He did it!
He won!
Ha! Take that ya damn overgrown chickens!
Humanity 1, Cocksucking cocks 0!
... That sounded cooler in my his head.
Whatever, Scoreboard!
Alan grinned at the broken and shivering remnant of the Queen's mental projection. Nothing more than a worm crawling on the ground bleeding as it spasmed. How amusing. He floated there and watched until he decided to put it out of both of their misery. He ate it.
It was poetic justice at its finest as far as he was concerned.
Finally done dealing with the nuisance and assured of its demised he decided to return to his body.
...
Any minute now...
...
Wtf?
His eyes widened in concern as he could no longer feel his connection back. Like a phantom in the night, he dispersed into the air and raced back. He didn't truly have a heart in this form, but it sure felt like something was stuck in his throat as the giant cocoon of the hive grew into nothing more but a dot in the distance.
There it, he, was lying just where he left his body.
Something was wrong though. It wasn't moving. A small remnant of his mind whispered the equivalent of "No shit Sherlock, there's no mind in it!", but it wasn't just that. It was unnatural how still it was and as he came closer the truth he saw but wished to deny came to the front.
His chest wasn't moving. His skin a pale blue. He was dead.
No... This can't be. It has to be a lie- a mistake!
Yes, he was sleeping! Unconcious! Haha, what a lazy body he has, get up. Cmon now, it's cold out here. The mean old Chickens are gone, so why don't you get up? There was stuff to do! Things to see! To try and remember! L-Like school! Yes, get up! We're gonna be late for school! And- and Sarah is going to be mad.
She's going to be really mad if we don't get up. We still gotta do that thing with her... That thing we can never do or remember if you don't. Get. Up. NOW
Frantic he decided to attempt what he did when he first woke up inside of that large creature. He pumped his heart. You needed a heartbeat to live, right? That's it! He just needed to pump his heart again.
Ba-Bump... Ba-Bump... Ba-Bump...
It wasn't working, but he won't give up. Maybe he had to do it faster? Harder?
Ba-Bump Ba-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-Bump
He was gasping for breath now, not out of exertion but a growing sense of hopelessly.
BA-BUMPBa-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump
Please. Get up. Please.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump
Ba-Bump... Ba-Bump... Ba-Bump...
It wasn't working, but he won't give up. Maybe he had to do it faster? Harder?
Ba-Bump Ba-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBA-BUMPBa-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBA-BUMPBA-BUMPBA-BUMPBABUMPBABUMPBABUMPBABUMPBABABABA-!
Finally, Alan Spacer's body jumped once in the air with his spine arched before he slumped back on the ground, a newly made foot wide gaping hole in his chest and the pulpy remains of a heart plopped down next to his face in the snow.
A scream echoed through the night.
Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-Bump Ba-BumpBa-Bump Ba-BumpBA-BUMPBA-BUMPBA-BUMPBABUMPBABUMPBABUMPBABUMPBABABABA-!
Alan Spacer's body jumped once in the air with his back arched backward before he slumped back down, a foot wide gaping hole in his chest and the pulpy remains of a heart plopped down next to his face in the snow.
A scream echoed through the night.
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Tristan glared at his opposition as if it was his most hated enemy. With a shout that came from deep within his chest, he charged forward, his sword aiming for the neck. Two swipes left them reeling backward but he didn't let them escape. He took a step forward and continued his barrage.
The back of the right leg, a stab to the kidneys, a chop to the left arm severing the bicep, he continued unto his willy foe retaliated with a full body tackle.
How clever!
But not clever enough, for he dodged, but alas that was merely part of the scheming bastard's plan for they promptly tripped him after his overextended strike.
"...Are you a fucking moron? What in the nine hells was that?"
The dry and gruff voice knocked out of his concentration as he stared up at clear blue skies and the half-lidded eyes of his instructor. A scarred hand waved towards where his deadly nemesis stood, a scarecrow stuffed with hay and bobbing from the force of his blows. It was mocking him, he knows it!
With a huff of equal part exhaustion and frustration he snarked back "I'm training my swordwork, what does it look like to you old man?"
Sudden a loud barking of laughter that seemed much too loud to erupt from such a small frame was heard in the field. "Was that it? I thought you were trying to imitate a drunken monkey. To call the fumbling you did "swordsmanship" would be the equivalent of calling my shit a work of art!"
Tristan's face was set into a hard grimace as he knew the truth behind the old man's words. He was pathetic. If only he wasn't so weak maybe things wouldn't have turn out the way they did. So in spite of the ache in his arms and the burning in his thighs he got up and picked up his "sword" once more. It was the straightest branch he could find, being too poor to even buy a makeshift training blade.
"Didn't ya hear me, brat? You're wasting your time, might as well give up and go back home."
He ignored the man's word as he focused on swinging his blade. With each hit, he tried to imagine it was not a lifeless scarecrow tied to a wooden post, but a scaled head with a mouth filled with wicked fangs.
Twack
Twack
Twack
It's getting late and I'm sure your parents are worried."
Twack
A particularly hard blow echoed. He didn't look back but decided to answer the old man anyways, even if only in hopes that it would get him to begone.
"I don't have any. Not anymore."
"Huh? What do you mean-"
"I'm from Nottingham."
The man's eyes widened as he recalled hearing about the tragedy that had occurred there. 300 villagers, all massacred by strange scaled creatures capable of wielding destructive light magic at a moment's notice. This lad must've been one of the few survivors that the Lion Knights had managed to rescue.
A tense silence filled the field but the boy went back to his exercise.
He could faintly hear the sound of footsteps even in his focus. Good. One less distraction.
Yet he had spoken too soon as a few minutes later the man had returned carrying a few things in hand. One of which sailed through the air and landed itself upon his head and knocked him over.
"Come," With a nod with his head, the man walked away without a single glance back. In his right hand was a beautiful wooden practice blade, so well polished that it was better-suited hanging on some Noble's wall as an art piece than as a tool of battle. Although the man's hand was blocking it, he knew there was a crimson sun symbol on the handle. How did he know this? Because an identical one sword was resting on his lap after hitting him in the head.
"Hurry up, kid. I don't have all day and I only asked to borrow their practice room for two hours."
With a start, Tristian hurried up on his feet and followed after the man. Their destination the source of the sword now in his hands, local Crimson Sun Mercenary base.
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