“This is...the scrapyard?”
He looked at his PID to confirm it to be true.
We approached the piles of metallic scrap piled high up into the burgeoning morning.
“What jobs did you have here again?” He asked.
“I have to kill ten of anything here.” I answered, “And find certain sized gears. Luckily it came with a picture.”
On the way here, I found several other herbs; some Eversnow: a white flower that could be used to stymie blood flow, and could be eaten raw, and my Foraging mastery increased by 5%, while my Perception mastery increased by 2%, and my Endurance by 1%.
“So what monsters are here?” He asked.
“I only came across rats and crows.”
“And the rats are aggressive?”
I nodded.
“The crows are as well if you get too close to their nest. Ah, right. There might be some trouble going too far in. I collapsed a good amount of junk on top of the rats from yesterday.”
“Is that so...I don’t see anything.” He was a couple of steps ahead of me, in the clearing right before the winding paths.
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“Hey, you’re right...none of the bodies are here either.”
“Think something ate them?”
I shivered at the thought. There were tens of bodies, if we faced something that could devour that many bodies in such a short period what chance did we have? I hate to say it, but Jack didn’t inspire much confidence. I figured he was probably just a little stronger than I was. Just a little.
Bodies left to the Moons in the Realm will be reduced to Anima. My Ego said.
Well, at least there was a bit of comfort. I wouldn’t have to face a large, all-devouring monster today at least.
Jack set his rucksack down near the closest pile, leaned his two-handed mace by it, swung his rifle to his front, and pressed the butt against his shoulder.
“Shall we start?”
“Start wh—“
The rifle roared to life like the cracking of a whip. One of the crows that had been circling above spiraled to the ground. The PID dinged.
1/10 ‘Mutated,’ or, ‘Monster Killed within the Scrapyard.
Was that luck?
Ping. Crack.
He pulled the bolt back, and the spent casing flew out of the top. Before the brass even had time to fall back down to the earth, he shot, and another Rust Wing crow spiraled down.
2/10
Oh. It wasn’t luck.
The rest of the Rust Wing Flock: from my count of at least 30, ceased their circling and dove straight toward Jack. I pulled out my pistol and fired along with him. It takes three shots to down one for me. At that time, Jack had finished firing the last of the bullets in his rifle. As if responding to this threat, one of the Rust Wing Crows began to bulge and grow until it was about the size of a Great Dane, and its speed increased as it dove toward Jack.
Jack set his rifle down and picked up his mace.
“Jack! Get out of the way!”
The force that one the size of a regular crow was able to produce was enough to send me sprawling to the ground. Something that size...I can’t imagine the force it would produce.
I fired the last few bullets in my pistol at the diving creature, as Jack widened his stance. The bullets pinged off the creature’s hard feathers, and the creature opened its serrated beak as it neared Jack. Fuck. I threw my pistol at the creature and hastily drew my sword.
SLAM.
Jack raised his mace and brought it down right on the top of the head of the large Rust Wing Crow in a quick, almost indiscernible motion. The ground shook as the blow grounded the creature flat; its skull crushed in, and its brains splattered against the ground. The rest of the Rust Wings dove in as well. His hand went to his side drew a sawed-off shotgun and pulled the trigger. Two more fell out of the sky, and he swung his mace like a fly swatter and batted away another; it flew and slammed into the rust pile. The rest of the Rust Wing Crows, sensing their demise, turned and fled back into the skies. He set his mace down, picked up his rifle, and quickly reloaded. After three more shots and three more spiraling dead crows, he set the gun down.
“That should do it.”
I suppose my worries were misplaced, and I suppose my thoughts of him being just a little bit stronger than me were as well.