The wall of monsters were still a good fifty feet away. Logan had time to increase their speed and gradually outpace them, but first, they needed to kill the snakes within reach. Instead of two on each side, they were dealing with ten at once, and because these snakes were wise to Logan’s tactics, they were gliding from side to side, up and down, in a zigzag—no predictable pattern. Everything but the kitchen sink.
And if he dropped the oars to pick up the Cursed Length of Rope, that meant their speed would drop, and the wall of monsters would catch up.
A pool of dread opened up in Logan’s stomach as he considered and then discarded options. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
They were so screwed.
Ernie tilted his head towards the sky and glanced at the zigzagging snakes, bobbing excitedly as his tentacles danced. He tried to grasp them like a child trying to grasp bubbles only to pout as each bubble burst.
Logan had no choice. He had to keep the canoe moving. That meant the logs, whether they were ineffectual considering the snake’s tactics or not.
Yet there was one more thing he could try. The spatial collar was built for storage, but it had obeyed Logan when he wanted to deposit an item into thin air. If it cooperated that way, what else could he do?
Still powering away at the oars, sweat beading on his forehead and stinging his eyes, he mentally rummaged. With so many items inside his collar, it would make sense if it were difficult to keep track of the contents, but the collar defied the laws of physics. It had to be magic, or technology so advanced it went way over Logan’s head.
Somehow, he only had to think about the contents and a picture populated in his mind. He could scan through each item in an instant, narrowing in on exactly what he wanted. If Logan wanted logs, they were there. If he wanted to review all his logs, they were all there.
And if he wanted to examine each one and narrow in on a log that was longer than the others, skinny, in an odd shape with a knobbly knot, it was there as well. On the beach, this thing had looked as if it had come down in a windstorm, the bottom torn at an angle, branches and pine needles attached to the top.
Logan eyed the sky. Each snake was different in size, some thick like firehoses, others the size of regular garden snakes. Even as they glided back and forth in a zigzag, they kept Logan in their sights, red eyes filled with malice, fangs drooling saliva. They were gliding back and forth, over the canoe and to the sides. As the wind kicked up, their saliva landed on Ernie and Logan like drizzling rain.
“Ugh!” said Ernie, bracing himself on the edge of the boat with two tentacles, lifting himself up while reaching above with the others. They were getting closer, so close that the octopus could almost reach, but they were doing their best to avoid him, gliding back and forth, their entire focus on Logan.
Just as Logan was about to will the log out of his collar, one of the snakes—a great, ugly fucker with extra curved fangs like a sabretooth—dived for the canoe. The thing was agile! It darted away from Ernie’s tentacles, swinging past and going for Logan’s face.
Shit, he had to drop the oars! Logan reached for the rope, but the snake was too fast as it darted at him. He turned his head at the last second, but that meant he’d given it access to the side that was unprotected by [Mimicry Armour]. The thing took a chunk of flesh, a massive bite that scored deep into the existing wound. Pain shuddered through him, like a wasp sting amplified to a thousand.
The snake darted away before he could retaliate, its mouth curved in a smile around a chunk of bloody flesh as it glided out of reach. Was the thing grinning? The fucker was grinning!
Around a chunk of flesh, no less! It was going to pay. Logan felt his face turning red as his anger surged. Disregarding the blood pouring down his neck, he grabbed the oars, trying to keep their speed at a steady pace. The snake swarm had already started to catch up. But that didn’t mean he was letting it off the hook.
Logan had a trick up his sleeve. Narrowing his eyes, he aimed for the thing, waiting until it had grouped with five others in a tight pattern above them and to the left of the canoe’s bow before aiming at the sky right below them and willing the log out.
But at the last second, right as it materialized, he wrenched, telling the collar, that was a mistake, deposit it here instead.
The spatial collar obeyed. Adjusting, it jerked the log up like a slingshot, depositing it ten feet higher and at an angle. It slammed into the grinning snake, a jutting gnarly tree limb stabbing right through its head, the broad base knocking the others clear out of the sky like a battering ram. Two other broken tree limbs stabbed through various parts of the snakes’ bodies, pulverizing them, green goo gushing, blood speckling like a paint gun.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level 24 Flying Hunting Snake! Extra experience granted for defeating an enemy above your level.]
[You have defeated a Level 18 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 16 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 22 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 23 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have leveled up!]
[You have leveled up!]
The level increase didn’t even register. There was too much going on around them, too much at risk. One degree too far to the right was the difference between life and death, and Logan had miscalculated.
A snake had managed to survive. Subjected to a severed tail from a tree limb cutting straight through it, it wobbled in the sky before righting itself, green blood dropping to the lake as it swished its tail in anger. It screeched, that inhuman bullhorn sound, stirring the swarm of snakes into a frenzy.
Motherfu—
Logan eyed the distance between the swarm and the canoe, darting a glance down at the Cursed Rope and back to his oars. If he paused rowing to pick up the weapon, the swarm would catch up. It was the difference between a poor choice and an abysmal choice. He had to keep rowing or risk them being in an even worse position than before.
“Ernie, see if you can kill that thing,” Logan ground out through his rowing, his muscles corded with tension. “It’s already injured.”
Ernie’s tentacles were flying around, dancing and reaching to no avail. “I wish I could fly,” he panted, envious. “Why must they have all the fun?”
Shit, no dice. But Logan wasn’t going to devote anymore attention to one snake, not when he had five more on the other side that were gliding in zigzags and getting ready to pounce.
“Eat this, fuckers,” he muttered as he selected another log. But unfortunately, the rest of the logs were just that—logs. Some were rotting, others brittle. The log he’d just used was the only one with tree limbs.
The force of the hit would have to be enough.
The log materialized in the air right under the snakes and Logan wrenched, telling the spatial storage collar, a slight adjustment is needed, move it up, just there, and the collar obeyed, slamming into the snakes from down below, knocking them to the sides, green goo and blood flying. Two were bludgeoned to death, but the other three escaped with glancing blows. They shook in the air, shuddering, before they recovered and let out enraged shrieks.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level 15 Flying Hunting Snake!]
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[You have defeated a Level 21 Flying Hunting Snake!]
Now three injured snakes wanted blood. The group formed up, shrieking, fangs gnashing, gliding back and forth as they made clacking sounds. Were these things talking to each other?
Logan kept eyeing the distance between the large swarm and the canoe, glancing up at the three that were getting ready to attack. The swarm was too close, and if Logan stopped rowing, they’d be on them in minutes, even seconds.
“Get ready to try to grab hold of these things, Ernie. I need you to be my weapon this time. I can’t stop rowing, or the rest will catch up.”
He bobbed his head with an eager glint in his eyes. “Ernie to the rescue!”
But the snakes were still making clacking sounds, and instead of being focused on Logan to the exclusion of everything else, they were giving Ernie considering looks, calculating looks.
They were up to something.
As one, they darted to the sides, heading in opposite directions with massive pulls of their wings, using the wind to glide into a dive bomb, heading directly at Logan from all sides.
Fuck!
Logan lifted the shoulder covered in [Mimicry Armour] and shielded his face from a biting snake. It latched onto his arm, biting into the armguard, gnashing its teeth against the flexible stone. It was frantic, rabid as it tried to bite through. But the armguard held.
With a swishing noise, Ernie darted a tentacle at the snake, grasping it by the tail and prying it away from Logan, the snake’s teeth scratching like nails on a chalkboard just as another snake flew in from the other side, going for his face. Logan didn’t have a chance to react before it had taken a chunk out of his cheek, biting deep. This bite was worse than the one on his neck, thousands of needles pinpricking at once.
There was another consideration.
Did these things have venom?
Shit shit shit.
Logan let up on the oar on his right in time to bash the thing to the side, putting every ounce of strength at his disposal into a punch that sent it flying and skidding onto the surface of the lake.
But he’d forgotten about the third snake, and it—
Ding!
[Your bonded companion has defeated a Level 29 Flying Hunting Snake! XP sharing reduced while an unequal relationship exists.]
[You have leveled up!]
Ernie had killed the snake, but there was one still behind Logan, and it was darting for his unprotected neck. He hunched his shoulders, trying to shift to the side, but the thing was single-minded in its desire for Logan’s blood.
“Ernie!” he shouted.
He looked up, expression full of savage satisfaction from his kill, and wasted no time. Ernie plopped down into the canoe, jumping from seat to seat, trying to get closer, but he was taking too long. The snake had gnawed its way to Logan’s unprotected neck, its fangs like pinchers as it tore through his skin. Fuck, that hurt!
With a scream, Logan dropped the oars and grabbed the Cursed Rope, agony tearing through him as the movement caused the snake’s fangs to dig deeper. It felt like it was gnawing to the bone!
Logan swished his wrist, commanding the rope like cracking a whip, and it wiggled in his grasp, feeling slippery, tugging, pulling, communicating, let me go let me go let me go.
What the--?
With a tug, the rope flew out of Logan’s hand, crackling like electricity and bursting into the air like a gun. But unlike the flying snakes, the Cursed Rope wasn’t flying; it was jumping through the air, as if it travelled through a hidden electrical current.
Logan had reached level 23 in this fight. He suddenly remembered the way the rope had expressed its frustration, communicating that if Logan advanced so did the rope.
Had he leveled up the rope?
Ernie came to a sudden stop. “Ooooh,” he said. Then, glumly, “even the rope gets to fly.”
Even though Logan was no longer touching it, it still sent glee glee glee fly fly fly back to him as it looped around and latched onto the biting snake, wrenching it free from Logan’s neck. Kill kill kill, sent the rope, as it looped around the snake’s body like a coil, end over end, covering the thing, its acid biting deep. The acid was so strong that the snake had seconds, literally seconds before the force of the rope’s secretions chopped it in two.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level 28 Flying Hunting Snake! Extra experience granted for defeating an enemy above your level.]
Both pieces of the severed snake dropped into the lake as the rope uncoiled, travelling back to Logan, exuding reluctance as if it resented that it had to return at all.
Blood poured down Logan’s neck and face as he stared. Just stared. The System’s description of the rope took on a whole new dimension as he considered the consequences of what had just happened. On the one hand, the rope had saved him, but on the other, it had been under its own power, free of Logan’s control.
“Logan…?” Ernie prompted.
Logan blinked. He suspected he might be bleeding to death.
Everything around him feeling unreal, shock stark on his features, there was only one thing he could do. He slammed ten points into his constitution attribute.
[Constitution: 32]
[Constitution: 33+]
[Constitution: 41]
As soon as the changes took effect, he felt immediate relief, the pain lessening, his head clearing, his eyes more alert. There had been a fogginess to everything, a gradual leaching of vitality as the hidden insidiousness of the venom had been working through his bloodstream.
His constitution upgrade combatted that, fighting off the effects. The blood stopped gushing down his neck, clotting at a rapid pace. Tentatively, Logan felt the back of his neck, touching the wound, his eyes opening wide. The missing chunks of flesh were filling in as each second passed! Was [Regenerate] at work?
Logan dropped his hand, about to reach for the oars, but then he paused, a knot in his stomach. Something was blocking the glare from the smog covered orange sun, a massive shadow. A roaring noise rushed through his ears as he looked up at the sky.
The swarm of snakes had reached them, a siege of monsters. As one, dozens upon dozens of red eyes glared down at them, murder in their eyes. One of the snakes let out that same bullhorn, a call to action as they flapped their wings and glided down, dive bombing onto Logan and Ernie.
Holy hell! Logan slammed the oars into the lake, taking a massive stroke and jerking the canoe forward. But there was no chance of outrunning these things. They were out of time.
Mentally rummaging through his spatial collar, Logan latched onto five boulders at once, commanding the spatial storage, there, right there would be a good place. And as five boulders the size of tires popped into the air, he thought, a slight adjustment is needed, move them up, just there, and the boulders jumped into the air, slamming into dozens of snakes. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level 24 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 18 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 18 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 16 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[….]
[You have defeated a Level 22 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have defeated a Level 23 Flying Hunting Snake!]
[You have leveled up!]
[You have leveled up!]
[You have leveled up!]
Ding! after Ding! sounded in his mind. For the snakes that were injured rather than killed, Ernie scooped them up as they fell out of the sky, grasping them with his tentacles and squeezing, smashing them into gory mush.
Ding!
[Your bonded companion has defeated a Level 26 Flying Hunting Snake! XP sharing reduced while an unequal relationship exists.]
[Your bonded companion has defeated a Level 30 Flying Hunting Snake! XP sharing reduced while an unequal relationship exists.]
[Your bonded companion has defeated a Level 27 Flying Hunting Snake! XP sharing reduced while an unequal relationship exists.]
[You have leveled up!]
But for every snake they killed, another darted down, swarming the canoe and going for Logan’s unprotected side. Logan grasped the Cursed Rope, at this point, not concerned for anything other than that it help.
The rope obeyed.
With an internal cackle, it communicated its pleasure, leaping from Logan’s hand and into the air, crackling with electricity as it latched onto the snakes swarming him, prying their jaws away from his skin one by one. Glee glee glee, sent the rope, swelling in size and taking on a green tinge as it sucked in the snake’s blood and guts.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level 29 Flying Hunting Snake! Extra experience granted for defeating an enemy above your level.]
There were too many System notifications to count as both Ernie and the Cursed Rope went to work.
[You have leveled up!]
[You have leveled up!]
Logan screamed as yet another snake swarmed down and latched onto his side, blood gushing from the re-opened wounds. And up above, there were still dozens upon dozens of them, too many to count.
Despite the high of the level gains, Logan was realistic, and he knew when he was beat. He had a limited supply of boulders and logs, and there were way too many snakes.
Fuck this shit. There was only one option. “Ernie, we’re going underwater!” he shouted, willing his bat inside his spatial collar and dropping the oars. He thought hard at the rope, pushing, come back, but the rope paid him no attention, rabid in its quest to kill. Glee glee glee, it communicated, smug that it resisted the command.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level 16 Flying Hunting Snake!]
What. The. Fuck.
Still, he didn’t have time to fight the snakes as well as the rope.
“Now, Ernie!”
Logan jumped over the side of the canoe, and Ernie followed him with eager eyes, tentacles trailing down over the edge as he plopped into the lake. The change was a shock. It was over 100-degrees outside, and they were jumping from sweltering, smog-filled air into a mass of water.
The blood from his wounds saturated the lake around them, Ernie rushing past him with a gleeful face. With a twist of his body towards the surface of the lake, Logan looked up at the bottom of the canoe, and willed it inside his spatial collar.
It disappeared from view in one blink, and Logan plummeted to the depths below.