[Skill-Eater 2] Chapter 110: Battle Royale (Patreon)

The monsters filling the boss’s chamber exploded into motion as its magic took control, replacing their reason with bloodthirst and rage.

They sprang for the closest creature and started tearing each other apart, showing no hesitation whatsoever. On the far side of the enclosure, one of the prisoners seemed unaffected by the Gardener’s magic—due to some manner of defensive skill or magitech device.

She was pleading with the other two convicts, who were advancing on her position like predators going in for the kill. “Get ahold of yourselves. We need to work together, then find a chance to make a break for it. No… stop!” Her words were cut off when the man she was speaking to raised his axe and bisected her at the waist, before falling upon the other jailbird in a frenzy.

So far, none of the monsters had turned toward Edge’s team, but it was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, Setna had arrived at the same conclusion that he’d reached a few seconds earlier. “That berserking spell is making them stronger and driving them mad in the process.”

He had never seen anything like it. As the clamor of war filled the air, he wondered if this was the fate he would have met if the Claws had entered the boss’s chamber first, before putting all such distractions aside. He had a fleeting handful of heartbeats to unpack the situation before the chaos of combat carried him away, and he intended to make the most of it.

All the monsters were at least peak stage two, with a handful of stage threes thrown into the mix. While his impromptu crew could handle them one at a time, this anarchic free-for-all was unpredictable and deadly.

We can’t afford to move away from the wall, or we’re going to get hit from all sides. And as the weaker monsters fall, more stage threes will start heading our way.

Edge noticed that while the combatants were using their skills, there wasn’t any trace of strategy in their attacks. Whatever the boss did to their minds is impeding their judgment, while removing any instincts toward self-preservation. Our only chance of weathering this storm is to rely on tactics and teamwork and wait for an opening to appear.

For now, the Gardener seemed content to watch as screams filled the air and blood fell to the ground like rain. He couldn’t tell if it was concentrating on maintaining its spell or had decided that the ensuing conflict was beneath it. Hell, for all I know, this is how it passes the time when it’s bored.

His brief moment of contemplation came to an end when the closest monster, which looked like an oversized armadillo covered in bright purple spikes, rolled itself into a ball. It gathered its strength, Launched itself, and started to spin, streaking toward him with incredible force.

Edge couldn’t afford to Shadow Step carelessly, or the creature would pass right through him and hit his allies beyond. Instead, he planted the butt of his naginata into the ground, lowered the point toward the center of the monster’s mass, then Hardened his body a fraction of a second before it collided with his weapon at breakneck speed.

The armadillo’s natural armor was tough. But with that much momentum, the polearm punched through its shell and buried itself into the tissue below, carving a wicked gouge as the rotational force tore the weapon free from his grasp. Everyone scrambled out of the way as the creature’s impetus carried it straight into the dungeon’s wall.

Gram had warned Edge that while the plants looked like simple bamboo, they were impenetrable and would wreak havoc on anything that was foolish enough to climb them or tried to force its way through. Or, in this case, anything that barreled straight into them with the power of a battering ram.

With an incredible impact that knocked him off his feet, the armadillo monster collided with the dungeon’s perimeter. The long thorns cut straight through its shell like it was made of paper mâché, shredding flesh while breaking bones in the process.

The creature was stunned and wounded, looking around in a daze. Before it could recover, Edge picked up his polearm and slit its throat with a Double Slash, while Byron sank his lance into its eye.

He didn’t have time to watch the monster breathe its last, because the next had already arrived. While the two of them dealt with a tiger with tentacles, One-Eye and Setna fell back-to-back, doing their best to fend off the advance of a bullfrog whose ethereal body was formed from sickly azure flames.

While the hunters exchanged blows with the pair of monsters, something dove from above in a flash of green scales and carried the tiger away. Edge shuddered, then turned to help his team while keeping an eye on the sky.

Though the burning frog was immune to physical attack, it was weak against cold. He slew it after conjuring his iceblade and burying the weapon up to the hilt between the flaming monster’s eyes.

His mana was draining at a rapid rate as the Mantles he’d conjured enhanced his team’s attributes while absorbing a portion of the damage they received. He wasn’t in danger of running out yet, but the battle had only just begun. Perhaps a quarter of the maddened creatures lay dead in the dirt, including two of the jailbirds the Gardener had transported. But the fallen monsters were bound to be the weakest of the lot, and he knew deep in his bones that the worst was yet to come.

There was so much going on that Edge couldn’t track it all. The combat-awareness bonus from Warlord’s Mantle was helping him parse the countless variables dancing across the battlefield, but it wasn’t good enough. Fortunately, he had something in his kit that might do the trick.

He reached for his bandolier and removed the bronze Perception potion he had purchased from the alchemists before the expedition left to conquer the dungeon.

The bitter brew broke over his palate, mingling with the flavor of mud and the iron tang of blood caking his lips. When the power it contained hit him a few seconds later, his concentration sharpened like a lens sliding into focus. In addition to bolstering the acuteness of his senses, more Perception helped him filter out extraneous details, letting him focus on what he needed to know and set the rest aside.

Screeches and howls rang harsh in his ears as the ground shook beneath the impacts of the battles raging all around. The hunters fought back whenever they were attacked, but prioritized defense over taking their opponents down. They needed to save their energy to take on the boss, and the monsters were more than happy to finish each other off.

Snake used his poison and Death Mark to weaken anything that drew near, leaving his opponents vulnerable to attacks from behind. He lashed out with his lance to pierce an eye or throat, claiming one kill after the next.

When something nasty pressed the attack, the shadowkiller used his red rope to stun it, interrupting several dangerous skills before they reached completion. However, the man specialized in utility and support rather than defense, which meant Byron couldn’t trade blows with his foes and walk away unbloodied.

Edge stepped in whenever his allies were threatened, taking hits against his Hardened body while he Slashed and thrust with his naginata. Beside him, Setna was wielding the elite ape’s spiked-knuckle plates, pummeling anything that came close while targeting their vitals and joints.

She was able to land some heavy hits, although he had the sense that Setna was distracted—focused on taking her revenge against the Gardener. He was happy to let her have it, but they needed to survive this battle royale first. Byron darted over and pulled the woman out of the way of a stream of acid with a fraction of a second to spare, speaking into her ear as they fell into formation.

Edge didn’t get to watch the next part of their fight, since he was so busy dealing with his own. But when a momentary lull in the flow of battle arrived, he stepped back long enough to reach into his preservation unit. He broke off four small pieces of mana berry, then handed one to each member of his team.

The tasty treat topped off their reservoirs, although it did nothing to alleviate their exhaustion from enduring the frenetic free-for-all. That was when One-Eye did something that made Edge’s jaw drop in astonishment. The former Claw reached out with one hand and flipped up his eye patch, revealing a rune-covered orb below.

It seemed that while One-Eye’s nickname was true in a literal sense, it was also a clever bit of misdirection. Because in place of the organ it had once borne, his eye socket contained a magitech implant that was shining with the telltale glow of gold-class aether.

After carving off a monster’s limbs with his machetes, the convict reached for his quiver and unlimbered his bow. He nocked arrow after arrow to his bowstring, firing in an unending barrage. Each missile struck an eye, throat, or heart, killing a dozen monsters in as many heartbeats.

The effect faded away shortly after, although Edge hoped the man had saved some of the device’s energy for the Gardener. The jailbird’s efforts had taken a bite out of the horde, granting the crew a few precious seconds before more enemies came charging their way.

Over the next ten minutes, the cage match continued unabated. Monsters bled and died all around him as the hunters fought with everything they had, struggling not to be buried in a living tide of muscle and ill will.

There were numerous close calls as they held the line. But thanks to some impressive teamwork and a few last-second saves, they weathered the storm as the horrors filling the chamber dwindled and died.

The hunters kept moving to where the monsters were thinnest, using the thorny bamboo walls to guard their backs whenever possible. It reduced the number of enemies they had to contend with, but there were still far too many creatures on the field.

Whenever Edge had time to scan the battlefield, he turned his attention to the creature that had precipitated the madness engulfing him on all sides. As tough as the fight had been up to now, he knew it was only a warmup for the showdown to come.

He had thought about firing Warren’s last spellshot when he first caught sight of the Gardener. There were two reasons why he had decided to save the round as a last resort instead.

The first was the size of the boss’s chamber. While there was plenty of room to fight using any of his skills, his faceoff with the manslayer had taught him just how devastating spellshots could be. If the skill trapped within the lump of crystal wound up creating a cloud of poison or manifested a gravitational effect like Ocean’s Prison, firing it could create a dire situation with no means of escape, killing his crew before the boss got a chance.

The other reason why Edge had hesitated was due to the nature of his enemy. An intelligent, stage-three monster with centuries of combat experience was certain to see an attack of that magnitude coming, especially from the other side of the enclosure.

All the Gardener had to do was move out of the way or employ some manner of counter, and the powerful weapon would be wasted. Hell, for all I know, it could make the spellshot detonate early or turn back and target us instead. In the end, it made sense to save the round for an emergency, and if he did decide use it, he needed to distract the boss and create an opening first.

Edge had no problem using the spellshots containing Pillar of Flame, although he didn’t want to waste them either. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, than a massive monster turned and came charging for the crew. It was one of the types that looked like trees—thirty feet tall with an array of bladed branches poised to rend them asunder. That one must be mid stage three. I can’t afford to let it close to melee.

He had to act before the monster drew near. He reached into his backpack, raised the sights of his spellslinger, then took aim and fired in a single motion while calling out to warn his team.

The crystalized spell emerged from the revolver, shining like the sun. It struck the carnivorous tree two seconds later, detonating after disappearing inside the cavernous mouth protruding from one side of its trunk.

Edge closed his eyes and turned away from the searing heat that erupted a heartbeat after.

True to its name, Pillar of Flame spawned a fierce plume of fire that stretched forty feet into the air. The heat was so intense that it blistered his skin even with Regulate Temperature running, although Regeneration mended the wounds almost as fast as they formed. The tree monster was consumed by the ensuing conflagration, and the creatures beside it were devoured too.

The spellshot created a crackling barrier of blaze, shielding the hunters for the next thirty seconds. Byron looked over at Edge and offered a weary thumbs up, leaning against his lance to support his weight. He must have a skill compatible to Regulate Temperature, since the sweltering air doesn’t seem to be hurting him.

One-Eye had some manner of barrier running, creating a bubble that shielded him from the heat. Setna was huddled beside him, remaining in place until the fire died down. “That was a good move,” the jailbird said. “But try not to fire so close to us again. My device doesn’t have enough aether to withstand another shot.” Edge nodded his agreement, then got ready to rejoin the fray.

He deactivated Warlord’s Mantle for now, then ate more of his mana berry to top off his reserves. There was less than half of it left, and he needed to conserve energy for the battle to come.

When the Pillar of Flame ran its course a few seconds later, only a pile of char remained. Edge was tempted to use the rest of his rounds to thin out the monsters, but he knew the true threat was the Gardener perched atop its throne of bone.

Forty monsters were still alive and fighting, along with one of the Crimson Claws. But it seemed that the Gardener had grown bored with the opening act and was ready to move on to the main event. It rose to its feet, revealing a profile that was head-and-shoulders taller than any man he had known.

The boss picked up a hammer made from a colossal tusk from the pile by its feet and tightened its grip on the scapula shield. Then it strode down its mountain of bones, gaze never leaving Edge and his crew.