Area Message: The first boss of the Seared Wilds Tower's second floor has been defeated. The remaining bosses grow stronger. All bosses gain the Elite status. Further boss kills will lead to further power increases.

  I stared at the message for a moment. I’d only just finished dropping the hammer on Ursa Prime, and now we had a whole new problem.

  Tori had no such concerns. She nodded knowingly. “Romeo and Juliet mechanics.”

  “What?”

  “Way back in the day, there was a fight where the two bosses had to die within like ten seconds of each other. It was way before my time. You were probably just a kid. But they called all the fights like it Romeo and Juliet, after the play. There was one about ten years or so ago where it was literally two bosses in two different rooms, then a final boss in the middle, but you had to Romeo and Juliet the two outer bosses or bad things happened inside.”

  “How did your gamer friends handle them?” I activated the Bio-Electric Scanner. Four dots lit up in my peripheral vision. One seemed closer than the other three.

  “Oh, that’s the hard part. We talked it over, had people tracking their hit points on either side, and tried our best to slow or speed up damage until they were both under ten percent. Then both groups burned and held damage until we won,” Tori said. She grimaced. “That’s gonna be tough here.”

  I pointed in the closest dot’s direction, then the second-closest. “I don’t think we want to push any bosses too much higher. They’re already going to be at least Level Fifty-Five. Let’s take these two out first.”

  “Got it.” We headed across the field after grabbing the meaningless repeat drops from Ursa Prime.

  A few minutes later, we ran into our next boss.

  Unfortunately, it was the Queen Tyrant. And even worse, the Bio-Electric Scanner hadn’t picked her up. That was…a problem. Was it because the Queen Tyrant wasn’t alive? And what did that mean for mechanical enemies? I’d have to do some tinkering later, when I had a chance to sit down and fiddle with my newest Creation to see if I could tune it up.

  “I can kill it,” I said, readying the Trip-Hammer. “You go check—”

  Tori shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I can keep out of its range, and I can definitely wear it down. You’ve got a better chance at figuring out a progression boss than I do. I’ll give you five minutes to find the next boss, then I’ll get started.”

  She was right. I knew she was right. But still…the Queen Tyrant was a monster—it had threatened both of us when we’d fought it just a couple of days ago. Matching up against it solo felt like something I should be doing.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I believed she meant it. But I wasn’t sure she would be.

  The timer ticked down as I crashed through the waist-high grass and pushed through ever-thickening bushes. A rolling set of sand dunes loomed in the distance, but I didn’t have time to check them out. The glowing red-orange circle glowed brighter and brighter as I closed in on what I hoped would be an easy boss.

  I needed it to be an easy boss. Something I could beat almost to death, then avoid or tank hits from. That way, Tori could take her time on the Queen Tyrant, and I could beat it as soon as I heard she’d killed her boss.

  The ground below my feet gradually hardened, shifting from a moist soil to asphalt, and a pair of orange circles on tall poles came into view through the bushes. I recognized it, but not because it was the basketball court outside of Cozad High. It was because it could have been. The beat up backboards, chain-link nets, and faded paint could have fit anywhere.

  The cheering crowds, though? Those were definitely not Cozad.

  The GOAT: Level Fifty-Five Elite Dungeon Boss

  Current Difficulty: Challenging

  Kobe? LeBron? Wilt? The debate is over. There’s only one GOAT, and he rules the court in Chicago with an iron will and competitive spirit like no other.

  Elite - This monster moves faster and hits harder than a similarly powerful monster.

  Competitive - This monster’s power growsthe longer its scoring streak continues.

  The GOAT strode out onto the court, eyes piercing me with incredible intensity. Other than the literal, jet-black goat head on his shoulders, he could have been any basketball player. His red uniform and unarmored body made him look almost small, even though he was a good five inches taller than me. Level Fifty-Five or not, Elite or not, he didn’t look ready for combat, at least not physically.

  The glowing ball of Charge hovering over his head told a different story.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I recognized the ball for both what it was—pure energy, and more than I had in all my gear and in reserve—and for the basketball it was supposed to be. I’d never been a big fan of the sport, and I had a bad feeling I was about to regret it.

  A buzzer went off, and the cheering crowds roared. It felt almost exactly like the Field of Warriors, and for a crazy second, I expected an announcer’s voice to cut across the court.

  Then The GOAT moved.

  The ball of Charge left huge dents in the asphalt, and the air filled with the stench of molten tar. He charged toward me, and I lifted the Trip-Hammer, revving it and taking a swing at his face. Instead of blocking, or even counter-attacking, the boss threw the Charge ball into the air. It hit the backboard, spun around the rim a couple of times, and fell in.

  The moment it did, The GOAT grew a couple of inches. His arms and legs swelled, and his level went up by one—to Fifty-Six. And worse, the impact from the Trip-Hammer healed almost instantly.

  “That the best D you got?” The GOAT asked. “I’m gonna cross you up and fade away all day. Just try and cover me!”

  The Charge orb bounced out of the hoop and zoomed across the court, and the GOAT sprinted after it.

  And that’s when I knew I was in trouble for sure.

  The score was probably thirty to nothing.

  I couldn’t stop the GOAT, no matter how hard I hit him. He just took the abuse and scored anyway. By all my understanding of the game, he should have been calling fouls or something. That’d at least give me a breather to come up with a plan.

  If I couldn’t get the ball, I’d never be able to stop him. But every time I tried to steal it, he maneuvered it away from me, and I couldn’t hit him, either—not if I wanted the damage to stick.

  Instead, he just kept driving, then pulling up when I went for a hit. I’d tried the railgun, electrical shocks, and even a few grenades. Nothing stuck, and the boss was just too good at scoring. And worse, he wouldn’t stop talking trash.

  Tori hadn’t beaten the Queen Tyrant yet, either—and even that was a source of worry. If she hadn’t, there was always a chance that she’d lost, and just because I’d out-muscled Ursa Prime didn’t mean a boss with five more levels was a pushover for her.

  At least he didn’t level up with every basket he made. He was only Level Fifty-Nine, in spite of all the scoring. But even so, he was going to get out of control soon.

  I needed an edge, but every time I tried to think, he charged again, and I couldn’t keep letting him through. I’d tried everything, but my attacks just bounced off of him or kept him off the court for just long enough for him to get back to the ball.

  As he dribbled the ball past me again and the asphalt popped and bubbled from the energy, I decided to try something new. I let him by and just watched. He jumped into the air, arm extended and goat-tongue hanging out of his mouth. His arm extended like a crane. A moment later, the ball slipped through the hoop again.

  Then he landed, glancing around.

  The ball was already halfway across the court. So was I.

  I had a feeling, based on how Charge worked, that the biggest problem wasn’t the GOAT. It was the ball. Every time he scored, the GOAT healed and got stronger. I had to stop him from scoring, but I couldn’t target it when the GOAT was dribbling—he was too good at ball control, too good at handling. I only had a small window to do what needed to be done when he and the ball were separated. And the best time was right now.

  I ran toward the ball, reaching the Voltsmith’s Grasp toward it. My hand clamped down on the ball.

  The Rock (Created Item 50 Charge)

  The Rock grants its owner increased power the longer a game goes on. That power doubles when the GOAT needs to take a clutch, game-winning shot.

  I didn’t hesitate and activated my drain.

  The orb vanished almost instantly, and I felt the power ripple through my system as my stat block showed a huge spike in Charge. It started disappearing—fifty Charge was far, far too much for me to hold on to—but I didn’t care. All I cared about was that the GOAT couldn’t score anymore.

  He stared at me, dark, rectangular eyes blinking incredulously. Then they narrowed, and he charged—but not at the rim.

  I was ready for him.

  The Trip-Hammer ripped through his chest. Ribs shattered, and his whole torso caved in. But even as it did, a tiny ball started forming from all the Charge burning off of me. It zoomed toward the GOAT’s injuries.

  The Trip-Hammer went up, revved, and came down in a one-handed grip that torqued my unarmored shoulder. With my other hand, I caught the baseball-sized orb and drained it a second time as the GOAT’s head exploded. Shards of skull rained down on the basketball court, and for the first time, the crowd went silent. Not quiet. Silent.

  A second passed. Two. I waited for another orb to form, for the GOAT to pick himself up and keep trying to score—or for him to turn his Level Sixty power toward me and try to—finally—go for the kill. Instead, another buzzer sounded, and his body shimmered and vanished.

  Boss Defeated: The GOAT

  Level Up! Fifty-Three to Fifty-Four

  Dungeon Delvers who were not in the arena will receive fifty percent of your team’s experience.

  Then, just like that, there was nothing to do but wait—wait, and count down until Tori either killed the Queen Tyrant or the boss grew even stronger.

  Time Limit: Seven Hours, One Minutes

  Calvin had never wanted to be a warrior.

  When his draft number came up in the lottery, he’d gone willingly enough—but he’d done his damnedest to get into medic school. Anything to avoid carrying the gun.

  That hadn’t helped him avoid killing, but he’d saved lives, too.

  After he got home, he’d wanted to go to med school. Instead, he’d ended up on the street. No one wanted to hire a screwed-up nut-job of a ‘Nam vet, and no one wanted someone like him in med school if they could help it. He’d had a tough go of it, but the whole time, he’d tried his best not to hurt people, and to help where he could.

  The disgusting fortress outside of the Field Museum looked like a blight on the beautiful marble-and-granite structure, and what he’d ordered built inside was far, far worse. It’d take a disaster to dislodge Museumtown’s defenders from the Reliquary of Bones, and they still had almost two days before they’d need to test the trenches, walls, and pits full of spikes that had haunted his dreams for decades.

  Calvin had never wanted to be a warrior. But now he was in command, and responsible for everyone who’d hide from whatever came in his fortress.

  If he’d had land mines, they’d have been deployed. He made a mental note to check with Hal. If anyone could build them, it’d be him.

  “Cal!” a voice called. Calvin stared at the man in the spotless white suit, and the Level Fifty-Three and Rank One over his head.

  Bobby Richards stopped just short of the first trench, casually standing just between two of the spiked and covered pits. Before Calvin could start yelling at the idiot, warn him about the traps, or even decide what to do with him, the man continued slickly. “You’ve got a place to bunker up? Good. We’ve got big problems on the way.”

  Patreon, if that's something you're craving! If you're not sure, you could also become a free member, and get access to one (1) chapter in advance!