THHRRUMMM!
The lance hit the shield hard. But this time, Ryder didn't budge.
He could see. Sort of.
The thick grey fog didn't clear, but now he saw outlines pulsing through it – glowing shapes overlaid on the obscured reality.
The Shepherd's red outline flickered. Gone. Like smoke in the mist.
Then, a bright red marker flashed on his sensor overlay, off to the right.
He pivoted, planting his boots solidly on the slick stone and angling the heavy door shield just like the marker showed.
Right on cue, the red shape snapped back into view, lance already driving forward.
THHRRUMMM-CLANG!
The shield took the hit. Vibration shot up Ryder's arm, but he only slid back maybe an inch.
Much better. Being able to anticipate the strike, like having advanced targeting assistance, made a huge difference.
Still, the fight quickly fell into a grueling pattern.
The red outline of the Shepherd blinked out. Marker flashes. Ryder pivots, blocks the phasing attack.
THRRRUMMM!
Then a yellow outline scrambles onto the ledge. Ryder slams it back with shield or blade.
A blue tracer zips toward him. He dodges or cuts the root.
Repeat. Again and again.
The Shepherd was relentless, phasing and attacking with silent speed. The Thralls kept coming, yellow shapes forcing Ryder to constantly defend his flanks. And the roots lashed out constantly, blue tracers giving only a split-second warning.
Sounds were weirdly deadened in the mist: the CLANG of shield on lance, the wet CRUNCH of blade through wood, his own boots scraping on the dusty stone. It was like fighting underwater, except the water was trying to kill him.
This new sensor was saving his life, letting him navigate the battlefield of glowing outlines. But he couldn't just block forever.
He had to hit back. Hurt this thing.
The red outline dissolved again. Marker appeared low and center. A thrust incoming.
Instead of just blocking, Ryder ducked under the predicted path of the lance.
The red outline solidified, lance stabbing empty air over his head.
He surged forward, putting his shoulder into it, and scraped his blade hard across the Shepherd's gnarled wooden legs as it stood exposed for that split second.
SCREEEEECH!
The sound was awful, like dragging metal across concrete. Green sparks flew where steel met dark wood.
The Shepherd's red outline flickered brightly for a moment, like a damaged display. But then it simply phased out again.
Damn thing barely feels it! Ryder thought, catching his breath. Like hitting reinforced concrete. Okay, try harder.
Next time the marker predicted a phase-in nearby, Ryder met the lance with his shield, but instead of just stopping it, he pushed forward, trying to create space.
Then he brought his blade around in a heavy, two-handed overhead chop, aiming for the creature's narrow shoulder right as the red outline fully formed.
CRUNCH!
A shower of dark splinters exploded from the impact point. Another earsplitting screech.
But the Shepherd just flickered and vanished again, lance already pulling back into the mist.
This wasn't working. He could see it, he could block it, he could even hit it now. But he wasn't hurting it. Not enough.
And he couldn't keep this pace up forever. The Shepherd was fast. The adds were constant. Mistakes were bound to happen.
And it happened fast.
The Shepherd phased. The red marker flashed low, to his left. Ryder started to bring his shield down. Too slow.
The lance tip appeared out of the grey, faster than the marker indicated. It skipped off the top edge of his shield.
A sharp, stinging burn flared on his right thigh as the energy point sliced through his fatigues.
"Ah, damn it! Not again!" he hissed, stumbling back a step.
Before he could recover, a blue tracer appeared. A thick, thorny root whipped out from the floor, faster than the sensor predicted, wrapping tight around his ankle.
He crashed down to one knee, cursing.
A yellow outline immediately slammed into his side from the blind spot created by his fall.
The impact knocked the wind out of him with a grunt. He shoved it away hard with his shield arm, scrambling to get his feet back under him.
He pushed himself up, sucking in ragged breaths. The mist felt colder, heavier.
The boost from that Stamina Patch was long gone. His muscles burned. His shield arm felt like it was full of lead.
Every block took more effort now. Every swing felt heavier.
He deflected another lance thrust.
THRRRUMMM
The impact shuddered through his tired bones.
He hacked down a Thrall trying to climb over its fallen comrade. He dodged another root.
The chaotic fight swirled on. The sensor was the only thing keeping him in the game, letting him react just in time to the glowing threats in the oppressive grey. Parry red. Cut yellow. Dodge blue.
But he was slowing down. He knew it.
His blocks were a fraction late. He misjudged a Thrall's lunge, seeing the yellow outline jump but reacting sluggishly, needing a desperate shield bash to knock it aside before it grabbed him.
Then the Shepherd's red outline flickered out and reappeared dangerously close to the corner. The corner where Rigg lay.
A faint, still, barely-there shape on his sensor overlay. Unmoving.
Something hot and fierce surged through Ryder's exhaustion. Anger. Pure, raw, protective fury.
A Thrall was clawing at his back, snagging on his gear. He ignored it.
"Get away from him, you overgrown weed!" Ryder bellowed, the sound raw in the dead air.
He charged, shield low like a battering ram, putting all his weight and frustration into it. He slammed shoulder-first into the Shepherd's flickering red outline.
CRACK!
The impact was solid, jarring them both. He drove the creature back, physically shoving it across the stone ledge, away from Rigg's corner. Further away.
He deliberately kicked the splintered torso of a destroyed Thrall towards the corner where Rigg lay, adding a small, grim barrier of debris. Every little bit helped.
"Easy there, hotshot, watch your six!" Betsy's voice cut through the fog, sharp and urgent in his head. "Gettin' tired! Don't get sloppy now!"
Right. The Thrall on his back.
He spun, shaking off the creature's grip, and brought his blade around in a brutal backhand slice. The Thrall's yellow outline dissolved as its top half flew off into the mist.
Another red marker flared. Lance thrusting. He met it with the shield.
The force was immense, rattling his teeth. He shoved the Shepherd back again, stumbling slightly himself.
He was holding on. Surviving. The sensor was his lifeline.
But it wasn't enough. This was a stalemate, and he was the one losing fuel fast.
He couldn't land a hit that mattered. The phasing was too good, the adds too many. His energy was draining like water from a punctured canteen.
How much longer could he keep this up?
The red outline flickered again. Solidified. Lance driving hard, straight for his chest.
He met it square with the shield. Bones jarred. Muscles screamed.
He shoved it back one more time, eyes locked on that pulsing red silhouette on his sensor display.
He scanned it desperately, searching through the haze of exhaustion and fog. Was there a pattern? A weak spot? A flicker of vulnerability right after it attacked? Anything?
He needed to break this cycle. Find an opening. Hurt it for real.
He needed to do it now. Before his body gave out. Before exhaustion made him make one last, fatal mistake.
Find something. Anything. Now.