You meet the remaining contenders

None of the other bosses that approach you prove worth your time. Some try to seduce you. Some try to impress you. Some try to bribe you. Others simply beg. Not a single one other than Vesperia even exceeds level 20! Finally, a haggard necromancer who steps away, and no other monster appears to replace him: you breathe a sigh of relief and exhaustion. It wounds your ego slightly that the higher-level monsters who are clearly present all chose to look elsewhere or sit out of the event entirely, but you console yourself by imagining their vexation when you triumph. After a moment of fantasizing you stand to seek out the other contenders.

You swing around two gargoyles, duck under a giant's arm, and almost run face to face into Alastra and Selena. Seeing them deep in conversation, you merely nod before walking on, trusting your adventurer ally to manage the espionage. A large crowd appears to be gathered on the other side of the room, presumably one of the more powerful contenders. After you weave past the first few monsters, an amused alto voice comes from just behind you.

"Oh my, he really is one of the contenders, isn't he." You turn to see a dark-skinned woman wearing a deep blue, fur-lined robe. An equally blue crown set with sapphires perches on her full mane of curly black hair. A smug grin is plastered across her black face and blue-tinged lips. Beside her is another woman clad in full plate: only her head is exposed. A cascade of shining silver hair parts to frame her brown face, and a smirk plays across her lips.

Auril "The Ice Queen," Level 50 Cryomancer
Adventurer, Genasi, Explicit
The genasi are humans with a trace of elemental blood in their veins, known for their stormy tempers and their affinity for magic.

Chanra, "The Blade of the Heavens," Level 50 Crusader
Adventurer, Aetheling, Explicit
The aetheling are elves with a trace of angelic blood, known for their wisdom and for the pale glow of their eyes.

"So which monster are you two allied to?" The two look familiar, although you can't quite place them. "Aura? She seems like the most powerful of the bunch."

"That would be me." Auril speaks with a matter-of-fact tone, although her lips show a hint of amusement. "My acquaintance here threw her lot in with Chronos, the wizard. He isn't to be underestimated either, although he's a bit too unstable for my liking."

"You know, it isn't too late to step aside while Auril and I duke it out for the prize." Chanra's lovely soprano voice doesn't seem to fit her contemptuous tone. "You really don't remember us? I can't blame you: I wouldn't want to either." Auril chuckles a little at the joke that you aren't privy to.

"Say, maybe this will jog your memory." Auril waves her hand and conjures a simple illusion. The two women's clothes fade until they merely wear matching reddish bikinis. After taking a moment to drink in their fine forms, you see that their tops and bottoms show curling flames. The bottoms have tails with pointed tips, and both wear headbands with tiny black horns. The illusion fades a moment later.

"I can't say I swim all that often here in Arkus, but hey, how many adventurers can say that they have a genuine Imporne Imp bikini?" Chanra chuckles at her own comment, and you remember the ending of your very first world bounty. Right: these were two of the many adventurers in your long chain of deaths on the last day of the event.

You just shrug. "Glad you're enjoying them. I see some of us have kept busier than others since then. Well, when you lose, don't worry: I'm a magnanimous daemon." You give a flourish and a bow for emphasis. "I'd be happy to sponsor you once you realize you bet on the wrong monsters."

"Ooh my, the imp has spunk now!" Auril chuckles. "Well, it was nice seeing you again." Her tone is as insincere as any you've heard, and she makes no effort to conceal it. "We should probably go meet the others. Maybe one of them won't be a complete joke. Ta!" With that, the two turn to leave.

Passing the armoured ogre from earlier and an orcish mage, you nearly bump into three elven triplets wearing plate bikinis and transparent greenish loincloths. Each one has peach skin and long blonde hair: the exact description that Darran gave you earlier. "Why, I believe I've heard of the three of you. Azazel." You give them a nod.

"Welcome, Azazel. I am Auntie Glenda." "And I am Ragged Nellie." "And I am Dread Charlotte." The three hags nearly cut each other off, a hint of immense age nearly masked by their youthful voices.

Auntie Glenda, Level 45
Monster, Hag, Elite Boss (Coven), Explicit

The other two have identical character sheets, seemingly sharing the position of boss. "So which of you is the contender here?"

"We are all the contender." The three speak in unison.

"Right, so... I don't suppose you have any plans to just give up the hunt?" The three cackle at your suggestion.

"The same to you, hellspawn. We propose—" "—a truce, no hostilities, a pact—" "—so long as neither of us obtains the Soul." "The others are strong," "stronger than us all," "divided we fall." They seem to trade places as the speaker almost at random, and you've already lost track of which is which.

"Very well; I accept." The three hags cackle at the arrangement and smirk at one another, then turn and walk away. Their whispers and cackles slowly fade into the buzz of the room as they go.

A few minutes later, you find a secluded booth across the room from your own, a wizened old man sitting alone within. Long, thin white hair cascades down his back, a wispy beard and moustache tumble all the way down his torso, and his eyes are nearly shut with age. Discoloured splotches cover his face and forehead, and the rest of his body is hidden in a plain burgundy robe.

Chronos, Level ?????
Monster, Human, Wizard, Microboss, Explicit

Microboss? Given you can't see his level he must be at least level 60, and the lowest rank you've seen for boss monsters that level is Elite Boss, your own rank. The moment you step out of the surrounding crowd he begins to speak, still facing the table.

"Eh? Another little fly? Tell them to go away, go away." He twitches a bit and then his tone slightly changes. "No, no, Chronos, not a fly, not a fly. A snake, a contender, a challenger, waiting to strike." He breaks out into a cackle for several seconds, finally wheezing to catch his breath, as if someone told a brilliant joke. "A weakling, useless, an annoyance! But he can be useful, oh yes, if he wishes to." His tone shifts again, this one high and nasal, as if a different person entirely is speaking. "We should tell the snake about the fairy. Yes, the fairy, so pretty she is. That pretty face, those lovely wings. We should like that face and those wings, yes. Pin the wings to the wall with the others, a big, beautiful butterfly." He breaks down in another fit of cackling and a deep, cunning voice speaks up. "Put the face on the adventurer, it's much nicer than her own. Now tell the snake to go! If the snake wants old Chronos to make him a pretty, he must bring the pretties of his own."

Seeing no reason to disagree, you step back into the crowd, putting as much distance between yourself and the mad wizard as possible. Between his extremely high level and his tenuous grasp on reality, it's fortunate you first met him in a situation where he couldn't attack you. Who knows what a monster as deranged and powerful as him could do, beyond simply kill you with a flick of his hand? Hopefully another contender will take him on: unless Aura is truly terrifying, Chronos will be the contender to avoid.

Your thoughts cut off when you slam into the back of a centaur in front of you. The beast grunts and shoots you a glare before turning back to look ahead. A soft aura of rainbow light seems to emerge through the crowd, and you push through a group of fawning dryads to see a pair of radiant fae in front of you. The man's bared chest reveals a sculpted figure; a skirt of grass and leaves covers his lower body. Purple wings like those of a dragonfly extend far behind his back. His face is framed by soft, straight brown hair that cascades down his chest.

Caranthus, Level 56
Monster, Fae, Explicit

Impressive though the fae his, he's nothing compared to the woman whose hand clasps his. She wears a modest green robe, the colour of leaves in spring. Flowers sprout haphazardly out of the fine material. Her peach face shows a gentle smile, and she wears her long red hair to one side, tumbling down her right shoulder. A wreath of leaves and flowers sits on her head. Behind her, two huge butterfly wings stretch well above her head and seem to radiate a rainbow of light.

Aura, Level ?????
Monster, Archfae, Raid Boss, Explicit

"Ah, my love, I see we have been joined by one of the upstart contenders." Her voice radiates power as she speaks, seeming to wash over you. Your mind thinks about how easy it would be to kneel, to bow and proclaim her your true queen, but you manage to resist the urge. If the archfae takes any notice, her serene face doesn't betray it. "I imagine you are the one called Azazel? A petty imp turned a petty lord. Why have you sought our makeshift court in this prison of stone? Do you wish to throw down your arms? It would be easier, you know, than to struggle against the course of nature."

"I'm afraid I didn't get where I was today by giving up before I tried." You do your best to give a polite bow. "I merely wished to meet those I will be competing against for the Soul."

A musical laugh escapes her lips, and her consort soon follows. "'Compete' is not the word I would use. One does not 'compete' against a gale: one yields or is swept away all the same. Well, I suppose peasants may have their delusions. Your queen is a fool, letting us in to spread our truth to her minions, but her loss is our gain. Unlike her, we reward loyalty and promise in our court." She pauses for a moment, as if waiting for an answer, then continues when she gets none. "I suppose that we must give you a chance to realize the order of things before you accept the inevitable, just as a leaf struggles against the end of summer. Do not worry: we are a magnanimous queen, and will accept your pledge of loyalty whenever you realize it is in your best interest to give it. You may go." Aura waves her hand and her words are accompanied by a sense of urgency, as if you in fact have somewhere very important to be. Seeing no reason to fight it, you allow your body to lead you away. Sweat covers your skin due to her oppressive presence.

"Care for a dance?" A familiar voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see the Great Wyrm offering you her hand. You take it, shifting into your human form as you do, and she leads you to the centre of the floor. A square section has been set aside by guards, and the monsters within dance, twirl, and clap on their own, in groups, or in pairs, giving an aura of levity to the otherwise serious events in the hall. "Well, what did you think of them?"

"Sahr'rhazad has already lost, although she doesn't know it." You grin and twirl the dragoness with your hand as you speak. "I doubt the hags will be a problem either: their choice of adventurer was lacking, and doesn't even know he's been compromised."

Prometheia takes your hand above your head and spins you around. "Enough about your lessers. What of the other two? I hope I did not betroth my daughter to a daemon who gives up at the second powerful monster he meets."

"I'm much more worried about them. Why are you letting the fae steal vassals from under your nose?" you shudder.

Prometheia simply shrugs and gives a venomous grin, sharp teeth showing between her red lips, before allowing you to toss her back over your arm then pull her back to her feet again. "Those of my vassals who are smart will know better. As for those who do not, well, sooner or later they will realize the error of their ways." She gracefully steers you around the dance floor with firm pressure on your side. "I have much better things to do than police all on this mountain, and it is easier to set an example every generation or two about what happens to those who aid my enemies gain a foothold here."

"I suppose that makes sense. Anyways, I'm hoping that Chronos and Aura fight one another: I don't think either of them take the rest of us seriously. If one of them can destroy the other, so much the better. I expect Aura will win and I'm counting on that: if I never met Chronos again it would still be too soon." You pull the queen into a hug so that your heads are over each other's shoulders, having to stand on the tips of your toes to get high enough. She gives an amused grin at the move and picks up the pace as if testing your footwork, while you enjoy the feeling of her generous bosom pressing into your chest. "As for the fae, I have some ideas brewing: perhaps her arrogance is her weakness, or perhaps someone in her court. I'll need time to think, but rest assured, I didn't come this far just to give up." Someone in the crowd gives you a thumbs up: looking closer, you see Darran, Lucia's group once again clinging to him. You give him a wink and a grin in return, then dance in silence for a moment.

"Very good." The dragoness pulls back to arm's length and spins one more time before turning to lead you off the floor. "Spare me any further details: if I cannot meddle further I would rather enjoy seeing things unfold over the coming days." She drops your hand. "Now, I have many other guests to mingle with. Good luck." With that, she turns and vanishes into the crowd, her priceless dress clinging to her form as she goes. You take a moment to admire her departing form then make for your booth, having done what you came here to do.