I crept toward a small muddy clearing ahead, hearing the unmistakable sound of something big crashing through the underbrush. Branches snapped and twigs snapped like some kind of forest orchestra, except this symphony was tuned to “Oh God, I’m about to be eaten.” There was another set of footsteps too, but they weren’t nearly as impressive—more like the quiet shuffle of someone late for an appointment. But whatever it was that was causing all this noise behind the chase? Yeah, it wasn’t subtle. The thing sounded like a bulldozer plowing through a wet field, every footfall squelching in the mud like it was intentionally trying to ruin the entire landscape for dramatic effect.

I ducked behind a tree, not exactly eager to become someone’s dinner on the first day of me kind of getting my act together. Though, if I’m being real with myself, I was intangible. Could something even eat me? I mean, seriously, what are they gonna do, nibble on some leftover shade? I doubt I’d even offer a decent snack. I’m probably more like a diet soda—no calories, just disappointment. Still, who knows? Maybe there’s some weird-ass creature out here with a taste for ghost juice.

The brush cracking and rustling got louder, and I could hear short, frantic gasps, like someone was really struggling to keep their pace. As I wondered what kind of crazy person would be running through the woods like an animal on the run, she burst through the bushes—only to catch her foot on a root and faceplant into the mud.

She was hauling ass up until that point, and with the momentum of her fall, she slid a good few meters right toward me.

“BLEGH!” She gagged, spitting out dirt and muck like it was some sort of unholy smoothie.

She wasn’t entirely human—at least, not in any way I could wrap my head around. Her figure carried the familiar grace of a woman (minus the elegance, considering her faceplant), but everything else about her screamed otherworldly. Her skin shimmered in a strange, mesmerizing blend of midnight gray and vivid magenta, like spilled ink bleeding into the hues of a dying sunset. Her face, strikingly deep lavender, tapered into the softer gray that cloaked her body like a natural gradient. Along her cheeks, six sharp claw-like markings of darker purple curved outward—three on each side—forming patterns that felt like they were hiding something beneath, like eyes waiting to open.

Her ears, long and tapering into delicate points, bore a series of piercings that jingled faintly when she moved, each piece catching the light in a faint, metallic glimmer. Crimson-red hair cascaded down her back in waves, a vivid contrast to her shadowy complexion, falling all the way to the ground, tangling in the muck she stood in without a care.

Her eyes, though—they were her most striking feature. Bright, golden yellow with sharp, slitted pupils, they burned with an intensity that wasn’t quite anger, nor sorrow—it was something feral. Something dangerous. They wouldn’t just look at you; they pinned you down, like a predator studying its prey.

As she struggled to get up, her clawed toes poked out from under her torn black silk robes. The poor thing was a mess, her dress barely more than ragged strips after that long chase, but I could still see the blood-red trim poking through the dirt. For a second there, she almost looked like a damsel in distress—at least, if you ignored the spider legs flailing around and the fact she just ate shit in front of me. My "hero instincts" kicked in for about half a second, but then I realized I was a floating ghost with the strength of passing gas. So, you know... not much I could do.

It was the extra limbs that made me really stop, though. Two spider-like legs were sticking out from underneath her, and another set was flailing around from her back as she struggled to get to her feet. One of her human legs—if you could even call them that—was twisted at a weird angle, and another of her spider limbs was clearly broken. She couldn’t move much anymore, just flopping around in the mud like a fish out of water. Not exactly the escape artist she might’ve been earlier.

A soft, slithering voice broke the tension, smooth and menacing: “Theeeeeeere you are.” Two figures emerged from the bushes, moving with unnatural speed.

I froze. These weren’t just any soldiers. Their lower halves were like serpents—long, sinuous bodies covered in sleek cobra scales that glinted in the dim light. Their movements were fluid, inhumanly graceful, as they surrounded the woman, spears held low but ready to strike. Wait a minute. Naga? Seriously? This world just keeps getting weirder.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d faced monsters before in my previous life—hell, I’d killed an owlbear with nothing but my sword and guts. But a whole race of sentient, humanoid demons that wasn’t those ogers or harpies? Now that’s a first. The spider-woman was already enough of a mind trip, but now we’ve got naga crawling out of the woodwork like they’re the latest expansion for some MMO. Great, what’s next? A griffon tax collector?

As the woman screamed at them, I snapped out of my daze, refocusing on the scene. I couldn't move, but I couldn’t look away either.

“Leave me ekā, you overgrown boa!” she yelled, spitting the words at the naga. “You traitorous snakes! Hunting me like a dog! Your scales wouldn’t be worth the trouble to skin!”

"Tuhn bhavaha," one of the naga ordered, his voice dripping with venom. "The Captain will be here to deal with you."

"No! I will not tolerate this betrayal!" the woman screeched, her voice cracking as she swatted at the spears. But no matter how hard she fought, her efforts were futile.

The sound of heavy footsteps finally reached me, and when I saw the source of the ‘bulldozer’ that was crunching through the trees, I nearly swore in disbelief.

It wasn't the demon commander. It was worse. A smaller, but no less dangerous cousin about a fifth of his size. His lion-like body was still massive, but his snout, now clear without the helmet, was smushed in, with two lower fangs jutting out like the teeth of some grotesque beast. His eyes, sickly green and filled with self-assurance, glinted like acid.

He wore an incredibly luxurious set of golden armor that, when caught in the occasional ray of sun, dazzled in such a way that I could barely stand to look at its magnificence. It nearly triggered my weakness to the sunlight!

It was clearly for show, seeing how the gold I knew was much too malleable for actual combat, but this guy looked like he was just as likely to pose for you at an anime convention as he would to kill you. The fact that he looked just as intimidating as he was gaudy was a feat in and of itself, but hey, if the guy had the goods, might as well flaunt it, right?

The Captain scowled as he trudged through the mud, his steps leaving deep imprints in the ground. But when he finally got to his destination at the woman’s side, he looked down at her with such a bemused expression it made me want to vomit. A makeshift baseball bat, almost a miniature version like that of his larger commander lookalike, laid tapping at his boot as he clicked his tongue in unbridled joy. I understood how her legs were broken now.

"Oh, little spider, scurrying away," the Captain mocked, his voice dripping with derision. "Spiders don't run; they stalk, they hunt. Do you know nothing about your own kind?" He looked around, scanning the area like he expected an ambush, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. I ducked instinctively when his gaze flickered my way. "Where are your webs? Even a few pairs of boots might’ve helped you avoid this predicament."

He raised his bat to her chin with deliberate slowness, the motion almost theatrical, before she swatted it away with defiance.

"Get away from me, you overgrown flea bag!" she spat, her voice hoarse with fury.

"Tsk," he tutted, his grin widening. "Is that truly your last words, princess? Really? A little insult about hygiene before your end?" His voice oozed mockery, but then, with a swift movement, his head snapped toward one of his naga guards. His stare was equal parts insecure and intense, like a predator locking onto prey. "Guard! Do I have fleas?"

The naga guard visibly flinched, as if the bat might be swung at him next. His voice quivered as he stammered, "N-no captain, spotlesssss of them. Not a single fleck since we found the lasssss. Well groomed, you are."

The Captain chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. It was as if the naga’s words were the gospel truth that destroyed the foundation of the spider princess’s insult.. "Hm-hm! There you have it, little princess. Six weeks of grooming, and it's paid off in dividends!"

Ichni… Princess? The realization hit me like a hammer. A spider princess? What kind of twisted world was this? A princess in these woods? An arachnid monarchy—was that even a thing here?

As I tried to process the bizarre hierarchy of this place, the naga seized the moment to flatter the Captain, his voice oily with false praise. "Impeccable fur, Captain."

WHAP! The bat cracked against the naga's chest with such speed and precision that I barely saw the attack. One moment, the bat was hanging casually by the Captain's side, and the next, it buried itself deep into the naga's breastplate as if it had always belonged there. The naga's eyes bulged in shock, his forked tongue whipping out like a wounded animal's last gasp. He groaned, his voice a low, almost mechanical sound—something akin to a tire deflating.

"HHNNNNNNNNNNGSSSSS..."

"Shut the hell up, you dull-scaled imbecile," the Captain growled, as he lowered his bat, clearly annoyed. "I'm trying to have a nefarious monologue here before I kill the girl."

The naga guard was about to apologize, but when he saw the knuckles on the bat begin to tense, proceeded to become completely mute as tears ran down his now pallid face.

Ichni, still covered in the dirt and blood of her recent fall, began threatening him weakly, her voice thick with defiance. "You can't lay a claw on me! Father will skin you alive and use your pelt as a rug for his chamber pots if he hears of this!"

The Captain paused, the weight of Ichni’s words hanging in the air, but then he burst into laughter, a rumbling belly laugh that seemed to shake the very forest around us. The sound echoed through the clearing, and even the naga guards, clearly uncomfortable, felt compelled to join in. They hesitated at first, but once the first "ha" escaped their lips, they all found themselves trying to laugh along, though the humor was forced and hollow.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

No sooner than the first chuckle left their mouths, the Captain’s mood shifted instantly. He shot them a deathly glower, and they both stopped, mouths snapping shut so quickly one of their tongues was still hanging out.

The Captain turned back to Ichni, who made a futile attempt to move away, but the injuries to her legs kept her firmly in place. He raised his bat again, twisting his body dramatically as he gave his chin a thoughtful scratch.

“Well, I’m afraid the orders are from His Majesty,” he said, his voice taking on a darker, more sinister tone. As he looked up, one of his eyes creepily turned down towards her, with that twisted smile spreading across his face. “A shame, really. The crown princess... meeting her end like this, a pig in the mud. It can't be helped. Orders are orders.”

The fanged smile on his face had grown ear to ear, an unsettlingly cold smile that made Ichni’s fear radiate even more. “You’d better start begging, or I’ll savor this moment even more. You wouldn’t want me to take my time with it, would you?"

“Not… on my watch…”

I tried to sound like some kind of dramatic savior, but as soon as the moaning words left my mouth, I realized I probably sounded about as threatening as a wet paper towel. Still, the naga turned to look at me, wide-eyed and wary. I floated forward from the shadows, trying my damnedest to exude the presence of a killer. What could I do—suck his soul out? Tear his skin off, one piece at a time? The look of disbelief on the Captain’s face was almost comical. Ichni looked at me, her eyes filled with her own bewilderment at her would-be savior.

"What... the..." she stammered, and the Captain mirrored her confusion.

He took a step back, eyes narrowing, as he prepared for a fight, his bat raised, though he was clearly unsure of how to deal with my ghostly ass. I floated between him and the princess, my body barely more than a transparent shadow. Raising one of my limp, half-formed limbs in his direction, I tried to sound as heroic as possible—though I doubted it was working.

“You... stand... in the face... of justice..." I forced out, my voice barely carrying, but damn if I wasn’t trying to sound badass.

I wasn’t sure if my ghostly, half-formed presence was really intimidating the lion-oger, but the naga looked downright panicked. The eerie silence of the forest, the dead monsters scattered about, probably made my appearance feel like a bad omen. Ichni, though, saw the Captain’s confused look and seemed to find some hope in my little shadowy performance as she pumped her arms in to cheer me on.

“Yeah, you get him! This dumbass ogre-cat was about to turn me into lotion before you showed up!” she cheered, way too confident for my liking. “You better run, Onshi! These things can devour your shadow and curse you to burst into flames the moment the sun touches you!”

Her voice was loud, almost mocking, as she continued her monologue, completely oblivious to my own hesitation. “See that ugly, menacing look on his face?”

Ugly? Why is she attacking me in her speech?

“That’s called the ‘wretched death stare’—you stare into their eyes long enough, and you’ll see your own death flash before you! Drop dead on the spot! Oh, what a bhayan way to go. Honestly, I was hoping to see you beg for mercy, but now? I think I’ll pass. I don’t feel like listening to you cry. Just drop your bat and die right here and now like the piece of garbage you are!”

“You… but that can’t be right…” the Captain muttered incredulously.

“That’s… right… now, here… I come…!” I growled, focusing all the energy I could muster into my right arm as I began to rev up an ol’ shady haymaker, and the princess laughed in delight as I made the killing blow.

I threw the punch of justice!

My arm went right through his chest in one clear shot. At first, I thought the attack was so decisively powerful that I blew a hole right through his heart, but when I retracted my arm I saw that I had literally gone right through him. He looked down after a slight shiver, and then back up at me.

“Huh,” he said, blinking, a little surprised. “Well… that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Everything went dark for a split second, and I felt like I’d been hit by a gust of wind that just passed right through me. When the world returned to focus, I saw the Captain’s bat at the finish of a swing. The Captain had attempted to counter my lifeless blow, only to flub his own attack as well. My vision blurred a few more times from more swings.

The Captain’s face twisted into an expression of pure annoyance, his golden armor catching the light in a sickly way as his patience wore thin. I could feel his growing frustration like a physical pressure.

“Hey… stop that…” I said warningly as I floated back, planning my next move in this life-or-death struggle.

The princess, to her credit, was still shocked in amazement that my moment of heroism- and her chance of survival- had gone up in smoke just as quickly as it appeared. Her cheers had gone from exuberant to gobsmacked in mere seconds.

Mr. Bigshot Pussy Cat clicked his tongue in frustration, clearly trying to piece together how I, a half-baked shade, was still hanging around to annoy him. After a moment, he sighed in exasperation and gave up.

“Well, isn’t this just fantastic,” he muttered with a scowl. “I was looking forward to at least a decent scrap, but now you’re just some poor excuse for a ghost. A spirit, really. A half-assed wraith at best.” He seemed almost proud of himself for coming up with that last jab.

“A… shade,” I muttered, the words barely escaping as I corrected him.

The Captain sneered. “A shade,” he repeated, almost uninterested. “Well, whatever you are, go haunt a stump or whatever the fuck ghosts do these days.” His tone was dismissive, as though I was nothing more than a passing annoyance.

The naga, the one who hadn’t been knocked senseless by the Captain’s bat, spoke up with a dry, almost sarcastic tone. “Guard the haunted windmill, I do believe, Captain.” He had wisely kept his distance, avoiding the earlier swing that had knocked the wind out of his comrade.

“Hmm,” the Captain mused aloud, as though considering the suggestion. “Yeah, that’s about right. Scarin’ Karyn’s old spot. Go make your little ‘woo’ sounds at the old windmill, spiritual shit-stain. Maybe you’ll find some ‘boo-ze’ to drown your pathetic self in.”

“Ha! Good one, Captain!” the other naga chimed in, clearly trying to gain favor, but the disdainful glare the Captain shot his way told him this was no time for the guard’s own jokes. The naga seemed to shrink back in an instant.

“I. Know. Shut. Up.” The Captain’s voice dropped to a menacing growl as he turned his attention back to Ichni. His heavy, muddy steps echoed with a grim finality as he stalked toward her.

Ichni’s once-colorful face was drained, her fear evident as she curled into herself. The Captain loomed over her, lifting his club, and the air seemed to thicken.

“Aham i’ma santesessmi, Ichni,” he cooed softly, his voice sickly sweet and unsettling. I had no clue what he meant, or what language it was, but the expression on his face made it clear: he was savoring every moment of this garish farewell.

Ichni’s eyes widened in terror as she realized what was coming next. She stammered, a desperate plea escaping her lips, her back lowering into the mud. “D-Don’t come any closer, or I’ll scream!” she feebly remarked as the hulking mass of gold and fur loomed over her.

The Captain dropped in one menacing motion as he hunched over to press his face near hers. “Oh, really, princess?” His grin grew wider, predatory, as he inched closer. “Do you promise that? Will you scream your little heart out as I make you regret it? Tear your voice apart to rancid ribbons while I bludgeon you to death?”

His words were low, dripping with sadistic amusement. Ichni’s body trembled beneath his gaze, but she still tried to hold her ground, even if it was only in defiance. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Ichni’s face drained further, and her frantic eyes darted around, looking for any escape. But the grim reality was clear—there was nowhere to run. Her shoulders slumped, and she finally broke, her voice trembling.

“P-p-please, stop… you don’t have to do this...”

Her words were a desperate plea, barely audible against the thudding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

“You’ve finally done what I asked!” the Captain sneered, straightening up with unsettling satisfaction. “Years and years, refusing my requests and favors, and it’s in your final moment that you acquiesce. Ah, I apologize for interrupting. By all accounts, continue begging for your pitiful life, for I need to enjoy this momentous occasion!”

His eyes gleamed with a sick, bloodshot intensity—he was savoring the moment like a hawk with prey trapped in its talons. Pure malice seeped from his very pores, radiating from every movement she made in response.

Ichni, desperate, shook her head, her hands trembling as she reached for his boots, trying to shove him away. But her efforts were futile. He pressed down with his foot, his weight crushing her chest as she coughed up blood, staining her lips.

“Please… stop…” Her voice was weak, but it carried the raw fear of her life slipping through her fingers.

The look in the Captain’s eyes was bloodshot and darkened, as though this exact moment was something he had only hoped for in his dreams. His smile, almost deranged at this point, was evidence enough that he took every pleasure in what he was about to do.

“Don’t… do this…!” I began to beg myself, to no avail.

“The princess, begging for mercy as I crush her under my boot,” the Captain murmured, delighting in the thought. “This will be a story worth telling at the hearth. Farewell, Your Highness.”

“Merdu!” the princess spat back defiantly, but it only made her look more pathetic, her face covered in snot, blood, and tears—like a child unable to cope with her fate. She weakly raised her arms to block the first swing, screaming at her attacker as he cackled at his prey. “No, please! NOOOOO-!”

The sound of the strike was deafening and unmistakable.

WHAM.

I stood there, frozen in shock. I was the hero. I was supposed to save people like her.

WHAM.

Blood sprayed through the air, a twisted fountain of crimson that danced in slow motion before falling back to earth. My gaze was frozen, unable to look away, as I watched the execution unfold, powerless to stop it.

WHAM. WHAM. WHAM.

The air around me thickened with the grotesque sound of bone meeting metal, the rhythm of each brutal strike overwhelming any attempt at clarity. Minutes felt like seconds as the screams and shrieks turned to wet gurgles, and then, mercifully, there was nothing. The last echoes of agony died with the sickening squelch of the Captain’s club crushing through flesh.

I hovered, my spirit trapped in a fog of numbness, unable to feel anything but the emptiness. A part of me wished for an escape, for death to take me and end this suffering. But the silence that followed was my undoing. My mind began to fade, thoughts slipping away like sand in the wind. The world grew distant, muffled. Everything… slowed.

And just like that, I became nothing. I… was nothing.

And strangely, that was okay.