The stairway to Floor 20 was different from the others.
Wider. Grander. Carved with ancient runes that pulsed with residual magic. The air itself felt heavier, charged with the presence of sothing powerful waiting above.
Boss floor.
"Everyone, rest here," Hendra commanded, calling a halt at the base of the stairs. "We take fifteen minutes. Recover resources, check equipnt, prepare ntally. The Fla Drake is the most dangerous enemy in this dungeon. We approach it at full strength."
The team settled into rest positions, so eating ration bars, others checking weapons and armor. The nervous energy was palpable—nineteen perfect floors building to this final confrontation.
Rama sat slightly apart, reviewing the boss chanics in his mind.
Fla Drake. Level 55. Three phases. Phase one: standard fire attacks, wing buffets, tail sweeps. Phase two at 60% HP: aerial combat, fla breath, divebomb attacks. Phase three at 30% HP: berserker mode, enhanced speed and damage, but also creates vulnerability windows.
Last ti, two people died in phase transitions. One caught by the unexpected aerial shift. One overwheld in berserker phase.
This ti, no one dies. Because everyone knows what’s coming.
Sekar’s voice ca through his earpiece—she was watching from the guild monitoring room.
"Nineteen floors," she said quietly. "Perfect performance. I’m so proud of you."
"One more to go. Then the real work begins."
"The team believes. Completely. I’m watching their biotrics—stress levels are low despite approaching a boss fight. They trust you absolutely."
"Good. That trust keeps them alive." He paused. "How many volunteers so far?"
"Forty-three have already submitted formal applications for champion trials. More pending. After this performance, we’ll have more than we can process in the first batch."
"Perfect. We’ll screen them properly, prepare them thoroughly. Minimize casualties."
"Rama—about the boss. The Fla Drake. It’s Level 55. Higher than you."
"Level isn’t everything. Knowledge, skill, coordination—those matter more. And I have perfect knowledge of this fight."
"Through your... visions?"
"Through living it before. But yes, call them visions if that’s easier."
"Be careful. Please. You’ve proven everything you needed to prove. Don’t take unnecessary risks."
"No unnecessary risks. Just necessary excellence." He smiled. "I love you. See you in thirty minutes when we’ve made history."
"I love you too. Now go save the world by showing off."
The call disconnected.
Dewi approached, sitting beside Rama. "Can I ask—how do you do it? Stay so calm? We’re about to fight a Level 55 boss and you look like you’re preparing for a routine training exercise."
"Because I’ve fought this boss before. In the visions the System grants. I’ve seen every attack pattern, every phase transition, every mistake that can be made. There’s no unknown here. Just execution of known optimal strategy."
"Must be nice. Knowing the future. Seeing what’s coming."
"It’s a burden more than a gift. Knowing all the ways things can go wrong. All the deaths that could happen if I fail to coordinate properly. All the possible bad tilines." He looked at her. "That’s why perfection matters. Why zero deaths matters. Because I’ve seen the alternatives. I’ve watched people die in the visions. I refuse to let those visions beco reality."
"The people in your visions—the ones who died—were they real? Or just possibilities?"
They were real. In another tiline. In my previous life.
"They were possible futures. Real enough that preventing them matters. Real enough that every life saved here represents a vision-death prevented."
Dewi nodded slowly. "Then we trust. We execute. We ensure those vision-deaths stay as visions only."
"Exactly."
Hendra called the team back together.
"Status check. Everyone at full resources? Any equipnt issues? Injuries? Concerns?"
Negatives all around. The team was ready.
"Good. Floor 20 is the Fla Drake’s lair. Boss arena. No adds, no environntal hazards—just us versus a Level 55 dragon-type boss. Standard engagent ti is twenty to thirty minutes. Casualty expectation is two to three hunters." He looked at Rama. "But I suspect we’re not going standard."
"We’re not. We’re going optimal." Rama pulled up a holographic display, showing the boss arena layout. "The Drake has three phases. I’ll explain each, call phase transitions before they happen, and coordinate positioning for maximum safety and damage. Our target ti is under ten minutes. Our casualty target is zero."
"Ten minutes for a Level 55 boss," Johan said. "That’s ambitious."
"That’s optimal. Anything longer ans wasted ti. Anyone dead ans failed coordination." Rama highlighted sections of the arena. "Phase one is straightforward—ground combat, fire attacks, physical strikes. Standard tank and spank with positioning optimization. Phase two begins at sixty percent HP—the Drake takes flight. This is where most teams lose soone who doesn’t expect the aerial transition. We will expect it because I’m calling it thirty seconds in advance."
"How can you call it thirty seconds early?" Santoso asked.
"The Drake telegraphs phase transition through attack pattern changes. It stops using tail sweeps, increases fire breath frequency, wings start generating lift currents. Thirty-second warning minimum. We reposition before it takes flight, making the aerial phase safer."
"And phase three?" Sri asked.
"Thirty percent HP. Berserker mode. Enhanced speed and damage, but also creates vulnerability windows. The Drake’s attacks beco more powerful but less controlled. We exploit the control loss through precise timing on counters." Rama t each hunter’s eyes. "Every phase, I’ll call incoming attacks before they happen. Position you optimally. Coordinate maximum damage during vulnerability windows. Your job is to trust and execute instantly. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just trust."
"We trust," Dewi said. "Nineteen floors proved that. We trust completely."
Affirmatives from everyone.
"Then let’s finish this." Rama started up the stairs. "Formation: tanks front, DPS flanking, support center, ranged back. Standard engagent positions. When we enter the arena, spread to marked positions imdiately. The Drake spawns ten seconds after we enter. We use those ten seconds for optimal positioning."
The team ascended.
The stairway opened into an enormous circular arena—fifty ters across, dod ceiling twenty ters high, walls of ancient stone that had seen countless battles.
At the far end, a massive throne of blackened rock.
Empty. Waiting.
"Positions!" Rama commanded.
The team spread to the marks he’d indicated—positions that would be optimal for phase one while allowing quick transitions for phase two.
Ten seconds.
Nine.
Eight.
"Drake spawns in five seconds. Tanks, shields up. DPS, charge opening attacks. It appears at the throne, faces center, first attack is fla breath targeting center formation. We dodge left on my mark."
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The Fla Drake materialized on the throne with a roar that shook the arena.
Fifteen ters long, scales like volcanic glass, eyes burning with inner fire, wings that could shatter stone with their buffet.
[FLA DRAKE - LEVEL 55]
[STATUS: ENRAGED]
[THREAT LEVEL: EXTRE]
It opened its maw, fla gathering in its throat.
"Dodge left! NOW!"
The entire team dodged left in perfect synchronization.
Fla breath scorched the space where they’d been standing three seconds ago.
"Tanks, engage! Pull aggro to north position! DPS, flanking positions, attack rear legs—that’s the weak point in phase one! Support, buff rotations, prioritize DPS squad!"
The team executed flawlessly.
Tanks pulled the Drake’s attention. DPS hamred its vulnerable rear legs. Support maintained optimal buff rotations.
The Drake roared and swept its tail.
"Tail sweep! Jump NOW!"
Everyone jumped. The tail passed beneath them harmlessly.
"Wing buffet incoming! Tanks hold, everyone else back five ters!"
They repositioned. The wings buffeted, creating massive wind pressure—but hitting only the prepared tanks who’d braced for it.
"Now! While it’s recovering! DPS maximum damage! Fifteen-second window!"
The DPS squad unleashed everything. The Drake’s HP dropped rapidly. Fifteen percent. Twelve percent. Ten percent.
"Fla breath again! Dodge right! Three. Two. One. NOW!"
Perfect dodge. Zero damage.
"Continue DPS! Phase transition at sixty percent—we’re at sixty-eight percent now. Preparing for aerial phase in approximately ninety seconds!"
The team settled into rhythm. Rama calling attacks before they happened. Everyone executing perfectly. The Drake’s HP dropping steadily under coordinated assault.
Seventy percent. Sixty-five percent.
"Sixty-two percent! Phase transition imminent! The Drake will take flight in thirty seconds! When I call it, all ranged DPS prepare anti-air attacks! lee DPS fall back to defensive positions! Tanks maintain ground presence!"
Sixty-one percent. Sixty percent.
The Drake’s attack pattern shifted—exactly as Rama predicted. Tail sweeps stopped. Wing movents changed. Fire breath frequency increased.
"Phase two incoming! Twenty seconds! Ranged DPS, charge your strongest aerial attacks! lee, fall back! Tanks, spread formation!"
The team repositioned rapidly, trusting completely.
"Ten seconds! The Drake targets northeast quadrant first—everyone clear that zone!"
They cleared.
"Five seconds!"
The Drake roared and launched itself into the air, wings spread, flas trailing.
Phase two began.
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