Monster Breeder

“Intruders!”

The handsome Elf flips his cloak over his shoulder to reveal a rapier at his hip which he draws in a single, fluid motion to point menacingly in our direction. His pointy shoes, tunic, breeches, gleaming blade, and elegant cloak cut an intimidating figure, though the Elf’s height leaves something to be desired.

Standing at four-foot-six, one might assume the sharp-featured humanoid to be a member of the Smallfolk or an exotic Goblinoid if not for his otherworldly beauty. Long, blond hair cascades from his head in an elegant waterfall, his knifelike ears cutting through the flow like tall rocks jutting out of a stream. The angled, slanty blue eyes staring at us sparkle with a subtle, innate magic that leaves no question—this enemy is not to be underestimated.

We don’t need shouted orders to leap into action. Having fought so many Slimes and hearing that these Elves have been farming Cores for years, and perhaps centuries, every monstrous instinct on our side is ready to be unleashed without hesitation.

Gale opens up with a hail of Rain Pellets, Flou throws half a dozen flying crystal-blood daggers, Chris molds a snowball and tosses it at the Elf, Olindia stretches out several of her jellyfish tendrils in the enemy’s direction, and we step forward to protect our friends. Rosie and Monal flap at attention next to Gale while Tink prepares her Bubble Shield to place on the first person she sees in danger.

Despite fighting with one arm and a single rapier, the Elf is a whirlwind of blades. He moves as if everything but him were stuck in molasses. Precision strikes split each individual Rain Pellet, deflect the first wave of flying daggers, and sever Olindia’s tentacles before they can restrain his limbs. Watching him reflexively dodge the snowball on top of everything, we know there’s no way a monster on our level has that kind of raw speed stats—he’s a Third Tier!

Jonathan, I’m going to try and keep him away with acid. Thus braced, I don’t mentally recoil as Brenda commands our body to projectile vomit a stream of green goo in a semicircle around our party like a moat. A few flecks splash toward him, but the Elvish man sidesteps them with apparent grace.

His movements are impossibly smooth and nimble as he bobs and weaves through a storm of Rain Pellets, batters aside another few crystal-blood daggers with the flat of his blade, and leaps over the acid moat to lunge sword-first at us. Tink preemptively encases me in a blue dome of energy, allowing the Elf to assess the obstacle. His slanted eyes slide over to the hovering Fairy and back to me before altering his posture midflight to land just shy of my protective bubble. If she’d timed it better, he might’ve collided with the shield at a bad angle and bounced off to roll into the acid. I can’t blame her blunder on anything but a lack of combat experience or sheer misfortune, though.

One slash of his sword dispels the shield even as I throw a haymaker at his head. The Elf steps inside my guard with expertise and raises his rapier with the point aimed at our heart.

“Hero, look out!”

Despite seeing the trajectory of his attack telegraphed in my mind thanks to Tink’s precognitive magic, I’d have laughed off his attempt to penetrate our Stone Skin, expecting the thin sword to bend in half on impact like a fencing foil against a brick wall, but the tip of his blade twinkles with a Fae gleam in the instant before he plunges it into our body. Armor penetration magic! Even then, I’m not worried. Synergized as I am with Brenda, we don't rely on my amalgamated human organs. It shouldn't even hurt. So, why?!? Why then do I feel this incredible, mind-shattering pain exploding in our body??? My Core!

Somehow, the Elf managed to find and skewer Brenda’s Core even though our Stone Skin should’ve hidden it from view. Now, as a Symbiont, Brenda and I don’t instantly die when her Core is punctured. We can both rely on my human lungs, heart, and brain (each rendered in Green Slime form) as a temporarily backup life-support. However, as we discovered from playing with Alex last night, her Core is an erogenous organ. That means being stabbed there is the equivalent of getting our testicles turned into kebabs.

An incoherent gasp of pain escapes our mouth as we collapse to the floor in a heap. Mentally reviewing the damage, our internal view shows the sword has partially split open our Core on one side. It feels about as awful as it looks to our awareness. The only thing that protects the unborn child growing in our deepest recesses inside us is a few centimeters of distance from the blade’s edge. That sends us into a rage, but we just need a second for us to compose ourselves as a fresh wave of agony racks our body when the Elf withdraws his rapier.

Blond hair ripples as the Elf tilts his head out of the way when a stinging jellyfish tentacle almost smacks him in the face. His rapier continues to cut apart Rain Pellets with ridiculous exactitude while flying daggers swoop down on him like sparrows divebombing a cat to protect their nest. Snowballs soar left and right, our friends all fiercely struggling for their lives with our frontline fighter (me/Brenda) down for the count.

The Elf guardsman doesn’t give my party a chance to regroup. He darts forward, ducking a snowball before lunging towards Gale this time. Rosie and Monal both leap into the air with their blood-crystal talons bared to defend their mistress, but the difference is stark. Sidestep, slash, dodge, sidestep, slash, and Tink’s Bubble shields pop as quickly as she can raise them. He lets Rosie grasp onto his blade, rotates to put the Harpy girl between him and her allies, then spins rapidly—drawing his narrow sword from her clutches before stabbing it into her chest with such force it drives her back into Monal.

Both Harpies fall limp on the ground on top of one another, blood trickling from between their breasts.

Tears streaming down her face, Gale doesn’t respond as I’d expect. She squats down and flexes her abdominal muscles, forcing a kegel-ball-sized orb to pop out of her hoo-ha. “Hold him off, I’m sending for help!”

Alex's Summoning Token! Smart!

Knowing aid is coming, Olindia and Flou throw themselves at the guardsman while Chris continues to fling snowballs his way. The crimson bunny turns one arm into a scimitar, the other into a set of crystal-blood jaws the size of her head, and her swarm of flying daggers continues to harry his every step. The Pink Jellyfish Slime abandons human shape and erupts into a tangle of tentacles tracing terrifying tangents.

The Elvish swordsman hacks, slices, and stabs at the two Slime girls with increased fervor. Defending against this onslaught seems to finally be taxing him for the moment—a bead of sweat forms on his marble-smooth temple. Despite being a Third-Tier monster (if only as a Swarm), Flou’s crystal-blood itself is only a Second-Tier attribute. That discrepancy becomes apparent as the Elf’s penetrating power begins puncturing the pesky poignards.

First one, and then another of the flying daggers crash to the floor with their Cores shattered. Severed jellyfish tentacles bestrew the floor around the dueling monsters.

“Megan! Megan, come help us! Which one of these is Megan? Gale can’t read!!!” Our Rainbird companion is struggling to navigate the Brand Summoning Token’s interface, not because of her Water Magic ‘thumbs,’ but because she can’t decipher the glowing text appearing inside the sphere like an ancient human prediction ball.

“Let me help!” Chris says, rushing over.

“Can you read?” Gale asks in a rush while extending the magic token.

“Nope,” the Snow Bunny says as she kicks the sphere out of Gale’s grip with her furry paw. There’s a minute golden flash as the sphere soars through the air, names cycling through the display during its flight before shattering on the ground. “But I get lucky, sometimes.”

Dark smoke filled with glittering lights plumes up from the shattered token that twists, blackens to pitch, and then clears to reveal a very disoriented Showbunny Stage Magician.

“Wha…?”

“Cottontail, save me!” Chris cries as she leaps into her surprised baby-daddy’s arms, forcing the Showbunny to carry her like a princess.

“Chrissy? What’s going on? You look...”

“Little help here!” Flou shouts as another flying dagger falls.

“Cottontail, save them!” Gale begs, pointing with her wings at her fallen wingmaidens.

Seeing the severity of the situation in an instant, Cottontail drops Chris (“Eep!”), doffs her top hat, and waves her wand over the opening while shouting at the Elf, “Hey!”

Just then, the guardsman finishes cutting off all Olindia’s tentacles with the flourish of a wide slash across the stomach. This sword-swipe thankfully doesn’t reach the Jellyfish Slime’s Core, but it does rip open Olindia’s purse—scattering Cores, books, and parchment everywhere—and severs Flou’s sword arm at the wrist. The Elf spins around, spots the new intruder, and testily mutters under his breath, “Reinforcements…” before lunging at Cottontail.

With utter confidence, the Showbunny draws her weapon from the hat—a rubber chicken. “Eh?!?”

As Cottontail’s grim determination falters at the blunder, the Elf’s sword comes down and she raises her arm automatically to protect herself.

*Clang!*

Instead of slicing through rubber, the Elvish steel clashes against the poultry replica. The guardsman’s jaw drops. “What the f—” He shakes his head to clear it of distractions and redoubles his efforts.

*Clang!* *Clang!* *Ca-Clang!* *Ca-Ca- Clang!*

Attack! Parry! Thrust! En garde! Balestra! Riposte! Feint! Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!

Inexplicably, no matter what technique the Elvish guardsman uses on Cottontail, the Showbunny manages to block everything with her rubber chicken. What’s more, the beautiful bunny girl flips the chicken in her grip with a flourish between clashes, twirls about to block thrusts coming from the left or right, and rolls her hat along her back before spinning to reclaim it in her grip. Rather than being detrimental, the more showboating she does, the better she seems to do in the duel. Knowing the theatrical abilities she has, she probably owes her success to that grandstanding.

The Elf is practically apoplectic at the infuriating display but, the harder he pushes Cottontail, the more extravagant the Showbunny’s performance. Then he finally seems to realize that his opponent is all defense and that the mysterious avian effigy is the source of her strange ability. He proceeds to grab the rubber chicken’s neck with his free hand, forcibly plucking the object from her grasp with his superior strength.

“Uh-oh,” Cottontail groans as she awkwardly stumbles backward.

Rapier raised, the Elf steps forward to skewer Cottontail when a snowball homes in on his head. He slashes the projectile into halves that both miss him, but a layer of rime extends from where the blade contacted snow to cover the entire weapon. The guardsman drops the sword rather than let the cold touch his skin.

It's funny how certain attacks can be super-effective despite the difference in Tiers. The metal almost managed to transmit Chris's magical chill to the Elf’s body.

He whips his head around to glare at the Snow Bunny and summons a new rapier with the hilt already in the palm of his hand. “It’s just one after another with you intruders…”

The guardsman abandons Cottontail to dash toward Chris this time. The panicking bunny girl throws another snowball at him which he contemptuously slices through with his blade—a mistake. Hidden inside this snowball is a crystal-blood dagger that bursts free of concealment in a sudden flurry. He narrowly tilts his head aside to avoid being stabbed through the eye, instead only suffering a long gash to his cheek that oozes blood.

“Gotcha!” Chris gloats before cringing back from the murderous expression on the Elf’s face. “Eek!”

Growling with frustration, the guardsman lunges at Chris… only for his sword arm to be caught at the wrist by a rope of many interlocked scarves of varied colors coming from Cottontail’s hat. Gale was waiting for this moment to unleash a torrent of Rain Pellets. She has already dragged Rosie and Monal away from the battle using her control over Water Magic, their bleeding under control courtesy of Flou’s Blood Magic applied by the ruby Cores in their possession, leaving no allies to be caught in the crossfire.

“Tch, forcing me to use both of my swords—shameful,” the Elf says as he summons a second blade in his free hand, which he uses to parry the Rain Pellets.