We trekked through the blistering heat for a few more hours, finally reaching the scoring zone.
Mission Complete: Reach Scoring Zone.
It was nestled between three burping volcanoes. A familiar green holographic arrow pointed down at a pulsing circular zone, centered squarely in the middle of an unstable, cavernous geothermal fissure.
ME: Looks cozy.
COUNT BASIL: …leaf.
By now, I knew the drill. We approached, triggering the monster’s arrival.
Mission: Kill Boss Monster.
The ground rumbled and shook. I stumbled backwards as the earth’s crust split in a swirling pattern, similar to a slithering snake.
A red dot appeared on my map.
I unmuted the ISSN feed.
Blink and Gill were busy rehashing some of the day’s highlights, when they suddenly cut over to my situation.
“Scoring zone alert!” Blink announced. “Looks like our favorite fleshling, SackUpSam, has made his way to another scoring opportunity!”
“Score shmore. Ehh. I’m so tired of this frickin’ guy,” Gill slurred, slamming home a drink. He was looking disheveled, collar undone, fresh stubble on his fishy face.
Mute.
I turned on my heels, following the splinter cracks in the ground, as the subterranean creature made its rounds.
I hefted my pizza cutters, listening to the sweet hum of their blades.
Count B flexed his ripped vine arms, ready for battle.
The ground cracked open, spitting a geyser of lava as a giant snail reared its head.
The info box above it read:
Smolder Snail. Level 11.
I had escargot once.
During one of the few times Mom was flush with cash.
She made me get dressed up in a little suit and took me out to a fancy five-star restaurant. I sat there, itchy, tugging at my collar as my mother downed wine and ordered the kind of things she figured ’a classy broad’ should.
I remember the appetizer coming out and the waiter making a big deal about revealing what was beneath the metal dome.
“Voilà!” he said. “Bon appétit.”
“What is it?” I asked, staring at the little shells.
“Just eat it and don’t worry about it,” mom said lighting a cigarette.
I scrunched my face and poked at one with my fork.
“Are they snails?”
“Don’t ask me any more goddamned questions. Do you know how expensive this place is?”
I kept quiet from then on, but continued to jab at the brownish green goo inside the shells.
I scrunched my eyes, pinched my nose, and shoved one into my mouth.
I chewed it, surprised at how good it actually tasted. It was… buttery.
Mom was busy adjusting her cleavage and flashing mean eyes at patrons who were staring at her.
I swallowed the bite and forked another, looking at my mom with excitement.
“Mmmm.” I smiled. “It’s really good.”
“Yes. It’s snails,” she said, blowing a cloud of smoke.
That was all it took to puke everything right back up, bringing a quick end to our ’classy’ evening.
And here, now, facing this giant squirmer, I co-opted a quote from one of my favorite cinematic heroes.
’Snails. Why did it have to be snails?’
This giant bastard made me want to puke all over again.
He loomed over me like an hors d’oeuvre on steroids—his tall, gelatinous body pulsing with a nuclear glow. He was the size of a dump truck—his shell crusted with the dried body parts of his victims. Gobs of lava dripped down like melted cheese off a pizza. The goop hissed, splattering across scorched earth.
His eye stalks swiveled independently, tracking my every move with predatory precision—looking down like I was the appetizer.
As a kid, I wondered what an ant thought about as the sole of my sneaker came crashing down on it.
Did its little ant life flash before its little ant eyes?
Was it like, ”Holy shit, that’s a giant Nike?! I go now, boldly, into the afterlife.”
Now I kinda knew what the ant felt like.
ME: ERNI, time to try out that enemy assessment chip. Any ideas?
ERNI: Scanning… the Smolder Snail is an apex predator of this volcanic region. It is highly territorial and exceedingly moody.
As if on cue, the creature roared, shaking the ground beneath me.
ME: No shit.
ERNI: Its outer shell appears to be composed of a mixture of superheated obsidian and compressed magma.
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ME: Right… so you’re saying I shouldn’t go in for a hug?
ERNI: I would strongly advise against that.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf.
The snail’s body bloomed with a bioluminescent light rippling beneath its translucent skin. Steam hissed from moist vents along its underbelly.
Its body stench was crippling. This thing needed a shit-ton of deodorant.
COUNT BASIL: …leeeeaf.
ME: Yeah, buddy. I smell it too.
The beast reared up, eye stalks extending like light poles.
It towered over me—its goopy maw opening, revealing rows of gnarled, jagged teeth. The guttural fumes smacked me in the face like a sledgehammer—charred flesh with a sulfur chaser, colored with the putrid undertones of boiled rot.
I gagged.
“Dude, you REALLY need a Tic-Tac! What crawled up your mouth and died?”
The snail vomited a half-digested warrior corpse.
“Oh.”
VRRRRR!
I raised Slice and Dice—chainsaw blades spinning up with a menacing growl—laser edges crackling with deadly energy.
Count B flexed his muscular vines, ready to fight.
ME: ERNI, scan for weak points.
ERNI: Calculating… the underside of the creature appears less armored than the shell. Soft tissue makes a viable target. Also, the eye stalks are potential vulnerabilities.
The snail struck first, its enormous body lurching forward with surprising speed.
I dove sideways, rolling out of the way, as the slimy underside of the beast slammed down. The impact sent shockwaves across the rocky terrain, cracking the glassy earth beneath my feet.
“Where’s a giant salt shaker when you need one?!”
I charged forward, pizza cutters at the ready.
I slashed at the creature’s flank, sparks flying as the chainsaw blades bit into its shell. The cuts were shallow, but enough to get the monster’s attention.
The snail pivoted, swinging its massive shell around like a wrecking ball. I ducked flat against the ground, just in time, as the whoosh of displaced air gushed above my head.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf!
Count B’s warning came just in time as the snail launched its second attack—a glob of molten mucus fired from pulsing glands beneath its eyes.
The acidic goo splashed onto my shoulder pads, sizzling against my armor’s forcefield. My HUD flashed a system integrity warning as the invisible shield absorbed most of the impact.
ME: This thing spits lava?! You never mentioned anything about spitting lava, ERNI!
ERNI: I am still adapting to the upgrade.
ME: Good. That’s comforting.
The armor forcefield held, but I could still feel the intense heat from the orange slime.
I flipped backwards, putting some distance between me and the creature. It rumbled forward, tracing a glowing trail of goop that boiled, eating through the ground like industrial acid. Steam kicked up in thick swirls, obscuring my vision.
ME: What kind of temperatures are we dealing with?
ERNI: I am detecting the creature’s heat index to be approximately 1300 degrees Celsius—a threshold similar to molten lava.
ME: Nice. I’m sure he’s great at cookouts.
I circled the beast, looking for an opening.
ME: Count B, you ready to whoop some snail ass?
He pumped a leafy fist.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf!
B lashed out his vines, lassoing one of the snail’s eye tentacles. The monster recoiled, a high-pitched screech emanating from its gut. B’s move backfired. His vines began to smoke where they contacted the snail’s superheated flesh.
COUNT BASIL: Leeeeeaf!
He yanked his vines back, the tips blackened and withered.
ME: Sorry, buddy.
The snail reared up again, its underside glowing even brighter. The black ground beneath it began to liquefy from its intense body heat. I looked down as cracks raced my way, realizing, too late, what was happening.
“OH, SHI—”
WHOOSH!
A plume of magma erupted beneath the snail, gushing my way like a wave. I dove aside barely avoiding a flash of molten spray. The air crackled with oppressive heat.
ME: HOLY SHIT THAT’S HOT!!!
ERNI: Now Playing: *’Drop It Like It’s Hot’ by Snoop Dogg featuring Pharrell Williams.’
ME: No, no, ERNI! That’s not what I said!
Too late.
The track blasted as another splash of magma enveloped my thigh. Despite my armor, the heat transfer was enough to blister my skin underneath. Burning pain seared throughout my left quad.
“GAAAH!” I stumbled, nearly dropping my cutters.
ERNI: Careful, Sam. I have detected first-degree burns and your armor cooling system is overtaxed.
ME: Wonderful. Do you have any good news?
ERNI: You are not dead.
ME: ERNI, I can always count on you for a pick me up.
I hobbled backwards, unsteady, favoring my uninjured leg.
The snail didn’t give a shit. It advanced, relentless, its body undulating. As the creature neared, I gasped through gritted teeth, flipping through my virtual playbook.
Running: Somersault Superstar Play.
Auto-evade enemy attacks via somersaults for a period of 60 seconds.
I felt a strange tingling sensation throughout my entire body as the system took partial control of my movements. The stabbing pain in my thigh faded to a dull throb.
The play kicked in just in time, as the snail flung another volley of molten mucus. My body automatically arched, flipping over the burning slime.
“Woo-hoo!” I yelled like a kid.
I sprung into a series of somersaults, bouncing from hands to feet, evading more molten snot missiles. I flipped, spun, and cartwheeled around the beast with superhuman agility.
It was fun… until it wasn’t.
My nausea started to kick in, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stop the somersaults. I puked, spraying a chunky mist of stomach acid that I then flipped into, splashing all across my armor.
“MAKE IT STOOOOOOP!!!” I groaned, but the flips kept on coming.
I wasn’t sure, but I could swear that the creature stopped its attacks long enough to watch the fuckery of my out-of-control vomit flips.
I heard it chitter and laugh as the play finally ran out.
I swooned, dizzy on my feet. The snail raced at me, its attacks more frenzied. It lashed its eye stalks out like whips, connecting with my shins.
CRACK!
“OWWW!”
I slammed to the glassy ground. The creature brought its other eye stalk down like a hammer fist. Count B did his best to try and intercept it, but the blow still landed.
POOM!
My head cracked against the ground. My vision flashed red, heartbeat thumping in my ear.
Warning: You Are Hurt. Seek Cover Immediately!
ME: …yup… hurt.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf.
Count B yelped in my mind as the tips of his vines burnt to a crisp. The behemoth slammed another tentacle down, narrowly missing, but leaving a scorch mark across my face shield. A split-second later, the stain auto-cleaned, zapping away, and I realized just how badass the Veil-Rift Visor was.
The creature spun around, thrashing its shell.
I rolled out of the way and managed to slash at its tail. It howled, whipping around.
I stumbled to my feet, unsteady. The monster lunged forward.
VSHHHHKK!!!
I slashed both cutters into its exposed eye stalk, severing it completely.
SHOONK!
Flaming blood gushed from the wound, splattering all over the ground, sizzling upon impact.
The snail reared back, unleashing a hellish, high-pitched shriek that cracked the obsidian beneath our feet. We stared each other down.
“You know, I really wanted to work this out. But we never could see eye to eye.”
I stomped on its fallen eye stalk, crushing its pupil with a wet SPLAT!
“Look at the bright side. Eye patches are fucking cool.”
The creature snarled as its body convulsed violently. Its shell began to crack as fissures spiraled across its surface. Glowing magma oozed from the fractures.
ME: ERNI, what the hell is happening?!
ERNI: I am unsure. No data available on this behavior.
ME: Helpful.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf?
ME: Yeah, I’m seeing this.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf.
ME: Yeah, okay… it’s kind of cool.
The creature’s shell exploded outward, sending shards of obsidian flying in all directions. I dove behind a rock formation as razor-sharp shrapnel whistled past. One breached my armor’s force field, cutting a gash across my bicep.
“AAAHHH!”
The force field closed as blood seeped down my arm. I laid behind the rock formation for a few moments as my health recovered.
When I finally peeked out, I wish I hadn’t. The snail was no more, having molted into something far worse.
The creature had shed its shell to reveal its true form: a writhing mass of translucent tissue, woven around a glowing glass-like skeleton. Six additional limbs unfurled from its sides, each stretching out with barbed obsidian claws.
The beast’s head had doubled in size, splitting into three separate mouths, each lined with serrated, volcanic glass teeth. All three mouths snapped with lava drool, their flaming tongues slopping about.
“Well, that’s just fucking gross.”
COUNT BASIL: Leaf.
