A pestilential stench grabs us by the throat instantly. A mix of spoiled meat, excrement, and rancid sweat.
“Ugh!” Kim says, clamping a hand over her nose. “What is this horror? Are we in a septic tank?”
“It stings my eyes!” Chris adds, his face turning green.
In front of us, in the middle of a small muddy clearing surrounded by an artificial jungle, stands the Guardian. The thing is two and a half meters tall, covered in coarse reddish fur, looking like a giant sloth on steroids. It stands on its hind legs, long arms dangling, ending in curved claws.
The disturbing part is its face. It’s got one huge, bulging eye planted right in the middle of its forehead. No mouth. At least, not on its head. Its abdomen opens vertically into a gaping maw, packed with sharp, drooling teeth twitching like a living wound in the middle of its belly.
Yet, it shows zero aggro. It doesn’t move an inch from its spot in the center of the clearing. It just stays planted in the mud, perfectly still, waiting for its prey.
“What is this thing?” Chris asks, disgusted, raising his shield.
I narrow my eyes. I recognize this piece of trash. I saw a documentary on it once.
“A Mapinguari,” I whisper. “A creature from Brazilian folklore. For once the System isn’t recycling another basic Ogre or Troll, we won’t complain.”
We move forward, stepping into the muddy clearing serving as an arena. The monster spots us. It lets out a low growl from its stomach and releases another puff of foul breath. My two companions nearly puke. Me? I barely sniff. I trigger my analysis. The numbers pop up above its single eye.
[BOSS: ANCESTRAL MAPINGUARI] Level: 5
- HP: 500 / 500
- Attack: 90
- Defense: 80
- Speed: 20
Skill: [Paralyzing Stench]
I blink. I read the stats again. I look at Chris and Kim. An awkward silence settles over our group. Kim blinks, incredulous. She reads her window, looks at the monster, then back at her window.
“Wait… is this a joke?” she asks.
“500 HP?” Chris asks, disappointed. “The Minotaur had 6,000. And look at its defense… 80?”
“Is this the ‘normal’ boss of Floor 5?” I say, letting out a sigh of absolute weariness. “The Minotaur was a 1-Star Hidden Boss. We just went through hell to practice on a punching bag.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Its stats are ridiculous!” Kim exclaims. “It’s got 20 Speed!”
The Mapinguari, offended we’re ignoring it, decides to charge. It’s slow. Terribly slow. With 20 Speed, it looks like it’s running in slow motion.
“Watch out, here it comes!” Chris yells, more out of habit than actual necessity.
The Tank steps in. The monster brings its claw down on the shield.
TINK. Chris doesn’t even move a millimeter. His health bar doesn’t budge thanks to the parry.
“Ah…” Chris says, lowering his shield slightly to look at the monster. “That tickles a bit. It’s embarrassing.”
“Well, shall we finish this?” Kim sighs. “I wanna get out of here. It stinks too much.”
What follows doesn’t even deserve to be called a boss fight. It’s a summary execution. Kim raises her rifle and fires a single bullet, almost nonchalantly, straight into its single eye. The monster screams in pain through its belly. It staggers back, blinded. Chris steps up and bashes its knees with his shield to trip it. The beast collapses on its back like an old stuffed animal, exposing its hideous belly.
I walk up calmly. I don’t even need to pop a skill or a complex strategy. Just a standard shovel strike.
“Zip your fly!”
I drive my blade directly into the ventral mouth.
SQUELCH. Critical hit on a weak point. The Boss’s health bar evaporates instantly. The Mapinguari has one last spasm and disintegrates into particles of light.
Total duration of the fight: 1 minute and 42 seconds. And we wasted half that time just reading its stats.
Silence falls over the clearing. A small notification window pops up, almost shyly.
[CONGRATULATIONS! Floor 5 Guardian defeated.]
We stand there, looking at the spot where the monster died. Chris lowers his sword, confused.
“Is that it?”
“Was that the Guardian?” Kim asks, slinging her rifle over her back, clearly frustrated. “I wasted a bullet on that?”
“Yeah…” I sigh. “That’s the problem when you do the hardcore side quests before the main quest. We arrived over-leveled and over-geared.”
I kick a loose rock. “We almost died in the bonus rooms, we blew our ultimates, we sweated blood and tears… only to steamroll the real Boss like it was the tutorial. It’s almost insulting.”
Chris scratches his head. “Did it drop any loot, at least?”
I look at the ground. A small pair of fur boots rests where the monster despawned.
[Sloth Boots: +2 Speed]
“Even the loot is trash,” I say, picking them up. “Plus two Speed… Great, I’ll be able to run as fast as an asthmatic turtle. Come on, let’s get out. It stinks too much here. We didn’t even get a stat boost. The System must have figured we learned absolutely nothing. Total humiliation for that poor Mapinguari. We just squashed a Brazilian myth with the same enthusiasm you use to swat a mosquito.”
We leave the foul jungle through a portal of white light. In the blink of an eye, the carrion stench vanishes, swapped out for a delicate fragrance of sandalwood and old paper.
We’re in the Safe Zone for Floor 5. The place is immense and soothing. It’s a monumental library suspended in the void, with black stone shelves floating silently around a central island. The floor is dark lacquered wood, and the air carries notes of polished wood and a hint of incense. It’s clean, calm, and best of all, it doesn’t smell like the inside of a giant sloth.
“Finally, breathable air,” I breathe, stowing my Excali-Spade. “I felt like my lungs were about to hand in their resignation.”
[System]: 5th Tier Guide spawn.
In a swirl of silver particles, two silhouettes materialize on a jade pedestal in the center of the room. In the middle sits a small potted tree, a Bonsai with leaves shining like polished metal. It radiates an almost overwhelming aura of wisdom. At its side stands a small lemur with ash-gray fur and rare elegance. It wears a perfectly tailored tweed suit vest, a small bowtie, and a monocle fitted over its right eye. It looks like a miniature English butler fueled by too much caffeine.