202. Dawnlight

The status wasn't the only thing that had changed about DREAMPROWLER.

The tiger stood straighter and somehow slimmer than its last iteration—a little more man and a little less animal. Some of its shadows too had 'brightened' to reveal the coat patterns underneath: bright, fiery orange warring with bold black streaks. In other words, the thing had shown its true colors. A paradoxical fusion between Breachspawn and Oathkeeper.

Yet the change most relevant to a pair of would-be lawmen was also the most subtle. In one of its paws, DREAMPROWLER now held SCALPEL. Razor-sharp blade on metallic handle, comically tiny next to the beast's machete-sized claws. And it was with a flick of this surgical instrument that the dungeon boss opened the proceedings.

[SCALPEL Spell: DISSECTION]

In the blink of an eye, the room split in half. A giant sarcophagus along with its cadaverous floor ripped apart at seams visible only to a madman.

A horrific and powerful spell, but Serac was ready for it. She sidestepped it and shot REVOLVER from the hip, even as she kicked Realgar with her trailing foot, knocking him to safety on the other side of the cut. The speculative shot landed for the expected [99!] points, taking but a sliver off DREAMPROWLER's fully healed Health bar.

A second phase on a full Health bar. What else is new? As Serac groused inwardly about the spills on her Path, she didn't stop to wonder just how she'd anticipated DREAMPROWLER's new moveset. Because that piece of the puzzle was as self-evident as the danger before her.

For one thing, she'd already received clues from the other side: a hallway that moved side to side and up and down as a mad beast ran through its midst. For another, much more definitive factor, she herself had been her own warning system.

The Circlet burned in a band from ear to ear, but without the associated headache. Currently, its heat was one of harmony, affirmation, and recollection.

Serac knew to anticipate DREAMPROWLER's moves because she'd fought a being just like it before. Stripped of HIEROPHANT's future-sight, she'd nevertheless gained foresight of another kind, one borne by the past and shedding light on history as it repeated itself.

I've been here before. Another version of 'I' in another version of 'here'.

Which was also why she knew to yell 'Duck!' right before:

[SCALPEL Spell: TRANSECTION]

The room split again, this time in a horizontal plane. Serac crouched low to avoid the cut, even as she channeled on [Appetizer] and took another pot shot for [152!].

In one of the other quarters of the sarcophagus, the Viceroy had apparently heeded Serac's warning. Realgar too had ducked in time, losing only the tip of one antler to [Transection]. A cut so clean the severed tip didn't slide off the main branch until the man got back to his feet.

For the next short while, the fight devolved into a frenetic game of 'Serac Says'. Tiger and demon girl traded arena-wide cuts and humble bullets, all while the latter yelled out prescient instructions to her Mriga partner.

Serac managed to chip away at DREAMPROWLER's Health, bit by frustratingly tiny bit. But the weapon-less Realgar was forced to merely play the light source, one that had to roll, duck, and sidestep just to stay in the game. Whatever trick you've got up your sleeve, Mr Viceroy, be nice to see it some time this century!

Yet, unbeknownst to Serac, Realgar too had been 'hiding his claws', taking a leaf out of his enemy's book. He waited patiently for the perfect time to unleash his full potential—perhaps as a well-timed counter to the boss's next decisive move.

Realgar stayed alive and Serac chipped away, all while DREAMPROWLER grew dissatisfied with the surgery's progress. If the 'patients' won't lie still and submit to its blade, the only way forward was to anesthetize them first.

[Breachspawn Technique: NIGHTMARE STRIPES]

Shadows burst out of a tiger frame and filled the dismembered sarcophagus. The shadows then became illusions, blurrier and far more confused than their previous iterations—perhaps a reflection of their creator's deranged state of mind.

Serac couldn't 'identify' anything to be scared of but was affected all the same. For the illusions had taken the place of light, ripples, memories. Anything and everything that helped Serac attune to and react to DREAMPROWLER's attacks. If it starts cutting up the room now, I'm done for!

Luckily for her, this was the exact moment Realgar had been waiting for.

[HIEROPHANT Spell: DAWNLIGHT]

[Oathborn Technique: THE ONE]

First, a bundle of burnt umber whirled and twisted as it too fused with its Mriga Oathkeeper. Next erupted a blinding flash of golden light. As bright as the [Nightmare] was dark. As expansive as the [Stripes] were oppressive. [Dawnlight] erased the illusions in an instant.

The Keeper's favored son wasn't finished. The light shrank rapidly, then 'remained' as a pair of radiant globes where Realgar's eyes should've been. The Mriga man stood tall, chopped-up antler be damned, to capture the shadow-furred tiger in his burning gaze. Literally.

A beam of golden light shot from Realgar's eyes and into DREAMPROWLER. The shadows burned under the light, taking sustained Primal damage all the while.

[111!], [99!], [105!], …

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The damage itself was modest, but it continued to tick for as long as the beam maintained contact with its shadowy target. DREAMPROWLER ran, scrambling on all fours like the animal it was. Realgar was relentless, chasing his prey with his [Dawnlit] eyes.

But channeling a Keeper's judgment was hard work. Eventually, the light went out of Realgar's eyes as the man himself knelt down, depleted of Stamina. It coincided with DREAMPROWLER losing its Poise. The great beast sprawled on all fours upon the floor, singed fur swallowed up by the remains of the ancient dead.

A contest between light and shadow, and on this occasion, light won out. It was the turning point in a battle that hung on a SCALPEL's edge—and the cue for a gunslinger to set off fireworks of her own.

[Chamber One: CATHARSIS]

[235!]

Big hitter, critically multiplied. For at least the next three Ksanas, the black flames of Penitence burned brighter than [Dawn] or [Dusk].

[276!], [331!], [663!] -> [1,270!]

Together with the chip damage from earlier and Realgar's [Dawnlit] contribution, DREAMPROWLER's Health was once more down to its last half. If the afterlife were fair, the cumulative damage from the elevator portion of the fight should've downed the boss entirely. Smite first, complain later. Serac told both halves of herself.

One more push. Serac's 'history-sight' to stay ahead of SCALPEL's cuts. Realgar's [Dawnlight] to negate [Nightmare] and proc a second Poise-break. The plan was sound and the Path was clear. The Day-siders had this fight in the bag…

Which also meant something else was about to go wrong.

Just as Serac had drawn up victory in her mind, DREAMPROWLER's massive shadow jumped at her with tremendous power and speed. The beast had mended its Poise, now letting out a deafening roar as it thrashed out with its machete claws.

It was the desperate, uncivilized struggle of a cornered animal. And while the claws didn't have the reach and precision of SCALPEL, they lacked nothing in savage violence.

[181!], [192!], [101!] -> [474!]

Serac nearly snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, but she just managed to mitigate the final hit with PULVERIZER. She stood her ground, intent on responding with a six-shooter balanced atop a vambrace. But that was when the other half of her soul screamed out a warning!

BACK OFF! The tiger means to pull down the very sky to itself!

Serac obeyed without question, stepping as far back as her feet would carry her. How could she not? This was the clearest piece of communication that ever passed between her and her third entity. And right now, the two of them were one and the same soul.

[Breachspawn Technique: TIGER MAUL]

In some fading echo of a distant past, a proud tiger had once called to the very heavens to do its bidding. Presently, the shadow of that tiger did the same, though its magic was decidedly less elegant in nature.

The air where Serac had stood a Ksana ago distorted into a bunched-up spiral—skyveils scratched by tiger claws and pulled into a ball. The spiral ball then spread apart and bounced up with a powerful release of elastic tension.

DREAMPROWLER too shot straight into the air, hanging onto the bouncing skyveils by its claws. It sped toward the room's high ceiling, traversing a distance that spanned several Catacomb floors. Then, just as it was about to crash into solid stone, it made a simple cutting motion with the knife in its paw.

[SCALPEL Spell: EXCISION]

DREAMPROWLER disappeared. Once again. Back to the safety of Night.

"No!"

Serac yelled with as much bitterness as she could muster, stamping the ground as if that could somehow bounce her high into the air. She stopped in short order, however, as she remembered what she was stamping on.

For want of a more concrete option, she spun and began to sprint back to the room's entrance. Back to the hallway? The elevator? More ripples to tell her how to finally end this godsforsaken fight?

But her runaway train met a roadblock in the form of Realgar aft'Enright. He of the chipped antler and a surprisingly strong grip as he grabbed Serac by the arm and held her in place.

"I think, Sister," he spoke grimly, voice kept low to hide his own pain and dismay, "we may have done more than enough for one Night."

"Easy for you to say!" Serac shouted, sending spittle into the Viceroy's face. She could feel herself splitting at the seams, as one half yearned for the satisfaction that had been denied while the other waited in barely bridled anticipation. "You don't have anyone waiting for you on the other side! My friends are still over there, and now they're the ones to contend with that sneaking, murdering, cheating bastard! Let me go!"

"And what do you plan to do exactly?" Realgar did raise his voice then, his eyes flashing an angry gold. "Have you another convenient piece of arcane knowledge to guide your rampage? Will you pass DREAMPROWLER back and forth between you and your friends? All through the Night and into the next Day when you'll be nothing but a soulless corpse?"

"If that's what it takes, then I'll do it," Serac snarled, along with another violent jerk of her arm. Realgar held fast. "You might be content to sit and wait for your Keeper to smile upon you. For eeeeverything to line up just right for you and your master plans. But I'm a Rakshasa of action! I can't just leave an evil monster unsmited—not when we were so fucking close. Now, let. Go!"

Realgar didn't. He kept his grip, as well as his precisely measured gaze, as he reiterated:

"I share the same frustrations, but I must insist. Any further pursuit of the target in our current state poses too much risk for too little gain. We'll regroup. We'll remain vigilant and ready for another attempt at bringing the Butcher to justice. But the window has shut on our current opportunity. In my duty and capacity as protector of [the Herd]—which includes you, Sister—I bid you stand down and follow me back to the surface. Back to shelter for the Night."

It was then, at the end of the Viceroy's perfectly rational and perhaps even compassionate speech, that Serac realized she'd been wrong.

That sensation of splitting apart at the seams. She'd felt it, alright, and the feeling had only gotten stronger since. But she'd been wrong about what it meant.

She wasn't splitting. No, the very opposite, in fact. One half of her demanded the satisfaction that had been denied her. The other half waited in anticipation of a moment that had been a long time coming.

The moment of truth. Of unity of purpose and therefore union of the soul. The moment where one entity proved she was up for the game, and the other came out to join her on the field of play.

Shadows danced in Serac's heart and lurched in the corner of her vision. She tore herself free of the Viceroy's grip, even as she arrived at a resolution.

The only way she could stay true to herself—the only way to tear down the veils that would conceal her Path—was to breach her [Oath].

She said with as much arrogance as she could muster, "Hell no."

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