A Familiar Guest (3)
"...What the hell?"
Friga's assault continued without pause, having overcome the status ailment on her own. One hit. Two hits. With every strike, stacks built steadily on her axe, and the debuffed Ancient Dragon's health bar plummeted in great chunks.
— KRA-KOOM!
— 《——————!!!》
With its defense, attack power, and agility all drastically reduced by Touch of Weakness, the Frost Ancient Dragon was getting absolutely demolished.
— CHAK! CHAK! CHAK!
One stack per swing. The counter displayed at the edge of the screen climbed with honest precision. I hadn't even given Friga a separate buff, and she looked ready to solo the thing into the ground.
She was pushing the Frost Ancient Dragon so hard on her own that I started to wonder if this was a weakened version. It was a reasonable guess.
There's no way they imported the full boss-fight specs as-is. Even the developers have brains — they would've thought of that.
As evidence, the Frost Ancient Dragon still hadn't used the breath attack that had tormented me so thoroughly. Without the breath alone, this was more than manageable.
Given the nature of Friga's weapon, she had to stick close and deal damage up close — a breath attack would leave her with no choice but to eat hits and do nothing.
"No, but seriously... how did she clear the status ailment?"
Hans had been hit with a status effect during the demon subjugation too, but he hadn't purged it on his own. It had cleared, sure — but that was the effect of the Rune of Courage. He hadn't gotten a message saying he'd "overcome" it the way Friga had.
If I remembered right, his had said something like "surmounted."
Is there a different trigger condition between the two...?
Overcome, surmounted... they seemed like similar words, but was there some subtle difference?
Maybe if a status ailment cleared through a rune or item effect, like with Hans, it registered as "surmounted" — and if you purged it yourself, like Friga, it registered as "overcome"?
Either way, figuring out how Friga had cleared the status ailment under her own power was the important part. Knowing that in advance would make it much easier to prepare for monsters that inflicted status effects later on.
Is there a separate resistance or willpower stat? Or is it a hidden effect of Dragon Hunter because the opponent is a dragon? Did her Barbarian Warrior class just let her brute-force through it on pure spite?
Too many possibilities. I scratched my head as countless theories crowded in.
For now, better to focus on Friga's trial.
— CHAK! CHAK!
While I'd been distracted, seven characters had started glittering at the edge of the screen. In that brief span, Friga had landed seven hits and filled every stack.
Even accounting for the debuff, that was absurdly fast.
The Frost Ancient Dragon was never this easy...
It had to be a weakened version. There was no other way Friga could solo something like this.
— "Hyaaah!"
On-screen, Friga was swinging her axe with triumphant force, driving the Frost Ancient Dragon back.
That's a nerfed version, you know...
No breath attacks, no flying — the balance patch on this thing must have been massive. It was like tying your opponent's hands and feet and then challenging them to a soccer match.
— KRA-KRACK!
And Friga, completely unaware, kept swinging that axe with everything she had.
Well... if she kills it, that counts. I guess.
Even if the opponent was a heavily weakened version...
Drip. Drip—
Crimson droplets fell along the long, torn wound on her arm. The limb trembled. The tip of her axe quivered faintly, betraying how rough a shape she was in. Even so, she never once let go of the whetstone clenched in her hand.
"Hah..."
Friga crooked one corner of her mouth into a crooked smirk. She could feel the heat of battle gradually setting her blood to a boil.
A sidelong glance.
She flicked her eyes toward the edge of the arena and caught Iscal fretting, unable to sit still, worrying over her.
Oh, please. Who's worrying about who here...
She'd made a spectacle of herself shaking like a leaf in front of thousands upon thousands of people — looked so pathetic that that idiot dared to worry about her.
That damn sigil on the Ancient Dragon had made her look thoroughly wretched more than once. She intended to collect on that debt in full.
Friga's eyes settled like a frost-laden wind.
It was time to send that pile of bones to the afterlife.
Wooooom—!
The Dragon Hunter's Axe howled.
Hunt. It was time to hunt.
Hunt the dragon.
Friga moved gladly, as the axe wished.
Thud-thud—
She kicked off the ground and charged forward.
The Ancient Dragon's talons came scything down at her head — but they were slow. Compared to Friga, those claws were far too slow.
KRA-KRACK! The axe smashed into the dragon with the sound of shattering stone. The dragon's body reeled as the blade bit deep.
——————!!
A cry of agony rolled out from the Ancient Dragon.
Was there any sweeter sound than this? To Friga's ears, it was more intoxicating than any music.
The scream of an enemy that had made a fool of her was always a thrill.
Flash—
The second character on the axe haft glittered. Five remaining.
——————!!
The Frost Ancient Dragon belched a roar thick with pain and fury. Its rag-tattered wings beat once, twice — then gradually stilled.
It had drawn itself up as if to take flight at any moment, then stopped halfway, standing there awkwardly.
Friga seized the opening and lunged.
Whooosh!
The dragon spun its body and swept the ground with its massive tail, crashing down as if to crush her whole.
"Hup!"
KRAK!
Friga leapt high and turned the axe sideways, letting the broad face of the blade bleed off the tail's force. She used the redirected power to launch herself higher still through the air.
Bleed off the opponent's strength, then turn that bled-off force into propulsion.
It was a technique Iscal used often when sparring with her.
Like a single act of aerial acrobatics, Friga kicked off empty air and her axe carved through the void.
KRA-BOOM!
The axe slammed hard into the dragon's breastbone — coincidentally, right near the spot where Friga had once punched a hole through it, long ago.
"Hey. How about I put another hole right here?"
The axe snarled viciously as it hammered the dragon's chest.
KRA-KRACK! KRA-KOOM!
A storm of axe blows. The dragon bellowed and swung its talons.
——————!!
"Hah... hahh..."
Friga scrambled back and studied the dragon. Its condition... she'd felt it for a while now. Something was off.
Why the hell isn't this bastard breathing fire?
That searing, devastating breath of the Ancient Dragon. How much had she suffered because of it? She'd been watching its chest the entire time, braced for that damned flaming breath —
And yet, as if to mock her caution, the dragon never unleashed it.
Not only that — it never spread its wings and took to the sky, either.
It had even started to fly and then stopped. As if it weren't allowed to.
For a so-called trial, did they put some kind of binding on the thing?
Whatever the case, it was good news for Friga. If the dragon had taken to the air and started breathing fire, she'd have been reduced to chucking her axe and hoping for the best.
Flash. Flash—
Five characters engraved on the axe haft glittered. Two remaining.
The writhing wraiths coiling around the dragon's body still tried to beguile her eyes and scramble her mind —
But she clenched down hard.
The whetstone gripped in her hand whispered to her.
Don't waver.
Keep moving forward.
I know.
She knew.
Old wounds. Wraiths. Scars. All of them were shackles of the past — a collar Friga had fastened around her own neck.
What had bound her was her own will. And only she could undo it.
Clink—
For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of chains. Heavy links clattering.
It was time to cast off the chains that had tormented her for so long.
One step. Another step.
She advanced.
Fast enough, strong enough, that no chain could ever hold her.
Thud-thud—
——————!!
The Ancient Dragon's talons poured down toward Friga. Sharp claws lunged to tear her flesh and shatter her bones.
Talons carving through empty air closed in around her in a dense cage.
Saaaah.
A soft wind wrapped her feet and pushed at her back. Her body, suddenly lighter, soared into the air.
Clink-clank.
The sound of chains. The shackles of memory.
"Kh...!"
The jagged shard of whetstone dug into her palm. Before her eyes, the faces of the wraiths wavered.
People who had closed their eyes in the cold blizzards of the north. People buried in Friga's heart.
She was letting go of the memories she had bound herself with.
The Dragon Hunter's Axe howled as it smashed into the Ancient Dragon.
KRA-KANG!
——————!!
Crack.
The dragon's scream rang out — and in Friga's ears, something seemed to break.
Was it the sound of the dragon's bones shattering?
Or the sound of chains snapping?
Once more — just once more.
The axe roared with savage fury. The more she shattered the sigils carved into the dragon's body, the fainter the faces of the wraiths before her eyes became.
The subordinate who'd boasted about his newborn child. The one who hated drinking. The quiet, taciturn one.
Transparent faces wreathed in cold faded away one by one.
"Kh...!"
They smiled at her without a word as they vanished.
Quietly. Lightly.
Suddenly Friga felt her vision blur. Sweat in her eyes, maybe. She wiped them again and again, but the world kept swimming.
The more it blurred, the faster her hands moved. Because looking at those faces smiling as they disappeared made something threaten to burst out of her.
Click.
The characters on the axe blazed, announcing that every preparation was complete.
It was time to end this.
Friga gripped the axe and charged — toward the dragon, toward her chains.
"Hyaaaaaah!!"
Seven characters rose along the axe's arc and formed a radiant circle. Dazzling golden light enfolded the blade, and as the axe passed through the ring, its power exploded into blinding speed.
KRAAAAAAH—!
The axe tore through the air and drove into the Ancient Dragon's chest —
KRAAAAAAANG—!!!
——————!!! ——————!!! .....
The dragon's massive bones slowly collapsed.
And then.
Friga suddenly felt as if someone were whispering to her.
"Hah..."
The Ancient Dragon's bones slowly scattered. They became dust on the wind, drifting away into nothing.
Friga stared blankly at the sight.
And she thought, suddenly —
that breathing felt remarkably easy.