Ping pong was pretty fun to watch. He had always preferred it to other sports, and yes it was indeed a sport, but it sure as hell wasn't fun being the ball.

He barely managed to put up a barrier before the creature's immense body smashed into him, turning him into a murderous bowling ball as he ran over and through scores of the lesser aliens before ricocheting off the flesh towers. With every bounce, he could feel his head throb and his shield develop spiderweb cracks.

This wasn't a space bug, this was a biological impossibility. How does its bones and muscles support such mass? How does it function with such pressure on its innards? But like with everything else in this swarm, it gave a middle finger to him and biology with its sheer existence.

To say he was angry was to put it mildly. He hasn't showered in days, his feet were caked in slime and guts, there was the most annoying itch on his back that his arms couldn't reach, and he smelled like rot and milk left in the sun.

He has had it with these bullshit things that refused to die.

To quote a wise man, "KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

Thankfully for his plan, the atmosphere on this world was quite similar to Earth, bearing a slight difference in composition and a strange element or two he couldn't identify.

A small test, a couple of blown up buggers on the side, and he was ready.

"You know I have heard that some Asian countries roast crickets and other insects as a popular snack...I wonder, would you taste delicious?"

Perhaps the answering roar was one of outrage that "prey" such as him would even suggest eating a physical embodiment of hunger, perhaps it was just mindless rage. He chose to believe in the former.

The fearsome cry was cut short.

Not from a lack of effort, but rather because of crushing pressure, as if an invisible giant was attempting to squeeze its guts out and make some bug juice.

With a groan the massive beast sunk to its knees, the ground caving not only under its weight but the rapidly increasing atmospheric pressure.

The concentration of Oxygen and Hydrogen along with frankly any other flammable gas he could find within miles was being forced into a sphere around it.

A bead of sweat dripped down his brows despite the blizzard raging around him.

Making a tunnel beneath his feet he sank once more into the earth, hardening and compacting the direct around him, before supercharging the air molecules above.

The biggest thermobaric bomb had just been created.

The explosion almost threatened to cause the earth to crush him even with him being half a dozen mile underground. After 10 minutes he thought it was safe enough to return to the surface.

What was once snow-covered hills tainted with mountains of corpses and rivers of blood was now a plain of black. Molten rocks and craters without end stared back at him. Even as he stared, there was no sign of movement in the blazing hellscape he had created, and with the ongoing storm, even that would be buried with time. Nothing would be left to stand testament to the week-long war he had waged and that was just the way he liked it. No need to troublesome natives to pester him. Get the task done and get on with life was his new motto.

It was a job well done in his opinion. Even the army of bugs seemed to have been vaporized or turned to ash in the aftermath. He would have to scan the perimeter later and a couple of sweeps to be sure, but it was confident that the end was near.

"Heh, how did ya like that? Space Cockroaches 0, humanity 1!"

He really should've learned by now not to tempt fate. Especially considering all the mystic mumbo jumbo present in both his previous world and this one. For all, he knew an embodiment of some cosmic aspect or some shit really was out there and had decided to fuck with him.

After all, how else would you explain the giant monster now swimming out of the lava towards him? Did he mention that it was almost none the worst for wear and was now on fire?

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Because of course, it was. Nothing could ever be easy for him.

----------------------------------------

He had been trying to kite this ridiculous walking battlecruiser for the past few hours, even as he was fighting it he could see more of the lesser ones coming from the direction of the hive. So far they had decided to sit back and shoot him with pot shots after he had led the monster charging through their ranks the first few times.

Smart little shits they were, Alan would give them that.

He was down an arm, having lost it when the Behemoth had taken him by surprise by extending its long arms to burrow through the ground and ambush him. He would smack himself in the face for such a rookie mistake, of not keeping his Psionic detection activated, but he had been running on fumes for far too long.

He couldn't keep this up. He simply wasn't strong enough as he was.

He would just have to change that wouldn't he? Either they died or he did, and we all know what they say about drastic times.

Which was how he found himself flying towards the sea of arms surfing through the air on a large boulder. He had sharpened it to a point and made it as dense as he could, as if he was some Eastern Wuxia protagonist he used it as if it truly was a flying sword.

Anything that blocked his way he would slice through them, whatever he couldn't deflect or block, he made sure would not stop his momentum. He gave flesh to cut at the bones of the enemy, a reckless charge with only the tiniest consideration to defense in an effort to cut down the travel time by even the smallest second.

The arms were more akin to tentacles as they seemed to have no bones, using their length to act as whips and their eyes to track his every twitch. Their fingers extended into nets as they tried to tie him down. The creature might have sense something off about his behavior as he would normally try his best to avoid coming into such close distance with it.

It wasn't a stupid beast. It didn't stand its ground and let him have an easy time with his plan, no the clever bastard decided to go for a swim in one of the bigger pools of lava.

Fun fact, Lava is made of molten rocks.

Duh, but what most people don't consider when they watch videos of Supers with invulnerability swim in them on Youtube was... Rocks are frigging heavy and dense!

He felt like he was being crushed and every inch he moved felt like crawling a fly trying to crawl through maple syrup. This was ignoring the fact he couldn't see jack shit and the blistering heat. He could, of course, drain the heat elsewhere, but then they would solidify.

It was a lose-lose situation, Thankfully by the time it had reached the lava he wasn't too far away and he managed to find what he was looking for.

An opening.

Scanning inside for any other monstrosity in wait he let out a sigh of relief. No alien tapeworms or guts coming to life to eat him was good enough as he fell flat on his face. The creature was currently running rampage outside in a berserk rage as it sensed him inside of it.

That was the easy part of his plan.

Now for the hard part.

His eyes turned a solid blue as he focused.

His body which was only mildly pink from the heat of the impromptu lava bath was now a steaming red, veins around his neck and especially his eyes bulged and wiggled as if there were thousands of centipedes crawling just underneath. His body was drenched in sweat yet he didn't move a twitch, dared not too for the consequences were far too dire.

What was he doing you ask?

The equivalent of doing open heart surgery. While blindfolded and wearing mittens. While on a dirty crowded subway. And since that was far too easy, lets factor in that it was going off the rails at 200 mph. Maybe then you would come close.

He was in basic terms reprogramming his mind and giving himself a lobotomy.

Did ya know, that like a person's muscle, there are limiters to our brains? We only use around 10% of our capacity! Isn't that wonderful?

And a steaming hot load of shit. That was some bullshit people use to sell you bootleg "brain booster" pills. Some idiotic concept of how Psychic powers worked back in the 20th century. An explanation that lazy fanfic writers used for their hero's powers.

The brain, in fact, uses every part of it. One of the most complex organ in the damn body and people actually thought there were spare parts? Idiotic.

What, did God or evolution just decided "Hey, Michael, since we have some spare bits of flesh left, lets just shove it in...What has space? Oh I know! the cranium!"

Every part, every fold of grey matter, every strand of nerves, had a fucking purpose. There are sections of our heads used for different purposes. Math, Languages, etc.

He was simply rewiring everything.

Even the Cerebellum and Medulla. The things required for motor control and involuntary functions needed for life such as heartbeat and breathing. Hopefully, he could use his powers to manually pump his heart long enough to finish this complete SNAFU.

He was going all in, do or die.

He really didn't want to die though.

After all, he still never got to finish his degree! Never went on that trip to Japan with Sarah. Never got to apologize to John for taking a shit in his house and not flusing. It wasn't his fault he forgot! Some asshole was trying to turn people in human-animal hybrids and he forgot in the aftermath of the city clean up!

Fucking furries... He didn't even get to see a single cat girl! And they were more animal than human anyway... Still, it was the principle of the matter!

He thought over his life, the mediocre, plain, simple life he forced upon himself. He had so many things he still had to do... He was scared...

With the red cavern of flesh above him being the last thing he saw, Alan Spacer closed his eyes and he focused on the biggest gamble of his life.