The Third hero stood crookedly, favoring one leg. They pinned the sheet they were wearing about their body with their elbow. There was a lump on their forearm from the broken ulna inside, and the sheet was sticky with blood there. The homunculus wheezed, lungs rattled by their broken ribs.

The smile on Rhode’s face twinged.

<>

The Third took two steps back as he spoke. The photo-exposure glow lead just ahead of their arm as they reached behind the wall, roughly set down their poker, and threw another knife.

Silver, narrow and curved, the filet knife clipped the chair leg Rhode was too slow to fully bring to bear. The spine of the knife smacked against his shirt and clattered against a folding screen on its way down.

“What the shit?” Rhode sputtered in Cant.

<>

<>

The Third snorted, and let out a high pitched hiccup of a laugh. They weighed another knife in their hand.

<>

Goodeman Douk crawled into view, low against the wall and taking cover behind a shelf of rotten stuffed toys. He flared his eyes at Rhode, but Rhode slightly shook his head. Villain Intunmeroonkunkt appeared in the far room. He had gone round to flank. His spear-point announced him as his head peeked out and his thumb jerked a signal towards Rhode. Rhode shook his head again more forcefully.

<> the Third accused.

<>

The Third raised the pie-wedge knife threateningly.

<>

<>

Rhode paused. He reminded himself that this person might not understand.

<>

<>

<>

The Third hesitated. <>

Rhode adjusted his hold on the stool. He didn’t want to lower it all the way. <>

Three full seconds of consideration. <>

One homunculus took a careful step forward. The other yielded a step back.

<> [Bellows] stirred the air in the room, setting dust in motion an a gentle current weaving through the room. <>

<> the Third repeated numbly. Then angry. <> they insisted.

Rhode shrugged. <>

<>

The Third twisted out of sync with their body. Realigned.

<>

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<>

<> Rhode moved closer again, watching the Third like a fawn about to bolt. <>

The Third traded their knife for the fire poker again. They withdrew, retreating one lurching step at a time.

<>

No answer.

<>

<> An ephemeral third arm drifted out of alignment, and the iron nearly fell out of their fingers as they slackened.

<>

<>

<>

<>

<>

Rhode waited, but the monster did not refuse.

“Tuv, you there? You mind just showing yourself real quick?”

An □■□ stood slowly from where he’d been crouched next to Tinc. The elf cautiously moved out into the open, his hands raised. “You sure?” he whispered.

<>

“Hello. My name is Btiobhan,” the acolyte interjected. He tapped his chest with his palm. “Btiobhan.”

The Third’s head pulled an inch away from their head. It grew fractionally more distinct. <>

“Actually, maybe you need to back up, Tuv –”

“Fist of the dark, my gods. He’s almost completely disassociated…”

The Third raised their iron.

“Yo, Tuv. Hold back a second.”

“I’ve never even heard of someone surviving this –”

Btiobhan laughed. His excitement lasted until a two pound metal piece of pronged fireplace equipment struck him in the shoulder and snapped his clavicle.

“Ho. Wow,” the elf gasped as his knees slowly gave out.

The meaty, butcher’s sound of the impact lingered unpleasantly in Rhode’s ears.

<>

“That was an intense throw,” the acolyte bleated. He rolled back off his heels and fell onto his side. “Wow.”

The Third hero fled. They passed deeper into a further room as the goblin soldiers had attempted to chase after.

“Tuv, hey. Hey, man. You okay?”

“No. Go after him.”

“Listen, if you need–”

“You’ve got to calm him down, his soul is rejecting his body. Oh. It’s actually kind of hard to breathe. Whew. Rhode, it’s almost not even possible for someone to survive that. It’s almost like he’s beyond dying.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It is bad. Go, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“No. But Hrogg got it worse. So.” Bti■bhan waved him off weakly, and curled up into a ball on the ground.

---

Pratiksha Jai ran. Or stumbled. Her legs revolted against her with every movement, every step. The staggered delay between her desire and her motion was insufferable, even as she was slowly beginning to get the hang of it.

The monsters were following fast after her. And the bottom of her stomach dropped with every thumping footfall of the huge one. The image of its huge, flat teeth, of its ugly purple lips; the roaring sound of its wet breathing, she struggled to rectify them with the gentleness of the monster's voice and shuddered.

Her bare feet slapped against wooden floors, then against cold tiles. The sensation of texture passed to her indirectly, dispassionately. It made her feel like a computer or something, detached from reality and herself. Bile rose in her throat as unfamiliar and unwelcome parts of her body moved and chafed.

The faintest light led ahead of her, but she was in danger of blinding herself whenever her intention led her face ahead of her body’s eyes.

She crashed against a low table in the games lounge, and a stack of unfamiliar boards struck the ground alongside their array of stone pieces. They landed in a cacophonous racket.

Pratiksha continued on until the ceiling fell away. A two story tree reached out overhead, its pale bark and soft leaves offering gentle shelter. The arboretum was enclosed by clear glass, an indoor greenhouse that continued all the way up to a ceiling skylight and the very first hints of approaching dawn.

Her leg wobbled, failing her. The functions of her body were failing her, and she was perfectly aware of it. She carried herself with the determination of a captain of a sinking ship, and searched feverishly for something heavy, portable and vicious.