When I woke up in the morning, I was in ridiculous discomfort. My arms felt like Jell-O, my leg was in throbbing pain, and I had a hammering headache. All the chemicals in my body that kept me going last night were gone. Now, I was no more than a blob.
My HUD was also flashing like crazy. I noticed that three new icons had appeared. The first picture was a scientific diagram of a cell, complete with the mitochondria, which is the only thing I recognized in the picture. I read the description.
Healing Pains
Your body is experiencing pain from rapid regrowth of cells. -20 from pain resistance, -20 from defense, -5 from dexterity, -1 from strength.
That was interesting. For my whole life, I had healed pretty quickly, but I always thought it was because I never got bad injuries, like broken bones. To see my quick healing as a stated fact from the system was affirming, but also surreal.
The other two icons were a girl at a dinner table looking angry, and a guy in the desert with dry lips.
Hungry
You are hungry. 25% decrease in all attributes.
Thirsty
You are thirsty. 25% decrease in all attributes.
Man, being hungry and thirsty were attribute killers. When I start building up real stats, those are going to hit like a truck.
After reading my debuffs, I sat up, hoping to grab some breakfast. I heard the tent zipper open. “Are you awake yet, Steven?” Kyle asked while slowly opening the tent flap. “I hate to deny my unprepossessing brood his beauty sleep, but there’s something interesting I want to tell you about” he added with his usual calm flair.
“I’m awake.” I began stretching. “Doesn’t mean I want to be, though,” I said with a slight laugh. Kyle grunted in amusement. He offered his hand to help me up. I took it. He heaved me to my feet and I was able to get my bearings.
I looked around the tent and realized that Kyle had already packed everything besides the blankets Lahi and I were using. “Ahead of the curve like always, aye, bro?” I commented, continuing my stretch routine.
“More than you know.” He ushered me out of the tent.
Upon exiting, my eyes were assaulted by the overbearing white light of the sun. “Jeez that's bright,” I complained, using my hand to cover my eyes. It took a few seconds, but they finally adjusted. When they did, I saw that Kyle had prepared a small breakfast for me on the ground in front of the tent, which included a Clif bar, an apple, and a water bottle. I could’ve cried right then, but I wouldn’t. Can’t let big boy Kyle know how much I appreciate him. Might make his already-big head even bigger.
I sat on the asphalt and started to eat.
“You slept for a long time. Probably around twelve hours.” He took a seat in front of me.
“Mhmhhmmhmhh,” I mumbled, mouth filled with food.
“Can you please not speak when you're chewing? Not only is it unbearable to watch, but I can’t even understand you,” Kyle complained. I smiled. “I suppose uncouth eating habits are the least of our problems.” He switched his attention from me to the direction of the ravine.
I turned my head to where he was looking. I saw what he meant. Instead of seeing the neighborhood just beyond, there was a giant black wall. In the light, I could observe that it was made of a sort of slime. It looked almost like tar, and was bubbling. From what I could tell, it wasn’t advancing on us.
“The Mangle are setting up a veil,” Kyle remarked, eyes unmoving from his target.
“A veil?” I questioned, swallowing the last of the Clif bar.
“Yes. It’s like a fortress, or basecamp, for the Mangle. The walls can produce Manglets which offer subtle defense and attack,” he answered.
A picture of the funny little slimes came into my head. I knew they were actually dangerous, since they could change like Mangle could, according to what they ate, but gosh darn were they cute. A lot of companies would use them as mascots before the war with the Mangle took off.
“It’ll take another day or so before the walls start spewing Manglets, so we have some time. We’ll leave as soon as you're ready,” Kyle voiced, bringing his gaze back to me.
Now finished with my small breakfast and filled with new vigor to get away from the veil, I stood up. “I’m ready now.”
Cleaning up the camp was relatively quick, thanks to Kyle. His foresight to pack whatever wasn’t being used while I was asleep saved us a few minutes.
While we worked, we talked. I tried to describe the beautiful scene I had witnessed the night before and how it made me feel, but I was unsuccessful. After a few fumbled tries, I just gave up. I was never good at expressing my thoughts anyway.
He shrugged, as if to tell me to take my time to figure out my words, and then told me about what he had done while I was asleep. During that time, he cleaned up most of the camp and did a little recon up the road.
“Past the first bend, about two miles from here, I saw a truck stop-slash-McDonald’s hybrid. We can use it as a base of operations, and hopefully it has supplies,” Kyle reported.
I couldn’t help but get excited. The opportunity to explore a new area instead of just running from an old one spoke to me. A feeling inside me stirred. There was also the chance for battle. I hadn’t thought about it since my fight with Grallnath, but the feeling I felt after that victory was sublime. With it, I was absolutely untouchable. If only I could keep that feeling with me wherever I went. I’d never have to fear, or worry. I’d be strong, able to hold my head up high. I grinned at the thought. As we began walking, the excitement for battle gave some spring to my aching step.
Not that it mattered. Pushing the wheelbarrow today was considerably harder than it was yesterday. The Thirsty and Hungry debuffs were taken care of, but Healing Pains had a few more minutes left to go. I had to stop a few times to rest my arms. Kyle offered to take a turn, but I had pride in being the big guy, so I denied him. After the third or fourth stop, though, I could tell he was getting irritated.
He eventually devised a plan where each of us took one handle and we pushed it together. Using this new method, our walking speed slowly started increasing.
We eventually reached the bend in the road, which was fashioned with several signs telling trucks to slow down and sporting directional arrows to help people get the idea that a turn was coming. I looked over to where the road was headed, and, like a butt crack at the work sight, I instantly saw it. The golden arches, the palace of chest pain, my guilty pleasure: McDonald’s.
About twenty minutes into our trek towards the truck stop, the big, bright yellow “M” that stood on a pole, fell, crashing into the parking lot. At this point, Healing Pains had left my HUD, letting me push Lahi solo and giving us more speed. We picked up our pace, hoping to find survivors duking it out, and maybe offer help.
As we arrived at the edge of the truck stop, we were surprised at how many big rigs were parked about the area. There had to have been a hundred or more. They were sprinkled all around, cutting off our view of the restaurant, making the way forward look like a maze straight out of Greek mythology.
The place was also crawling with Manglets that had yet to eat. They were like slimes from a JRPG, but with galaxy-like skin. You could see them jumping on top, underneath, and around the trucks, treating the place like a jungle gym. Our hopes for survivors tanked as we saw just how many starving Manglets were about.
I unsheath my sword from its Spiderman red and blue holster. Next to me, Kyle did the same with his seme.
“The chances are low, but who’s going in to check for survivors?” Kyle asked quickly.
The sides of my mouth picked up in a smile, revealing unbrushed teeth. “Me!” I shouted, hurrying into the fray, the rush of battle filling my mind. There was a faint yell from Kyle, but I couldn’t really hear it as I dashed away.
As soon as I began my attack, the Manglets pursued me. Some stayed behind to target Kyle, but they seemed more interested in the faster-moving object.
I steadily jogged into the labyrinth of trucks. As I entered, the number of Manglets doubled. It was like I was in a mob-farming area in an MMO. I examined them. HP bars appeared above all their heads with a “1” or a “2” next to them, indicating their levels. Their HP’s ranged from 15 to 20. Under their HP bars was a box that read “Special Properties.” In that section was a big “N/A.” Meaning they hadn’t eaten and were easy pickings.
The fun thing about Manglets that haven’t eaten is that they really had no powers besides jumping and hoping they land on you. The place being overrun by them wasn’t the reason Kyle and I figured there was a low chance of survivors. It was the fact that they hadn’t been decimated. Any adult could handle a Manglet that hadn’t eaten, and most everyone knew that killing these things before they ate was the best way to survive.
As I turned the corner of one of the trucks, I was met by a group of Manglets that blocked the path forward. One of them jumped at me as soon as it noticed I was there. I easily moved out of the way. As it hit the floor, I swung my sword, cutting the gelatinous thing in half. A big “39” floated above its head. Whoa, that's a big number for a human, I thought to myself.
I looked at the sword I held, examining its known properties from the system.
Royal Cattle Prong
A weapon used by Mangle Human Herders to ensure obedience in their cattle. This prong carries the insignia of Mangle royalty. Matter-Smithing skill of 30 is required to re-smith item. DMG 20-25.
The sword itself was enough to kill these things. Thinking about it, my own hands and feet were probably enough to kill these things, if I assume the other 14 to 15 damage I did came from my strength attribute.
I looked back at the cut slime. It collapsed into a pile of black muck, losing its galaxy-like paint. Oddly, the rest seemed to react to that. In school, we were taught that Manglets lacked basic understanding until they ate a human, but, from the way his buddies doubled their efforts, I would have to call bull on that.
They jumped and bounced, moving faster than you’d expect for legless blobs. It was like playing dodgeball with 20 different balls coming at you at once. Their fervor to eat me was starting to get scary. They hopped all around, leaving little room to evade. At one point, they had me completely surrounded.
In desperation I turned the electricity from the sword on. It made them pause and gave them a debuff called “Light of Eir.” I didn’t have time to read the description on it. The pause it gave me was brief, but just long enough for me to attack one of the slimy monsters doing 34 damage. With the new opening in their formation, I was able to escape.
I started to sweat. Maybe going solo was not a smart idea, I thought to myself. But how was I supposed to know the brainless slimes could get mad? I added, trying to justify my decision. Maybe I should go back to Kyle? If I’m struggling, then he must have his hands full as well.
Amidst the internal dialog of my mind, I heard something. It was the clang of metal, like two swords clashing against one another. A fight? Maybe. Should I go? Probably not. It might just be two Mangle fighting over the human scraps. I'm having trouble as it is, and I'm not a hero. I only worry about my brothers and myself. I began my retreat.
Then I heard another sound: a voice. It was the same one I heard before in the cocoon. "The Predecessors give power to those who fight." The words themselves didn't vibe with me. I always had a hard time understanding deep thoughts, but the impression in my gut was clear: Fight towards the noise. I started to cut my way in that direction.
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Steven was an idiot. Not only did he leave me with the weaker weapon, but he also left me with the harder mission: defending our unconscious brother.
If it was him. I had my doubts, but no evidence suggested otherwise, besides his change. Even the practice unit confirmed it was him.
I had been meaning to tell Steven about the severity of Lahi’s transformation, but every time I tried, something more important seemed to appear. One of these spare seconds I’ll just have to abruptly yell out that our brother's penis was gone, replaced with its female counterpart. A worry for another time, perhaps.
I entered the Stance of the Flea. This combat style was taught to me by my older brother, who is also of small stature. It focused on quick and precise movements, supported by fast, small steps. It allowed one like me to stab and slash freely, while narrowly avoiding danger.
The stance was also the foundation of my brother’s Thunder build. If I could master at least a small part of it before obtaining a MAS, then Thunder should be available as a DNA Combination. Despite its advantages, it wasn’t fool-proof. Narrowly dodging attacks was more difficult than it sounded. Requiring, as my brother called it, “nugs of steel.” I hoped I was not lacking.
I looked at my enemies. Immediately around me were three Manglets. Ten to twenty more were wandering over, but they were far off. I needed to avoid being surrounded at all costs.
Fighting on several different fronts on my own, with a specific point of interest to protect, would spell my doom. Not to mention, the numbers advantage the enemy held was more valuable on the flat terrain that was this parking lot. If they had been anything other than untransformed Manglets, then these conditions would be damning, and I would need to retreat. Abandoning another brother.
The shame of losing Joshua was still fresh in my mind, so that option was on the very bottom of my list. Good thing for me, the enemy I faced was weak, leaving me with one obvious strategy: hunt them down before they get anywhere near Lahi, leveraging my obvious power and skill advantage over them before they had a chance to utilize their numbers over me.
The three in front of me jumped at the same time. I met one with a stab from my seme, and another by throwing my backpack in its direction. A big “20” floated over the first one, and the second one had the “Stunned” icon over its head. The third missed me entirely.
I retrieved my blade from the first and cut down the one that had missed, dealing 15 damage. They both became puddles of tar. The last one recovered from my backpack attack. It stopped for a moment, looking as if it took in the situation.
“Are you sad your companions are dead?” I asked jokingly, not expecting a reply. It moved its round figure, as if to say, “Yes.” Surprise took hold of me.
“Can you understand me?” I questioned, to confirm my suspicion. It did the same movement indicating, “Yes.”
My eyebrows shot up in interest. Not exactly the most scientific of tests, but one that is good enough for me. I’ll have to write about this moment. Turns out Manglets think. A groundbreaking discovery, although, I doubt the soldiers and world government had no knowledge of this. Doesn’t matter either way.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
While the blob seemed to mourn its allies, I moved quickly, stabbing it, doing 20 damage in what, I assume, was its face. Then, for good measure, I leveraged the blade upward, cutting the top of the creature open. Its black blood followed my blade as it left its body, creating a beautiful arc of oil.
I looked around, keeping the sleeping one behind me. The large group I had seen earlier was now upon me. I smiled. “A festival of blood. I could ask for no greater treatment for my wounded pride,” I said out loud, hoping to medicate the crushing feeling I felt for losing Joshua. I gripped hard on the blade, thinking of what I could have done better, and began to slaughter the poor hungry fools.
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Another line of big rig trucks appeared as I turned another corner, fighting to where I was hearing the clanging. It was really annoying–I couldn’t believe there were this many trucks. I considered for a moment what could be in them, but the thought was quickly whisked away as I was attacked by another Manglet.
I punched it out of the air, stunning it. Then, quickly, before its buddies could help, I stabbed my sword in the top of its head, doing 32 DMG.
Man, these guys were relentless. For every one I killed, five more would appear. Not only that, but the closer I got to the sound, the more seemed to wiggle their way towards me. I was getting really tired.
My arms had yet to properly heal from yesterday's work and brawl, and, to be frank, my endurance sucked. I was a towering mass of muscle, but if you asked me to run somewhere, don’t expect express delivery.
Despite those grievances, I continued to battle, following the feelings in my chest. I crawled under the line of trucks, popping up on the other side. From the intensity of the noise, I could tell I was really close to the action. I dusted myself off from my crawl and looked up.
In front of me were about twenty giant slimes. They had to have been two to three times the height and mass of the knee-high regular Manglets. I examined them.
Taboo Gluttons - Level 1
Description: A variation of Manglets that have eaten their allies for power. HP: 30 to 35.
Special Properties: Increased size and HP pools compared to their starving counterparts.
A sigh of relief left my lungs. I’m still able to one-shot them, I thought thankfully.
Then the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight as another enemy walked up from behind the Gluttons. It was a tall figure draped in a black cloak. Its head was the shape of a human skull. Where the cloak parted, I saw several sets of hands holding the finery closed. It gave off the stench of death and decay. I examined it.
Ash Collector - Level 1
Description: One of the most vile Manglet transformations. It comes into being when a Manglet eats the ashes of the dead. HP:75.
Special Properties: When an ally dies near the Ash Collector, it chooses to receive a weapon or a hand. If a hand is chosen, then the Ash Collector grows a new hand anywhere on its body. If a weapon is chosen, then it spawns one of equal level to itself in one of the hands.
This thing was trouble, and worse than that, I was afraid of it. I couldn’t see the attributes of enemies, but the intimidation of this thing must be ten times mine, at least.
It opened its mouth as I stood there and let out a hissing laugh. Imagine the sound of locusts crawling on one another and you’d have a good idea of what I was hearing. I turned around to crawl back under the truck. This kind of fight was not something I was ready for. Can't even imagine how to approach a creature like that.
I got low to make my escape, but realized that the area I had come from was blocked completely by a wall of Manglets, filling the space under the truck. They had stacked on top of one another and layered themselves so that getting away was not an option. My heart sank. I turned around and saw the skeletal demon walking towards me. Desperately I began hacking through the wall of goo with little success. Everytime I would slash, another Manglet would take the place of the one I had killed.
The Ash Collector was getting closer, his footsteps echoing the tip tap of bone on asphalt. I dropped to my hands and knees and began digging into the wall with my nails, sweat dripping down my face. My will to fight had completely left me. My eyes watered as the tip tap slowly drowned out all the other noise. My clawing did nothing.
I hadn’t taken this as seriously as I should have. Not the attack on earth, or the danger I was in. I didn’t want to acknowledge that my mother and father had a right to do the things they did. I wanted to treat it like a game. Like I could fight the evil my parents fought without the desperation they had. I was wrong.
With the stress of hopelessness weighing on me I started to retch. I turned back around and saw that the black-cloaked monster was hovering above me, its eye sockets right in front of my face.
It was over. I felt as one of its hands grasped my neck and lift me off the ground. Its palm felt like cold sand. My eyes immediately shut out of fear. Visions of my life went by. Hours of long training, beatings when we didn’t live up to expectations, love for the one child who had talent. I felt the cold wind from the Ash Collector as it laughed in my face. Although I knew it couldn’t see into my mind, I felt that it was laughing at the scars that marred it. I clenched my eyes tighter, hoping that if I didn’t see the end, it would come quicker.
The only thing visible now was the HUD, which displayed even with one’s eyes closed. I noticed a flashing icon. It was in the stats section. With a mental thought, I opened it.
Name: Sitiveni L. Lotu Race: Human Age: 27
Active Effects
HP: 35/110
DNA Combination: (N/A)
(N/A)
Enemy passive preventing access to Active Effects tab.
MP: (N/A)
Totem Name: (N/A) Strength 4 (+3)
Skills
Inventory Endurance 0 (N/A)
- Retain Matter
- Royal Matter (Rare) Predecessor 1 (N/A) Intimidation 3 (N/A)
Pretty much everything was the same, except, where dexterity was, there was now a flashing stat that read, “Predecessor.” I mentally activated it and was met with a pop up.
***A Predecessor acknowledges you. Would you like to remember them?***
I mentally thought affirmatively.
As soon as I had done so, my HUD flashed with memories that were not mine. They appeared for only a second, but somehow my brain understood it all. It was a young boy who was running, afraid. His pursuers impossible to avoid. When they found him, they raised up their javelins and skewered him. They then took the fatally injured boy and began to cut him up, alive.
The last thing he saw was his brothers cooking his body parts and eating. I understand fear. The impression was strong. Whoever this was understood how I felt. My eyes, which already had water in them out of fear, now overflowed with the relief that I was not alone.
In the midst of that relief, the hands of the Ash Collector began to squeeze harder. My throat closing up from the pressure.
New Skill Acquired: ʻOua ʻe manavahē. (Fear Not)
Without reading the descriptions, I used the new skill. Immediately, the fear left me. On my HUD were three icons that now had a red “X” crossing them out. The strength that had been sapped from me was now back.
I grabbed the Ash Collector’s arm. It gave a gasp, like the hiss of air escaping a tire. With all my strength, I crushed the hand that held my neck. It yelled in pain and let go.
When I hit the asphalt, I felt a power surging through me. I checked my HUD. There was a fourth icon.
Fear Not (Passive)
Aho, the First King, feared once, but never again. User is immune to fear-based debuffs. Instead, their strength is multiplied according to the amount of fear debuffs they negated with this passive.
It didn’t make any sense. The practice unit I had shouldn’t be able to enhance my actual abilities at all. But here I was, with amplified power despite that fact. I took a quick look at my stats and noticed that my strength had gone from four to twelve. I marveled at the increase, but found my eyes now looking at a timer next to the stat. It read two minutes and was counting down.
I kicked the Ash Collector away from me and picked up my sword. With my mind clear of the fear effects, I realized that escape was possible. The way behind me was blocked, but if I ran to either end of the truck I could just go around. The idea was tempting, but I had to finish this fight–whoever was with me in that abyss of fear wanted me to, and I owed him at least that much.
I pushed the button on the blade. The sparking purple light illuminated a small circle around me, despite the brightness of the sun. It had the same effect as before. The Manglets and the Taboo Gluttons were briefly stunned with the “Light of Eir,” debuff. The Collector looked unphased, but I hadn’t counted on it being stunned anyway. I ran towards it, holding the electric blade with both hands.
As I got closer it released the flaps holding its cloak closed, and I witnessed just how many hands it was hiding. I couldn’t count how many there were. It looked like one of those thousand-hand Buddha statues. In almost each hand was a cleaver.
Reaching him, I swung my sword, colliding with a bunch of hands. Instead of the feeling of cutting through meat, I felt the stiff shockwave of hitting something hard. The Collector had brought many of the hands it used to hold cleavers together, in order to create a shield. A big “10” floated over his head, with a shield next to it. The monster laughed and swung at me with five cleavers it had kept separate from the shield it formed. The swing was fast, and, before I could dodge, I was hit by three of them, leaving three distinct cuts across my chest. Each strike did fifteen damage, totaling forty-five. I grimaced at the huge chunk of health missing from my bar.
Ignoring the pain shooting through my body, I swung again. The skeleton raised its shield, blocking the strike. A “12” appeared this time, with the shield icon. It had 53 HP remaining.
I knew that whittling it down was a bad idea, especially since I wasn’t dodging enough of its hits to warrant that kind of play. It swung its five cleavers. I moved back again, dodging four and getting hit by one doing fifteen damage. I had 50 HP left and my timer was running out.
My back hit a soft, squishy wall amidst my dodge. I turned to see the line of Taboo Gluttons. They prepared to jump. I slashed the one I had run into, hitting a 62. As it melted, the others jumped. The area they covered was far too wide to dodge. Their large bodies fell like comets heading towards me. I braced myself for impact.
As they were about to fall on me, the Ash Collector slashed at them with ten of its hands. Two of them instantly popped, raining black sludge everywhere, completely covering me. With those two killed, I was able to avoid the rest. I didn’t have time to wonder why the Ash Collector would do that.
I dashed towards the monster and, with a mighty swing, I connected with its weakened shield. The electricity from the blade arced across its body and, for the first time, I heard it scream in pain. A “46” floated over its head.
I prepared another swing to finish him, but before I could, a small Manglet jumped on me, attaching itself to my leg. I felt as it began to eat, doing five damage. I swung my sword at it, but even as it perished, it did not relinquish its hold.
The skeleton turned to me and brandished all its cleavers, looking like a vortex of blades as it descended upon me. My hand moved on instinct as I threw the sword at its skull. The blade completely pierced through and continued on, over a truck, out of sight. The number “67” floated above the Ash Collector, reducing its HP to 0. Its blades turned to goo and its face began to melt.
I would have celebrated if, at that moment, I wasn’t being pounced on by the rest of the monsters. The last thing I remember before unconsciousness took me was the sound of Lahi’s voice.
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“Combo analysis: top right tendril attacks stomach, bottom left tendril attacks head two seconds later, then, main body moves north to repeat combo. Seventy percent accuracy.”
I listened as Atom filled my mind with possibilities. His almost-human voice always made me feel uneasy. It was a mix between a man and a woman's voice, both echoing as if spoken in a canyon.
The Mangle began another wave of attacks. Just as Atom predicted, the top right tendril attacked first. I dodged it effortlessly by jumping over the sweep. As I was in the air, the bottom left tendril moved to take advantage, but it was too slow. Atom had already positioned himself to intercept it. The tendril clashed with his hard outer shell and was deflected. I dropped to the ground and Atom floated next to me.
Atom is my totem, a representation of my MAS’s personality. He is a crystal ball tinted green. From what he’s told me, not many totems choose to have a physical form. My specific DNA forced him to take on this shape, to make use of my one and only ability at my low level, Fortune Teller.
All humans are born with a predisposition to an infinite number of passives. These passives are what the person seems to excel in without any training. I happened to have the DNA needed to use the legendary standard passive, Fortune Teller, which lets me see possible futures.
When I used it yesterday, for the first time, my head was so filled with possibilities that I wasn’t sure what was reality. Many people died because I couldn’t help them. We had to burn them to ash, away from the truck stop, so the Manglets couldn’t eat them.
The Mangle jumped, heading north as predicted. I followed. The speed I was able to run at now was incredible. The sensation of wind blowing in my brown hair as I dashed was like sticking my head out the window of a moving car.
Choosing elk as my DNA combination was paying off. Atom told me that every person's DNA combination choices are different, like a fingerprint. My choices were crocodile, elk, tree, squirrel, turtle, and wolverine. I chose elk. This let me run faster and put ten extra points on intelligence.
Before the monster even reached the ground, I was there to meet it. It didn’t seem surprised. I grabbed Atom and used some invisible force to shoot him from the palm of my hand. I wasn’t exactly sure how it worked, but when I shot Atom this way, he rocketed almost as fast as a bullet.
The creature I was fighting was a Formed Mangle. He looked exactly like a male model. Beautiful and handsome in every way. His chin was squared, as if he went to the gym ninety percent of the day, and the muscles throughout his body looked as if they had been chiseled to perfection by God. If it wasn’t for the black galaxy tendrils sticking out of his back and the distinctive black band on his neck, he would be indistinguishable from any human. Atom collided with his perfect abs.
My heart started to pound faster thinking about his features. When the fight first started, his looks were a real problem. Stack that on top of the fact that he was naked, and it’ll help you see the difficulty I had fighting this Adonis. Of course, now we were a few hours into our fight, and, well, he was tugging on my nerves more than my heart strings at this point.
He fell from the air, hitting the ground with a thud. Atom returned to orbiting around me. In the course of our fight, I had been able to knock him down a few times, but I was unable to finish him off.
“Zero percent chance of victory. Enemy immune to blunt damage. Power obtained from the mind of Garth Hawk,” Atom said for the fifth time.
“You really can’t say anything else can you?” I shot back, anger dripping from my words.
“Do not use that tone with me, young lady. I am only fulfilling my directive. Next time you show attitude, I will be forced to put you in time out, such is standard procedure.” Atom aggressively stated with his parental voice. Why did my parents make a MAS unit like this? It’s like they knew they weren’t going to be around, so they made this thing to raise me. It would kinda make sense, if they made it for me when I was like five, but I was twenty when they gave it to me. It's been sitting in the back of my truck for four years. Figures they’d make a MAS unit for their perfect little girl and not their adult daughter. Whatever.
“Atom, could you find a way to kill him, please?” I implored as apologetically as I could.
Atom meandered around, as if to think about it. For a robot, he sure had his annoying quirks. Then he stopped, raised himself a little higher so he could see over me. “Chance to kill target is now thirty six percent. Requirement: Makiel must fight the enemy towards truck parking with back against the nearest truck. Random-acts-of-God calculation complete: eighty nine percent chance something out of your control will occur, with a forty seven percent chance of victory.” Atom dumped the whole calculation in my head. Before, I couldn’t begin to figure out these equations and statistics without a calculator and at least an hour, but now, with my intelligence at twelve, I was able to come to a conclusion in a split second.
I shot Atom at the enemy, who was still laying on the ground, reveling in his invincibility against me. I made sure to aim for the spot most likely to get him to chase me. As Atom connected with the all-too-human part of his male form, I began to run towards the truck parking lot.
I could hear the monster gasp from the ball-to-ball collision. I looked back and saw that Atom was gliding towards me with the Adonis on his tail.
With my speed, it only took a second to get to where I needed to be. Now the hard part. I had to fight for as long as it took for things to go my way. I received several calculations and possibilities from Atom as I prepared to meet the Mangle.
When it came within ten feet of me, it used all four of its tentacles to attack. It wanted to trap me by only giving me one way out, where it would use its body to intercept me. I could see it. All its plans lined up before me. The only problem was choosing which one was most likely to happen.
I shuffled to the right to meet one specific set of tentacles. There was a low chance of survival if I met his trap, so I decided to try my luck against that set. I used my arm to deflect the top tendril. It took a chunk of fur and flesh as it was deflected.
When I first integrated with my MAS unit, I was horrified to see that the top of my arm had grown a thick layer of fur, almost like a gauntlet, but realizing its uses in battle, I got over it. Atom was also quick to remind me how lucky I was that I only got fur on the top parts of my arms and legs, citing that some transformations are more completely animal than human.
Blood ran down my arm as the bottom tentacle swiftly reached towards my feet. I used Atom to smash the tentacle into the ground. With a newly opened space, I dodged the rest of its assault. This went on for a few seconds: me narrowly dodging and the Mangle setting up more attacks.
During our intense dance, I heard a scream. It came from the other side of the truck I was up against. It sounded like a man. Everyone who was still left should be in the McDonald’s, so this scream was either coming from another Formed Mangle, or survivors that came down the road. I didn't have time to really think about it.
Adonis seemed to be getting faster with each exchange. For every prediction I made to perfectly dodge, he seemed to add another attack to throw off the prediction. My right arm had been torn up pretty badly and my normally pretty face had cuts all over it. This wasn’t going to go my way much longer.
“Atom, when is that act from God coming?” I demanded, yelling and dodging at the same time.
“3……2….1,” As Atom reached the end of the countdown, a purple light shot up from behind the Truck. It arced towards me and fell just in front of where I had landed. “Chance of Victory: eighty nine percent.” Atom reported triumphantly.
In front of me, as if sent from Valhalla, was a silver sword. The blade shone with an electric purple light, its hilt beautifully carved with an alien design, and splotches of black, from what I assume was Manglet blood. I grabbed it by the hilt and raised it towards my enemy. Adonis paused for a moment, in confusion at what I was holding.
Before he could collect himself, I sprinted towards him. Numbers, equations, and different theories rushed through my head as I dodged and weaved. Adonis’s eyes grew wide as the distance between us began to shrink. He tried to back up, but I smashed Atom into one of his tentacles, pinning him to the spot. As I neared his head with the blade, I saw him open his mouth, his face now contorted into a terrified look, saying, “Mercy!” My rage boiled and I sliced off his head.