No sooner had the note from the Squiggles faded than a voice boomed out across the Dungeon. Though the words were uttered in an ancient language that had been utterly scoured from existence, the three Champions had no difficulty in understanding them.

  “I can hear your past. I can hear your future. With these ears I can hear the thrum of each strand of life that enters my Dungeon, yet I am cursed to hear the whispers of the System for all Eternity! And I can hear all of that EVEN OVER ALL THE NOISE YOU ARE MAKING! SO KNOCK IT OFF!”

  Ha! Bridget laughed. That’s one grumpy rabbit. But we’ve totally got this in the bag. All Charlemagne needs to do is…

  I think you may want to reconsider your exuberance, warned Phatagin. It seems our fearless leader may be running out of steam.

  What are you talking about? Bridget asked as she emerged from underneath one of the pangolin’s scales. Oh, well. He’s still a lot larger than normal.

  And yet shrinking fast, Phatagin rebutted.

  The two watched as the rooster slowly deflated, his enormous bulk folding back in on itself in a manner that made their eyes itch. Charlemagne was panting from the exertion of unleashing the vast mana ball attack that had decimated the entire Dungeon in one fell swoop. Unfortunately, the System was treating the arrival of the Feral Wilderness Prophet as a continuation of combat, as no System rewards were awarded for the mass slaughter.

  “Bawk,” the rooster announced.

  Wait, what do you mean ‘he’s all yours’? The Pangolin gasped. That…that jackrabbit is probably twice my level. And I still haven’t fully recovered. Plus, I did save your life. Shouldn’t that count for something?

  He’s got you there, boss, Bridget agreed. He did save your life.

  “Bawk,” Charlemagne answered, his size continuing to dwindle. He was only about four times larger than normal at this point and was still shrinking.

  Oh, so I have to do it since I complained? That’s really fair, man, the mosquito whined. Fine, but if I die, I’m going to come back as a ghost and hover right next to your ear for all eternity.

  “Bawwwk.”

  All right, all right. I’m going.

  The mosquito activated her stealth skills and disappeared into the gloom, heading toward the source of the booming voice. After a long moment of silence, Phatagin nodded in Bridget’s direction.

  “She’s a brave one, that little insect. Do you really think that she’ll be able to take on the boss all by herself? I think it’s a bad matchup, personally.”

  “Bawk?” the rooster inquired.

  “What is our mosquito friend’s greatest strength, in your opinion?” asked the pangolin in response.

  “Bawwk,” replied Charlemagne after a moment’s consideration. There was another long pause as Phatagin stared out into the darkness, straining his eyes and ears just in case he could pick up any trace of his Party member.

  “That’s right,” the pangolin said eventually. “Bridget relies on stealth, evasion, and being able to drain blood undetected from her foes. But if the rabbit is telling the truth, his hearing will negate all of these advantages. She’ll be swatted out of the air and killed before she can latch on. Now, supposing that…”

  As the pangolin talked, Charlemagne tuned out the other creature as he embraced the senses granted to him by the System. His Ember Core detected faint traces of radiation left inside the Dungeon as well as the mana signature of Bridget. The valiant mosquito was flying near the ceiling and making an occasional zigzag in order to reduce the likelihood of a surprise attack. Charlemagne found her behavior strange: Bridget was not a chicken. She was not Charlemagne’s parent, nor his child, nor his mate. And yet, she was willing to fight the boss alone just because he ordered her to. The realization engendered strange feelings deep inside the rooster’s soul, and he felt like he was on the cusp of grasping some sort of greater truth. His head ached as a splinter of memory from his talk with the System’s God sought to pierce through the veil of his unconscious mind. There had been something important he had learned then. Something about…

  But his musings were cut short by another distant bellow.

  “You think that your paltry attempts at subterfuge can evade my senses? I. HEAR. EVERYTHING!” roared the Feral Wilderness Prophet. “I can hear your wings beating. I can hear your spiracles open and shut, mosquito. And I can hear your two companions discussing your impending doom. Oh, yes. I can hear everything in this Dungeon, and even beyond. I know that even if you defeat me, strong foes encircle you. I hear what could only be a pack of wild dogs tearing a young rooster to pieces and gorging themselves on its flesh. I hear…oh, System, please receive me back into your blessed storage buffer. I hear a creeping shadow blotting out the very stars in the sky and swallowing the Earth whole. Why was I chosen for this role?! THE NOISE! AND NOW THE SILENCE! THE HORRIBLE SILENCE! AIIIEEEEEEEE!!!

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  I’m gonna try to hit him while he’s distracted by all his raving, Bridget sent through the Party link.

  Bawk, Charlemagne shot back as he suddenly leapt into action. He was still double his usual size, and his rapid steps quickly ate up the ground beneath him as he began to catch up with the mosquito.

  If we must, sighed Phatagin as he slammed his tail into the ground, converting the momentum into thrust that sent him both upward and forward. Like the three musketeers: all for one, and one for all.

  Bawk?

  I honestly don’t know…it just sort of slipped out. But the analogy is apt, is it not?

  Are you guys seriously coming to help me? Bridget shouted with excitement. And here I thought I was going to get my tail handed to me.

  Bawk! Charlemagne reassured the Party.

  The three Champions finally got a good look at the boss as they closed in. An enormous jackrabbit was standing in the middle of a ring of stone trilithons, not that any of the three knew the history, purpose, or significance of that particular configuration. It was facing away from the Party and standing almost upright on its hind legs. One of its remarkably primate-like hands clutched a long metal cylinder, which was a bit longer than a club but not quite as long as a quarterstaff. The boss was waving the staff in a frenetic ritual involving the enormous bullet shaped piece of metal standing in the center of the stone ring. The metal tube had triangular-shaped supports jutting out from two of the sides, which helped keep the cylinder upright, and a dull copper glow emanated from the strange device.

  “Yes…Yes! Come to your doom,” the Feral Wilderness Prophet gasped, grimacing from the strain of receiving the strange visions, or whatever the auditory equivalent of a vision might be.

  “Bawk,” the rooster calmly announced as the trio closed in.

  Boss, you got a plan? The mosquito asked as she broke off to the left a bit, planning to come at the jackrabbit from an angle.

  Bawk, suggested Charlemagne.

  ‘Hit it harder’ is not a plan, at least not where I come from, Phatagin complained. But stay sharp. The rod that thing is holding is making me nervous. I bet he’s some sort of crazy hermit monk and can do all sorts of tricks with it.

  The boss swiftly proved the pangolin wrong, but not in the way any of the Champions expected. It turned around and pointed the cylinder towards the advancing Party.

  “And now, the System’s judgment will fall upon you. Shall you be crushed by it? Or shall you emerge on the other side, stronger than ever? Will you survive today, only to fall into the clutches of an even greater horror? No matter. I shall serve as I always have, and how I always will.”

  The metal rod began to glow the same sickly pale green as the energy used by the radioactive remnants outside of the Dungeon. The light that it emitted seemed to strengthen the Feral Wilderness Prophet, and its taut muscles bulged underneath its fur.

  “Magnetar!”

  A wave of thick radiation rolled out from the Prophet’s rod like a cloud of miasma, filling the space between the boss and Charlemagne’s Party. The rooster, realizing that this was a great opportunity to reenergize himself, sprang into action. He surged forward, putting himself between the roiling mass of radiation and his Party members. Then, he constructed several shields of mana that funneled the cloud directly to him. Finally, he reached out and began to pull the radiation right out of the air and into his system.

  “How!?” the Dungeon boss demanded, surprised and angered by the sudden turn of events. “That skill is not one a creature like you should possess. This…this is blasphemy! Oh, wonderful System, would that avert your eyes from these wicked creatures. For they comport with one who has defied the righteous limits that you have imposed. And as for the rooster…I beg of you to smite him in your infinite wisdom and justice. Let him know that he has transgressed as he takes his final breath, I implore you!”

  Charlemagne ignored the demented ramblings of the incensed hare and focused on converting the radiation in his system directly to mana. His Ember Core was stuffed with magic as it worked overtime to process and distribute the enormous amount of power flowing into it. The rooster swiftly regained the size that he had been gradually losing after absorbing all of the Dungeon’s ambient radiation. As Charlemagne loomed over the jackrabbit, the bunny boss’s ravings took on an even more frenzied tone.

  “System, in your infinite wisdom and mercy, please grant unto me the strength I need to strike down my foes! Deliver me from this…wicked fowl! Wait, that’s it!”

  The Feral Wilderness Prophet raised the rod high above its head as it began to cast another spell. This time, however, the metallic cylinder began to glow orange-red before transitioning to yellow, then white, and finally to a bluish-white color. The air in the vicinity crackled in response to a wave of unrestrained heat that rolled off the powerful spell focus.

  “If radiation is not sufficient to destroy you, then perish in the everlasting fires of creation! Planck Epoch!”

  A brilliant beam of searing plasma stabbed out from the Prophet and slammed into Charlemagne. The kickback from the attack was so fierce that the rabbit boss was flung bodily backwards, causing it to slam into the strange metal cylinder with a loud “clang”. A huge cloud of dust, ash, and debris from the Dungeon’s nigh-impervious floor blanketed the area, plunging the already dimly-lit area into further darkness.

  “I heard the sound of a direct hit. May the System be praised!” The boss gloated. “That attack was strong enough to vaporize even the bones of an elephant. Your chicken friend never stood a…huh?”

  The Feral Wilderness Prophet’s monologue was interrupted as Charlemagne appeared right in front of the rabbit boss. If the rooster had taken any damage from the attack, it certainly wasn’t visible from the outside.

  “How? Why? Have I been misled! Has the System lied to me?” The Prophet moaned, his self-assurance instantly evaporating in the face of a superior foe.

  “Bawk,” Charlemagne said, his voice quiet in comparison to the booming utterances that sprang from the lips of the lagomorph.

  The boss said nothing in response, but hung his head in defeat. Charlemagne took two enormous steps forward and put the deranged rabbit out of its misery with one well-placed peck.