Paragon of Skills

Jacob cackles evilly after Nimirea manages to drain almost thirty Mithril Nightmare Shredders of Apocalypse at once while everybody else intercepts them, hurts them, debuffs them, and just generally causes mayhem with their Rainbow Skills.

Mid-laughter, Jacob coughs in his hand, stealthily dropping it into his pocket, where he smears away the blood.

“Garros, some healing, please,” Jacob croaks to the young man on his right.

He’s been keeping Garros close at all times. Thanks to the Mithril that King Baalrek’s sword has absorbed, Jacob is much closer to being able to undo the second seal. Part of what undoing the second seal does is transform the sword into a perfect catalyst for Primordial Magic. This far from Lyra, Jacob can even use it to employ the Primordial Spells Liuthkrav taught him to block Lyra’s control over Rainbow Skills.

Yet, there’s one problematic detail about what he’s letting the Dungeon, Apocalypse’s Apostle, believe.

The sword can only absorb so much Mithril before the seal is undone. It’s three quarters full already.

Jacob has camped out here for a week, alternating eliminating waves of Shredders, thankfully the strongest monsters that Lyra can send them now, and mining out the Mithril that the ground has in abundance thanks to Rafnov’s Bounty.

But his time is limited.

This entire thing, the ‘trap,’ is actually the ruse for the real trap.

Jacob will soon not be able to consume Mithril anymore. At that point, they can try storing it away in Interspatial Rings and, if worse comes to worst, hoarding it here. But if it’s out in the open, sooner or later, the Shredders will get to it. And at that point, they might just make a run to deliver it to their Mother. Or worse, consume it themselves.

How long do you think we need to do this for? Nimirea asks telepathically.

Jacob can’t tell her, not even like this, what his plan really is since Lyra can read minds.

I don’t think she has the guts to face us directly. We’ll just keep bleeding her out, Jacob says, hoping that Lyra will see that through Nimirea.

Everybody but Jacob is now back to digging.

His body has to be healed roughly every other hour or so, or he will literally start breaking down. Without Garros, he’d be dead already.

He rubs his face, dead-tired. He’s not sure that Lyra will be stupid enough to actually take the bait.

You must believe you have figured me out, a woman’s voice reaches him.

Jacob hears that voice and looks around. Then, confirming there’s no one there, he smiles. She took the bait.

You’re talking telepathically to me, Lyra? Wow, you must be so good at Primordial Spells. You can even talk to me. Incredible. You’re truly one of a kind.

Jacob can feel a gnashing of teeth.

You think you’ll win? You know nothing of the Rules of Old. You have never faced a real Dungeon, Jacob Cloud.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Same old, same old. It’s just like what Asmodeus has thrown at me so far. Just a bit fancier.

You dare compare me with such an inferior being?! I have come to you to hear your voice, to hear you plead for mercy. You have forced my hand, Jacob Cloud. I shall walk away from this with less than I originally planned. I will not be able to swarm the entire world, but you’ll die today. By my child’s hand.

[Lyra has activated the Boss’s Trial.]

Suddenly, everyone warps away, disappearing from their room and finding themselves in the Boss’s chamber.

“What is happening?!” Nimirea shouts, baring her pink blade in front of her.

All the Champions and Dark Champions are reeling when a thick energy snares every single one of them and has them levitate in the air, trapped and powerless in bubbles of pure Mana that cut off any sound they’re making.

There’s only one hunched figure staying behind on the ground.

Jacob looks up and sees a giant core. All around this globe of light where a beautiful, titanic woman is looking at him, there’s a massive plateau.

“You will now face my Champion, Jacob Cloud.”

Jacob weakly walks toward the edge of it and looks down, kicking a rock underneath.

It’s almost thirty seconds before he hears it hit the water.

“Big drop,” he says, turning back toward the Core.

“DO NOT IGNORE ME, MORTAL!”

Jacob unsheathes his sword, but before he can say anything else, a pulse departs from the core and the walls light up.

This is a giant underground chamber, and on the walls, littered like wasps’ nests, womb-like structures where tens of thousands of Shredders are in various states of development.

Jacob looks at that and back at Lyra.

“Wow, is that supposed to be impressive?” He coughs out and this time, blood escapes his lung and stains his lips before he can catch himself.

“Whatever you’ve done to try and hide from me, you must have thought that, at the end, you could have relied on the famous technique that allowed a weakling like you to triump in the past. But the Knights I killed—their souls whispered your famous story to me. An Original Dungeon can force a Champion’s confrontation, Jacob Cloud. Did you know that?”

[The Boss’s Trial commences.]

Jacob wheezes and drops to his knees.

Suddenly, a massive womb-like membrane on the very top of the ceiling breaks and, covered in liquid Mithril, a Nightmare twenty feet tall falls onto the platform, rocking it.

“I mean, yes?” Jacob says, looking at the thing.

It’s got two clawed hands, with claws longer than his own sword. It has a thick armor all around, but a sinuous, muscular body underneath.

[Mithril Nightmare Champion of Apocalypse - Level 2150 (Boss)]

“I thought this thing would be at the Peak of Imperium Rank. Not just Intermediate. I suppose you didn’t have enough Mithril to feed it.”

Lyra doesn’t understand if Jacob has just lost his mind or if, somehow, this could have been part of his plan.

“Tell me before you die, Jacob Cloud,” Lyra says, “how did you expect to survive this without your friends to use as pawns, as receptacles for your Afflictions? You’re weak. You’ve weakened yourself even further. There’s nothing here for you to draw power from. The weak, pathetic powers you inherited from your Infernal master are nothing here.”

Hearing King Baalrek mentioned, Jacob stands straighter.

“It’s true, without them helping me by taking on Afflictions, I can’t use my Domain and Reverse Domain to their full extent.”

Jacob looks at the Champions and Dark Champions fighting against their bindings.

“Truth be told, I was tempted to absorb this Imperium Skill to get to Diamond Ranks just like they did,” he continues, taking out said Skill Crystal from his Interspatial Ring, then throwing it at the feet of the Boss. “But the thing is, if I had done that, this would have been the end of me. That thing is strong.”

Jacob points at the Boss, and then at Lyra.

“But you know what? I told myself, who cares if people consolidate their Class by now. I’m just a Platinum Rank, right?”

“What?” Lyra does not understand what Jacob is getting at. A Primordial being, a direct offshoot of a Primordial Goddess, is confused by this overgrown teenager’s words?

The thought enrages her.

Jacob plants his sword on the ground and says, “Embrace of Darkness.”

Tendrils of darkness and blood sprout all around the Champion and latch onto him. The Boss, however, doesn’t even move.

“You think that your pathetic Skill can do anything to my child?! Child, take those—“

A massive Mandala appears above Jacob and it slowly descends around the sword. The silvery edge pulses and expands into a massive, unwieldy sword that Jacob points at the Boss.

“Baptism of Blood and Fire.”

The tendrils suddenly explode in size, becoming ten times thicker than before, and crack the Mithril on the monster’s body.

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