Butterknife watched with a mix of fascination and revulsion as Zir and Donna tumbled together in a tangle of limbs, their jaws snapping and fists flailing. Despite the fury of their blows, their bulging biceps seemed to prevent any real contact, the strikes glancing off harmlessly. Downstairs, their discarded axes lay forgotten, the pair now reduced to brawling with bare knuckles. They grappled past the spectral images of the three Nousheads, their struggle taking them first beneath, then back over the comically squeaky toy.

  Bytes whimpered and ran to hide in a corner, deciding he wanted no part of this.

  With Zir on top, Donna managed to raise a knee into his groin.

  "Oof", he breathed, and he lost his strength long enough for Donna to literally throw the demon-like berserker across the room. He crushed Bytes' kennel flat.

  "Bytes!" she screamed in alarm as she got to her feet, and sighed in relief to find the dog trembling by his water bowl.

  All the while, Butterknife tiptoed away, trying to remain unnoticed. Engaging in battle with the two would be certain death. They were both at least 6 levels higher than him even though each of them had about 50% of their health left. These weren't normal mobs. They were named NPCs. He looked for a place to cast hide in shadows but the room itself was pretty well lit. He also didn't want to leave Spencer completely undefended while he ramped up his offense with his alcohol drinking.

  He glanced over at Camilia, who was flying over near the ceiling, keeping well out of range. Smart woman, he thought. Don't tempt fate. Just let it play out.

  He positioned himself near the splintered remains of the door just incase he needed to escape. Over the balcony rail, he could see total chaos below. The berserkers who were watching the fight were now brawling amongst themselves. Roars of anger, axes swinging, bottles breaking. Maybe he could run through them, maybe not.

  That's no good either, he decided. He had to stand his ground here. He cast Actually That's Against My Oath, and his Umbral Plate glowed for a second. His armor bonus grew 10%. Better than nothing. He checked his Blessed buff which had another 9 minutes on it.

  "You did this," Donna shouted and began twirling at him like a goddamn top. Her pink tutu suddenly transformed into a metal blade.

  "Holy shit!"

  He slammed down on his Righteous Lecture, stunning her for two seconds, and immediately followed up with a Moral High Ground smite. Light beams exploded all around. Her health fell to 40%. His most powerful attack only did 10% damage. As the cooldown started, he stepped to the side just as the stun wore off, but without a second's thought, she backhanded him.

  Everything went dark for a moment and he woke up in an empty room. Dazed, he looked through a hole in the wall. From within, he could Zir hacking at something with an axe. He prayed it wasn't Spencer. Camilia flew through the hole and cast a regenerate spell on him. He wasn't sure of the details, but his health steadily started to rise. He topped it off with a healing potion just to be certain and jumped through the hole into Bytes' room.

  Spencer was just sitting on the bed, downing whiskey. The Tipsy debuff changed to Buzzed, and he gave Butterknife a menacing smile. Sometime in all that, Zir had attained the axe that was stuck in the ceiling and was forcing it centimeter by centimeter into Donna's chest. Her health was dangerously low now, just slivers of red in the health bar, and he noticed she was missing both feet. "Profusely Bleeding" appeared over Donna's head. She was done.

  "Heal her!" he yelled to Camilia. "I think she needs to be alive to complete the quest."

  She hesitated, then started to cast a healing spell on the crippled woman.

  He ran forward and clubbed Zir in the back of the head with his mallet. It barely did anything to him. The balbalzim grunted, and his belt unraveled from his waist, stabbing Butterknife in the chest plate. The Umbral Plate dented inwards right where his heart was. He could see now it wasn't a belt. It was a tail, with a spade-shaped point at the end of it.

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  Zir lost interest in Donna and rose to his feet.

  "You think you can fight Zir?" His glowing yellow eyes now had red tendrils fuming out of them.

  Butterknife took a step back. His mind raced. Maybe he could jump back through the hole, but that would earn him an axe in the back.

  "I reckon I could," said Spencer, rising off the bed. His Buzzed debuff was now Beyond Blitzed. He stumbled forward and fell to a knee, club in one hand and a new whiskey bottle in the other. Zir immediately jabbed him in the nose with the butt of his axe. Spencer landed on his back, but dropped neither the club nor the whiskey.

  "You are no match! Zir is a champion of The Infinite!"

  Butterknife watched, his heart pounding like a drum of war in his chest, as Spencer's laughter began to bubble up, a low chuckle that swelled into a sound so wild and untamed it seemed to scrape from the very depths of his belly.

  "Champion?" he bellowed, the word thick with mockery. "Hit me again!" He lay there, sprawled on the ground, a challenge painted across his bloody face.

  Zir's brow furrowed, a dark cloud passing over his features. He stomped forward with a growl, his boot crashing down on Spencer's face, the sickening crunch of cartilage giving way echoing in the room. Spencer's nose, already a mangled mess, broke further under the assault, and one of his tusks splintered, sending a fresh gush of blood streaming down his face. His health bar ticking down with each ragged breath.

  "Again!!" Spencer choked out, his voice garbled by the blood filling his mouth. He spat, a gruesome splatter of red decorating Zir's boot and leg. Propping himself up, he beckoned with a gory grin. Zir raised his axe high. With a swift thrust, Spencer rammed his club into Zir's gut, the impact drawing a grunt of pain from the champion.

  "Oof," Zir grunted, the wind knocked out of him.

  In the blink of an eye, Spencer was back on his feet, a tempest of fury. He swung the club, a relentless barrage that connected with Zir's body once, twice, three times before the balbazrim could lift his axe in defense. A kick sent Zir sprawling, but instead of pursuing his advantage, Spencer reached for the whiskey bottle, yanking the cork free with his teeth and downing the amber liquid. The effect was immediate; his health rocketed upward.

  "Again!" he howled, the scream not even aimed at Zir. Just shouting for a challenger.

  Zir, now teetering, health at 30%, fumbled for a healing potion. Butterknife's mallet whizzed through the air, the potion sent flying.

  "Fight me! Fight me, you yellow-eyed fuck!" Spencer's voice rang out, raw and ragged.

  Rage consumed Zir, driving him into a reckless charge. Spencer attempted to deflect the onslaught, but the axe split his club asunder and descended with a brutal finality, lopping off Spencer's arm in a single, clean stroke. The severed limb hit the ground with a hollow thud, the remnants of the shattered weapon still clutched in its lifeless grip.

  Spencer looked down. "You broke my club."

  Zir spit. "You cannot defeat Zir, the champion of..." He trailed off as he took in the insanity of Spencer.

  With no weapon, and nothing but a bottle of whiskey in his remaining hand, Spencer laughed from deep in his throat, growing into a resonance that sent ice down Butterknife's spine. He raised the bottle to his lips and drained it completely. His health rose to full again, and his debuff changed to Last Call Legend. A timer appeared over his head, ticking down from 30 seconds.

  "YOU BROKE MY FUCKING CLUB!"

  With a roar, Spencer brought the empty whiskey bottle crashing down upon Zir's head, glass shards exploding. In the next instant, he drove his skull into Zir's face with a brutal head-butt. His single arm coiled around the balbazrim, pinning him.

  The countdown mercilessly ticked away, now at twenty-five seconds, and Spencer's life force appeared tethered to the dwindling time, ticking down along with it.

  "CHAMPION?! HAH! YOU'RE NOTHING!"

  He pounded Zir's face with his own, the impacts echoing with wet, meaty thumps. Crimson arcs painted the air as Spencer's frenzied assault continued, Zir's consciousness rapidly ebbing away as his legs began to fold under him.

  "I'LL PISS ON YOUR FUCKING CORPSE!"

  With a snarl, Spencer released the limp form of his foe, letting Zir crumple to the ground, now a ruined mask of pulped flesh and splintered bone. Climbing on him, Spencer wrenched one of Zir's horns free with a sickening crack and plunged it into the balbazrim's remaining eye. A shower of confetti erupted immediately, and Butterknife felt his gorge rise at the corpse.

  The timer above Spencer's head blinked, now at eight seconds.

  Spencer stood, his face unrecognizably covered in blood. The whites of his eyes contrasting with the red on his face, and his pupils were a pool of black. Heaving, he laughed again, the same terrifying craze consuming him.

  "MORE!!" he roared, and turned to Butterknife.

  "Spencer," Butterknife said. "Get ahold of yourself."

  "NOW IT'S YOUR TURN, CUNT!" The timer on his head was four seconds.

  His bloodthirsty partner rushed at him.

  Holy shit, he thought, and cast Righteous Lecture on him. He ran as the two second stun skill wore off.

  Spencer leaned forward to charge at him again, and then fell over dead.

  "I think your partner has a drinking problem," Camilia said.