Ryder sucked in another ragged breath, the damp, mildewy air doing nothing to cool the fire in his lungs.
He stood panting heavily in the swirling grey mist, shield still held tight, the bone-jarring impact of the Shepherd's last parried blow echoing up his arm.
That red outline, sharp and hateful on his sensor display, flickered away again, vanishing into the oppressive fog.
His muscles screamed with every twitch. Exhaustion wasn't just a feeling; it was a thick, heavy cloak trying to suffocate him, dragging his limbs down.
This fancy new sensor vision cut through the bullshit mist, yeah, but seeing the enemy and having the actual strength left to beat it were turning out to be two very different damn things.
Damn it all... he needed another boost. The thought was barely a flicker, fueled by desperation. He needed another one of those patches... running on empty way too fast here.
As if summoned by the thought, the system popped up over the pulsing outlines and grey static of his vision.
[Would you like to purchase 'Stamina Patch - Basic' (Cost: 100 Points)? Y/N]
No time for second guessing. A faint blue tracer flared near his right leg – another root whipping up.
He instinctively angled his shield down, catching the thorny wood with a glancing thwack, the energy barely registering compared to the lance hits.
Even as he blocked, his mind focused, sharp and clear despite the fatigue: Yes! Do it! Buy the damn patch!
[Points Deducted: -100] [Current Points: 100] [ITEM PURCHASED: STAMINA PATCH (BASIC) x1]
This time, the patch seemed to just… appear… right on the side of his neck, adhering instantly through his collar. Just… zap. And applied.
The System was learning, maybe? Or just cutting corners in a hurry.
The familiar tingling warmth spread out from the patch almost instantly, chasing the chill from his skin.
Then came the welcome surge, cleaner this time, purer, washing through him like a shot of high-energy stimulant straight into the bloodstream.
The bone-deep exhaustion didn't vanish completely, but it pulled back, loosening its grip. The screaming aches in his arms and legs subsided to a dull throb. His head cleared, the foggy fatigue lifting just enough.
He took a deeper breath, steadier this time. It tasted less like defeat.
"Attaboy!" Betsy cheered in his head. "Keep that engine runnin'! Now show that walking firewood who's boss!"
Right. No more just blocking and chipping. It was time to push back.
Fueled by the fresh energy, Ryder changed gears. Defense was losing. Time for some calculated offense.
He had to use the damn sensor to make openings, not just survive hits.
The Shepherd's red outline shimmered back into view directly ahead, lance already lowered for another thrust.
Ryder met it head-on.
THRRRUMMM-CLANG!
But instead of just absorbing the blow and resetting his stance, he drove forward with the block, putting his legs and shoulders into it, shoving the shield hard against the resisting energy.
The Shepherd's red outline slid back a foot, maybe two, momentarily off balance.
Ryder didn't waste it. His blade flashed, a quick, vicious slash aimed low. Steel screeched against dark wood and inlaid bone shards on the creature's leg, leaving another deep, smoking gash.
SCREEE!
A high-pitched sound of fury or pain, maybe both.
He immediately snapped his shield back up, spinning slightly. Two blue tracers appeared, whipping toward his chest from different angles.
He deflected both with the heavy door shield. thwack-thwack!
Then, seeing two yellow Thrall outlines scrambling over the ledge nearby, he pivoted smoothly on the ball of his foot and let loose a wide, horizontal blade sweep.
Power flowed easily from the patch. The heavy blade cut through both shambling forms at waist height, sending splintered wood and sprays of damp moss flying. The yellow outlines collapsed into lifeless heaps.
He was moving faster now. Hitting harder. The rhythm wasn't just block-dodge-survive anymore. It was block-shove-hit-clear.
The Shepherd definitely noticed. The hits Ryder landed now weren't just glancing blows. Sparks flew more violently. Deeper gouges appeared in the gnarled wood.
Sometimes, when his blade bit deep, the red outline on the sensor flickered erratically, like a loose connection sputtering, accompanied by that high-pitched screeching.
But the creature adapted. Its phasing became… twitchier. More erratic.
Sometimes the red outline would zip away almost the instant its lance connected or missed, denying any follow-up. Other times it reappeared at stranger angles. Higher up, forcing him to look away from the ledge climbers, or further back, trying to lure him closer to the edge.
It felt less predictable now, maybe even desperate, reacting to the fact that he was consistently hurting it.
Ryder landed another solid chop on the Shepherd's lance arm as it materialized, drawing another screech and a bright flare of the red outline.
But before he could press the advantage, it dissolved into the mist again. Faster this time.
He grunted, batting aside a Thrall that lunged from his periphery. This was better, yeah. He was doing damage. But it felt too damn slow.
Damn it, it repaired or phased too fast! He needed to hit it where it counted! Incapacitate it! But where was the weak spot?
Frustration boiled up. He was landing blows, making it screech, but it wasn't stopping.
"Figured it out, hotshot!" Betsy's voice suddenly cut in, sharp with excitement. "Been watchin' it flicker on your fancy new radar! It's jumpy 'cause you're hurtin' it good!"
"See, right when it pops back in, it's still kinda... fuzzy? Like halfway between ghost and firewood? That's your window! Gotta smack it right then! Aim for the chest, soldier! Punch its ticket!"
Hit it while it was phasing back in? While it was still ghostly? That sounded like a good way to swing through empty air and get skewered. Insanely risky.
But… what other choice did he have? Chipping away wasn't working fast enough. His patch wouldn't last forever.
The Shepherd's red outline dissolved into the grey soup again. A prediction marker flashed nearby. Closer this time.
He saw two yellow outlines scrabbling at the ledge right near his boots. Ignored them. Let them grab at his ankles if they wanted.
He took a deep, steadying breath. Focused his attention. Pushed the nagging doubt aside. Poured all the energy, all his focus, into this one gamble.
Okay... hit it while it's still phasing. Like Betsy said. Between phases.
He tightened his grip on the shield's handle. Let's dance, you twiggy bastard.
He lowered his shoulder, ignoring the clumsy grabs of the Thralls at his feet. He dug his boots hard into the floor, finding purchase.
Eyes locked on the spot where the sensor predicted the Shepherd would reappear.
He visualized the timing Betsy talked about – not waiting for it to be fully solid, but hitting it during the transition. Hitting it mid-shimmer.
The air rippled. The red outline began to bleed back into view, coalescing like smoke taking form. Still hazy at the edges. Still translucent. Not quite there yet.
NOW!
Ryder exploded forward off his back foot. No hesitation. No holding back.
He channeled every ounce of strength, every bit of desperation, all the raw force of Betsy's repurposed steel into a full-power shield charge.
Shoulder tucked in tight, aiming slightly ahead of the forming red silhouette, right for the dead center of its chest.
CRACK!!!
The sound wasn't just metal on wood. It was the sound of something fundamental breaking. A deafening, explosive report that momentarily swallowed the groans of the Thralls, the pulsing hum from the sigil below, even the ringing in his own ears.
He hit it. Dead center. Perfect timing. Mid-materialization.
Raw green energy erupted from the impact point. Not sparks this time. An explosion.
A violent outward blast of light and force that pulsed like a miniature sun.
The shockwave slammed outwards, physically shoving the thick mist back several yards in a rapidly expanding circle, revealing the vast, root-covered walls of the chamber for a second before the grey fog rushed back in to fill the void.
The Shepherd didn't stagger. It was hurled backward, thrown off its feet like a rag doll, tumbling end over end through the air for several feet before crashing heavily onto the stone floor of the ledge with a sickening crunch of dry wood.
It screeched. A sound utterly unlike before. No longer fury, but pure, raw, unadulterated agony ripped from its very core. A sound that vibrated deep in Ryder's bones.
It lay crumpled, twitching feebly. The shield hadn't just hit it; it had shattered its chest cavity wide open.
Deep, jagged fissures ran like black lightning across its torso, centered on the point of impact. Splintered shards of dark wood peeled back.
And nestled within, blazing like a ruptured engine core, was the source of its power.
A swirling vortex of blindingly bright green energy. Unstable. Violent. Leaking power in thick, sizzling arcs that scorched black lines onto the stone around it.
It pulsed erratically, flaring and spitting raw force into the air. Completely exposed. Utterly vulnerable.
Ryder stood panting, shield lowered just slightly, the heavy metal vibrating faintly from the force of the blow.
He watched the crumpled form of the Shepherd, its exposed core flaring like a dying star, green energy leaking uncontrollably onto the dusty ledge.
The gamble paid off.
Even the nearby Thralls, the handful of yellow outlines still on the ledge, seemed to hesitate. They stopped their clumsy advance, seemingly stunned or disrupted by the raw power bleeding from their master.
"YEEHAW!" Betsy's triumphant yell crashed through the charged silence, echoing around the misty chamber. "Look at that light show! Its core resonance is exposed! Like a busted fuel line, ready to blow! System confirms Anchor Finisher conditions met! You can summon the whole damn rig right on top of it! Hit the big red button, soldier!"
As if her words were the cue, a massive prompt exploded into view, flashing insistently in the center of his vision, impossible to ignore. Red and gold, demanding his attention.
[TARGET CRITICALLY DAMAGED: CORE RESONANCE EXPOSED]
[ANCHOR FINISHER: 'EIGHTEEN WHEELS OF FURY' - READY]
[ACTIVATE NOW?]
The Shepherd twitched on the ground, one hand feebly clutching at its shattered chest, green light pouring through its wooden fingers. Broken. Its core torn open for the world to see.
The ultimate weapon was primed. Betsy was ready.
Ryder locked his eyes on that violently flaring green core across the misty space.
Time to drop the hammer. Time to end this root-infested nightmare.