*Loud crack follows*

My power attack lands precisely on the spot. The spiral cone collapses inward, and the calcium shell shatters into pieces. My hammer’s head cracks the shell like a boiled egg.

Fragments of the shell slide down in a stream of mucus, cascading over the shell. I barely manage to escape before getting drenched in the waterfall of mucus.

The snail wobbles all around, making the puckering sound of air bubbles bursting through the open shell. As the flow of mucus finally lessens, the beating, fleshy, shiny part is exposed.

“Now! Stab!” I shout at Mike. But I don’t have to. His second sabre is already piercing through the air, burying itself inside the creature.

His face shines, and his eyes are burning. Wide open mouth full of teeth, with an evil grin. We won.

My mouth is open as I gaze at the snail, examining it. Life force is leaving its body. It is observable with every second. Its health bar steadily depletes until it disappears. The one eye that was still standing strong is now drooping to the side.

Mike removes his blade from the heart of the creature. The handle of his sabre is covered in a mixture of blood and mucus. It’s gross, but he doesn’t care. With a few quick flicks of his weapon, he shakes the fluids off his blade and his right hand. The creature drops onto its left side with a loud thud, its mortal wound facing up.

Mike drives the sabre into the ground with a slight force, then raises both arms, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. What the heck? Did he get a level? I ask myself, but I don’t dare interfere with his moment.

“Woohoo,” the old man cheers, revealing a smile again.

“Those were some impressive moves.” He looks at Mike and then curiously at me.

“Boy, how in the world are you doing this?” He comments on my shape-shifting ability, which he hasn’t seen before.

Mike opens his eyes, takes another deep breath through his nose, and claps his hands. “Good.” He finishes with a wide smile, completely ignoring Harald.

“Boys?” A frightened, pale Astrid joins, clutching one of her few remaining arrows. From the tone of her voice, I know there’s another one, maybe even more.

Turning my head toward the direction she’s looking, I know my prediction was correct.

I ready my hammer once again, but my still wounded and bruised arms are a warning.

I must be more precise. Shifting my power from other parts of my body to one area, the sheer amount of strength is far greater than my outer shell can handle. I move in front of Astrid, blocking her view. Gripping my hammer with both hands, I slowly channel the energy and ready myself.

Two snails are approaching us at a fairly high speed. “First, I take the left one, then the right,” I order the party, feeling like I’m the only one capable of breaking through the shell. With the condition of my arms, I won’t be able to do it more than two or three times. I must be precise and not miss.

While focusing and charging my attack, waves of flesh and blood move under my skin. Astrid and Mike stand on either side, prepared.

“Ouch! Mr. Nilsson!” What the... I lose my focus. I need to start over. The curious old man pinches my tricep area, examining the fluid movement under my skin.

“Sorry, I was just curious. Sorry again.” He takes out the magazine, blows over the first bullet, and reinserts it.

The snails are too close now, and Astrid stands there like bait. She barely steps away from the snail’s attack—it’s my time.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

*Bang*

I hit it hard at the tip of the shell spiral. The power I released to crack it was estimated just right.

The shell cracks under my hammerhead. It’s not the same impact as before; the radius of the crack is smaller, and my hammer barely gets buried inside. I struggle for a second and have to wobble it free.

The petite girl is ready. The moment I remove my hammer, her arrow slides right in.

“Whoa.”

What the... What if I’d moved slightly into her shot? I back away, wondering. With my arms still swollen, I move to the next snail to repeat the strategy.

“Aargh!” Mike screams in pain and grunts. He drops his sabre and covers his eye. The snail rams into him, causing him to lose his balance.

He falls on his back, and the slimy creature runs over him. The snail lifts its shell and releases a wave of mucus from beneath. Astrid screams for Mike and shoots another arrow right into the snail’s face. The depletion of its health bar is negligible, and I can count her remaining arrows on one hand.

Mucus spreads quickly, covering a radius of several meters. Mike is fully pinned to the ground. I can’t get close enough to make a hit.

*A loud gunshot follows*

I look at the snail’s shell—the tip of the spiral is blown off. Pieces of the hard shell flow down from the opening with the stream of mucus, merging with the pond beneath the snail.

I immediately turn to Harald. He’s standing there with a black military shotgun.

What the hell? What else does he have?

“Finish it, Markus!”

He grabs his belt holster, flicks out his Glock, and unlocks it. With a quick step toward me, he hands me the gun, grip first. I take it without hesitation.

“Aim and press the trigger. Simple as that,” he says confidently. My target is close.

I stick the gun near the hole and fire.

*Bang*

The snail’s health bar drains instantly, and it collapses to the side like the one before, its mortal wound facing up. Astrid jumps into the scene and tries to push the snails muscular leg away from Mike.

She gets stuck to the ground near Mike and the dead snail. He manages to wiggle free a bit.

Once his arms are free, he cleans his face, finally able to take a deep breath.

“Fuuc...” He gags a few times and presses his palm against his eye.

This has happened before, but not so severely. Does he have a serious eye injury, or maybe something with his brain? A brief thought flashes through my mind.

I see the old man wants to help Mike up, but he’s interrupted by the crackling of branches in the distance. He focuses his gaze on a darker corner of the forest.

“We’ll manage! Go!” Astrid orders us as she takes care of Mike.

The old man crouches and looks around, eyes peeled, holding the shotgun against his chest, barrel facing down. I hand him back his gun. He locks it and holsters it without a word.

The moment the gun slides in, he immediately takes it out, unlocks it, and hands it to me again. Quickly standing up, he sprints toward the darker part of the forest.

I focus on the direction he’s running and see the silhouette of another snail. As we approach it from behind, the old man crouches.

“Can you still do it?” he whispers, looking at my hammer.

“I think I can.”

Gripping my hammer tightly, I sneak behind the snail, only to discover a group of them. They are smaller than the others we’ve encountered.

“Is this their nest?” I whisper.

“Sshh. We need to surprise them!” He points at the first snail, then the other two. I take it as my command.

*Bang*

The heart area is exposed with one precise, moderately strong hit. I skip finishing it off and move quickly to another. Four snails with broken shells are now squirming around.

Harald fires two shots from his Glock, blowing off the spiral areas. It works on the smaller ones.

He switches to his combat knife and finishes them off. Before I can draw the gun, Mike is already in the fray, stabbing the snails with his sabre.

“Hey! Those are mine!” I frown.

“Don’t waste your bullets. I’ll return the favor in the next fight.”

I shake my head in disbelief.

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It seems Mike’s eye pain has lessened, and he followed us. The mucus on his clothes is dry now, and he has his missing sneaker back. Astrid catches up, joining us while picking dried mucus from her clothes.

The wind has completely died down, and the only sound is our footsteps and the occasional burping of snails’ deflating bodies and flowing mucus.

“Is that it?” I ask the old man.

“I think we’re done for now. Clean up, and we need to move before dawn,” he says, pointing ahead.

I wonder why he suddenly wants to leave this area.

----------------------------------------

We continue through the colorful mushroom forest. Harald leads, and I walk close by.

As we walk, Mike kicks at wild mushrooms and waves his sabre, slashing at the flora.

“Cut it out, Mikey!” I hear an annoyed Astrid. The old man chuckles.

He clears his throat and asks me, “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

I shake my head.

“You can have it if you want.” He looks me in the eye.

“Just like that?” I raise my eyebrows.

“With a little help from your strength, if you don’t mind.”

I look confused for a moment, trying to imagine what in the world he could need from me.

“Do you think you could lift a car?”