It was a bad joke taken seriously. It was intense study to the point of madness, five barebones kata discovered in the act of stripping away anything and everything superfluous. These five kata were the heart of all warfare, the essential, the everything. With one half-step forward, the battle was finished. The foes were felled. The enemies were crushed.
“Wait…that went by so fast I lost track of all the elemental imagery!”
Ever since I’d been destroyed and reformed in the fight against the darkness, I had done nothing but practice these five kata over and over again. Even so, even with all the powers of Hoplology and Wisdom, I could only grasp but a fraction of the art’s shadow. My strikes were awkward, ungainly. A sliver of my physical prowess, a shard of my magic, a whisper of my qi, a breath, a step, then anything and everything I had in a brief milli-instant of Entanglement—then sometimes, just sometimes, I would produce a huge torrent of destructive force. These techniques were energy efficient, to be sure, but the timing window was very, very tiny.
“From top to bottom is piquan, aka metal. From bottom to top is zuanquan, aka water?”
Chain together blinding quick half-steps, alternate between moves directed to the left and right, and close in on the enemy. Teleport made the distance vanish with alarming speed, and with that and the power of bengquan, I sent a giant crab flying.
“Bengquan has all the piercing power of an arrow? And stuff?”
What giant crab, you’re asking? Did I not mention the “Metal Crabs, Lv: 46” scuttling all over the 46th floor? Well, there were those—giant metal crabs scuttling hither and thither, I mean. Let the teen-and-crab scuttle fest commence! I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. The previous floor had had “Armored Prawns, Lv: 45.” Imagine if I’d had a seafood allergy! These crustacean infestation wave attacks would’ve left me all washed up!
“Too bad, so sad—seafood is Slimey’s favorite. He likes nothing better than a tasty crab or lobster, unless it’s a yummy prawn or shrimp. He’s not choosy. Eat up, little guy.”
Wiggle wiggle!
What could I say? Slimey saw food, he ate it.
I hoped for a nice spiny lobster on the next floor, but alas, that was where the pattern broke.
“But we did get dessert! ‘Wild Strawberries, Lv: 46’! I usually think, like, ‘feral’ when I hear the word ‘wild,’ but I think this just refers to strawberries not grown on a farm… I would check, but Slimey ate them before I could use Appraisal. Slimey? Why are you wriggling like a vine? That’s some serious ivy action you’ve got there, little buddy. You sure you didn’t watch my tentacles at work?”
Had the wild strawberries been wild mushrooms, I would’ve rooted for the fungi. Alas, these fragarias were no match for our resident fun guy.
Off we went to the 48th floor, where we found flocks of bird and moth monsters. I busted out my projectile weapons to handle these aerial adversaries. I could’ve extended my staff to whack ’em, but I didn’t want my staff whizzing around the room and getting in my allies’ way.
“Look at me, gaining self-awareness! I guess I could always fly after the enemies myself—I really do need the practice—but something tells me wuxingquan wasn’t meant to be used midair. It wouldn’t look cool enough, you know?”
Jiggle jiggle.
Thus, a non-flying teen boy whipped out a drum to be a one-man cheerleading team for his satiated slime eager for seconds. I’ve seen boy and his slime stories, but I doubt the crowds are lining up to read one like this… Oh well, who cares what the people want? Time to drum up support for Slimey!
“Slimey, Slimey, he’s so tough.
Watch him eat ’em all. And stuff?”
Wriggle wriggle!
“Slimey, Slimey, see him go.
There’s nothing he can’t do. Y’know?”
Bobble bobble!
“Let’s go, Slimey; you’re a lucky duck.
My exclamation point key is stuck?”
Jubble jubble!
“Shut, up! You, distracting us! And the enemies, dead already!”
Huh? Why were the dungeon emperors mad at me? Had cheerleading drums not been invented yet? Well, they existed now. And cheerleader uniforms! Who wants to try one on? And immediately take it off for me?
Onto the 49th floor. There was one more below—this dungeon ended on the 50th floor. This was my last chance to experiment.
“Man, this is the third time I’ve swapped out my cloak… What a poignant moment.”
It wounded my heart, but I tearfully removed the “Verge of Death Overcloak: Slashing and Bludgeoning Resistance Multiplier (large). +DEF” and donned the “Gale Cloak: Speed, Dexterity +30%. Wind Element Multiplier (large). Wind Armor. Wind Blades. Gale Winds.” I was concerned about losing my slashing and bludgeoning resistance, and the speed boost threatened to mess with my poor control further, but the wind element multiplier was a godsend for Qing Qigong. The cloak didn’t offer much protection, but it was perfect for evasive maneuvers.
“Hey there, fluffy little guy! Can I pet y—ooh, never mind. I don’t like those slavering fangs. Yeah, nope. You fall squarely in the pesky vermin category.”
I relaxed from my fighting stance and straightened up. There was something else I had to do before I whipped out my ol’ reliable wuxingquan. The bear’s (oh yeah, I was fighting several bears—whoops, forgot to mention that) long claws ripped through the air in front of me, stirring up a wind that shook me until I lopped off its arm in one stroke.
The bear howled in pain and tumbled forward, threatening to crush me. The wind generated by the movement of its titanic form buffeted me, pushing me out of harm’s way. I very solicitously sliced off its head on the way down. Two bears on either side of me roared, and two giant paws tried to pin me between them. I slipped and slid on the resulting whirlwind, and my sword danced, traveling here, there, everywhere.
“It’s working!”
I let myself dance along on my Qing Qigong, dodging attacks effortlessly and lashing out in a flash of steel and staff. I couldn’t control myself, but I trusted myself to the wind and my body. It was the ultimate passive technique. The “Ripper Grizzlies, Lv: 49” never knew what hit them. Three cheers for the classic M-san strategy: “If you can’t move ahead, invest in an airbrake. (And also attack. And stuff.)”
Attacks that would’ve landed otherwise sent me wheeling out of the way. I whirled. I twirled. I swished and slashed and swooshed.
I wanted to try out the teen-boy-attracting Piercing Drill Sword, but I didn’t have the resources to spare. I was all momentum, a victim of the gravity-negating Qing Qigong, a creature of speed and little power. The two Universe Staffs made merry work of the bears as their huge claw attacks swept me across the room. It was all very badass—if we ignore me pirouetting like a dizzy leaf caught in a whirlwind. Shh.
“At least I dodged everything and didn’t fall once! Never hurts to be prepared, even if it’s impossible to run into darkness this close to the surface. That’s my motto: Be prepared, be impaired, and, eventually, be repaired! That’s how I hobble through every squabble with a—”
Wobble?
Exactly! High five, Slimey. Oh. You can’t, huh? Occupational hazard of being a slime.
“Okay, but if the boss is bad business, I’ll let you guys take the wheel. I won’t get myself in over my head. Oh, please! Have you ever known me to do anything ill-advised? Am I not always bursting with sound arguments and fine, logical reasoning? I’ll be so fine.”
“…Promise you’ll switch out!”
All right! One boss to boss around, and then it was back to the frontier for us.