MagnusGrey
patreon
[Skill-Eater 2] Chapter 109: The Gardener
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 17:00:06 +0000 UTCThe last slice of the Savage Garden was more spacious than Edge had anticipated—about the size of two football fields lying side by side. It was ringed by the towering bamboo that formed the walls of the dungeon, creating an arena for the showdown that would momentarily ensue.
“This is the heart of the town that’s spread across the islands,” One-Eye observed. “These buildings were destroyed by what must have been one hell of a fight.”
Edge decided the man was right. The remnants of dozens of structures were scattered across the area. They had been long-since reduced to rubble and ruin, but the skeletons of their frames still stood. The ground itself was buckled and scarred—the legacy of countless conflicts stretching back across centuries.
As he scanned the boss’s chamber, he wondered about the origin of this strange place—the people who had lived here and the disaster that destroyed their homes. How it tied into the creation of the dungeon, and what that might mean about the true nature of Ord.
All such questions were driven from Edge’s head when Setna raised a trembling hand and said, “What in the gods’ name is that?”
He followed her finger to where a massive mound of rubble rose from the far end of the enclosure. No… His eyes widened in astonishment. That’s not debris after all.
Edge’s nostrils flared with disgust when he realized that the entire edifice was a towering pile of bones, comprising what had to be tens of thousands of individual kills. There wasn’t so much as a fly buzzing around the bleached mountain glinting in the sunlight. Every scrap of flesh has been scoured clean. I can’t even smell any rot, although the filth is stronger than ever.
As unsettling as the gruesome sight was, it was nothing compared to the revulsion he felt when he spotted the ivory throne perched atop the grisly pile. The intensely-creepy chair was cobbled together from various remains—skeletons wrapped in sinew and skin. Monstrous skulls lined the arms and rail, including some specimens that must have been harvested from powerful stage-three elites.
A leaden premonition of dread pulled at his guts, which only grew heavier when Edge ran his gaze across the creature sitting upon the throne. The gaunt figure was wrapped in a loose mantle of fur that must have been torn straight from the hide of a monster. Bands of flesh had been sewn across its frame, creating a crude set of patchwork-leather armor.
Its face was veiled with a ragged cloth, leaving only two skeletal sockets exposed, with a pair of spiraling antlers protruding from the top. Upon its brow, the monster wore a crown of thorns that was woven from the barbed plants forming the dungeon’s walls. Embedded in the center of its sternum was a gem the size of his thumb and he sensed powerful magic contained within.
The creepy bastard sat perfectly still, showing no sign it knew they were there. It gave him a final moment to consider his foe—the boss-class monster the System had called the Gardener.
Every monster Edge had fought boasted powerful natural weapons—claws, fangs, horns, and spikes in a vast array of forms. The Gardener didn’t have anything of the sort. Its hands looked human, and even its antlers seemed decorative in nature. What it did have were manufactured weapons, each crafted from monstrous remains.
A bone claymore was driven into the mound near the base of the throne, and a dozen more killing tools were positioned nearby. He saw spears and shields, hammers and axes. An oversized club lying beside the blade of a colossal ivory scythe.
I’ve never heard of a monster that could use weapons like these. They aren’t manmade either—it must have crafted them all by hand.
Edge suspected that whatever else the boss’s unusual equipment entailed, it was far more intelligent than anything else in the dungeon. He grimaced when he realized the crew would have to account for tactics and technique, on top of the boss’s raw Power and deadly collection of skills.
He honestly had no idea what to make of it. The Gardener’s chamber, visage, and bizarre seating arrangement were unlike anything he had imagined.
The System said this is one of the oldest monsters on Ord. It must have been trapped in here for centuries to have killed so many creatures. Something strange is going on with this dungeon. I have a funny feeling that we are about to find out what it is and we’re not going to enjoy the reveal.
Byron was about to say something when the Gardener turned to face the hunters, staring down from its mountain of bone with an air of contempt—like it had just discovered vermin invading its home.
As shocking as everything Edge had witnessed up to this point was, it was nothing compared to the astonishment he felt when the monster pointed at him and spoke.
“More softskins have entered my sanctuary, just a few weeks after that fool stumbled in here alone. It seems that my garden is overrun with pests, but no matter. My harvest will be bountiful with so much compost to fertilize the soil.”
Setna seethed at the monster’s words, but Byron held her back. “We’re going to kill it, but we won’t have a chance if we charge in blind. Stick to the plan, and I swear you will have your revenge before the day is done.” She composed herself with visible effort—body shaking with repressed fury as she nodded and the shadowkiller let go of her arm.
The Gardener’s voice was rough and deep—like it hadn’t spoken in so long that its lips had forgotten how to form words. Something about its countenance seemed off, like its attention was being drawn in two different directions. For a second, Edge thought he saw another face overlapping with its skeletal visage, before the moment passed and the boss continued to speak.
“It would be a shame to pluck you before your fear is ripe. Perhaps a banquet is in order before I feast upon your bounty.”
That was when the boss of the Savage Garden—the late stage-three monster the System had named the Gardener—rose from its throne and ignited its core.
The hunters fired off a round of projectiles from where they stood, since climbing the mountain of bone seemed like a terrible idea. As a barrage of missiles crossed the chamber, the monster grabbed a shield made from an gigantic scapula from the pile near its feet—effortlessly sweeping the projectiles aside as it continued casting its spell.
Before they had time to try anything else, an incredible surge of mana flowed out of its body and into the ground, travelling beyond the boundary of the bamboo walls and into the dungeon beyond. At first, Edge thought it was some manner of wide-scale attack, but what happened next was far stranger than that.
The ground rumbled beneath his boots, growing stronger as whatever was happening reached a fever pitch. “Get ready,” One-Eye cried as he drew his machetes and deepened his stance. “I can sense dozens of monsters headed our way.”
After a final surge, the Gardener’s core flickered out and it returned to its seat, tilting its head as if curious to learn what would happen.
In between the drawing of one breath and the next, mounds began rising from the earth like seedlings poking through the soil. Thick clods of dirt fell away to reveal the faces of a hundred different monsters, which must have been gathered from across the Savage Garden.
In that moment, the answer to where all the skeletons had come from became clear as day. The boss is trapped within its chamber, but like the roots of a tree, its influence is spread across the entire dungeon.
The crew didn’t wait for the horde of horrors to emerge from the earth. They began launching attacks at the closest opponents, striking them down while their limbs were still bound by soil. Edge recognized some of the creatures his naginata eviscerated, although many more were new to him.
That was when he noticed that three of the mounds had unearthed predators of a different stripe. A trio of bewildered jailbirds rose from the dirt, looking around in terror as they realized they were surrounded by an army of monsters.
Although some of the creatures lashed out at their neighbors, most of them seemed just as disoriented—baffled by the strange proceeding. Their hesitation vanished like smoke on the breeze when the Gardener began to sing.
“Fear the seasons, little lights, winter’s chill and summer’s might. Windstorms, flooding, famine, drought. Reap and sow then turn about.”
As the boss’s voice rang out, its core ignited once more. A sinister aura spread out from its body to engulf the assembled masses, sparing only the group of hunters who had entered its chamber through the front door.
The monster’s skill reminded him of the elite ape’s powers, and Edge was worried that it was casting a powerful enhancement aura. While his instincts were right on the money, that was only part of what the skill had in store.
The legion of monsters and the cowering convicts froze in place when the tide of magic washed over them. It flowed into their mana pores, invading their cores and tainting them with the Gardener’s foul energy.
Their muscles began to bulge and swell as the skill muddled their minds and strengthened their bodies. Unreasoning fury replaced fear and confusion, twisting their features as their eyes began glowing with a menacing crimson light.
Edge’s crew retreated to the far corner of the chamber, where the dungeon’s walls shielded them on two sides and a crumbling ruin offered partial protection along one flank.
He ignited his core and cast Warlord’s Mantle, conjuring a luminescent cloak for each member of the team. His attributes increased as his perception of time slowed down, enhancing his awareness of the battlefield. The other hunters completed preparations of their own, then fell into formation and got ready to brawl.
For a solitary second longer, all was calm. Then the battlefield erupted into panoramic maelstrom of violence.
