The Gore-Claw got to its feet. It shook its massive, six-legged body, bone armor rattling. It hissed at the Princess, then at me. It recognized the 2v1 setup.
"War-Mage! Flank it! I will take the 'Aggro'!" the Princess commanded. She slammed the pommel of her flaming sword against her chest plate. CLANG! "For the light! Come, beast!"
The Paladin "Taunt" was surprisingly effective. The Gore-Claw ignored me and lunged at her.
The fight was... fast. I couldn't even follow it. It was just a blur of silver-and-blue fire (the Princess) and a blur of shadow-and-bone (the Gore-Claw). CLANG! SKREEE! CLANG!
I just... stood there. My M4 was raised, but what was I supposed to do? Shoot my tank? That's a party wipe.
"SHOOT IT!" the Lieutenant screamed from the sandbags. "I DON'T HAVE A CLEAR SHOT!" I yelled back.
"War-Mage!" the Princess grunted, parrying a claw that sent her skidding back. "It's too fast! Its armor is too thick! I cannot find an opening!"
She was right. She was "Tanking," but she wasn't doing "Damage." This was a "Stalemate." The Gore-Claw saw it too. It realized it couldn't get past the Paladin's DEF. So, it did the classic "Aggro Drop."
It leaped backward, disengaging from the Princess, and looked right at me. The 'Support' class. The 'Squishy' target.
"Oh, crap," I said. It lunged. Not a 40-meter jump, but a 10-meter "gap closer."
I didn't think. I just "reacted." I did what the Army actually trained me to do in close-quarters combat. I fired a "controlled burst" at center mass. TRAK-TRAK-TRAK!
The 5.56 rounds pinged off the creature's bone-white chest plate. Sparks flew. It didn't even flinch. "Ineffective!" my brain supplied. 'Physical Damage Resist: High'.
It was on me. Jaws open. I screamed and fell backward, trying to jam the rifle into its mouth, like a stupid movie hero.
At the same time, my thumb, in its panic, hit the other button on my rifle's forward grip. The high-intensity SureFire flashlight—the tactical attachment I only ever used to find my keys in the Humvee—blasted directly into the creature's face. A beam of 1,000-lumen, concentrated, Nevada-grade sunlight.
The Gore-Claw SHRIEKED. It wasn't a roar of anger. It was a scream of pure, agonizing pain. It recoiled, smashing its own head backward, its six legs tangling, trying to claw at its eyes. The glowing yellow orbs were smoking.
The Princess had told us. "Aim for the eyes!" These things were "Nocturnal" builds. Their "Weakness" was 'Light'.
"ITS EYES!" I screamed, still on my back, but keeping the flashlight beam locked on its face. "THE LIGHT! IT'S THE 'WEAKNESS'!"
The creature was stunned. Blinded. 'CC-ed'. The Knight-Princess didn't hesitate.
"Well done, Mage!" she roared. She closed the distance in two steps, her flaming blue sword raised high, and performed a perfect, devastating, anime-as-hell vertical slash. The blade plunged deep into the creature's exposed, unarmored eye socket.
A final, gurgling scream... and the 1,000-pound monster collapsed, dead, twitching at my feet. Silence.
The Lieutenant stared. The .50 Cal gunner stopped firing (the other two Gore-Claws, seeing their pack leader fall, were already retreating into the forest).
The Knight-Princess stood over the dead beast, breathing heavily, her flaming sword extinguishing. She turned to me. I was still sitting on the ground, my M4's flashlight pointing uselessly at the sky. She reached down with a silver gauntlet.
"You... are no 'War-Mage'," she said, her voice filled with a new, strange reverence. She pulled me to my feet. "...You are a 'Mage of Light' (Lux-Mago)."