Two Phalanx-urchin-things approached.

They were bouncing off of each other, slowly making their way towards the group. They appeared almost drunk as they staggering along, all six legs working independently of each other to bring the creatures forward. Honeypot tried to find a way around them, intending on stunning them from behind, but there was no safe way to get past the two spiky bodies without getting pricked. He instead waited at the three-way junction for them to approach.

Honeypot looked back at the rest of his group, seeing them warily make their way towards him and the waiting monsters. He peered past them, seeing the urchin they had just sent sailing lying on the ground, unmoving. Peering back at the still-approaching urchins, he saw they were almost at the intersecting section of tunnel, so he had no time to alert the other adventurers without ruining his chance of an ambush on the creatures.

He calmed his breathing and waited for his chance to strike.

The first urchin wobbled around the corner, jerking to a standstill as it saw the adventurers further down the tunnel. Bumping the first with its spines and jostling it over, the second ambled into view of the others. The first one wobbled, almost falling over as it spun to look at the second. Before its eyes could find it, however, they locked on to the adventurers. The bombardiers held their weapons ready but didn’t fire, and Honeypot was thankful they had the good sense to not fire explosives willy-nilly down the hall his invisible form occupied.

A tense moment passed, then the urchins charged.

Honeypot—who had positioned himself behind the foremost creature and next to the other one—swung into action. He brought his scythe down overhand as hard as he could. The blade sheered through spines, the long handle allowing him to sink the tip of the sharp weapon into the main body of the creature. He pulled down and back before the blade came to a stop, using the momentum to rip a vicious gash through the black flesh of the urchin.

The second his weapon was free of its victim’s body, he whirled, intending to use Chastise on the other urchin beside him. In the space between heartbeats, terror rose from within, knowing if the stun didn’t take, he would be in for a world of hurt.

He used his stun, and blessedly, it worked. The body of the one he sliced turned in a single, lightning-fast motion that belied its previous sluggishness. Close as he was, Honeypot could see the beady eyes of the creature as they peered out through spines at him with malicious intent.

The creature rushed forward at Honeypot, but he was already gone, turning and sprinting as fast as he could while desperately trying to reenter Stealth. He heard the familiar twang of the Bomb Squad’s explosive delivery systems, and an extra level of urgency entered his step. He spotted another intersection ahead and dove around the corner just as the explosives reached their targets.

He felt something catch on his leg and tear at his leather pants as the struck urchin flew past the entrance to his new tunnel. He landed awkwardly, half-skidding, half-rolling as he hit the grimy floor. The scrapes on his hands were quickly forgotten as a burning sensation blossomed in his leg.

Honeypot looked down to see his pants had been torn away below the knee, and a score of scratches covered his now bare leg. Traces of the purple oozing liquid could be seen beside the scratches the toxic spines of the urchin had left behind.

He tried to get to his feet, but his scratched leg was already going numb, causing him to shuffle awkwardly and rely on the wall to help keep him upright. He pulled the glass vial Orion had given him out of his inventory, intent on taking his daily dose and ridding himself of the poison, just as something clambered into view.

The urchin stood in the entrance to his tunnel. It looked extremely damaged, most of its spines missing. It no longer possessed its previous alacrity as it wobbled on the spot. Turning ninety-degrees, it faced him and took a single step forward.

Three more munitions slammed into its exposed side. It flew out of sight, torn to pieces by the undefended explosions.

Honeypot hurriedly drank the potion—he could feel the poison spreading through his body at a terrifying rate, his other leg already losing feeling. He felt a wave of relief wash over his body as the Bountiful Potion of Miraculous Healing ran its course, and the feeling in his legs partially returned with each second.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

It wasn’t lost on Honeypot that he no longer had the healing of the potion to rely on. It would be another twenty-four hours before he could use it again, and a similar amount of time for Fener and Seren. He heard sounds of combat ring out from the other tunnel, and he walked on still-shaky legs to get as close to the action as possible.

Honeypot slowly rounded the corner to see Seren in a blur of motion, using one of his skills as his shield moved around seemingly of its own accord, and his short sword hacked away at the exposed needles of two urchins. The first urchin—the one that they had been kiting before the other two showed up, and that Honeypot had assumed was dead—stood right beside the previously stunned one. Both were being held at bay by Seren.

“Shield!” Fener yelled.

Honeypot looked on with curiosity as Seren instantly took a leap back, got on one knee and held his shield at ground level—just as three explosives flew over his head and slammed into the two urchins. They were both launched back, torn to pieces by the devastating attacks.

Fener stood and made to put his sword away, but his sword-hand slumped groggily, not listening to his commands. He looked down with dawning horror, as did everyone else.

There was a small gap of skin showing between his gauntlet and armor, and a tiny drop of blood mixed with purple liquid fell to the floor.

***

Gizmo did his best to hold on through the growing dread and unpleasant pain. His components screamed in protest at the burning steam that permeated his body. It seemed to grow worse with every second as more of the liquid-turned-gas found its way in through the crevices and gaps in his armor.

Part of his awareness could still feel the physical attacks of the monsters around him as they bit and fought to get to his small form, but where such a sensation would usually bring him pure joy, it now served as the tomb that would ensure his death. If only he could free himself, to get away from the source of the agonizing pain that still entered his body… but he knew he could not.

His last hope was that with his sacrifice, those that he cared about would survive. His master and his master’s party members sprung to the forefront of his thoughts, as did his teacher, and the other adventurers and townsfolk he had met so far.

Presented with his own death, he wished he had more time to spend with all of them. He wished he had possessed the presence of mind to appreciate those memories at the time, and regretted that he didn’t focus more on the humans around him, instead of his own pursuit of pain-induced instant-gratification.

I find humans to be such curious and marvelous creatures…

This realization sparked something within Gizmo. Power welled from within him and it washed out, an overwhelming feeling of euphoria pushing the pain of the steam aside as easily as a raging river would move a leaf. He felt his body begin to modify. His health—which was previously deep in the red—flashed back to full in an instant, followed by a feeling of unprecedented relief. The seams in his body closed, every gap where humidity could enter slowly being filled with some sort of unknown material. In that moment, he felt invincible. He felt as though he could take on every single creature in the assault, knocking back each of their attacks wish ease.

As soon as the euphoria had washed out, however, it started to fade. The pain of the steam assaulting his inside returned as it rushed back in through the not-yet-closed gaps, his feeling of relief replaced once more with a looming sense of dread as a certainty made itself known to Gizmo.

The evolution had come too late; it would not save him.

The steam was still billowing off the attacking creatures, and even as the gas was expelled and the holes in his defense were patched, more steam flew back in. He knew that even if his body were to complete the transformation now, steam and humidity would be trapped inside with no means of escape.

Maybe he could somehow let it out, pierce a hole in his own body to let the gaseous liquid out… but as he checked his plummeting health and his defensive cooldowns that were about to expire, he knew that to be a comforting lie—he would not make it out of this pile of creatures.

Gizmo knew his death had arrived as something powerful burst into existence beneath him. A powerful creature must have arrived, as he felt heat like nothing before surround him. The steam from the water creatures washed out, pouring thicker than ever before. The steam blew into the cavernous gaps of his body with such force that he wished for it all to end. With that sensation, he not only accepted his death, but wished for it—anything to take away the pain he was experiencing.

He cursed his vastly superior awareness; a single second for his human companions stretched into what felt like an eternity for him.

The heat increased, and the pain amplified tenfold. The steam moved around his body as it desperately tried to find more space to fill. It expanded, getting into spots it had previously ignored, and searing every micrometer of his internal surfaces.

The heat increased again, and the pain shifted. The steam started to… leave? It roiled inside him still, but instead of more coming in, what was already inside of him was trying to get out. Bit-by-bit, it hissed out and evaporated, the heat of the attack surrounding him too much for it to bear.

As the agonizing burning of the steam decreased, a familiar, welcome sensation of pain took its place.

Suddenly, he knew who this new arrival was.