Like raindrops, meteors rained from the heavens, creating trails as beautiful as they were destructive. The earth shook and heaved, the death throes of a world unprepared for what was happening. A choir, a beautifully haunting scene graced the realm once deprived of Ether, providing opportunities for those fated to perish in insignificance.
Rafa's rushing blood was a river in his ears, muting the external chaos and even his own anguished cries. Muscles bulged against the skin like steel cables while his gaze remained locked on the beast, unfaltering even as his blood soaked his shirt, the pain burning at the edges of his consciousness. Yet, this pain was trivial compared to his determination; he was here to save someone, and no amount of physical agony could sway his resolve.
Hang on. You've worked hard, these muscles aren't just for show! Rafa's internal scream echoed in his mind, his mouth unable to form the words.
The creature, smeared with Rafa's blood, seemed to revel in its triumph. It slowly advanced, its steps making the charred wood beneath its feet. Each steep oozed malice and Rafa could swear he heard it gloating in some guttural, monstrous tongue.
Each step of the beast felt like the countdown to his end, the ticking hands of the clock heralding finality.
Tick-tock, Rafa. Do something! His heart pounded like a war drum, each beat fueling a surge of adrenaline through his veins. Muscles twitched with anticipation, straining against the pain and fatigue. Rafa's breath quickened, shallow and ragged.
As darkness began to creep at the edges of Rafa's vision, a sudden movement caught his eye. Elena burst from the doorway like a storm unleashed, her injured arm dangling limply while her other wielded her knife with deadly intent. The blade sank into the beast’s flesh, bypassing the bristling fur as if guided by divine vengeance.
Elena's eyes blazed with an unyielding fire as a primal scream tore from her throat. Each stab of her knife was a flash of silver, relentless and unforgiving, painting stark streaks of blood on the creature's black fur.
She's fearless. Like a damn warrior.
With a thunderous roar, the beast’s attention snapped to this new adversary. Its massive form twisted violently, trying desperately to shake off the fierce woman clinging to it.
Move, damn it! he urged himself, feeling the fire of determination ignite within. His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as he prepared to launch himself. "I'm still breathing, cabrón!" he shouted, not only to call the beast but to narrow his scattered thoughts into focus.
Pushing through the agony, he rose—slowly at first, his legs trembling like a faulty load pillar that threatened to give under him at any moment, then with mounting momentum. He hurled himself once more at the beast, driven by a potent mix of determination and desperation, all to buy Elena more precious seconds.
The impact was jarring. Rafa's body slammed into the beast's side, feeling the brute force of its solid mass. He grappled with its coarse fur, feeling each bristle bite into his skin like tiny daggers.
The beast, with brutal dismissiveness, swatted at Rafa as though he were merely an irritating insect. The impact on his uninjured shoulder was met with a sickening pop, sending waves of white-hot pain coursing through his uninjured arm, making it limp at his side.
Rafa's arms were closer to wet noddles than useful members at this point, yet, even as agony threatened to consume his senses, Rafa tapped into a primal force within. His head reared back, and with a roar muffled by gritted teeth, he smashed it against the creature's neck.
The creature emitted a guttural gurgle, its massive form shuddering as Rafa’s head connected with its sinewy neck. The unexpected ferocity of the attack momentarily disrupted its breathing, a gush of foul breath escaping its maw with each impact. Rafa persisted, the world tilting and spinning with each concussive strike, his head reeling from the force of colliding with what felt like a living oak.
Stay focused. This isn’t over yet. His body moved almost on instinct, each motion a testament to his resolve. Rafa could feel his strength waning, but the determination burning in his chest kept him going. The beast’s growls grew weaker, each headbutt sapping more of its strength.
Elena, undeterred by her own bleeding cuts, continued her assault with relentless ferocity. Her knife was a constant flash of silver, each stab and slice she delivered with unyielding precision, painting the beast’s fur a gruesome maroon.
Her wounds, superficial grazes won from the creature's bristled fur, seemed only to fuel her fervor, each drop of her own blood spurring her on to fight harder. The pain etched on her face was mirrored by a grim determination—she was a tempest, unstoppable.
I see what you saw in her, Marcos. The stray thought wormed its way into Rafa’s brain, brought on by the lack of focus from his concussion. The admiration for Elena’s bravery flickered through him, mingling with the throbbing pain of his own injuries.
The creature’s movements began to falter. Each strike to its neck had taken a toll, robbing it of the ability to draw a full breath. Its movements became stiff, lacking any semblance of the primal fury that had once fueled it. Blood, the very essence of its vitality, seeped relentlessly onto the charred remains of the second floor.
Seizing this moment of weakness, Elena adjusted herself on the beast's back. Its bristled fur bit into her arms and thighs, drawing fresh lines of blood as she maneuvered into position, then, with a fierce resolve, she plunged her knife into its thick hide, aiming for the spine. Gripping the handle tightly, she dragged with every ounce of her strength, the blade carving a devastating canyon through sinew and bone.
A whimper, pitiful and incongruous with its hulking size, escaped the beast. It made one last, feeble swipe at Rafa, its effort a mere shadow of its former power. Even so, the blow was enough to send Rafa sprawling to the floor with a heavy thud, his body pushed to its limits by blood loss and relentless headbutts.
As the creature tried to turn around, intent on confronting Elena, its injuries betrayed it. Its hind legs, battered and bloodied, buckled, no longer able to bear the weight of its body, which now seemed to crumple in on itself like a collapsing tower. Elena’s decisive blow had sealed its fate.
As the beast wavered, its pupilless eyes seemed to plead against something only it could see as it whined to the skies. Elena slid from its back, more from the pull of gravity than any conscious effort as the beast staggered to the edge of the devastated second floor.
Meanwhile, Rafa’s grip on consciousness slipped, his vision darkening at the edges. His focus remained on the faltering beast, missing the sight of Marco pushing through the debris with determination. With the practicality of a man accustomed to hefting flour sacks, Marco hauled Rafa toward the doorway.
"Than... Th..." Words failed Rafa as his world dimmed further. His senses registered only fragments—Elena’s leap, the crash of the collapsing floor, the monster's futile pursuit—before he succumbed to the encroaching darkness.
***
Without looking back, Milly fired. Pain surged up her arm like needles with every pull of the trigger, her father’s words echoed in her mind, "Always be sure where you're shooting. You don't waste bullets."
Like I have a choice, Milly retorted inwardly, nearly tripping over an exposed root. Her legs burned with exhaustion, each breath felt like inhaling shards of glass. It seemed an eternity since she had last rested, and her body screamed for relief.
She pushed forward, fighting an almost irresistible urge to sleep. Her eyelids drooped, and she could almost hear the soothing nature sounds she used to play at bedtime, resisting her desperate attempts to stay awake.
Holding the revolver behind her without aiming, she squeezed off two shaky shots. The gun shook in her weakening grasp, her wrists barely containing its recoil. To her surprise, a screen flickered to life before her eyes.
Quest Progression
Pursuers Killed
1/2
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The words barely registered, their implications sinking in only when the sound of two impossibly heavy footsteps became one, and a shockwave sent leaves flying into the air.
Her heart surged with a mix of relief and elation at seeing the quest progression. But that fleeting moment of triumph proved costly. The distraction caused her to miss a step, and she tumbled into the underbrush, the crash loud enough to betray her location to everything nearby.
The impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping. Pain radiated from her scraped knees and bruised ribs. The tattered remnants of her clothes clung to her body, soaked with sweat and grime, offering no protection from the cold, unforgiving ground. Her handmade revolver, slick with moisture from her trembling hands, lay beside her.
In a few heartbeats, the rock bear reached her location. The cover of the night did little to protect Milly against its fury when it simply raged in her general vicinity.
The rock bear towered menacingly, its immense form blotting out the scant moonlight filtering through the dense canopy, each swipe of its massive, rock-encrusted paws, the earth near Milly erupted, sending clods of soil and shattered underbrush into the air. The creature's movements were clumsy yet terrifyingly powerful, each motion a potential death blow that Milly narrowly avoided by mere inches.
Forcing her weary body into motion, Milly rolled to the side as another paw slammed down where her head had been seconds before. The ground vibrated with the impact, sending a jolt through her already aching muscles. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a painful reminder of her exhaustion. She couldn't keep this up much longer; her body was screaming for rest, her mind foggy with fatigue.
Plan, think, she urged herself, scrambling on all fours in a desperate bid to put distance between herself and the next lethal swipe. The bear's growls reverberated through the forest, a constant reminder of the peril just behind her.
Milly's clothes snagged on brambles and roots as she moved, tearing further each time she tugged herself free. She needed a better strategy, something that could turn this dire chase into a fight she could win.
As she glanced back, her breath hitching with fear, Milly noticed how the bear's heavy, rock-laden limbs seemed to hinder its agility. It lumbered after her, the rocky protrusions on its legs and stomach catching on the uneven forest floor.
An idea sparked in Milly's exhaustion-clouded mind. If she could maneuver herself just right, she might exploit the creature's bulky form and limited mobility. The space directly beneath the beast—a narrow, dangerous refuge—might be the only place safe from those devastating claws.
Crawling forward, Milly kept her movements low and quick, her eyes calculating the distance and the bear's rhythm. She watched as it prepared for another swipe, its huge paw lifting, casting a monstrous shadow over her.
With a burst of adrenaline-fueled energy, Milly pushed off the ground, her arms propelling her forward. She slid across the leaf-littered earth, her vest catching on twigs, her face brushing against the cold, damp leaves. The bear's paw crashed down behind her, missing by fractions of a second as she came to a stop beneath the hulking creature.
There, under the belly of the beast, Milly found her precarious sanctuary. The bear's rock-encrusted belly was just inches from her nose, preventing it from fully lowering itself to crush her. Here, in the eye of the storm, Milly could finally catch her breath and plan her next move.
Trapped beneath the colossal weight of the rock bear, Milly's breaths were shallow, her body pressed tightly against the damp earth. The confined space barely allowed for movement, the sharp edges of the rocky protrusions above her scratching at her clothes and skin. Each breath she took was labored, filled with the dank, musty smell of the creature's underbelly.
With her back to the ground and the bear’s heavy form hovering just above, Milly struggled to maneuver her revolver into position.
Her fingers, slick with sweat and dirt, fumbled with the revolver, her grip unsteady. The weapon felt unusually heavy, its familiar contours now a cumbersome weight in her cramped quarters. She angled the barrel upwards as best as she could, the awkward position straining her wrists.
Make it count, she thought desperately. The confines under the bear amplified every sound, the rustle of her movements unnaturally loud in her ears. Milly held her breath, aligning the muzzle of the gun with what she hoped was a vulnerable part of the beast.
The recoil was immediate and violent, the blast echoing deafeningly against the close confines of the rocky underbelly. A blinding flash of light seared her vision, leaving spots dancing before her eyes.
Temporarily deafened and disoriented by the shot, Milly's hands released the revolver. The weapon clattered out of her grasp, disappearing into the shadows cast by the dense undergrowth. A pang of loss hit her — that revolver was her lifeline.
Now weaponless and vulnerable, Milly's survival instincts surged to the forefront. She gripped the rocky protrusions on the bear's underside, the sharp edges biting into her palms. The texture was rough, uneven, but it provided the necessary hold to keep her from slipping out from her precarious shelter.
Every muscle in her body tensed, preparing for the bear's reaction. The ground trembled as the beast roared in pain and fury above her, the sound muffled yet terrifying. Its movements became erratic, the earth shaking with each convulsive twitch. Milly clung tighter, her fingers wrapped around the jagged rocks, her body pressed flat against the ground as its attempts to crush her against the ground were thwarted by the outgrowths on its belly.
In this dire moment, trapped beneath the beast, Milly realized the gravity of her situation. She was alone, weaponless, and partially blinded in the belly of the beast, relying solely on her wits and will to survive.
Despair clawed at the edges of her psyche, whispering for her to give up, to let the bear end her quickly.
The thoughts were crushed as quickly as they appeared. Years spent hunting with her family flashed through her mind, recalling a day when her father had chided her for not having the guts to skin a deer.
'Listen,' he had said sternly, grabbing her shoulders with a firm grip. 'You asked to be here. I warned you. If you press the trigger, you should be willing to go through with everything that follows.'
His words had given her nightmares for months, yet they helped shape her into who she is today. She remembered staring at the deer, feeling a mixture of horror and determination. "I understand, Dad," she had whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.
Now, under the belly of the beast, her father's voice resonated in her mind, reigniting her will to fight. Dust fell from the bear's underbelly, and the sounds of cracking stone echoed around her, a clear reminder of her precarious position.
Her eyes darted around, searching for her revolver. Spotting it partially buried under some leaves and debris beneath the beast, she stretched out her arm, fingers straining. With a final, desperate effort, she grabbed the weapon, pulling it close.
With the revolver secured, Milly knew she needed to move. She waited for a moment when the bear shifted, its weight slightly lifting off the ground. Seizing the opportunity, she rolled out from under the beast, scrambling to her feet. The bear roared in fury, but she was already moving.
Milly knew she needed to find the bear’s weak point. Everything had one. Summoning all her strength, she made a bold decision. She began to climb.
Clinging to the rocky protrusions on the bear’s side, Milly pulled herself up. The bear roared in fury, but she held on, each movement deliberate and calculated. The climb was arduous, her muscles burning with exhaustion, but she pressed on, driven by sheer willpower.
Halfway up the bear’s massive form, she nearly slipped as it bucked, trying to shake her off. Gritting her teeth, Milly dug her fingers into a crack in the beast’s rocky hide, refusing to let go. Her mind raced with her father’s teachings. If it breathes, if it sees. It has a weak point.
She reached the bear's head, its thrashing was violent, worse than any bull she ever rode. Milly clung to the rocky surface, inching her way to its eye. The moment of truth had arrived. She positioned herself, fighting to stay balanced atop the giant creature. With the revolver in hand, Milly placed the barrel against the bear’s eye, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The bear’s eye, dark and furious, stared back at her
Milly pulled the trigger. The first shot rang out, a violent explosion that echoed in her ears, the recoil jarring her grip. She steadied herself and fired again. The second shot felt even more powerful, a thunderous blast that reverberated through her bones.
The bear let out a thundering roar, shaking its massive head in agony. Milly held on, the revolver's barrel now slick with blood. It's not enough, it’s still moving!
With a moment of clarity, Milly's thoughts sharpened. Fueled by adrenaline and desperation, Milly raised the revolver. The decision crystallized in her mind, raw and primal. No more running.
With a guttural scream, she brought the butt of the gun down on the bear's wounded eye. The first strike was savage, the impact sending a jolt up her arms. Her hands, slick with sweat and blood, gripped the revolver tighter. Stay down!
She struck again, each blow fueled by the fear and fury that had built up inside her. The beast's eye ruptured under the relentless assault, dark fluid mingling with the dirt and grime on her hands. The bear's roars turned to pained whimpers, its massive body shuddering beneath her.
Milly's vision blurred with tears and exhaustion, but she didn't stop. Each strike was a cathartic release of everything she had endured. The impact reverberated through her bones, but she kept going, driven by sheer willpower. You won’t get me. Not now. Not ever.
With a final, convulsive twitch, the bear collapsed, its massive body falling to the ground with a thunderous crash. Milly tumbled off, landing hard on the forest floor. Her body ached, her vision blurred, but she had done it. She lay there for a moment, the world around her eerily silent except for the sound of her own ragged breaths.
Through the haze of exhaustion, Milly's vision began to clear. She took in the sight of the fallen beast, its once-ferocious eyes now lifeless. A sense of triumph surged through her—she had survived. She had won.
As she caught her breath, a faint glow emerged before her eyes, drawing her focus. The familiar screen of her quest flickered to life, and she forced herself to sit up, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from her veins.
Quest Completed
Well done, cultivator. Against overwhelming odds, you have emerged victorious. Your cultivation manual awaits. Choose wisely, for it will shape your destiny.
Milly's heart pounded with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration as she processed the message. She had done it. She had truly proven herself. As the message faded, the anticipation of what came next filled her with renewed energy.
Suddenly, the air around her shimmered with a mystical light. Five ancient tomes materialized before her, each one glowing with an otherworldly aura. Milly's eyes widened, and she reached out a trembling hand toward the nearest manual.