’t hurting for cash, especially after having so many emerald chips dumped into our laps, and hopefully, she’d get something out of whatever she was about to do.

She raised her lower hands and held them in front of the mask. Ruby mana danced along her fingertips, then trailed out to the mask. The opaline surface of the item began to crack and flake, and then fragments of it drifted into her palms and melted into her skin. A minute later the item had been completely broken down and absorbed by Etja’s Incorporate ability.

“Haven’t seen you use that in a while,” I said.

Her smile faded a bit.

“It reminds me too much of Orexis,” she said. “I mix it in with Disintegrate to get mana back sometimes, but consuming something entirely is kind of… a bad feeling.”

“Afraid you might go to the dark side?” I asked.

“It’s not that,” she said. “Um, okay maybe it’s a little bit of that. The ability is intoxicating in a way. After all, it lets me do stuff like this!”

She held up a hand and its surface morphed until her skin was a replica of the material the mask had been made of. She pointed into the distance and fired a brief beam attack. A duplicate beam fired from her fingertip at a 90-degree angle to the first. Her smile widened.

“Oh, let’s see if this works, too!”

She pointed a non-prismatic finger at her glittering palm and fired another brief death ray. It bounced off of her palm’s surface and shot into the ground. She squealed in delight and did a little hop.

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“I have no idea why that worked,” I muttered. “Why would absorbing it change the item requirements?”

“Magic,” said Xim. “And who knows how accurate the System’s description of her passive even is. She inherited it from an avatar’s ancient knowledge of an extinct race of people. It probably does all sorts of stuff we don’t know about.”

“Sure,” I said, letting it go. I could obsess over the System’s terrible shorthand descriptions some other time. “Before we get dumped into another fight, did anyone grab any evolutions the rest of us should know about? We’ve gotten a ton of stats.”

“Yep!” said Etja, bouncing another beam off her palm. “I got to 40 in Charisma and picked something that’ll help keep the baddies off of me.” She shared the description.

Transfixing Presence

Your beguiling charm has been honed to such heights that all who look upon you are entranced by your very being. Non-allied entities within a number of feet of you equal to your CHA must make a successful WIS check or become Mesmerized. You may apply this effect selectively, or suppress it completely if you so choose. This effect may only occur once per entity per day.

Your deep insight into the art of allure has also made you immune to being Mesmerized or Distracted by another.

Mesmerized: A mesmerized entity cannot attack the source of its mesmerization and treats the source as an ally. Mesmerization ends if the source of the mesmerization attacks, deals damage, or takes obvious hostile action against the mesmerized character.

“So you can literally walk into a room full of monsters and make them all your friends,” I said.

“As long as they are unwise, we’ll get along great!”

“I also got a level 40,” said Nuralie. “In Agility.”

Flawless Precision

Your body has transcended the inaccuracies of its physical material, allowing you to move with impossible precision. Your movements are so exact that you can position any part of your body to a pinpoint location within one nanometer of where you intend, without fail. This extraordinary control allows for the flawless execution of movements, no matter how complex or delicate the task.

You are also no longer tied to the limitations of your physical body on your movement. You are immune to the Slowed and Paralyzed statuses.

“Damn, I bet that’ll be great for your crafting skills,” I said.

“And dodging,” Nuralie added. Pause. “Aiming as well.”

“Do all these level 40s grant immunities?”

“Mine didn’t,” said Varrin.

“You got one too?” I went to scratch my beard, remembered it was gone, frowned, and dropped my hand. “I’m feeling left out.”

“Shut your mouth,” said Xim. “You already have a keystone for Fortitude and I know you’re lining them up for INT and WIS.”

“You didn’t get one either?”

Xim placed a hand on her hip and looked away.

“I focus on a lot of different stats,” she grumbled.

I grinned and turned back to Varrin.

“What’d you decide to pump to 40 first?”

“Strength, of course.” He waved a hand and the text appeared.

Rip and Tear

Their blood is borrowed. You’re calling in the debt. Your STR-based attacks always apply the Bleeding status on hit. STR-based attacks made against Bleeding targets apply 2X% more Bleeding than normal on hit, where X is your STR. STR-based attacks made against entities that are immune to Bleeding deal an additional amount of damage equal to your STR.

“Flavor text is kind of dark,” I said.

“Blades are good for exsanguination,” said Varrin. “Now, they’re better.”

“But no tacked on immunity.”

“It makes me immune to having enemies that survive for very long.”

“It’ll probably make you immune to having clean clothes as well.”

“That is why we have towels,” said Shog. “To wipe off the viscera.”

“How much time did the two of you dedicate to the art of toweling?” I asked.

Before Varrin could explain how weapon upkeep was a core skill for all swordsmen, a rumble went through the chamber.

“Here we go,” said Xim, hefting her scepter. “So far we’ve fought a giant bear, an oversized clock, and a big, shiny rock. Any bets on what’s next?”

“Maybe the next boss will be tiny,” I said. “Like a super rabbit. We’d never see it coming.”

“They’ve been getting more esoteric,” said Xim. “It wouldn’t be a rabbit. Maybe a violent raindrop, or an enraged gold coin.”

“Hard currency makes it too simple. If we’re thinking esoteric, a battle with inflationary economics would be more compelling and nigh-unwinnable.”

The semi-transparent crystalline ceiling began to diffuse into vaporous mana. The colorful clouds beyond it darkened. An icy wind blew through the chamber.

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Xim.

“Sure it does!” I shouted. The wind was really starting to blow. “As the fight would go on our attacks would lose value! We’d be forced to invest damage into an appropriate instrument that appreciates faster than the rate of debasement!”

“This is why I’m glad Hiward’s currency is pegged to ruby chips!” Varrin hollered.

The ground began to tremble. Shadows bled away from the distant walls and they crumbled. Thunder rolled across the sky.

“But then you have the problem of a fluctuating supply and demand affecting the buying power of your notes!”

“Still superior to depending on scarcity without utility, like gold!” Varrin shouted back.

“What in all the hells are you two talking about?!” Xim said. “We were guessing what the next boss is! Not arguing about finance!”

The outermost perimeter of the floor fell away.

“Maybe it’s something that flies!” said Etja, eyes darting around the clouds. “Like a wyvern!”

Another section of the floor disappeared, leaving us on an ever-dwindling platform in the sky.

“Perhaps a swarm of mutated birds!” Varrin offered.

“Ah!” I said as I shoved my helm over my head. “Maybe it’s a duck!”

Xim shot me a death glare. The floor beneath us collapsed. We went into freefall.

The broken ground below fell apart until it was reduced to gravel, which was then scattered by the gale. Pebbles clinked and rattled off my armor until the mass of falling debris was taken by the winds like smoke in a hurricane. I blinked away a few tears as the air clawed through the gap in my visor, and I saw what we were falling toward.

Miles below us was a dark, frothing sea that stretched endlessly in all directions. Amid the erupting waves, directly below us, was an island made up of a single mountain.

The mountain had a face.

Two flesh-red orbs rolled up toward us, eyes that must have each been the size of small lakes. Lips as thick as oil tankers peeled back from fangs the size of train cars. The fangs sat in rows in front of more fangs the size of school buses which sat in rows in front of even more fangs the size of pickup trucks–the kind with truck nuts and extra exhaust pipes on top and that were just overall larger than they oughtta be–which sat in rows in front of yet more fangs the size of some other, slightly smaller vehicle that was still much too big to be teeth.

From beneath the waters, gnarled tendrils rose, extending out the length of a city and covered in throbbing pustules. Upon the titan’s midnight flesh were a million squirming barbs, every square inch of its body covered in a lethal forest of thorns. It did not roar, or screech, or howl. An earthquake was its battle cry, a tsunami its hunting call.

“Doesn’t look like a duck!” I shouted. It was mainly a psychological knee-jerk reaction to protect my withering resolve. I used Gracorvus to begin slowing my descent while I looked over the goliath, trying to figure out where I’d even begin to attack it.

The System then confirmed that it was, in fact, not a duck.

The King’s Pit: Delve Remnant, Grade 24.

The name of the creature pulled on a vague memory I had. The creature type answered exactly zero questions while raising at least one: what the fuck was a Delve Remnant? I growled and got my bearings, trying to find a way to meet up with the party, but it didn’t look like there’d be time for a mid-flight strategy meeting.

The Pit was miles below, but our altitude was no shield. A thousand coiling appendages rose up to the sky to meet us.

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