My stats are getting out of hand.

  Two hours of sleep, and I feel like I’ve had a full eight. My club feels like a toy in my hands.

  And my agility? I haven’t even pushed it yet. I feel invincible.

  Let’s hope this wave gives me a reason to.

  Stage 2 – Wave 5 Boss Variant Has Begun.

  At the far end of the clearing, something shimmers. For the first time, I actually see how the monsters spawn.

  A ripple in the air. A distortion, bending reality like heat on pavement. Then, it steps through.

  And it’s huge.

  That invincible feeling? Fading. Fast…

  A hundred yards away, a towering creature lumbers from the tree line. It looks like someone twisted a moose into a four-legged gremlin.

  Rough, scaly hide plates its chest. Matted fur clumps along its massive shoulders.

  Its tree-trunk club drags along the ground, the low grinding rumbling in my bones.

  My stomach twists. This is a huge shift from the first waves.

  Every step it takes sends a tremor through the clearing. I glance at Mischief.

  He’s locked in on this new challenge. I try and follow his lead. It isn’t easy. His tail flicks. I take it as a sign that he’s nervous also. It’s probably not true but it still helps. A little.

  I exhale, steeling myself. “Barrier.” A soft pulse of mana. The translucent shield wraps around us both.

  It should make me feel safer. It doesn’t.

  Then, the creature stops. Before, charging in felt easy. Natural. Now? My grip is clammy. My club feels heavier than it should.

  Even from this distance, its size is staggering. Nearly nine feet tall.

  Unlike the smaller Chaos Spawn, it doesn’t charge.

  Instead, it opens its mouth. And speaks? Not words. No sounds I recognize.

  Instead, a rapid, high-pitched stream of gibberish. Like someone fast-forwarded a nightmare and cranked the volume. Then, it raises one knotted finger.

  And points directly at me. My blood runs cold.

  This thing isn’t brainless like the small gremlins.

  Mischief stiffens. His ears pin back. He takes a slow step closer, his body half-crouched.

  I swear his fur bristles.

  “…Mischief?” I whisper. “Any clue what it’s saying?”

  A single nod. “Friendly?” I ask, hoping. Maybe begging.

  His tail lashes once. Hard. Then he shakes his head.

  My dad had a saying. “If you have something to do, but you're scared. Do it scared.”

  I guess this ones for you Dad.

  I tighten the grip on my club. Considering the best plan of attack. It’s big and looks strong. Weakness? Rotation speed.

  “Since you can understand me, are you willing to work together on this?” He already looks ready to spring into action. My question gives him pause. Good enough.

  “I doubt that attacking head on would end well for us. But I think we are faster. If we surround it from front and back we can play the long game. Whittle it down. What do you think?”

  His tail swings, muscles tense. Uhh.. so yes?

  “Great. I’m thinking you can circle around and harass it from the rear while I do my best to cause trouble from the front. Agree?”

  Mischief lowers ready to attack.

  How has this cat gone from natural basic instincts to grasping complex battle tactics? Fine, maybe not that complex, but still.

  There’s no time to question how a cat got this intelligent.

  We move, putting our plan into effect. I cast barrier for us both.

  Why isn’t it attacking? The gremlins swarmed me. This one…. its like its waiting for me to move first.

  Mischief takes a wide berth while I close in. The monster eyes Mischief but then snaps back to me as I approach.

  Up close, it’s even worse—the reek of rotting leaves and wet fur makes my eyes sting.

  It doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. It’s still waiting. I’m close now, is it just going to let me smack it?

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Then, finally. It moves. Too fast.

  Shit.

  I throw myself sideways, barely registering the movement before—

  BOOM. The club crashes down, shattering the earth.

  The momentum of my dive carries me to my feet and I readjust, trying to create distance before another attack.

  I stare. If I’d been even a second slower…. My pulse begins to pick up.

  I tighten my grip. My palms are slick with sweat as the creature growls in frustration, its bulk twisting to follow me.