Impending doom approaches...
Not only the ground, but seemingly the whole of reality was shaking. The torch in the armored figure's hand guttered feebly as he flew through the air, though he felt no wind. In fact, despite his high speed, the air felt totally still. Eerily still.
Something was coming. Only moments before, he had felt triumphant. He had defeated the last of those horrible floating masses invading his world, and sent the rest of its minions scurrying back to their lunar home. He thought that would have been the end of it. It had been his mistake, he admitted to himself, attacking those cultists outside the dungeon. Their leader had appeared almost immediately to avenge them, but when he too was dead it became clear that allowing them to continue their activities was vastly preferable to the alternative. Nevertheless, he had defeated the Pillars, and even forged new weapons from their remains. That should have been the end of it.
Right?
Apparently not. He could barely see at all now, as darkness and static clouded his vision. Just managing to touch down at his destination, he looked around at the blurred arena. He had built this structure all himself, assembled to allow him better maneuverability when battling the great monsters that would invade his home from time to time. Most were happy to follow him anywhere he went, which allowed him to pick the terrain: the arena's layers of wooden platforms made dodging their attacks much easier. He cast a glance over to the Nurse's box: He had installed her home here in case he required her services mid-fight. He didn't know how she healed him so rapidly and so often, and he frankly didn't care. As long as she kept charging such low rates for it, she could use whatever magic she wanted to keep him and the townsfolk alive. Usually she was unflappable, even when he came to her in a state which most healers would have described as "brutally murdered". She never tired of recalling the time she had to reattach most of his face. Now, though, she looked worried. She was pacing around the large porch he had built for her, tightly gripping one of the oversized hypodermic needles she sometimes used to do her work. She looked over at him, and through the unnatural gloom he could just make out her furrowed brow. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, however, the static and silence dissipated all at once. For a brief second, he wondered if it had all built up to nothing.
A blinding flash of light and a thunderous, keening screech instantly shattered that illusion as a ripple of force knocked the hero to the ground. Quickly rising, he gaped up at the towering abomination that had just appeared in the air above the arena. It resembled the upper half of a violently bisected man, if that man had had deathly gray, mottled skin; no less than seven eyes (one in the palm of each hand, a giant one in the middle of its forehead, and a cluster of four smaller ones lower on its face); an exposed, glowing green brain; and a mass of tentacles in place of a mouth. Oh, and if the man had stood roughly 600 feet high. The sun, meanwhile, had apparently decided this was entirely above its pay grade: The sky beyond the creature was a pure black void. The squadron of eyes briefly scanned their surroundings, each sweeping in a different direction, until they all settled on the tiny, beetle-like figure standing in the center of the arena.
The hero momentarily reflected on the irony of being dressed like a bug while fighting something so massive, but could not ponder this for long as the eyes in the monster's hands glowed brightly and bolts of energy burst forth from them, hurtling towards the hero. The shell on his back unfolded, revealing already-buzzing wings which carried him out of harm's way just in time: The bolts slammed into the ground, exploding into a pale green mass that fizzled briefly before vanishing. The hero extended his arm, and in his outstretched hand appeared one of his new weapons: a radiant javelin, seemingly composed of pure sunlight. He hurled it at the monster's chest, but to his dismay, its wickedly sharp end bounced off with no effect. As a second javelin appeared to replace it, the monster let out another screech that sounded for all the world like a derisive laugh. The eye in the center of its forehead began to glow now, and only instinct saved the hero as he dodged out of the way of the massive laser beam that scoured the arena floor and missed him by mere inches. As it passed near him, he was hit with a sense of extreme nausea; he shuddered to think what would have happened if the creature's attack had hit its mark. The nurse shouted something to him, but he could not hear her over the monster's new volley of energy bolts. He flew closer to the nurse's box and shouted a request for clarification. She said, "Go for the eyes!" Followed by a panicked "LOOK OUT!" The hero was knocked over by the force of the beam from the creature's central eye slamming into his back. The pain was extreme, not only in his body but also in his mind: visions of all his greatest foes, twisted and butchered but returned from the dead nevertheless to enact their revenge, and over it all, the dying scream of his oldest companion, the Guide...
He regained his senses at a slap from the nurse, who had rolled him onto his back and was standing over him. He looked at her in confusion; hadn't she also been in the path of that ghastly beam? Apparently sensing his unspoken question, she said "Don't worry about me. You have to destroy it!" She made a quick gesture towards his wound, her hand shone with magic for a moment, and he felt the pain vanish almost instantly. He got back to his feet, and looked up into the monster's narrowed eyes. It seemed to be looking not at him, but at the nurse... He had to make sure its attention was occupied. He pulled out the javelin again, but this time aimed for the eye in the center of its head. The weapon sank in deep, remaining lodged in the wound and burning the flesh around it. The monster shrieked in pain, slamming the eye shut, and renewed its attacks against the hero. He tried to dodge the attack, but the bolts of energy were too numerous. A few caught him, hurting, but nowhere near as much as the beam had. He could press through it. He flew up towards the creature's left hand, brandishing the javelin, but before he could plunge it in the creature curled the hand into a fist and punched him out of the sky. The blow did damage, to be certain, but its primary effect was to knock him away from the vulnerable eye. It opened its forehead eye again, but this time it opened wider... And wider... Until the wounded organ left its socket entirely with a sickening pop, leaving a grotesque toothy maw in its place. The eye hovered around this orifice, looking down at the hero in unmistakable fury. The creature's anger and pain manifested themselves as an unstoppable wall of attacks, and it took everything the hero had to evade enough of them to stay in one piece. The assault didn't let up, however, and try as he might, the hero couldn't find any further opportunity to strike at his foe, who now guarded its eyes closely whenever he raised his weapon. The separated eye launched another beam at him, this one slightly smaller than the others, but powerful nevertheless, and he could not move out of the way in time. The pain overwhelmed him, and he fell to the ground, his vision fading...
...The Eye of Cthulhu, somehow emerging from the Wall of Flesh to attack...
...The Destroyer, deploying mechanical Harpies instead of drones, which lifted him into the air, shredded his wings with their talons, and then let him plummet to the ground, where their master was waiting...
...Plantera, opening up its pink bulb to reveal an enraged Dryad as the last of the Jungle was claimed by Corruption...
...The Nurse, needles in hand, fighting in place of the hero against the abomination, absorbing every single one of its mind-shattering hits and barely slowing down...
...The Nurse, again, younger and dressed in pale gold robes but unmistakably her, standing in defiance of four armored figures, purple, green, orange, and blue...
The hero awoke from his disturbed dreams, and blinked up at the bright blue sky. He was lying where he had fallen, in the arena, and the nurse helped him to his feet. He looked around at the devastation. Platforms had fallen everywhere, char marks spattered the ground and stonework, and he seemed to have been lying in a large pool of his own blood. He asked the nurse what had happened after he fell. She hesitated for a moment, then said "I... I'm not sure. It just left. I guess it must have only wanted you. These monsters never do check to make sure their victims are really dead. Makes my job a lot easier," she added with a laugh. The hero frowned. Something about his last two visions had felt... Different. More real. But that was impossible. The Nurse healed, but she couldn't fight that well. And she certainly couldn't survive those blasts, unarmored as she was. But still, it tugged at a corner of his mind, refusing to settle itself. He had never been one for subtlety, so he simply asked her about it. For a split second, he thought he saw a look of shock cross her face, but then it was replaced by mildly amused concern. "They were just dreams. Don't worry too much about them. I can only imagine what those beams did to your mind. I'm just glad none of them hit me."
The hero was not entirely convinced, but he had more important matters to attend to: As terrible as that fight had been, he had never admitted defeat yet. He would not rest until he had proved himself superior to his new most powerful enemy. The death of more presumably innocent cultists was... Regrettable, but it was a necessary means to an end. After all, they didn't really matter, and he had to defeat this Lord of the Moon. He would just have to try again. His wings unfolded, and he began to fly back towards the dungeon. The nurse watched him go with a concerned look, remembering...