by James Hunter
The library foyer was devoid of life, which Sam found disconcerting. The big desk in the entry hall always had someone on duty. At this hour, Mage Solis should’ve been lounging around sipping health potions like a normal person drank tea or at least getting ready to start his shift. Sam spotted Solis’ battered copy of The Riveting Adventures of D.K. Esquire: Dungeon Delver laying out on the desktop, confirming his suspicions, but there was no sign of the man. Sam wasn’t sure what that meant, but he hoped against hope that nothing had happened to the old man. Although Solis was an exalted member of the College, he’d always been a gentle, kind-hearted soul.
Sam hoped nothing had happened to him. Roughly shoving his fear and doubt to the back of his mind, Sam reached out to Bill and conjured his Orbital Tomes with the slightest effort of will. Six books sprang to life around him, rotating in a lazy circle. He’d brought everything. There were three volumes all chock-full of Paper Shurikens in different varieties—one book dedicated to Fireball, another to Ice Orb, and a third to Weak Paralysis. His fourth combat text contained Papier-Mache Mage, which he promptly cast, propping his arms out to the sides as a swirl of inked-pages encased his body. The fifth volume held his basic Ink Lance spell, while the sixth and final tome was filled with pages for his Rorschach Test—enough for three casts.
Admittedly, Sam was more than a little worried about using that spell since the target had the possibility of simply ignoring the effects. Though Octavius and his friends were tools one and all, Sam was sure they would have a way to protect their minds. There was nothing he could do about that, so he just had to be ready.
With his Papier-Mache armor firmly in place, Sam pulled out Bill’s Foppish Hat, home to his enchanted Quill Blade, and slapped it on to his head for good measure. There was no point in trying to hide his identity at this point. If Octavius was here, Sam would have to fight him, and he’d need every possible advantage he could get.
“You know,” Sam spoke over one shoulder to Velkan in the guttural Wolfman tongue, “you come with me, there’s chance that you no leave. I won’t hold grudge, you decide to go your way. Try to get back to tribe and give them know what happened.”
The Scout considered Sam for a long beat as he parsed the words, then dipped his muzzle, flicked his ears, and shook his shaggy head. He replied in broken human tongue, “Velkan, could not live with shame. Dying with honor, it not such bad thing.”
A colossal *boom* rocked the air a second later, the ground quivering beneath Sam’s boots.
Sam didn’t even bother to reply. He kicked it into high gear, sprinting down an aisleway filled to the brim with books, following the well-familiar pathway that lead to Octavius’ study spot. He flew around corners and tore along straightaways, the raucous sound of battle growing louder and more ominous with every step he took. More thunderous *booms* shook the air, interspersed with the sharp *clang* of steel, cries of pain, and flashes of utter brilliance. Jagged splashes of gold, green, and red tattooed themselves across the floor, shelves, and leather-bound books like a bomb blast made out of confetti and late afternoon sunbeams.
Sam wheeled around a sharp bend and abruptly found himself in Octavius’ study, which had been transformed into a magical warzone. The tables and padded leather chairs perfect for a leisurely bout of studying were nowhere to be seen. In their place was an intricate tower of wood, stone, and metal all bolted together with fist-sized bronze rivets and covered with glowing runes that Sam had seen a handful of times before, all courtesy of the notes and blueprints he’d gazed at during long nights attending Octavius.
A crystal the size of Sam’s fist floated at the top of the odd tower, hanging in the air, unsuspended while it burned with amethyst power. That had to be a monster Core, and considering its size and radiance, Sam was guessing it was a powerful one. Off to one side was a carved wooden lectern with a beefy book splayed out on top.
Octavius’ personal grimoire.
Presumably, the book which contained whatever nasty spell the Peak Student was working to amplify. The rest of the room was chaos and madness. Magic flew through the air in brilliant sprays. Weapons flashed in deadly reply. There were bodies sprawled out across the floor, and Sam was sick to see that one of his friends was already down for the count and that the rest of the Wolf Pack was faring little better.
Arrow lay unmoving just a handful of feet away from the magical tower, his body badly charbroiled. What remained of his face twisted in a grimace of pain. Additionally, a contorted sword made of some unrecognizable metal jutted from his chest like a piece of shrapnel from a car wreck. A brown-robed Mage that Sam didn’t recognize lay in a sprawl of limbs nearby, his chest a regular pincushion of feather shafts. Blood pooled around him, glittering in the firelight.
Sphinx danced with Tullus, Octavius’ thick-headed, slow-witted thug. Sam had never actually seen Tullus in action, but at a guess, he thought the man must’ve been some sort of Battle Mage or Spellblade. Instead of the typical robes most Acolytes wore, Tullus had summoned chainmail that flashed gold and silver as he moved. Floating in front of him was a trio of conjured swords that fought of their own accord. Sphinx ducked and dodged the slashing emerald weapons, moving with sinuous grace, but the swords were ungodly fast; she was already hemorrhaging blood from a myriad of minor lacerations.
Tullus, by contrast, looked no worse for the wear. It was a cold, hard, brutal reminder of just how overpowered Mages could be in the world of Eternium. Meanwhile, Finn and Dizzy were busy sparring with Elsia, the fire Mage who’d nearly turned Sam into a ball of molten goo during his escape from the library. She looked positively deadly. Her eyes burned like molten gold; her red hair stood straight up, floating like the flickering tongues of candle. A cloak of actual fire trailed down her back, while more flames wreathed her outstretched hands. With a scream—so high-pitched Sam flinched back at the onslaught of noise—she pressed her palms together, hurling a column of magma at Sam’s friends.
Dizzy dove right, quickly springing back to her feet as Finn unleashed a counter spell of his own—an equally formidable column of purple-blue ice. The two streams of magic smashed together like sumo wrestlers, both furiously working to push the other from the ring. Arctic power vying against a beam of sunfire, golden sparks and arcs of blue lightning flashed out where the two beams met. It would’ve been beautiful if not for the potentially deadly consequences.
The battle looked like a draw, right up until Dizzy bolted in on Elsia’s flank, bringing her maul around in a wicked arc aimed straight for the fire Mage’s vulnerable head. With a growl, Elsia broke off her attack and begrudgingly retreated against the combined power of Finn and Dizzy. As tough as Elsia probably was, Sam felt confident that she was outclassed in this instance.
There was still one other major threat to worry about, though—Octavius. The Earth Mage was standing nearby, not wearing his typical attire but instead sporting a set of colorful robes woven from some sort of silken fabric and studded with a multitude of smaller, glowing gemstones. He also wore an expression of absolute rage. Uncontrolled fury. “I refuse to let this happen!”
He screamed, face beet red, spittle flying from his lips. “I’ve worked too hard, spent too many hours on this to fail now! This is finally House Igenitor’s chance to earn the honor we’ve always been due! On the blood of my forebearers, I refuse to let some commoner riffraff take this away from me.”
Octavius thrust his right hand forward, and a javelin of obsidian rock exploded from his palm, screaming toward Kai like a cruise missile. The Monk leaped and twisted in the air, landing on his hands then springing away, narrowly avoiding the stony spear, which *thudded* into a bookcase, but Octavius hardly seemed to care. He whipped his left hand out, and a muddy brown glow shot through with veins of red and gold enveloped his hand. The floor rumbled and groaned in pro
test as boards buckled, cracked, and broke apart. Sam felt a moment of awe as stone, dirt, and gritty sand surged up in a swirling column, instantly forming itself into an enormous hand seven feet tall and five feet wide which perfectly mimicked Octavius’s own hand.
With a snarl, Octavius whipped his arms through the air, and the stony hand responded in kind, blindsiding Kai with bone-breaking force. The Monk was batted across the floor like a baseline drive. In an instant, Kai’s health flashed an alarming shade of red. He was still alive, and before Kai could recover or shake off the blow, the enormous hand scooped him up from the floor. Colossal, rocky fingers wrapped around him and clamped down, constricting like a cohort of pythons out for revenge. The life was brutally squeezed out of the struggling Monk an inch at a time.
Time to put an end to that!
The Shurikens slammed into the wrist-like base of the summoned limb, exploding in a ball of red and gold and gouging huge divots out of the hand, piece by piece. The room shook under the force of each explosion. Unable to hold its shape under the barrage of Fireball spells, the conjured hand simply exploded in a cloud of powdered stone and dust.
Kai wheezed as he pulled himself from the pile of rubble, clutching his chest with one hand. He was in rough shape, his health ridiculously low… but he was alive for the time being. Thankfully, thanks to game physics, the Monk would soon be back on his feet, kicking butt and taking names. Octavius spun, eyes narrowing into feral slits while his lips pulled back in a snarl that would’ve been befitting for an angry Wolfman.
Speaking of Wolfmen? Where in the world was Velkan? Sam realized the Scout was nowhere to be seen. Had he lost him while running through the stacks, or had the Scout simply changed his mind about almost certain death? Sam wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He had Octavius to deal with. If he wasn’t entirely present in the moment, he knew the Earth Mage would rip him to pieces without a second thought.
“You,” Octavius cursed as his eyes locked on Sam. “You’re behind this! I should’ve known. I mentored you. Took you under my wing and gave you a chance to succeed. You repaid my kindness by stealing a priceless artifact and shaming my whole household. But was that enough for you? Obviously not.”
Octavius shook his head. “No, you won’t be content until you’ve utterly destroyed me. I see. Well, I think you’ll find I’m not so easily defeated. You won’t be escaping this time. You’ll be properly tried for your crimes, and my name will be restored.”
“I just have one thing to say. When arguing, never throw dirt at your opponent.” Sam prepared himself to strike. “All you do is lose ground!”
Without waiting for a reply, Sam swapped Fireball Shuriken for his tome of Ink Lance. The ebony book shot into position, black ropes of goopy ink exploding from the pages, wrapping around Octavius before splattering to the ground.
Damage: 0 (Acid damage resisted!) Slow effect resisted!
“Cute,” Octavius snorted, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that.”
Octavius curled his hand into a tight fist and sand erupted from the ground, swirling around the Peak Student like a dust devil, momentarily obscuring him from view. When the air settled a second later, Octavius was no longer wearing his elaborate robes but was instead decked out in stone armor. He now stood over seven feet tall and looked more like an earth golem than a man. Only Octavius’ smug, self-satisfied face poking out from the suit of earth armor told Sam that the Mage hadn’t just summoned an Elemental to fight on his behalf.
Obsidian spikes poked up from blocky earthen pauldrons, and though Octavius wielded no visible weapon, his forearms were enormous and capped by fists the size of dinner plates. Each knuckle was studded with a spur of glittering, razor-sharp quartz. One punch would turn Sam’s face into road pizza.
“There are so many ways I could grind you into topsoil,” Octavius stomped forward, the weight of each step shaking the room, “but this, I think, will be the most satisfying way by a fair margin.”
Yeah, this was probably bad, but Sam could only grin as two words ran through his mind on repeat.
Boss Fight! Boss Fight! Boss Fight!
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Octavius stomped forward, moving with preternaturally fast speed for a creature so large and domineering. Sam half expected the suit of earth-based Mage Armor to be sluggishly slow, but if anything, Octavius was even faster than he’d been before. That didn’t seem even remotely fair! Octavius lunged, a fist the size of a dinner ham swinging toward Sam like a wrecking ball.
A huge, rock-covered foot shot out like a battering ram, aimed squarely at chest level. Acting on muscle memory and instinct, Sam threw himself to one side, curling into a ball and quickly rolling back to his feet while thanking his lucky stars for his time spent on the judo mats.
With a thought, Sam brought his Weak Paralysis Shuriken tome to the front and fired off a handful of ninja stars, one right after the other. The Shurikens slammed into the encroaching Peak Student… but bounced away uselessly, failing to do any damage or eat away at the stony armor covering Octavius from head to toe.
Damage dealt: 0 (56 damage absorbed.) Paralysis resisted!
Still, with no other leads to go on, Sam brought his Fireball tome racing around to the prime position and hurled a Shuriken at less than three feet out. The ninja star exploded on impact with devastating force—unfortunately, at a mere three feet away, Sam was within the blast radius. A fist of flame sucker-punched Sam in the ribs, knocking him back, singing his eyebrows but somehow not touching his health.
Damage dealt: 0 (66 damage absorbed.) Fire damage resisted!
Damage taken: 115.5 (66 Fireball Paper Shuriken * 1.75 bonus fire damage versus Papier-Mache Mage.)
Papier-Mache Mage: 288.25 durability remaining. Caution: On fire. -10 durability per second until not on fire.
Good thing he had invested nearly his entire Mana pool of four hundred and seventy-five Mana when creating this spell. A black scorch mark stained his chest plate, and thin embers of red and orange crept along the surface of his gauntlets, sending up curls of gray ash. Sam did the only thing he could think of—stop, drop, and roll.
Bill wasn’t
wrong. As Sam clambered to his feet—the budding flames extinguished at last—the smoky plume from his latest attack had dissipated, revealing that Octavius completely unharmed. There wasn’t even so much as a smear of soot marring the rocky surface of his elemental armor.
“Nice try, you worm, but I’m a Peak Student on the precipice of Journeyman status. You never stood a chance… and you never will.”
Octavius thrust one rock-covered hand forward, palm up, fingers splayed out, a spell falling from his lips. The ground rumbled, and shafts of razor-sharp earth erupted from beneath Sam’s feet, frantically trying to turn him into a human shish kabob. Sam was prepared.
He darted left, rolled right, then promptly backpedaled, avoiding a lethal blow by the skin of his teeth. Sadly, Octavius had used the distraction to close the distance, and now, he was in striking range with his big, blocky fists. Since he was in such close proximity, Sam didn’t dare risk using any of his augmented spells; he couldn’t afford to set himself on fire again or accidentally coat himself in a layer of paralyzing frost.
No, the fact remained that spellcasting was best done at range, not two feet away from a murderous stone golem. Instead, Sam conjured his Quill Blade with a surge of Mana and a whispered incantation.
The feather from his hat took flight, flipping, twirling, then zipping into Sam’s outstretched palm as it shimmered and morphed into the familiar sword with the elegant silver feather blade. Its weight was somehow reassuring. Octavius might send him for respawn, but Sam wouldn’t go without a knock-down, drag-out fight. Weapon in hand, Sam struck.
He sidestepped right, avoiding a lumbering front kick that undoubtedly would’ve caved in his chest cavity and hacked at Octavius’ protected left forearm. The feathered blade landed with a sharp *twang*, improbably slicing a narrow furrow into the rock but not penetrating deeply enough to hit the Peak Student’s flesh. The fact that he had damaged the armor at all gave Sam some small measure of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, Octavius could be beaten after all. Octavius crowded in, trying to back him into a nearby alcove, but Sam nimbly evaded, refusing to let Octavius pin him down.
