Then she pushed open the massive double doors before her and strode into the cavernous interior of the cathedral. Across a clear floor of brushed steel that was dappled by the light of towering stained glass windows, she saw him:
{Sword Saint Alanar — Level 221 Boss}
Alanar sat at the grand pipe organ whose massive form dominated the far wall, still playing the music that wove the spell that had animated the city’s guardians. His fingers lingered on the keys for a moment before the music ceased and he stood, throwing back his cape as he turned to face her.
He was tall, even for an elf. His eyes began to glow a vivid acid green along with the elaborate runes embroidered into his linen robes.
A flicker of surprise and annoyance crossed his face as he took in her outfit, but he seemed to banish the distraction with a quick shake of his head.
He pushed back his hood and floated down from the raised bench to stand before the altar. He spoke to her in deep, resonant tones.
“Archfiend,” he said, lip curling with disgust. “I had thought us to be in good standings with the Powers of Hell; yet here you are. I should have known better than to trust your kind—but it is no matter.”
She didn’t interrupt him. The longer he talked, the better. Her allies would easily handle the metal soldiers in the city below, once their reinforcements ceased. She’d rather they joined her for the final boss.
He glanced back at her, then frowned. His frown became a scowl, but again he banished his displeasure and spoke.
“Tell me: do you know why this place was cursed?” His lip curled contemptuously, and he scoffed. “Of course not. You come for power, and power alone. You seek to destroy us the way someone might burn a priceless painting to keep themselves warm, ignorant of centuries of history….”
At last he seemed to give in against his better judgement, letting out and exasperated breath before saying, “Damnation. I can only assume that you want me to ask, but so be it. What, in the name of all gods, are you wearing?”
“Oh, this?” Ashtoreth said, looking down at herself. She wore a loose cloth costume made to resemble a carved pumpkin. Its triangular eyes and buck-toothed mouth glowed with violet light. “I’m a Jack O’lantern!”
Alanar simply stared at her, a hidden wrath in his eyes.
“I guess it warrants more explaining, doesn’t it?” Ashtoreth said. “See, my companions and I are on a year-long rampage. And we’ve been doing the holidays from their world as we go. And today, of all days, is Halloween! Everybody dresses up, and since I want to be really Halloweeny, I dressed up like a Halloween decoration!” She spread her arms as if presenting herself. “A Jack O'Lantern!”
Alanar continued to glare. “You’ve come to do battle. A fight to the death in this, the place of my power, a place that bears a most holy curse.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Halloween is also called All Hallow’s Eve. It would be more irreverent disrespectful to not wear the sacred garb of my culture, here.”
“Perhaps you speak the truth, archfiend of pride,” said Alanar. “Perhaps not. It is no matter. You will soon see that the City of Steel is where pride comes to die—as our history has shown again and again.”
A soft green light emanated from his hand and the top of the altar vanished, revealing a cavity inside it. Alanar shifted his hands, his palms facing upward, and out of the hollow altar rose—
Ashtoreth gasped. “Is that a katana?” she asked excitedly, stepping closer.
Alanar frowned. “Celestial Wrath is a hallowed blade. There are none like it, and never shall—”
“Definitely a katana,” Ashtoreth said as she drew near. “Wow!”
She reached out with the psychic bond that they’d been using for the last fifty levels, one based on a spell that Dazel had given Kylie.
She found Kylie and spoke to her with telepathy. I need your up here pronto! Boss has a katana.
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A katana? Hunter asked a moment later.
Focus, Wolfhard, Dazel said. Kylie can leave her minions behind, but with her gone you’re going to need to wolf even harder.
I was wondering why you’d actually use my name for once, Hunter replied. Then you got to the end of your sentence.
I’m coming, by the way, Kylie said, unamused.
“You are ignorant, spawn of the Lightbringer,” Alanar said to Ashtoreth. He took the katana, drew it, then rose into the air above the altar. “You have the crude arrogance of youthful pride. It is fitting that your downfall will come here, in the City of Steel.”
She smiled fondly at him. “You really made my day today, Your Holiness,” she said. “It’s… my gosh, it’s a Halloween miracle!”
“Stop it,” he said. “Stop talking about Halloween; your traditions are nothing in this place. We’ve born the Curse of Steel for—”
“Trick or treat.”
He looked past Ashtoreth, who turned to see Kylie floating in through the double-doors.
“You won’t even face me alone?” Alanar said to Ashtoreth. “So be it: who is your pet, then?”
“I’m the lich,” said Kylie. “I’m here to take your mind like it’s a delicious candy.”
Kylie had surprised everyone when she’d agree to participate in the celebrations by letting Ashtoreth glamour her. She was covered in silver paint and metal, her costume completed by the little silver funnel atop her head.
He narrowed his eyes at Kylie, then looked at Ashtoreth. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked. “Her hallowed costume—what is it?”
Kylie’s lips curled into a smirk. “I’m the tin man.”
“You dare?” Alanar said. “You dare disrespect the plight of my people?”
“I’m glad you get it,” Kylie said. She raised a hand, wreathing it in death energy. “Now. Give me something good to eat.”
“It’s looking good,” Dazel said, scrutinizing the tiny crystal that Kylie had brought back to him. “Perfectly translated, from what I can see. And the crystal you enchanted is holding it losslessly.” He looked up at the gathered party. “We’re good to transfer.”
They’d made camp at the edge of a forest on a hilltop overlooking the City of Steel. Half of the buildings had been transmuted into their namesake metal, and they gleamed in the light of the moon.
Dazel rose into the air to bring Kylie’s crystal to a runed stone surface. His Halloween costume was a simple affair: he’d asked Ashoreth to form a glamour that encased him in a round brown nutshell; he was a Dazelnut.
He landed on a runed stone slab, then began to prod certain runes with his table, causing them to glow.
“I would hope it worked,” Kylie rasped. “I’ve got three spell slots dedicated just to teaching Hunter how to use a sword.”
“Be nicer if we could test it on a disposable subject first,” said Dazel. “But we had to find the katana man today, of all days. I suppose it’s better than a week ago when we weren’t ready at all—tell Hunter to stop aura farming and get over here. It’s time.”
Hunter was perched on a rocky outcrop, looking out over the city with his hands resting on his sword-hilts, a light breeze tousling his dark hair.
His outfit somewhat undermined the dramatic effect of the pose. For reasons that were inscrutable to everyone, Hunter’s Halloween costume was a vending machine. His arms seemed to jut awkwardly out of the square frame of the machine, but because it was an illusion, he could move them through it whenever he liked.
The confusion had given him an advantage against quite a few enemies across the multiple scenarios they’d done that day. Dazel had spent quite a bit of time overstating its efficacy and pressuring Hunter to make the costume permanent, to always go into battle dressed like a vending machine.
Hunter had declined.
“Hunter,” Frost called out. “They’re ready.”
Frost had decided to embrace his vampirism and was dressed as what he referred to as ‘Plaid Dracula,’ wearing a plaid, high-collared flannel opera cape over a white cotton shirt and a pair of suspenders. His hair was slicked back and glamoured to look like a widow’s peak, at odds with the beard he’d been growing for the last month.
Hunter looked over, then lumbered down from his rock and shuffled toward the stone table to join them.
“All right,” said Dazel. “Hold the crystal, then let Kylie cast a spell on you.”
Hunter took the crystal, then looked over at Kylie. “I have reservations.”
“You can’t back out now,” said Dazel.
“Don’t worry!” Ashtoreth said from where she sat next to Frost by the fire. “It’ll be just like that scene in the Matrix where Neo learns kung fu.”
“Yeah, that,” said Dazel. “Now brace yourself. You’re going to feel a slight… looseness in your innermost self. It’ll only last a moment.”
“Uh, okay, that sounds sort of….”
Kylie unceremoniously hit him with a blast of blue light. Hunter reeled, then stumbled and fell to the ground with a thud.
“How come nobody caught him?” Dazel asked.
Ashtoreth rushed over to Hunter’s side. “You didn’t say he was going to fall!”
“Well clearly I should have, with reaction times like yours,” Dazel said.
Hunter’s eyes fluttered, then opened.
“Are you okay?” Ashtoreth asked.
“I….” He blinked. His eyes focused on her. “I know how to fight.”
Ashtoreth grinned. “Show me.”
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