Chad wasn't the brightest bulb. He knew that as well as anyone. However, even he could tell that there was something a little wrong with the current situation.

I don't think this is how this skill's supposed to work.

As he directed the truck to continue ramming swaths through the incoming enemy forces amid the rapid gunfire, he briefly pondered whether he was the first human being to ever successfully throw a truck. Sure, it hadn't been a real throw in his book, but he couldn't help that. Not when his dang legs were holding him back. And besides, what did it matter what he thought? The skill had certainly counted it as a throw.

His musings were brief, though, as he continued maneuvering the truck about the air. The good news was that the enemy's ranged attacks had all but ceased. They were constantly forced to dodge or be pulverized by the flying vehicle, though calling it a vehicle at this point felt a little generous. It more resembled a hunk of twisted metal. The other good news was that the truck and hail of bullets had taken down the enemy's numbers pretty significantly.

The bad news was that they had made it into melee range.

The scattered remains of the ship's flying forces dived down toward the line of cars, wielding an assortment of sticks, swords, clubs, and hammers in their appendages. They crashed into the humans below with bellows and warcries. However, he didn't have time to check what the others were doing. Especially considering how many of the crowd were headed his way.

Chad angled Tom's truck into the ground -- he couldn't very well run it through the melee, after all. As soon as he did, his first opponent darted over the vehicle in front of him, dropping a glider behind it. The weird fish-headed humanoid with a dorsal fin coming out of its chest seemed to swim through the air, stabbing forward a spear crackling with electricity. It screamed, revealing a mouthful of shark-like jagged teeth.

"DIIIIIEEEEE!"

Rather than ponder how exactly he could understand the fishman's gargling words, Chad decided to make the smart play and duck out of the way. With a shout of "holy shit," he managed to just slip to the side. He could feel the hairs on the back of his arm stand up as the electrical spearhead passed him by.

Luckily, the fish thing was a lot less competent than he first thought, stumbling forward as its stab failed to find its mark. Chad managed to put his fist straight through the thing's gut as it came close.

Could he have taken the hit with his arm? Maybe. But he didn't want to test it out. He'd been tased before, and it hadn't exactly been his favorite experience.

He spun to the side as another creature landed to his left, striking out with a gauntleted fist. This one looked fairly human, but with pitch black eyes and long blond hair pulled back in dreads. Chad managed to push him aside with his weaker arm, but as his foe fell an identical twin of the man sprang up and continued the strike unimpeded. The spiked knuckles of his gauntlets drove into Chad's chest, sinking in at least half an inch before scratching down his left pec.

Chad gritted his teeth against the pain and swung his fist wildly as he fell back, clipping the man's shoulder with his knuckles. The thing shattered like glass as he fell screaming. The other identical man had managed to regain his feet though, diving at Chad with another punch as he stumbled backward.

This time, Chad was ready. He caught the man's fist in his own, the spikes slamming into his palm without breaking the skin. The attacker's eyes widened in surprise, Chad squeezed, feeling the bones snap like twigs between his fingers. The pulpy mess and metal of the other man's mangled hand filled his own. His opponent's already wide eyes bulged in horror. Fist clenched, Chad thrust forward and put it through his face.

Chad shook off his hand, feeling a little bit of bile rise in his throat. Fuck. That was kinda gruesome.

Glancing around for the next threat, Chad saw nothing but chaos all around. Everywhere he looked, humans were locked in deadly battle with their distinctly nonhuman opponents. He saw that many had drawn knives or affixed them to their rifles as bayonets, striking out as they continued to pepper their opponents with gunfire.

The opponents were individually high levels, but they'd lost their numbers advantage on the way over. Now, they were fighting well-armed defenders at three-to-one odds at least. Hopefully it would be enough.

Some of the enemies also saw the difficulty of their position, it seemed. Chad saw a few take off into the air once more, attempting to flee the ongoing battle. However, they were quickly gunned down in a shower of pistol and rifle fire.

Chad suddenly remembered his own sidearm, pulling the weapon out with his left as another strange humanoid combatant charged towards him. It took him a few shots to actually land one, but when he did, the thing fell on its face with a gurgling sound. As he switched to the next target, something wet latched onto his arm. Looking down, a slimy pink tentacle wrapped around his wrist, wrenching the gun away from his target.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Gross. Get this thing outta here.

He reached over with his right and grabbed the appendage, yanking it forward. Rather than rip free though, the thing stretched like a rubber band. As it snapped back to its usual length, he looked down its length for its owner.

A weird frog-like creature yelled incomprehensibly as it rocketed toward Chad. His eyes widened as it slammed into him uncontrollably, sending him to the ground. The air rushed out of his lungs at the heavy impact. Worse, he couldn't get another breath in. The frog man sat on top of him, practically crushing him with its bulbous body and sheer weight.

Damn. How is this thing so heavy?!

The thing's tentacle-like tongue was still wrapped around Chad's left arm, even as they both recovered from their respective dazes. He tried to crush it with his right, but found the thing as rubbery as before. It simply bounced and stretched to accommodate his grip.

The frog man shook his head, planting his knees on either side of Chad's chest. Then it raised its fist, bludgeoning down toward Chad's nose. He felt it crack as blood started to leak down his throat.

The frog prepared to rain more blows down, but before it could, Chad reached up and slapped it. The impact sent the frog man's head exploding into a pink mist of gray matter and bone shards. It crumpled forward, its weight relieving his lungs of their remaining air until he pushed the now headless corpse off of him. He shook its pink tongue off of his arm, letting it fall to the ground like a dead snake.

Chad started to get up to his feet, using his strong arm to push himself up. Every other part of him hurt like he'd been the one hit by Tom's truck, but the fight wasn't over yet. He didn't even get all the way to his feet before a humanoid with a pig snout and boar tusks jutting from its lower lip slammed into his chest, knocking him backward again.

He rolled head over heels as they tumbled across the churned earth of the field. Chad managed to kick free as the pig attempted to wrestle him down, but slipped in the loose dirt while trying to get to his feet. The pig managed to stand up first. It aimed a vicious kick at his head, but Chad raised his hand in defense, snagging the ankle right as it came for his face.

Dang. Guess that dexterity is paying off, huh?

He stopped the thing's hoof dead, then looked up at the pig's beady eyes and squeezed. Its ankle bones turned to powder in his crushing grip. Pulling on the leg, he brought the creature down to his level and used the momentum to stand himself up. A simple downward punch into the ground left a small crater where the pig's head had once been.

Chad looked around and found that things were not going quite as well as he'd hoped for everyone else. Wounds covered his own body, but at least he was still standing. Many of his allies were defending each other, protecting the injured that littered the battlefield. The remaining attackers, while whittled down, also weren't giving up yet.

As he glanced over, he spotted Tom only a dozen paces away. The man was pinned down, a winged snake standing over him with a dagger in hand.

"Hey!" Chad shouted. He activated Duelist, sprinting forward with as much power as he could force into his legs. Strength surged through him as the dagger froze in midair, then swiveled toward him with the rest of the snake's sinuous body.

Chad's elbow crashed through its chest, pulverizing its flesh with a single blow. As the creature's mangled corpse fell limp, he offered a helping hand down to Tom. "You ok, Mr. President?"

The man's eyes were wide, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. A long gash down his sleeve was soaked through with red. "Yeah... thanks, son."

Tom shook himself as Chad helped him up. He fumbled an extra magazine from his belt, then finished reloading. "I'll count saving my life as payment for the truck you wrecked."

Chad winced. "Er... Sorry about that."

Tom managed a dry chuckle, nodding to the rest of the battle-torn cars. "Well, it wasn't making it outta here in one piece anyway."

"Chad! Right side!"

He heard Squawkers call out the danger from above. A seemingly normal human charged toward him, a Viking sword made of bronze held high. The man wore a helmet decorated with ebony-colored horns and what appeared to be leather armor. As he approached, a fireball materialized in the pseudo-viking's left hand and hurled toward Chad.

The world slowed down as the flames rushed toward him. Tom was still behind him, so he couldn't simply dodge. In a split-second decision, Chad decided to trust in his arm once again and block.

He thrust his palm out toward the flames, bracing for impact. But rather than the burning sensation he'd expected, the fireball did nothing but gently warm his palm. It didn't even singe his arm hair.

The sword swung down at his head, but Chad managed to raise his same forearm to block the blow. The blade bent against his iron skin with a high-pitched whine, denting its edge inward.

He punched out with his free left hand and met the man's face guard. The impact cracked his knuckles, sending lances of pain through his hand. Chad hissed. If those knuckles weren't broken, then they were sure as hell bruised.

The blow sent the viking's head back a few inches, but otherwise didn't have much of an effect. He decided to remedy that by using the hand meant for punching this time. Then there was no more helmet to worry about. Or head.

With that, Chad realized that the sounds of combat around him had largely subsided. Looking around, he found that it was, in fact, a good thing. All but a few attackers had been taken down, the last of them being ganged up on by knife- and gun-wielding locals. Honestly, it would have almost seemed unfair if Chad hadn't seen where the battle had started.

After the last pockets of conflict died down, Chad panted and looked down at himself. He was bleeding, bruised, and had more than a couple of broken bones in all likelihood. He felt a little tightness in his lower back from lifting that truck, and he also needed another shower. But he was alive, at least. And they had won.

Though I'm starting to think I need that cleaning proficiency after all.