I fly higher to have a better view of the battlefield. The Forgotten Cave ends in a huge boss chamber so I can manoeuvre without problems.

The Skeleton King, a huge bone figure in rusty armour, is eyeing me menacingly. He throws his axe at me but I expect it at this stage. I evade it easily and use those few seconds the enemy needs to pull his weapon back to finally release Meteor Superior I was casting for more than three minutes now. It’s difficult to be preparing such a complex spell and keep evading at the same time but I’ve mastered it over the years.

The explosion is so overwhelming that even I have to quickly fly away to safety. In Draconia, there’s no such thing as protecting the caster or the rest of the party against friendly misfire. Everything that’s supposed to do damage does so to whoever stands in the way.

BOOOOOM!

The ground shakes with a deafening sound and a shockwave almost knocks me down but I manage to balance my fall and fly back up almost immediately because I’ve been training exactly for such situations.

“Yes!” I exclaim.

It’s a clear hit and the boss’s HP drops to 25%. The impact leaves a black crater.

Too early to celebrate, though, the Skeleton King enters the last stage and his behaviour pattern radically changes again. I’ve never been that close before so I have to improvise. I studied stage 4 from the videos of others and my own runs with a party but it’s very different when I don’t have any back-up and the boss focuses entirely on me.

I had all kinds of energy shields in place in the beginning but I’ve lost most of them during stages 2 and 3. Now I have only one shield left which means that two more mistakes and I’m dead. Celestial magic is amazing but my race can’t take any direct hits.

“COME FORTH MY SERVANTS!”

The Skeleton King rages and calls his minions. They’re numerous but these lesser skeletal knights can’t really hurt me when I’m in the air so I don’t worry about them.

Suddenly, something bashes into my energy shield from behind.

“What the…?!”

Shit, skeletal bats at this stage? Why? They don’t spawn during party raids. Skeletal bats aren’t particularly strong, more of pests really, but they can distract you, especially a magic caster who has to focus.

The boss starts throwing boulders at me which is another unexpected turn of events. He never did that in previously recorded battles. Is it because I’m the only opponent and in the air so the algorithm altered his behaviour accordingly? Did the developers take this scenario into consideration? I guess they could have anticipated that the best Celestial players will definitely try to solo it.

I evade another boulder and this time only by a few inches because skeletal bats keep hindering me. I start flapping my wings wildly and releasing mana to create an air current which sweeps the bats away. I’m pretty exhausted at this point, even virtual limbs tire to make the game more realistic, but I successfully get rid of those pesky critters.

Then I notice the boss is taking two boulders at once. I widen my eyes in horror and I manage to escape one stone but the other hits my last shield and shatters it. As I try to balance the shock wave, the Skeleton King jumps and grabs me.

I gasp for air when he starts clutching me. Some reflexes are hard to ignore. I know that my real body is safe in my bed and breathing normally but Draconia is a hardcore game with pain receptors switched on and my virtual avatar is being squeezed to death right now.

My HP is dropping at astronomical speed and when it reaches 10%, the Skeleton King, as if programmed with malice to be even scarier, tosses me into the mud on the ground. I feel the bones in my wings breaking and it’s excruciating, even though the pain is mostly dulled on purpose.

That didn’t exactly go as planned. Oh, well, it is one of the most difficult bosses in the game and he hasn’t been soloed yet after all…

YOU DIED!

Type of death: Regular

Penalty: -300 HP for 1 day

-300 MP for 1 day

Resurrection: Immediate

The pain lasts for three seconds followed by ten seconds of unconsciousness giving my brain time to recover. After that, I wake up, resurrected. My wings are okay again but I’m still a muddy mess.

I check my stats. Dying lowered my health and magic points for one day but nothing dramatic. I’m fortunate that the Skeleton King didn’t hit my weak spot between the wings because the penalty for that is 24 hours with a blocked account.

As I’m standing up and stretching my wings to relieve the strange after-feeling of broken bones, another player rudely bumps into me. As if I don’t get enough accidental bumps in public transport. But touching people here doesn’t trigger my telepathy so I don’t mind that much.

“What are you doing loitering here like that!” he berates impatiently. “In and out swiftly, that’s the rule.”

“Sorry,” I apologize rather than cause an unnecessary quarrel over something so trivial. Some players have rather short tempers.

“You Celestials, always with your heads in the sky,” he murmurs irritably.

He’s right about the in and out swiftly part. Loitering in the Shrine of Resurrection isn’t a good idea because players are being revived all the time. It’s just not so easy for a Celestial to be quick about it. Our magic is highly regarded and always on demand when forming a party for dungeon raids, but on the ground we’re hopelessly clumsy compared to other races.

I watch that guy as he runs out of the Shrine. He’s a feline Clawfang with a cheetah styled avatar, cool look and medium-tier equipment. Around level 45, I guess. Much lower than me but I bet he thought I’m a total noob.

Well, to be honest, I do look shabby right now. My robe is tattered from the battle and my wings are all muddy. I hate that feeling; every Celestial wants their wings to be spotless, call it our quirk. But I need to hide my unique ingame appearance so it’s for the best at the moment.

I tighten the hood around my face and finally step outside the Shrine.

I check my streaming page. Most players are commenting on my mistakes, offering constructive feedback and giving me advice for my next attempt. Only a minority is amused that I failed and ended epically in mud. But they still watched my endeavour which means money from ads so I’m not bothered by that. I spend a few minutes typing responses and thanking everyone for their kind donations.

NEW INCOMING MESSAGE

A familiar dialogue window with a mail symbol pops out of space in front of me.  

“Your Highness, please DO participate in our celebratory Council of Seraphs today at 18:30,” the message states. The window contains a confirmation button but just as I’m about to hit ‘dismiss’, there’s an immediate video call.

“Don’t you dare miss this meeting!” the caller shouts at me without any greeting. Her name is Liana and she’s my trusted viceroy. A very demanding person who keeps me in line. At least most of the time.

“We have to appoint new seraphs today,” she says impatiently and flaps her black wings.

“Oh, right, I forgot,” I slap my forehead. “Sorry, Li. Still, can’t we push the developers again to give you that administrative power as well? I’ve been doing it countless times, it gets repetitive.”

“Enjoy your royal shit,” she shrugs. “I’m doing half of your work as it is. Besides, do you have something better to do than fulfilling your obligations?”

“Another attempt in the Forgotten Cave,” I say. “I was sooo close this time.”

Liana narrows her eyes. She always does that when she doesn’t approve. “You know race rulers shouldn’t form parties with just anybody, it breaks game balance.”

“Solo,” I set the record straight so she wouldn’t worry.

“You went alone? To the hardest dungeon for a full four-member party?” her eyes widen. “Did the boss hit your wings?”

“Obviously not or I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

Is she concerned about me or about the work I wouldn’t be able to do otherwise if my account was frozen for one day? It’s often hard to tell with her but I know that she does care. She only has her own way of showing it.

“You’re crazy as always,” she sighs but I don’t miss that she grins a little. She actually likes that side of me.

“I’m trying to make it more fun for my followers. An occasional failure is good too,” I smile but there’s no misguiding my sharp viceroy.

“Come right away and no more excuses!” She ends the call abruptly and doesn’t give me any time to respond.

A short message arrives just a minute after: “There will be Heavenly Lemon Cakes.”

She knows how to bribe me.