Agony, raw and hot. The feel of bone splintering. The ache of flesh tearing. It was all a mixture of sensations as his mind slowly came back to himself. His blurred vision focused and revealed the world around him.

Swathes of blood spewed out from the fresh wound, rewarding the few remaining creatures below in the flavour of injury. The taste only served to make their raging fervour yet wilder. The pain was well and truly blinding. Brock had long thought himself to have become relatively immune to pain, yet here he was, screaming in till his throat became hoarse as he was hoisted up and onto the wall surrounding the nest.

Everything seemed to be so sharply in focus, his hearing crisp, his sight immaculate, yet at the same time, he could see and hear nothing. His mind was consumed by blank thoughts and the constant drone of anguish. And while he could vaguely hear it, the yelling voice of Harry was unable to find the purchase of understanding in his companion's mind.

Numbly, Brock lolled his head to face his other hand, watching as the radiant glow that had inhabited it began to ebb and fade, revealing the slightly charred flesh of his appendage behind. His Augment seemed to have reached the threshold where it entirely outstripped his body’s innate resistance to it.

Although that revelation was perhaps a blessing in disguise as Brock’s survival instincts kicked in and he splayed his palm across the gushing stump of his right arm, channelling Sparks and bathing it in searing flame.

His screaming redoubled as he willed his Augment to cauterize the wound, but eventually, it was done, and his sight was met with a blackened ending to the beginning of his forearm. The imagery filled him with despair, to have lost his limb and also the weapon that had tread beside him for all this time. That itself hurt almost as much as his actual pain.

A hand abruptly slapped across his face, and everything fell away, returning his brain to the real world once again. His mind felt scrambled, yet as he met Harry’s frantic gaze and parsed apart his screams, he knew that they had to leave. And they had to do it quickly.

Brock had used his Augment, and they knew it was coming.

Instinctively, Brock tried to get up, using his hands to push himself to a standing position, but he found himself face first as his extremities no longer had the same functions they had once possessed. Harry made to help the man to his feet, and together they scrambled up to the edge overlooking the area the nest was built upon.

Harry said something, but Brock couldn’t truly understand it. Only the place they now found themselves.

His eyes were met by a vast stretch of familiar red sand and shrubbery. Gargantuan chunks of stone littered the place, jutting out of the sand akin to powerful monoliths and owning the very same crimson colour. The nest itself was stationed atop a relatively flat - albeit somewhat cracked - one of those stones. It was utterly humongous compared to the other pieces, and far outsized even the nest that had been built upon it.

If Brock wasn’t mistaken, they were at Uluru. Or at least what remained of it.

Suddenly, he stilled. A screech echoed in the distance, loud enough to pierce the veil obscuring his hearing yet far enough away that he knew they still had two or three minutes until the beast arrived. Shaking his head, Brock looked away from the ruins.

He knew it wasn’t the time for sightseeing the devasted remains of such a religious site. Right now, a monster capable of tearing them to utter shreds was speeding their way and Brock was not going to try to fight it. He actually valued his life.

…Sorry James, but kidnap it is. He wasn’t risking his life for a town he’d left long in his past. A pang of guilt and… disgust flared in his stomach. Brock ignored it. He’d only agreed to kill it because he thought he’d be ready when the time came.

Needless to say, he wasn’t ready.

Together, Harry and Brock scaled down the side of the nest and toward the sandstone below, with the younger boy helping his impaired friend to the best of his ability all the while. Quickly, they tapped down and began a mad sprint across the surface, heading directly toward the opposite edge of the monument.

“I know I’ve said this a lot, but what the fuck do we do?!” Harry exclaimed, sprinting beside his companion, who heard his words, albeit with much difficulty behind the throbbing of his heart in his ears.

Brock bit his lip and searched the sky, satisfied as he spotted no sign of the Sky Bandit yet. He had no idea how long it would stay that way, “I don’t fucking know, mate! Try not to shit yourself?!”

The most powerful fighter in the group had lost both his strongest weapon and the very arm that wielded it. He was severely handicapped in terms of combat power currently, and even before that, he hadn’t been totally sure he’d be able to come out victorious in a brawl against the Sky Bandit.

Desperately, Brock wanted to fall to his knees and mourn the loss of his arm, but the time demanded he wait. He held onto the slim hope that it was merely an injury the System could heal with time, though he couldn’t find any confidence in the uncertainty. All he’d have to do now was get out of here alive, then he could find some of that certainty he so dearly wanted.

“Oh, no shit sherlock.” Harry spat back. Brock didn’t even have the energy to respond.

Inwardly, through his mind’s eye, Brock could see that his Ascendancy was beating steadily, sending waves of rejuvenating energies down to the pathways in his stump. Although, whether or not it was actually helping was yet to be seen. We’re so fucked. Why did I agree to this? I… I should have just taken what I needed…

Idly, he noticed that the flame rotating around the heart of energy had flared in intensity, smouldering brightly with crimson light. It radiated a painful heat just by looking at it, and Brock was confident that it had evolved once more with his recent use of it. He just hoped it would be enough to come in clutch in the case they couldn’t escape.

The nest of the Sky Bandit was built relatively close to the edge of Uluru, only a hundred or so meters away, and the duo soon approached the end of the stretch. Looking down, they gulped in unison, all but certain the drop wasn’t something they could endure and come out of alive. If his memory served him correctly, the drop was a bit over three hundred meters down.

Using his immense Intelligence to rack his brain at speeds dozens of times faster than he could have ever done so previously, Brock rapidly recalled a key few items located in his spatial ring and a plan began to formulate.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Cursing profusely, he opened up the ring and summoned out one of the half a dozen or so contraptions James had made specifically for use during the ensuing fight with the Sky Bandit.

Harry’s eyes bulged at the hulking sight of the item as it appeared, but as soon as he spotted the jagged harpoon his gaze flared with understanding, “James… made that?”

“Fucking oath he did.”

James had created a strange weapon, that’s for sure. It consisted of a single, torso width barrel, twice as tall as Brock himself. A sizable canister of gas slick with oil could be seen slotted into the base of the item, encased by both a layer of thick viewing glass and dulled metal. Sitting within the shaft was a jagged harpoon of scraps, attached to the edge of the barrel by an old, coiled iron chain.

The thing easily weighed several tons, and as it slammed down onto the stone it splintered a few chunks away. Hastily, Brock grasped onto it and did his best to lower the thing onto its side, although the effect he had was barely noticeable. His Strength stat was nowhere near high enough.

Hissing out a breath, he eyed the button sitting right outside the area where the canister resided. James had given him a brief rundown on its use and estimated range, and he did his best to kick the end of the weapon over to the left, aiming it subtly at a splintered piece of rock sitting roughly forty or so meters away.

“Block your ears, mate.” Brock wasted no more time and stomped down onto the button, bracing himself as the metal spike underneath scraped against another and continued down into the canister. Sparks flew.

The very next second, the entire area was drowned in an absolutely deafening boom, the explosion powered harpoon launcher buckling with strain as it sent the two-meter-long harpoon screaming through the air. Feeling blood dribble out from his eardrums, Brock watched as the massive metal spike impacted the sandstone and found firm purchase within.

Dust and orange stone shot everywhere.

The chunk it had connected to was on a steep angle, and Brock knew that if they landed on it right, they should slide down its rocky slope. Although, he was certain it’d hurt a metric fuck ton. Swiftly, he summoned a sword from his ring and chucked it to Harry.

The boy fumbled with it before finally catching the weapon and Brock yelled out, unsure whether he was screaming or whispering as he spoke, “ZIP-LINE DOWN HARRY!!”

Brock was definitely yelling.

Time was rapidly running out as he looked up into the sky and saw the strangely familiar, yet tiny silhouette of the Sky Bandit as it tore through the clouds far in the distance. Brock wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist tightly. Then, without giving any warning, he lifted the boy and charged forward before leaping over the edge and to the chain.

Squealing, Harry clumsily whipped his sword over the top of the chain and grasped the other side, the previous momentum speeding them forward. Sparks flew from the flat of the blade and Brock could see that the sword was beginning to draw blood from Harry’s palm and fingers, but fortunately, they were zipping downwards and swiftly approaching the drop-off point.

Another piercing screech resounded through the sky, and Harry was almost startled out of his grip. He held on, however, and they soon crashed into the surface of the rock, the impact robbing the air stored in both their lungs. Brock let go of Harry and Harry let go of the sword as they barrelled down the slope of the sandstone, earning themselves their fair share of painful scrapes and cuts.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, depending on which way one looked at it, the slope continued onward for hundreds of meters, leaving only a fifteen-meter drop at the end for them to survive. Through throbbing ears, Brock could feel the vibrations more than hear it as Harry screamed out in agony, and while the world was enveloped in the realm of spins and nausea, Brock saw the Sky Bandit rapidly closing in on them.

It zoomed overhead mere seconds later, carving out huge swathes of the stone behind them with its talons and forcing the entire structure to shake furiously. Brock only managed to curse once before the spinning saw a stream of puke leaving his mouth.

The spiralling was seemingly endless as he was assaulted by the rugged landscape, continuing on without rest and constantly flaying the flesh from his body through repeated contact. Brock barely even got a flash of view through his rolling as the massive form of the Sky Bandit abruptly appeared before him and tore through the stone, blowing him away with a torrent of rock and dust.

Huh?

For a few seconds, he just spun through the air unmoving, left baffled by what had just transpired. It was only when he saw Harry as he continued down the slope, bloodied and fast, that he realised he was now in the air, plummeting to his doom along with a slew of pieces of ancient stone.

The air slashed at his face savagely as he fell, and he idly estimated a drop of a bit under forty meters to be awaiting him. Frantically, Brock tried to orientate himself in the air, although it was to no avail. It was like he was aimlessly drifting through a nebula of red, as dust and stone orbited him, joining him in his final moments.

…What did I do to deserve this shit?

As the meters bled away and Brock began to fall quicker and quicker each second, it truly seemed like this would be his demise. He just hoped Harry would get away, maybe even return to Alice Springs and defeat Jordan to save his brother or something. The teenager should be powerful enough now or at least nearing his strength. The man was clumsy enough for him to win.

Although granted, the kid was just as clumsy.

Idly, he glanced to his charred stump. The pain had long transformed from overwhelming anguish to a stinging ache under the unceasing flow of his adrenaline, and he supposed now was the time to mourn its loss, in the remaining time he had left. He also wished he had found his mother and sister and confirmed their survival with his own eyes. Alas, the reign of the System was ruthless, and the cruel machinations of life were no different.

The image of his family clung to the forefront of his mind as he lamented on-

Time to react was not a liberty Brock was given as he was suddenly impacted sideways by a powerful gust of wind, smashing him painfully into a falling piece of stone and briefly stalling the momentum of his fall with its inherent strength. He tried to glance around for the culprit, but the ground met him first, and a gut-wrenching crunch resounded as he landed. The entirety of his left leg was consumed by unbelievable pain.

He didn’t even have to look to know his leg had been obliterated by the fall as he screamed in pain so hard his throat bled. He could vividly feel the shards of bone and twisted muscle as they tore through the bounds of his flesh and splattered the surrounding earth in a steady pump of his own blood.

Above him, the dark figure of the Sky Bandit continued to fly ahead, clearly the source of the disruption that had accidentally saved his life. Sure, his leg was utterly fucked now, but it was a majorly better outcome than if his body swapped places with his leg. He’d much rather have a shattered leg than torso and head.

Powerful billows of wind stormed through the area as the bird circled the monolithic sandstone, searching for the other of the two intruders. Brock looked over and observed as Harry spiralled off the side of the slope and smacked into the ground, kicking up a small plume of red dust. As it cleared, Brock found relief that the boy looked somewhat ok.

From the fall at least.

His clothes were a torn mess, and his skin was peeling off in bloodied clumps, his body coated by virtue of his own oozing sunset blood. The kid’s face was creased with pain, and he managed to crawl out from the small divot he had created, before immediately meeting the dulled eyes of his companion.

His expression brightened, then instantly darkened with horror. Brock blinked, understanding why perfectly.

…Fuck. I just wanted to run man…

Brock felt the overpowering pressure of the Sky Bandit’s aura pressing down on him, and slowly, he dared to shift his gaze over as the humongous beast landed a mere handful of meters away from him. It regarded the man with two beady black eyes that flared with recognition.

Unlike its chicks, this monster wasn't some cruel imitation of nature, and was instead just... normal?

With a gaping mouth, Brock looked over the sleek white and black feathers, the gargantuan body and the monster’s scaled feet. The tips of its feathers were silvery, clearly tainted by some sort of metallic property and appeared sharp beyond belief. Each jagged talon practically radiated danger, and leisurely, the creature met his eyes.

Deadpanning, Brock forgot about his pain, fear, and despair just for the moment and read the name as it flickered overhead. You’ve got to be kidding me…

[F] Little Shit, the Tyrant of the Sky (LVL 75)

“…Nah, seriously what the fuck.”

It seemed that Brock had met an old friend.