“Hells,” I cursed, breaking into a flat-out sprint. “The overlord is fleeing.”


    “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Shael asked.


    “Not if we don’t kill it,” I muttered. “Or if I fall off.”


    “Fall off?” Anriq asked in alarm.


    “The damn thing is rotating. But don’t worry, I was joking. I’ll be fine.” I hoped. The overlord wasn’t turning all that fast, and it would be a few minutes before I was forced upside down. And while that might complicate things, there were plenty of handholds on its shell. The chances of me falling were minimal.


    I snorted. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.


    Ignoring the morose thought, I skidded to a halt as I reached the edge of the seam. If the bombs had failed to do anything else, they had at least widened the seam appreciably.  Not pausing to deliberate or consider further, I shoved my head into the crack.


    In hindsight, that was not the smartest thing I’d ever done.


    Another puff of smoke billowed out and straight into my face and half-open mouth.


    I swore. “By all that is—”


    I broke off, overcome by a coughing fit. Yanking my head back, I scooted backward and waited for my chest’s heaving to stop before reconsidering the seam.


    While the smoke emanating from within had lessened somewhat—it was only rushing out in fits and starts now—something was still clearly burning somewhere.


    And what in hells could that be?


    Uncovering that mystery was less important than determining when the smoke was going to clear, though.


    Unfortunately, it looked to be in no danger of dissipating anytime soon. And if I couldn’t clear the air, I had no way of assessing the results of my handiwork. For all I knew the traps had failed abysmally—which would leave me in a pretty pickle.


    Damn. Damn. And Damn.


    My thoughts racing, I assessed my options. How did I clear the smoke? Would an ice bomb work? Perhaps.


    But if I threw a bomb blindly into the seam, the chances of it landing on the source of the flames were minimal. Ten bombs then. I grimaced. That could work but—


    My thoughts ground to a halt as something else occurred to me.


    Did I really need to clear the smoke?


    No. No, I don’t.


    “Ghost, you’re up,” I said, coming to a decision. The only real way to ascertain what was going on was to enter the seam, and I was loath to do that myself, not because of the risk, but because doing so would leave me blind to whatever was happening on the overlord’s surface.


    And truthfully, this was a task the pyre wolf was better suited to. “Use explosive manifest.”


    “You’re sure?” she asked, sounding startled.


    “Yes.” At this point, a little more smoke and fire couldn’t hurt—hells, it might even help. “Time is of the essence.” I paused. “Manifest in the seam itself.”


    “On it,” she replied.


    I backed away hurriedly, and a heartbeat later, another blast rocked the overlord.


    Ghost has cast explosive manifest.


    Raising an arm, I shielded my eyes as more flames gushed out of the seam. “Talk to me, Ghost.”


    “I’ve fallen,” she replied. “How far, I’m not sure, but I think I’ve reached the bottom of the seam.” A pause. “It’s big enough down here for me and another dire wolf to walk side by side.”


    I whistled softly. “The seam has grown that big?”


    I sensed Ghost’s silent assent.


    “So, what’s the problem?” I asked, suspecting there was one.


    “The traps have not broken all the way through the overlord’s shell,” she reported, not pretending otherwise. “We’ve got more hide to puncture through.”


    I swallowed. “More?”


    “More,” she confirmed despondently.


    A metallic screech cut the air.


    I didn’t react, knowing that it was Ghost who was responsible for the sound. She was clawing at the overlord’s shell.


    “The hide underfoot feels softer than the bits lining the sides of the seam,” the pyre wolf said. “It smells newer too. As if freshly-made.”


    Freshly-made? How could she tell? The question was of no consequence, though.


    “I think… I think I can claw through,” Ghost added a moment later.


    It was good news, better than I had expected. Still, my brows furrowed as I wondered how long Ghost would need. “Then do that. As quickly as you can. In the meantime, tell me about the fire. Can you see what’s burning?”


    More metallic screeches followed, a veritable song of them.


    “There’s no fire,” Ghost said between her frantic pawing. “Nor any flames to speak of. The smoke is coming from the hide itself. Parts of it are still smoldering.”


    My frown deepened as I tried to figure out what to make of that little tidbit. I was more concerned, though, about what we did if—Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A level 308 stygian overlord has cast the composite spell, shield of nether.


    The first spell-stage has been activated, spreading noxious fumes over the targeted area.


    I whipped my head around, scanning the surroundings.


    The nether was thickening in an unhappily familiar way all about me. And at a guess, the same thing was happening over the rest of the Power’s surface.


    Warning: your surroundings have been contaminated with a concentrated dose of nether. The nether toxicity has increased to tier 24!


    “Hells,” I swore.


    “What’s wrong?” Anriq asked, overhearing me on the farspeaker link.


    “The overlord has figured out it has a stowaway,” I replied. “It’s trying to get rid of us.”


    “Will you be alright?” he asked worriedly.


    “We’ll manage. How are things proceeding on the ground?”


    “As well as can be expected,” Anriq answered. “The first naga is almost dead. And the second is not far behind.” A pause. “What about the overlord’s shell?”


    “We’re working the problem,” I replied, not wanting to bother him—nor the others, who were also likely listening—with the details. “Stick to the plan,” I reminded Anriq. “As soon as all the overlord’s escorts are dead, retreat. Don’t worry about me and Ghost. We’ll make our own way out.”


    “But—”


    “Gotta go,” I said, closing the link and glancing to my left.


    The blood-bound stygian serpent was still where I left it. “Come here!” I yelled. It had not escaped my notice that the spell the overlord had cast was a composite one, and if it was anything like the Power’s other composite spell—blob of nether—then I could expect its second stage to include necrotic spikes.


    Or something worse.


    Which was the main reason I wanted my best means of escape within easy reach.


    “Prime,” Ghost called out, drawing my attention, “scratching at the hide is not helping. What do you want me to do?”


    I inhaled deeply, trying not to let the latest dose of bad news unsettle me. But it was hard. The overlord’s defenses were a lot tougher to penetrate than I’d anticipated.


    Was it time to retreat?


    No, not yet. There was still time for one last gamble. I exhaled, letting the plan taking shape in my mind germinate.


    “Ghost, you said the shell looks weaker down there, right?”


    “Right. But like I said, clawing at it is having no effect.”


    “Forgot about that,” I said, dismissing her words. “What I want you to do is to unmanifest—”


    “But—” Ghost began in protest.


    “—and then immediately re-manifest,” I continued, speaking over her. “Keep at it until you break through. Understood?”


    “Ah,” she exclaimed, her form already unraveling as she heeded my instructions. “I understand now.”


    “Good, then after that, I want you to—


    The noxious fumes have reached maximum dispersion. The first spell-stage is complete. Second stage spell(s) released.


    I broke off as the Game interrupted me for a second time. Swinging about, I focused on the flying serpent making its way closer. If I’m right…


    Right on cue, an ebon sliver shot out of the overlord’s shell to pierce the stygian.


    A necrotic spike has been activated.


    Your blood-bound creature has been injured. Remaining health: 95%.


    I grimaced. As resistant as the flying serpent was to the free-floating nether, it was not immune to pure necrotic damage. I had suspected as much, however it did further complicate matters.


    “Fly over,” I roared.


    The stygian obeyed instantly and, flapping its wings, went airborne.


    Ghost has cast explosive manifest.


    Your familiar has injured a level 308 stygian overlord!


    A damage message! I exulted. Whipping about to face the seam again, I whispered breathlessly, “Ghost?”


    Her response was a moment in coming. “It worked, Prime! The final layer of the overlord’s hide has given way. I’m through!”


    My eyes shone. “Excellent! You know what to do.”


    “Yes, I’m venturing beneath now.”


    Your familiar has injured a level 308 stygian overlord!


    Your familiar has injured a level 308 stygian overlord!


    …


    …


    I grinned, my excitement knowing no bounds as Ghost forced her way inside the stygian Power and attacked its vulnerable insides with tooth and claw. And if the Game messages were anything to go by, already she was inflicting huge swathes of damage.


    The overlord heaved, its spinning growing more frantic.


    I laughed. “That’s not going to save you anymore,” I taunted. “You’re done for!” Unsheathing my blades, I drew psi and prepared to join my familiar. With the two of us working in tandem, things would go even faster.


    A level 308 stygian overlord has cast tentacle guard.


    My brows crinkled. Tentacle guard? What sort of spell was that?


    Breaking off from my casting, I lowered my blades. “Ghost, is everything fine down there?”


    “It’s not pleasant, if that’s what you’re asking,” the pyre wolf replied easily. “It smells truly awful! But really, there is no danger.” She paused. “Why? Is something wrong?”


    I was about to reply when a slip of motion around the corner of my right eye drew my attention.


    I spun about. A gray, elongated shape had appeared in the distance. It was drawing nearer, if not fast, then steadily, its upper end wriggling in the air while its thickened base propelled it across the overlord’s surface.


    My eyes narrowed. A tentacle.


    Nor was the tentacle alone.


    Hundreds more accompanied it, all making their way from the overlord’s underside. Reaching out with my will, I inspected the closest one.


    The target is a level 105 stygian overlord’s tentacle. It is currently benefiting from the buff: awakened.


    An overlord’s tentacle is not a separate organism. It cannot survive prolonged separation from its host, and when asleep, it serves no purpose other than to anchor the overlord.


    But nor is a tentacle a mere appendage of its host. In dire circumstances, an overlord can rouse its tentacles, detaching them and imbuing them with a limited form of self-will. The tentacles so awakened will instinctively and vigorously guard their host.


    My mouth twisted sourly. We had well and truly underestimated the overlord’s defenses. Or I had.


    “Prime?” Ghost prompted when I failed to answer.


    “We have incoming,” I replied, hefting my swords. “I’ll deal with it. You take care of the overlord.”


    Glancing to my left, I took a moment to assess the condition of the flying stygian that had landed beside me. The blood-bound creature was only lightly injured, but I didn’t think it was going to be much use in the upcoming fight.


    My gaze flickered back to the seam. I was fairly certain the tentacles were not here for me. According to the Game, I was still invisible and undetected, after all. And besides as threats went, I was the lesser one by the Power’s reckoning.


    No, the tentacles had to be here for Ghost.


    That was why they were converging on the hole we’d made in the overlord’s shell. I had to keep from getting in, of course. But a standup fight was not my forte.


    Far from it, in fact.


    Which left me wondering how much use I was going to be in the upcoming battle.


    An idea sparked.


    Unless…


    My gaze darted from my minion to the seam, comparing their relative length and widths. The repeated explosions had widened the seam and the serpent should just about fit.


    The blood-bound creature, I realized, was better suited to acting as a physical barrier than serving as another defender. I didn’t have much time to enact my plan, though. The tentacles would be here soon.


    Galvanized into motion, I began shoving against the creature.