Ronan was slumped against a jagged rock, his clothes in tatters. His tall turtleneck and long sleeves couldn’t hide the cuts on his skin. The wounds were unnaturally black.

  Ronan’s eyes flickered open as Deckard knelt beside him. His face was ghostly pale, lips dry and cracked. “It’s you…” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

  Tristan peered over Deckard’s shoulder. “An NPC? Here, in the middle of the dungeon?”

  Orson, calm as ever, walked closer. “He probably just has a quest that brought the NPC here. No big deal.”

  Tristan glanced at Ronan enviously. “Think there’ll be rewards for us?” he asked Orson, half-joking, though his eyes gleamed with hope.

  Orson chuckled darkly. “Nope.”

  Their conversation buzzed in Deckard’s ears, distant.

  “Oof. Those wounds look infected. Maybe I can ask my colleagues for an antidote,” Deckard offered.

  “They’re fine!” Ronan snapped.

  Deckard winced at his tone. “Let me help you,” he offered, voice strained. He moved to lift Ronan, but the man’s hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising strength.

  “No…” Ronan choked, shaking his head weakly. “You… you need to run. The seagull… it runs this place… mutated… too dangerous. You don’t understand. You have to go… now!”

  The urgency in Ronan’s voice sent cold dread crawling up Deckard’s spine.

  Then came the screech.

  SCREEEEECH!

  The sound was so piercing, so primal, that Deckard felt it in his bones. He whipped his head toward the source.

  Atop the tallest rock on the peak of Gull’s Rock, silhouetted against the bleak sky, stood a hulking monstrosity.

  The Sea Ghoul.

  The bird’s posture reminded Deckard of a warped penguin—hunched and unnatural. It looked half-dead: one wing hanging limp, its beak crooked and broken, patches of skin missing. Yet its dark eyes glittered with vicious cunning as it gripped a rusty metal pipe in one talon, dragging it across the stone with a spine-chilling screech as it lumbered forward.

  Deckard could swear the beast was smiling at them.

  Sea Ghoul (Boss)

  Lvl. 5

  HP: 2000

  ???

  “Positions!” Orson shouted, his tone sharp as he gripped his spear. The Sea Ghoul’s eerie smile stretched wider as it eyed the group. Suddenly, it exploded into motion—its bulky frame blurring as it lunged directly at Orson. The pipe flashed through the air, a streak of rusty metal crashing down on Orson’s shoulder with a bone-jarring thud.

  -42

  Orson staggered back, his health dropping as the damage number hovered above him. His armor darkened where the pipe struck, a web of rusty, cracked patterns spreading outward. The blow seemed to leave behind some sort of corrosive effect.

  As the Sea Ghoul moved and attacked, it left a toxic green mist in its wake—the same noxious poison that had nearly overwhelmed them earlier.

  -5

  -5

  -5

  Deckard’s breath caught as Orson’s health steadily ticked down. This thing wasn’t just another elite—it was faster, stronger, and far more dangerous than anything they’d faced so far.

  Not only did it have the speed of the Cranky Seagull, but also the toxicity of the Radioactive Seagull. Even so, Orson’s crew kept their cool. Kane and Mason flanked the creature as it swung its pipe, evading its brutal strikes with practiced ease.

  Hammer Blow!

  -32

  -29

  Sweeping Strike!

  -27

  Each strike landed with precision, the Sea Ghoul’s health dropping in steady chunks. Deckard, standing back, marveled at their coordination—the way Kane’s hammer blows staggered the creature just long enough for Mason to slice through its defenses.

  But just as they seemed to gain the upper hand, the Sea Ghoul did something unexpected. It screeched, just like the Cranky Seagull had done. A flock of seagulls materialized in the arena, adding to the chaos.

  It was one thing to have normal monsters getting in the way of a fight when fighting an elite, but a whole other thing to do so when fighting a boss like the Sea Ghoul. This time, Orson’s crew didn’t ignore the summons and engaged the new threat in battle.

  Meanwhile, with a guttural cry, the Sea Ghoul leapt onto the highest rock, perching like a twisted predator. Its body shook violently as it grunted and heaved, every muscle twitching.

  “What’s it doing?” Deckard whispered, staring up at the grotesque sight.

  “Brace yourselves!” Orson called out, fending off another seagull, his voice taut with tension.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Deckard realized what was happening after the deed was done—the Sea Ghoul had laid an egg. Maybe calling it an egg was a stretch, but it was egg-shaped. The grotesque, pulsing mass gleamed sickly under the moonlight, veined and twitching. Then, with a triumphant screech, the boss clutched the egg in its talons and hurled it straight at Mason like a live grenade.

  But Mason didn’t flinch. Instead, a fierce grin split his face.

  Psionic Push!

  A ghostly blue hand materialized in front of him, sweeping through the air to intercept the egg. It was the same animation Deckard had seen before when he had used [Psionic Push] to return Ratu’s creature back to his hand.

  The egg spun mid-flight, then shot back toward the Sea Ghoul, hitting it square in the chest.

  -68

  The egg erupted in a spray of black, fizzing slime, splattering the boss. The Sea Ghoul let out a shriek of pain, thrashing wildly as the corrosive sludge ate away at its matted feathers and exposed patches of raw flesh. Deckard’s eyes widened.

  “What was in that egg?” he whispered. “Acid?”

  Weakened by the self-inflicted blow, the Sea Ghoul staggered, its health bar plummeting. Orson’s crew didn’t waste a second.

  “Now! Throw everything at it!” Orson roared.

  They surged forward in a flurry of motion, weapons gleaming. Kane’s hammer came crashing down again and again, each blow hammering home. Mason darted in and out, his blade flashing as he sliced the creature.

  Rusty Slash!

  -30

  -34

  -32

  The Sea Ghoul just stood there, taking the beating. The simple trick had completely neutralized the boss.

  The Sea Ghoul let out one last, pitiful cry before collapsing onto the rocky ground, its body disintegrating into motes of dark light.

  Your party has defeated [Sea Ghoul].

  200XP

  The game’s announcement flashed across Deckard’s vision, but it felt hollow. He hadn’t earned that XP—he had been a spectator, nothing more.

  When he played Terralore against Ratu earlier, he had felt in control, commanding his creatures with confidence and strategy. All his years of experience in Nova Cardia were transferable into this new game, and he still felt like a veteran professional gamer. But now, seeing the level of skill required just to survive in a basic dungeon, that confidence began to crack.

  “How am I going to succeed in Terralore,” he muttered, “if I can’t succeed in AstroTerra?” The fight was over, but his feelings of inadequacy lingered.

  He glanced down at the pile of loot left behind by the Sea Ghoul. There were two pieces of equipment, a card and a small vial of some chemical—the one Orson and his team had been so adamant about keeping for themselves.

  Orson stepped forward and took the vial of black liquid. “Pleasure doing business with you,” Orson said with a grin.

  The contract with Orson, Mason, Tristan, and Nolan has been fulfilled. 60 credits will be deducted from your bank account and transferred to the players.

  Orson and his colleagues left immediately, leaving only Tristan and Deckard behind.

  “How rude. They didn’t even say goodbye,” Tristan complained. “Oh well, let’s split the loot. Here! There’s a card.”

  Deckard grabbed it, curious about the card the Sea Ghoul might drop. This was his first time seeing a boss; its creature card had to be awesome. Unfortunately, it turned out to be just another skill.

  Seagull Strike (Common)

  Description: By observing seagulls fighting, you understand that the key to their strength and viciousness lies in their quick strikes.

  Skill effect:

  Active. Deal 100% damage; Refreshes auto-attacks.

  Restrictions: lvl. 4.

  “Bye, uncle!” Tristan called after equipping a rusty pipe, just like the Sea Ghoul wielded.

  “Bye, kid.”

  Deckard was left alone with Ronan at the summit of Gull’s Rock. It was time to see where this strange quest would take him.

  After the Sea Ghoul was gone, Ronan looked like a new man. He stood up and waited for Deckard to approach and finish the dialogue.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Ronan said, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

  “No problem. What happened?” Deckard asked.

  Ronan ignored the question, glancing up as the sky began to brighten. “I don’t want to be here for sunrise. I’ll talk to you back at my shop.”

  And with that, he, too, disappeared.

  Deckard took one last look around the now-empty ridge. He had spent a lot of money, but in the end, he had completed the quest, gained three new cards, and learned a lot more about the game.

  Satisfied yet sobered, he teleported out of Gull’s Rock and returned to the mass of players eager to go on the same adventure he had just finished.

  Congratulations! You've completed Gull’s Rock!

  You’ve unlocked the title: [Beginner Dungeoneer].

  Beginner Dungeoneer (Common)

  You have stepped onto the path of those who brave dangers and run dungeons to earn loot. You are now a true Dungeoneer.

  Title effect: +5% HP and energy regeneration when inside dungeons.

  Conditions to unlock [Beginner Dungeoneer]:

  Complete one dungeon. {complete}

  Deckard had heard about titles before but hadn’t really looked into them since they didn’t affect his gameplay in Terralore. Apparently, titles were another way to increase stats. Maybe that explained why Orson and his crewmates had such an imposing presence in the dungeon. They probably had an even better version of this title, making them nearly unstoppable.

  Satisfied with the reward, Deckard headed toward Stiltwave Village.

  At some point during the trek, Deckard realized something odd: he hadn’t even considered logging out since he started playing. Even though it was way past his usual bedtime, his mind felt just as sharp as ever. The first time he dove, he felt like playing while sleeping wasn’t a perfect replacement for sleeping. Maybe the full-dive technology had been upgraded since the last time he experimented with it. If so, all the better. He could stay immersed longer, make more progress, and increase his chances of making it to the next world championships.

  When he reached Stiltwave Village, he marched straight to Ronan’s shop. Inside, the usual hologram was busy sketching a seagull. Knowing it wasn’t the real NPC, Deckard walked right past it and knocked on the back door.

  “Come in,” came Ronan's raspy voice.

  The first thing that caught Deckard’s eye was the fish tank. It was full again. All the starfish he had collected for Ronan were crawling around inside. The Sun Starfish was chasing after the smaller ones, probably to eat them, but they were all still accounted for. A seagull was sleeping in the nearby cage, which had been empty before.

  Ronan himself was tending to his wounds, spraying his cuts and gashes. The seagull’s talons and beak had left deep marks on him, but wherever the spray touched, the black wounds were replaced with fresh skin.

  Awesome. If this were real, it’d revolutionize healthcare.

  Deckard cleared his throat. “I think it’s time we talk.”

  Ronan snorted. “I guess you could say that.” He stared at Deckard for a long moment, as if debating how much to reveal. “I've been testing you,” he finally admitted.

  “I kind of noticed. Was collecting starfish part of it?”

  Ronan chuckled. “Not initially. But it did show me you can collect.” He paused. “When you said you were only interested in cards… That’s when the test began.”

  Why the tone? Aren’t cards just cards?

  Ronan continued. “The game against Ratu was to see how you handled unfavorable odds. Gull’s Rock was a test of your survivability and resourcefulness. You passed.”

  Ronan rolled up his sleeve, revealing a piece of machinery that Deckard hadn’t realized the NPC had been hiding under his jacket.

  “What is that?” Deckard asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

  “It’s easier if you see for yourself,” Ronan said, tapping a few commands on his console.

  That’s when things got strange. Ronan’s skin began to... skitter, for lack of a better word. It cracked and split into thousands of tiny pieces, crawling off his face and retreating into his jacket.

  His skin underneath was pitch black, like obsidian, with what Deckard assumed were antennae sprouting from his head. His eyes were yellow, and there were two holes on his chin that looked disturbingly like gills.

  Deckard gulped. Ronan wasn’t human. He was an alien.

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