The surface of the pond exploded in a shower of water droplets as something rose from the depths.

  It was dark, horned, and as large as a small house.

  Monster Class: Giant Horned Bullfrog

  “Shit,” said Finn, backing away from the edge of the pond. “It’s a nest boss? But that shouldn’t be… it’s not..”

  “Finn,” Dean seized his arm, drawing the half-elf’s attention. “We might not be equipped to handle a nest boss. We should retreat first and reassess.”

  “Agreed.” Shae was hurrying towards them, her eyebrows drawn together. “We won’t get a full clear on the pond, and that means less loot. But the essence signature on this thing is insane. We don’t know how strong it is… even for zone 1.”

  For a moment, Dean feared Finn might argue. He could see the look in the hunter's eyes, the same pull towards greed he felt. A nest boss was a difficult opponent, but they were none to give the best stat rewards, drops, and materials. To Finn’s party, that might mean enough money to sustain themselves for another month.

  But the risk was high, especially when the enemy was unknown. Dean saw Finn reach the same conclusion, and the hunter turned away.

  “Retreat,” he said. “We need to regroup and recharge before we make any decisions. There’s always tomorrow.”

  Ten made a frustrated sound in his throat.

  “By tomorrow, some other team will have taken spoils, no? Not Good.”

  The Giant Frog let out a croak, the sound so deep that it echoed across the forest. This seemed to make up Finn’s mind.

  “I said we retreat,” he snapped, jerking a thumb up the slope. “Now, before it agros any further.”

  Ten mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like a swear word in another language, but followed the archer as he made his way back up the slope. Shae gave the nest boss one last rueful look before turning and following. They were halfway up the hill when Dean’s mana sense flared again.

  Strange, he thought, turning his head. We should be out of range. Unless..

  “Lookout!” The call had come from Shae. She was sprinting down the slope towards him, her eyes wide and fixed on something over his shoulder. Dean’s mana sense flared a moment later as something leapt up from the grass, wrapping itself around his right boot and constricting.

  Dean barely had time to call out before an enormous force wrenched him backwards. His chest hit the ground, and he dug the fingers of his free hand into the earth, trying to arrest his backward momentum.

  “Grab ahold of him!”

  Shae dove for him and Dean felt her fingers close around his wrist as eh dug her heels into the mud. Hi kicked, but the grip on his leg only tightened it’s hold. The ground shuddered as the giant bullfrog moved forward. It was massive, it’s sharp horns such a dark red that they appeared almost black. An arrow whizzed towards it’s face but the shaft merely bounced off one of the horns, unable to penetrate.

  The thick, viscous tongue that was now wrapped around him was as tough as leather. Dean twisted, trying to hack at it with his blade to little effect. He felt one of the tongue’s barbs pierce skin through his cloth armor and grunted when he felt the surge of toxin enter his bloodstream.

  Instantly, the fatigue struck him, pressing down on him like a weight. He could feel it – the thick sludge-like warmth making its way up his leg towards his heart.

  “Aim for it’s eyes!” shouted Shae. “Try to blind it Finn!”

  “I’m trying, but the damn thing won’t keep still!”

  Another arrow zipped towards the creature, but the frog merely closed it’s scaly eyelid, making the shaft bounce off. Dean’s body shuddered with the effort of fighting against the pull, but the clump of grass beneath his hand was starting to uproot. It wouldn’t hold for long.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Ten moving towards them, but a snarl from Shae made him stop in his tracks.

  “Don’t be stupid. I took a poison resistance potion two hours ago. If you get struck by a barb, it’s all over and you know it.”

  She was breathing hard, her hair plastered across her forehead with sweat as she struggled to hold Dean. She was strong, as most heavies were, but they were fighting a losing battle. The grass beneath his fist tore, and the two of them lurched forward towards the edge of the pond. Shae managed to wrap a leg around a boulder, stopping them dead. The grip on Dean’s boot tightened further, and he could feel numbness creeping up his limbs.

  Behind them, the giant horned frog was rapidly expanding the pouch on its neck, amber eyes fixed on its meal. It’s jaws were opened wide and within them Dean could see the dark wet interior of its mouth. He knew the fate that likely awaited him if he was sucked into it. But as Shae arms trembled at the effort of holding him, as the cuts on her arms bled freely, he realized it was futile.

  One of Finn’s arrows managed to stick, but the shaft was embedded so shallowly in the frog’s shoulder, it didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Damn it all! We’re coming in to get you. Hold on there.”

  “Don’t!” Shae’s voice was more frantic, but Dean could hear the fatigue in it. She’d been cut, he realized with a start. Like him, the toxin was in her bloodstream, and only the resistance potion was keeping her on her feet.

  Still, that didn’t stop Finn. He was clambering down the slope towards her, eyes hard and determined. He knew the risks, Dean realized. Knew that it might mean death.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he growled. “You or Dean, for that matter.”

  Another pull made Dean cry out as his leg strained in its socket. The giant frog was lumbering towards them, water splashing over them as it neared. They were all going to die and it would be his fault.

  Damn it he thought as the toxin surged in his veins. I wanted to stop being useless. I don’t want to be the reason anyone’s in danger.. not anymore.

  Dean looked back at the giant frog moving towards them, it’s dark mouth opened wide in anticipation of feeding. Sharp appendages lined the top of it’s lips, but further in he could see no indication of teeth. Closing his eyes he knew what he had to do.

  “Sorry about this,” he grunted to Shae. She blinked in confusion but her eyes widened a moment later when Dean released her forearm. He saw the moment she realized what was happening. Witnessed her cry out, lunging for him as the tension released. But she was far too slow. Dean’s world spun upside down and he saw a glimpse of the ground and sky before the darkness swallowed him whole.

  It was wet inside the monster's mouth, and the stink of damp and carrion struck him like a physical blow. Dean gagged, his heart thundering in his chest. Instantly, he was enveloped in pressure that pressed in on him from all sides. His limbs were pressed against his sides, the force so strong he could hardly draw breath.

  Panic welled within him, but he forced himself not to scream.

  Focus damn it, focus.

  He was sliding backwards through the wet, crushed by the sides of what he could only assume was the monster's throat. Slime coated his hands, and Dean realized with horror that he’d lost a grip on his sword in the fray.

  Now panic really did set in. Fighting against the toxin, his heart slamming in his ribs, Dean fought, kicking and flailing as he slid further backwards into darkness.

  No. Not like this. I can’t die like this.

  Everything he had done, everything he had hoped for had been right within his grasp. He’d been given a second chance at life. At making something of himself. And if he died here, then it was all for nothing. Charlotte’s dying words echoed in his head.

  “It’s you,” she had said. “It has to be you.”

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  “Damn it,” snarled Dean as he clawed at the viscous slime around him. His gloved hands couldn’t find any purchase, and he found the more he struggled, the faster he slid. His boot struck something hard and he recoiled in the darkness. He could feel something up against his leg now… something stiff and unyielding. Metal.

  With horror, Dean realized that it had to be a corpse. Reflection filled him, and he was about to renew his panicked struggle when a realization struck him. He had lost his sword, yes, but he wasn’t without a weapon. His mother's knife was still at his belt. If he could only reach it.

  Dean flipped onto his side, struggling against the crushing weight of visceral muscle, and he wormed his right hand out from under him. His fingers slid downward, and his heart leaped when the tips bumped the wooden handle. It was still there. Forcing his hand downward, Dean wrapped his slimy fingers around the hilt of the knife and jerked, pulling it free. For a moment, the handle slid in his wet glove. Then he clamped his grip around the hilt and stabbed upwards. The blade encountered flesh and Dean nearly sighed in relief as his backwards momentum slowed.

  Hauling himself upright, he braced a boot against the crushing weight of the stomach around him and began to cut. It took more effort than it was worth. In moments, he was panting, using up the minimal oxygen he had in this space. His vision dimmed, and he was forced to stop as he fought unconsciousness.

  If he passed out now, he really was dead. The knife wasn’t strong enough to cut his way out. He needed something better. And there was only one source to get it.

  “Gods forgive me,” he whispered into the stinking darkness. Then, slowly, he began his descent towards the corpse that had become his only companion. The stench was muted here. Even in the darkness, Dean could tell the body was old. His glove slid past metal armor and onto bone, and that’s when he felt it. An odd pulse was emanating from the space in front of him.

  It wasn’t an essence signature, at least it didn’t feel like one. Still, there was something there that pulled at his senses. Dean pushed himself further forward until something flared in the darkness before him. A soft red glow illuminated the cavity around him. He could see the gleam of a metal breastplate before him, as well as the dark red slime-covered interior of the frog. The man in the armor was dead, and judging by his decomposed state, he’d been there a long while. But it wasn’t the armored corpse that had his attention.

  Dean’s gaze was fixed on what was clutched in one of his rusted gauntlets. The source of the red glow. The sword was old, but it was still very much intact. The blade was long and thin, and as Dean reached for it, he felt a pulse of energy. His glove closed around the hilt.

  Sword of Greater Bleeding. + 4 ongoing bleeding damage to all live enemies. + 19 damage when slashing. When this blade is blooded, it has a chance to further bleed its enemies by 3%.

  Dean’s eyes widened. An imbued blade? That was rare. While the sword itself was plain, the imbued spell could be improved upon or carried over to other weapons, making the spell itself the true value.

  A weapon like this would have likely only been wielded by an essence user.

  Sure enough, the red glow of the blade was enough for Dean to make out the half-dissolved remnants of an Iron Rank badge pinned to his breastplate.

  Tough luck mate.

  Dean tugged at the sword, struggling as the walls of the frog's mouth constricted once again. He was forced to clamp his eyes and lips tight as more viscous fluid rushed over him, coating him in slime. That slime was not only foul smelling, it also began to smoke. Dean was out of time.

  Ignoring the toxin in his veins, he shoved himself upright. His arms trembled from the effort but he managed to turn, opening up a space for himself to pull the sword free. He was panting at the effort, but he knew it was worth it.

  Dean had the entirety of humanity to save, and a worthless prick of a Spear Saint to kill. He wasn’t about to die here.

  “Get,” he snarled as he braced both boots against the wall before him. He drew the sword to him, feeling the pulse of energy as he gripped the slippery hilt in both gloved hands. “Fucked.”

  And he drove the sword forward with all the strength he could muster. This time, the blade really did pierce flesh. It slammed into muscle before him, biting deep enough to leave a score. Slime and blood rained down on him, but Dean was unrelenting. He pulled back, and using his braced feet as leverage he plunged the sword in again. And again. Thick blood oozed from the wound, coating the blade. The sword seemed almost to quiver in delight, and its glow intensified.

  Somewhere from beyond, the monster let out a howl. It echoed from within it’s maw, blowing hot air in every direction.

  Oh, does this hurt you, bastard? Good.

  Dean was laughing now. Laughing as the stomach around him convulsed. Laughing as slime and blood rained down on him until he felt like a madman. Laughing, because deep down he knew he would die. But it wouldn’t be before he killed that arrogant prick, the Black Devil.

  ***

  “I told you we’re lost,” grumbled Adam, scratching at the overgrown stubble at his neck. He was in a mood today, but then again, he was always in a mood.

  “This map was just about bloody useless. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted that two-bit salesman.”

  Aiden sighed, willing himself to be patient. They had been wandering around in zone 1 for the better part of two hours, and they barely had any harvests to show for it. But that was because they’d been going in entirely the wrong direction.

  “Uh,” he started up, but his meek voice was drowned out by their third companion as he rounded on Adam.

  “Would you quit your whining! The map is clear as day; it’s supposed to be right here.”

  “Yeah?” snarled Adam, brandishing the map. “Well where is it then? I see trees, I see plenty of grass, and rocks. But no Gods damned pond!”

  Aiden cleared his throat.

  “Maybe I can help-“

  “Because you have no sense of direction, you pig-headed moron! We were supposed to go right at the boulder RIGHT. Not left.”

  “And you didn’t say anything until now?” Adam crushed a corner of the map in his fist, a vein popping on his forehead. “Some help you are.”

  Aiden’s shoulders slumped as the two men began fighting once more. It was always like this, more or less, had been since their party had formed some months ago. The truth was that Aiden would have done better on his own, but he needed the muscle if he was going to ever make it to zone 2 before the exams.

  Ignoring the echoing shouts of the others Aiden found a rock with considerably less lichen than the others and plopped down on it. The sun was on its descent now, and he knew any chance of finding and clearing the pond was likely long gone.

  Something bumped against his leather shoe, and he looked down to see a small river stone. Had he kicked it by accident? Aiden bent down to pick it up, but the stone suddenly rocked again.

  “What the..”

  The ground beneath his feet began to tremble. Aiden rocked to his feet, alarm ringing through him as he looked up to see the trees twenty paces away swaying.

  “Uh, guys,” he called to the two hunters, now shouting at each other like opposing merchants at a festival. As always, neither of them seemed to hear him.

  “Guys!” he shouted, and this time his cry was accompanied by a deep echoing call. The sound reminded him of a… “frog,” he breathed, pointing towards what now loomed through the trees. A giant frog with red black mane of spikes was lumbering forward, it’s giant eyes bulging. It was a terrifying sight, a monster that large moving that fast.

  Aiden was already moving.

  “Come on!” he said. “We need to get away from that thing. We don’t have the skill or the manpower to take something that size down?” His pulse was so high he was sure he’d have a heart attack and he sprinted towards the other two. Adam was frozen in place, his eyes wide and jaw agape. Aiden noted dispassionately that this was the first time he’d ever seen the loud-mouthed bastard lost for words.

  “Gods above,” he muttered before turning and running with the others. The giant frog monster was moving fast, faster than a creature like that should have been able to. He threw a look over his shoulder and nearly stopped himself from letting out an undignified scream as the creature bore down on them.

  We’re dead. We’re toast. Oh god I’m going to die and the worst part is my mom will know she was right all along. I’m really not cut out for this kind of shit.

  Aiden’s arms were pumping at his sides, trees flashing by him. And that’s why he didn’t notice when Adam stopped dead. Aiden slammed into a wall of muscle, breath leaving his lungs as he toppled backwards.

  “What the hell,” he started to say, but then he saw the cliff face. They had been running with such abandon that they hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going. The cliff line was sheer, and even as Aiden gazed about, he saw there was nowhere else to go.

  “Holy shit,” breathed Adam as the frog lumbered towards them on stubby legs. Its mouth was open wide, and Aiden could see a small row of glistening teeth. It was over. His Adventuring career was over before it had even started, and he had nothing to show for it.

  Adam was crying. Loudly, of course, he seemed to have no other setting. Vaguely, Aiden wondered if he should say a prayer.

  That was when the impossible happened. The giant monstrosity of a frog suddenly slowed to a halt, it’s bulging eyes nearly popping from its skull. It made a sound, one Aiden couldn’t identify before shuddering along its length.

  Oh god, is this some kind of feeding ritual?

  He watched in horrified fascination as the creature bucked its head back, throat warbling as it shuddered again. Then, all at once, its body began to topple forward.

  “God’s balls!” said Adam, diving to the side like a practiced swimmer. The frog’s body landed with such a large thud that Aiden was nearly thrown of his feet. He could only stare, breath still coming rapidly as the monster twitched and then went still.

  “Is it…. Is it dead?”

  Adam’s stupid question, but Aiden didn’t have the wits to answer. Instead, he watched as the tongue of the creature lolled out and to the side. Red blood oozed from the giant appendage, and the body once more began to quiver. This time, though, the shakes were different. More isolated.

  Adam pointed in horror as something in the frog's underbelly began to move. The three of them watched in morbid fascination as the dark skin seemed to undulate and roil. Then something sharp poked its way out. A sword? And it was held by a hand. Aiden gaped as a man cut his way from within the beast, stepping out of its innards with a casual grace that was so unexpected that he could only stare.

  The man, though perhaps man was a bit of a stretch on second thought, wiped viscous slime from his face, shaking off his hand. Behind him, something else slid from the frog’s slit stomach. Something shaped very much like a corpse.

  “Sorry old boy,” muttered the stranger as he lifted a leg to avoid the corpse that now floated out on a puddle of stomach slime. “Didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  There was a commotion from somewhere up ahead, and Aiden saw three figures burst from the underbrush, sprinting towards the frog corpse like there was a fire behind them. A short-haired woman, a man with a bow, and bizarrely, what looked to be a monk.

  The man with the bow skidded to a stop, spraying dirt and loose stones as he gaped at the man before him, covered in slime. He glanced towards the frog corpse and back again before letting out a shrill laugh.

  “Dean, my boy. You have got to be the luckiest, most courageous bastard I’ve ever met.”

  The slime-covered stranger smiled, and the effect made him look partially mad. Then he looked down at the giant frog corpse splayed out before him and gestured to it with his glowing sword.

  “Well,” he said, wiping the slime from his face. “I think this kill qualifies as mine.”