Chapter 23 Headhunters
Roach meandered restlessly through the vast corridors of the base, an unease gripping him tightly. Pain surged through his back, akin to the relentless stab of a thousand knives. Time was upon him, and his nerves were frayed. His pistols nestled securely within their holsters, concealed beneath his rugged leather duster, and his daggers lay sheathed at his waist. Strapped to his belt was an arsenal of tactical gear, an array that spanned from smoke grenades to incendiary thermite explosives. A crinkled cigarette was pursed between his lips with a hefty length of ash untapped.
Turning a corner, he found himself at a hole in the wall that was guarded by iron bars. Sat behind was an elven teller, her face not obscured by mist.
“Rank and Alias,” they asked, tone-deaf.
“Raptor, Roach.”
“Raptor Rank, Roach, what business do you have at the Bank?”
“Transfer all available funds into my pension.”
“Thinking of killing yourself, Raptor Roach?”
“Something like that,” he replied.
“Have you spoken to your Team Leader or—”
“This bank is an entirely separate organisation that does not get involved with the dealings of active agents or missions. Therefore you mustn’t communicate with any Team Leaders or Elders about the matters of their subordinates.”
“Textbook answer, Raptor Roach. I will comply with your request but … speaking personally, it’s never really a true answer.”
“Then you don’t know all the answers,” Roach responded bluntly.
“Fair enough, Raptor Roach, I will now process your request.”
“Thank you.”
Roach turned on the spot and marched through the halls, heading to the War Room. His fingers were twitching, and the skull on his back beckoned to be set free.
Eventually, he arrived and saw a sight he wished was a dream. There was Elora Evergrand, kitted in a battle robe with a camera strapped across her chest. Her hair wasn’t down in her usual elegant fashion but braided into pigtails tucked tightly into her robe. In addition, she was bare-faced, and her shoes were suitable, not fashionable.
“That’s all of us, Administrator,” Boseman announced, turning to her.
“On the dot, Roach,” Administrator Speaker stated. “I’m sure you’re well acquainted with Elora Evergrand.”
“Uh—yes, Administrator Speaker,” Roach replied, his shock withheld in his tone.
“Evening, Roach,” Elora said, curtseying politely.
“Good evening, Lady Evergrand,” Roach replied through gritted teeth as he nodded his head. He stepped up to the platform and looked at those present. “Apologies, Administrator, but why is she here?”
“Let me catch you up then,” she said. “The King himself requested her to join us,” she breathed in sharply, “and to live stream the Headhunt to the general public.”
“A public execution, Administrator?” Roach questioned.
“Precisely. He has caused countless deaths—I do agree that it would be fitting. However, as you all know, Elora Evergrand is a Lady, not a mercenary.”
“I will not be a burden, Administrator,” Elora declared, straightening her back. “And I will not be a damsel in distress.”
“According to your SPD record you were a damsel in distress, Lady Evergrand,” Administrator Speaker told her sternly.
The silence was loud in the War Room.
“I have changed—I want this man more than anyone else—”
“We don’t want this man ourselves, Lady Evergrand, we have been hired to execute him. Emotions do not play a role in our decision-making or efforts. Headhunters are exactly what the name suggests: a head cut off its body cleanly and presented well for the recipient.”
“Of course,” Elora replied, nodding her head down in a flustered manner.
“So she will be joining the Headhunters, Administrator?” Roach questioned.
“Yes. By her own request, she will not be identified as an SPD—a hired hand that you all are familiar with. The price of her soul is the same as all of yours. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am!” everyone shouted, except for Elora.
“You’re leaving in twenty minutes. Make sure your gear is in check. Do your job and do it well, there is no room for failure at the Unwanted.”
When everyone dispersed, Roach discretely grabbed Elora’s wrist. “What the fuck are you doing?” he angrily whispered.
She pulled away and stepped off the stage. She took her leave, abandoning Roach in a pit of anger. Clenching his jaw, he followed after her.
“Elora,” he quick-whispered, increasing his pace.
Elora turned around a corner.
“Elora,” he repeated, catching her hand as she walked.
“What?” she questioned, her tone guarded.
Roach eyed an interrogation room and pulled her towards it. “Let go of me,” she protested. His grip was true and she unwillingly followed him into the room. Roach slammed the door behind him and locked it.
“What the fuck are you thinking?!” he shouted at her. “You’re going to die!”
“I won’t!” she shouted back.
Roach calmed himself and turned away, placing the back of his hand on his forehead. “Are you trying to prove yourself to me? You don’t have to do that—”
“I want to do this. That man tried to take my life and he killed hundreds of thousands—”
Roach rushed toward her, grabbing both her shoulders and pushing her against the wall. “Who gives a fuck about others, Elora? This is my job and you’re fucking it up. You will die - this man won’t hesitate to skin you alive given the opportunity. You’re not some hero the city needs—”
She thrust her face forward and kissed him.
Roach paused, bewildered. He pulled away, gently releasing his grip. “This is because of me,” he told himself, stepping away and meeting her eyes through his mist.
Elora’s cheeks grew rosy steadily and a stone built up in her throat. Her eyes shifted to his distorted ones but she quickly looked down out of shame. Flustered, she ducked under his arm and exited the room.
Roach stayed still, breathing heavily. All of a sudden, he screamed, “Fuck!” He slammed his fist into the wall. Not finding it cured him of rage, he punched it repeatedly, until all the skin had been scraped from his knuckles.
Boseman laid a duffel bag down on the back of one of the twelve hovercrafts in a hanger. The hovercraft was shaped akin to a boat and housed six rotating thrusters beneath its sturdy hull. A pair of pilots were stationed at the front, their visages shrouded by a veil of white mist. A set of sliding doors graced each side. Armed to the teeth with missile launchers and flares, the hovercraft was a testament to the generous budget provided by Elora's father.
“Hey, boss,” Kilo called him.
Boseman turned his head and nodded. “What’s up?”
“You sure this is gonna work with them?” she asked, resting her spear on her shoulder.
“They’re good, mate, but keep your wits about ya.” Boseman looked over to Trust and Nest who were checking gear and nodded to them. “We come first, never forget that.”
“Always boss, don’t need to tell me,” Kilo grunted.
Trust came skipping over with Nest in her small shadow. “I’m so excited!” she exclaimed.
“Easy lass,” Boseman stated, letting off a small chuckle. “Are you good, Nest?”
Nest ruffled his feathers. “Not knowing what we’re encountering will be a problem, but then again, we’re not paid to worry.”
“Too fucking right,” Kilo agreed.
Goliath, Mute, Spike and Pointy walked into the hanger, garnering the attention of the Jagers.
Goliath wore a new set of black leather armour that covered him from the neck down. A hefty club was on his shoulder and his golden knuckles dusters were hooked on his waist, banging against his leg with every hefty stride.
Mute wore the same as she always did: black trainers and a black cloak. Underneath was only a thin layer of brown leather armour. Her fringe was trimmed to a fine line and a fresh bandage covered her eyes under the mist.
Spike had glued his mohawk to a fixed ninety-degree angle which encompassed his scalp. Each of the metallic points on his jacket had been polished. His unique guitar was tuned to be electric and an assault rifle was slung over his shoulder.
Adorning Pointy was a cloak, and underneath, light leather armour and a thin kevlar vest. His bow was nowhere to be seen, but more than likely it was hidden somewhere.
“You lot sound?” Boseman asked. “Where’s the princess and Roach?”
His question was answered as Elora emerged, Roach shortly behind her. All the Headhunters had arrived. Everyone began to clamber inside and get buckled in. This was it. There was no going back.
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Boseman stuck his head into the cockpit. “We’re a go." The two misted pilots nodded their heads and booted up the hovercraft. Boseman sat down with his team and handed out earpieces along with a thin plastic strip with a microchip in the centre.
“Voice distorters,” Boseman told them. “For the camera. The feed is delayed by ten minutes. Anything that can reveal your identity will be spotted by Intelligence and will be blurred or muted. They’re powered off mana batteries so they should still work against the weapon.” He checked a digital watch on his wrist. “The Ground Assault has begun.”
“It will turn into a graveyard,” Roach told him.
“I know,” Boseman sighed. “We’re flying with twelve others in series-7 chaotic motion. He won’t know which one we are. When we get close, I’m giving the signal.”
“Where’s my parachute?” Elora questioned.
“I’ll catch you,” Spike offered, grinning under his mist.
“No parachutes - too slow, Lady Evergrand. Follow the team and trust us,” Boseman instructed.
Elora nodded.
“And always have your gas mask on,” Boseman sternly reminded. “Miasma will rot your lungs before the undead eat you alive.”
It suddenly hit her; this was real. She unhooked the gas mask from her robe and firmly attached it to her face. Her breath fogged up the mask. Roach leaned over and pulled the cap off the filter.
“Thank you,” she told him, embarrassed.
Roach didn’t respond. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with his electric lighter, looking past Kilo’s head with a blank stare.
Elora looked out the window opposite her. The Hovercraft was travelling through the hanger but stopped when it reached the end. In a quick, brilliant purple fashion, they were teleported outside into a thick forest. It climbed and climbed until it scrapped the top of the clouds. From there, the back thrusters rotated away and began pushing the hovercraft through the air.
“Any requests?” Spike asked, breaking the silence.
“Shut the fuck up, by me,” Kilo responded.
“Very original,” Spike replied, smiling under his mist. “I was thinking something dramatic? Or something romantic for the lady here.” He turned his attention to Elora. “Would you like me to play anything, princess?”
“Her title is Lady Evergrand,” Boseman corrected.
“I thought she was one of us?” Spike argued.
“She still has her title, and I imagine that if we all survive this, she’s gonna have you strung up by your bollocks and branded as a sex pest,” Boseman replied, lighting a cigar.
“I wouldn’t be against it,” Spike joked.
“Play what you want,” Boseman sighed, exhaling a cloud of dirty smoke.
Spike cocked his head, thinking about it for a moment.
Then he strummed his guitar.
“There once was a man, as cold as the morn,
No feelings, no morals, since the day he was born.
Lived his life like it wasn’t his own, no rules at all,
That was until the trumpets of war began to call.
He'd cheat at cards, he'd steal your pie,
Murder your mother under the darkened sky.
A pinch of his salt, a wink of his eye,
Underneath the stars, where the white flags fly.
In the heart of the fight, he sports a grin,
A life without morals, a life of sin.
Yet he dances still, all night long,
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Slaying through the shadows, singing his song.
Then came the bullet, swift and sly,
Brought down our hero, under the moonlit sky.
No fear in his eyes, just the same old jest,
Laying down finally, for his eternal rest.
Now he lies there still, beneath the loam,
In a grave without feelings, a heart of cold stone—”
“I think that’s enough, Spike,” Goliath grunted, picking bits of hair and rotten flesh from his club.
“I enjoyed that,” Kilo muttered to him. “Perhaps you ain’t just a gobby twat.”
Before Spike could reply, a weighty hand fell on his thigh. It wasn’t worth it. He laid his guitar on his lap and pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear.
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“We’re five minutes out!” one of the pilots said through the intercom.
Everyone stood up immediately, Elora only a second behind.
“Holy shit,” the pilot’s mumble came through.
Elora regrettably looked outside, seeing a battle heading towards the mountains. Lit up by the light of the Three Moons, bodies were scattered throughout a burning forest. Closer towards the mana crystal mine was where the fighting was prevalent. Hordes of the undead were shuffling towards misted faces, with a few Children of Discordia dotted between.
“They did better than I thought,” Boseman grunted, slapping the voice distorter on his neck. “How do I sound?” His voice was completely unrecognisable. It went from medium pitch to high during his sentence.
“I hope these things work,” Goliath grunted, placing his on.
As did the rest.
Boseman opened up the side door and powerful winds struck them. “Alright, this is it. Communications will go dark when we approach the mine, Elora’s camera is the only thing that can connect us to the outside. May the Black Moon show mercy.”
“One minute!”
As everyone prepared to jump, Elora discretely grabbed Roach’s hand. He thought of pulling away but his consciousness wouldn’t let him.
Suddenly, gunfire peppered against the hovercraft.
“Taking fire!” the pilot announced.
“Stay on course!” Goliath ordered.
“Releasing flares.”
Elora’s heart rate rose rapidly. She watched out the window as a missile connected with the hovercraft next to them. It exploded instantly after, killing all inside and beginning a fiery descent. With horror in her eyes, she watched as it crunched into a tree below.
“Twenty seconds!”
“We want his head,” Boseman stated, meeting the eyes of each of them. “Are we ready, Unwanted!?” He gripped the handle of the side door and yanked it open.
“Yes, sir!”
Boseman leapt out first and the rest funnelled in line. Elora was set to jump second to last. With shaky fingers, she switched the camera on. “Come on,” Roach hurried, pushing her in front of him. “Don’t think, just jump.”
Elora breathed out, attempting to steady her rapid heart rate. Thinking she was ready, she stepped forward and prepared to jump. However, when it came to following through, she gripped the side of the doors. She didn’t have long to debate it as she felt two rough hands grip her waist. She was spun around and before she knew it, was free-falling with Roach.
Roach let go and dove down to join the rest of the team. Elora spun for a while before she balanced herself just as she reached terminal velocity. Then she saw it, the battlefield she was falling into. Bullets were zipping past her. Seeing the team, she copied their form and dove down to join them.
“Nice of you to join us, Elora,” Boseman said through the earpiece.
“It’s not every day you jump out of a plane without a parachute,” she replied, cracking a smile through her gas mask.
“There’s a hole above the entrance there, do you all see it?” Boseman questioned.
“Yes, sir,” they all replied, Elora included.
“Trust will be slowing our approach so stay in formation. If you don’t, you get left behind.”
And so, the Headhunters dove towards the hollowed mountains amidst an inverted rain of bullets, magic and missiles. The night sky was present, along with the Black Moon that shone brightly, evermore so than during the Horde. Down below, thousands of misted faces fought hordes of the alive and undead.
“We’re closing in!” Boseman announced. “Stay close to Trust.”
The Headhunters slowly merged, their black cloaks forming a spearhead for a hole in the mountain with Trust at the front.
“We’re going to lose comms, follow Trust’s signalling.”
Roughly a hundred metres before they were about to enter the hollowed mountain, Trust opened her palm. A vacuum was quickly formed behind them, sucking them backwards. As a result, their speed lowered. Light from the Three Moons quickly vanished as they entered the hole, with only a glowing light emanating from Trust’s head. It moved left, then right, a dive, then suddenly—
“TRUST!” Boseman bellowed.
They had dropped into an enormous hollowed-out portion of the mana crystal mine. But Boseman wasn’t yelling about that. Beneath them was a circular pit that went down in stages with a circular pathway. In the pit, and on every level, were undead - thousands of them.
“TRUST! TRUST!”
A large void of space was created above them, slowly their fall to a greater effect—they were still falling, and falling fast.
Trust rapidly scanned for a safe place to land but the only options were ledges on either side and they were passing by dozens of them every second. That was until she spotted one which was perfect. She extended both her hands out, creating multiple voids to change the Headhunter’s trajectory.
The Headhunters were thrown about in the air, all to Trust’s will. They aimed to hit the cave wall above the platform.
“BRACE!” Spike screamed.
Roach grabbed Elora’s battle robe and pulled her towards him, shielding her from taking the impact.
The team smacked against the cave wall, knocking the air out of all over them except Boseman, Kilo and Goliath.
Groans and coughing occurred.
“Everyone alive?” Boseman asked with a grunt.
Elora rolled off Roach.
“I told you lot, we need to fucking brace,” Spike choked, rolling and heaving on all fours.
Goliath grabbed Spike’s jacket and yanked him to his feet.
“I was not expecting that,” Trust said, hands on knees. “I thought getting in was going to be the hardest part.”
“But we are in,” Boseman confirmed, peering over the edge. He looked down at the thousands of undead. “But that’s a problem.”
“Have you got napalm?” Roach questioned.
“Won’t kill all of them quick enough,” Boseman countered, squatting down. “Smoke would get us before them.”
“We all remember the Bugs Nest, correct?” Pointy recalled.
“That could work,” Kilo agreed, kissing her teeth. “And we have the perfect bait.”
“Except we don’t have a nuclear bomb,” Nest stated with a ruffle of his feathers.
“What’s your GMS, Elora?” Pointy asked her.
“My GMS for pyromancy is 68.7,” she replied hastily.
“The smoke would kill us,” Nest countered.
“What is the Bugs Nest?” Elora questioned.
Roach started getting undressed.
“We could blow a hole in the ceiling,” Pointy suggested, directing everyone’s attention to the cracks in the roof above. “Funnel it out. Spike and Boseman can redirect falling rocks and smoke.”
“I concur,” Nest agreed. “Bugs Nest it is.”
“WHAT IS THE BUGS NEST?”
“You’ll find out, Elora,” Goliath told her. “Spike I need you to focus sound towards Roach when he’s down there. Keep them on him like flies to shit. Boseman, have you got rope?”
“You want to swing the explosives up?”
“I have a good throw,” Kilo offered, clutching her unique spear, “But I’m not using Sandra.”
“I can make you one,” Pointy offered.
Elora looked at the dozens of undead already climbing the walls to get them. “They’re coming!” she warned. When she turned back, Roach was in his birthday suit, except for the mist on his face. “Oh my, what are you doing?” she wondered.
“He doesn’t want to ruin his clothes, princess,” Spike jested, tipping his mohawk towards her.
“Uh, Roach,” Goliath warned him, “the skull.”
Of course, Roach couldn’t see, but everyone else could. The skull on his back was swimming around on his skin, pushing the tallies around as it circled up to his neck.
“Do you lot mind?” he questioned them with a harsh tone.
“I have questions,” Nest said, holding a finger up.
“Save them,” Boseman cut off. “Work on where we’re going next. It’s gotta be down there somewhere.”
“Yes, sir,” Nest accepted.
“The spear?” Kilo asked Pointy.
Pointy opened his hand out and a translucent blue swirled out of it. “You’ll have to give me a minute.”
“We haven’t got time,” Boseman huffed. “Roach, go now. Spike, draw them to him, and Elora, use the biggest spell in your arsenal.”
“Really?” she questioned.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just—I’ve never been able to use it before on such a scale.”
“There’s always a first,” Boseman grunted.
Spike yanked at the strap of his guitar and it landed in his hands. “Roach, you ready?”
“No,” he replied. He felt up the edge of the landing with his bare feet. He cracked his neck on either side and then stretched his torso.
“Anytime, Roach,” Goliath told him.
Roach breathed out. “Elora, don’t fire unless I give the signal.”
“Ok,” she said, nodding quickly, not understanding what was happening.
Roach placed a foot on the slope and pushed himself off. Sharp rocks cut into his feet but he didn’t falter or show pain; he needed to get into the centre quickly and draw as much attention as possible.
Spike struck a match off his leather belt. “Oi, princess, I hope you get this!” He stuck the cigarette between his teeth and strummed his guitar, the sound waves seemingly multiplying off the cave walls and focusing around Roach.
Roach was nearing the bottom of the first layer and the undead were already climbing on top of each other to get to him. They weren’t all human, but a mix of races - monsters included; he would have to be careful where he stepped. His right foot planted into the face of an undead, its skull crunching beneath the weight and his toes had a quick bath in rotting brain matter.
Still, he launched off it, barrelling into a few undead which he used a sledge on the next slope.
“It’s been a minute,” Kilo hurried.
Pointy was halfway through crafting a spear out of his mana. He had cast thousands of arrows before - the runic formations were hardwired into his brain. A spear was a whole different ball game. “Be patient, he hasn’t even made it into the third ring.”
“How’s he looking, Nest?” Boseman asked.
“Surprisingly nimble, minimal injuries so far,” Nest reported, his irises shrinking. “Goliath, are you sure this won’t kill him?”
“Elora would be killing him,” Goliath responded. “I’m sure she’s fine with that, right?”
“Urm - yes, of course,” she mumbled back, half-heartedly.
Sweat was building on Pointy’s forehead. The spear was a third of the way complete.
“Ah, fucking rank,” Kilo spat, an undead grabbing her leg. She kicked it off the ledge, sending a few more down with it.
“Mute, keep the undead from getting up here,” Goliath ordered.
Mute dashed behind him and began slashing away at the undead horde climbing its way to them. Kilo quickly joined her.
“Nest, you found a way in yet?” Boseman asked.
“Negative, sir, too much noise and trying to concentrate on anything is impossible.”
Spike appeared pleased with himself.
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Roach was running through hordes of undead, trying his best not to cripple himself. Dying right now would prove tricky as he would be continually ripped to shreds. Even though he was wearing his mask, the dense buildup of miasma became suffocating. Still, he soldiered on.
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“Fourth ring,” Nest reported back, “I’d say two more minutes.”
“I’ll need to start now,” Elora told them.
Goliath opened his hand sparingly to the ledge. Elora took two steps forward and placed her palms together.
“Bit cliche, init?” Boseman questioned, rolling his tongue across his teeth.
“It’s called meditating,” Elora snapped back. “Something an orc like you would know nothing about that.”
“I like her,” Boseman chuckled to Goliath.
Elora calmed her breathing and steadied her pulse. She had only accomplished this spell once before but on a much smaller scale; if they wanted them all gone, she would need to concentrate.
Spike changed his tempo, knocking it up a few. The music was working; more were drawn to Roach. He only needed to keep going.
“He’s struggling now,” Nest reported. “He’s about to reach the bottom level.
Goliath crouched down and watched with steady eyes. “Come on, Roach.”
Roach had heavy breaths. Claw marks punctured his skin and blood poured out of bite marks. He had lost a toe and the bottom of his feet had fresh flesh as their soles. Upon getting closer to the centre, he diverted his course.
“He’s going the wrong way,” Nest said, dumbfounded. “The Bug’s Nest, what exactly transpired?”
“This, but with every fucking bug that’s the size of a car. With undead, he’s gonna need to run around a lot more since they’re slow - give Elora a more precise location to fire,” Goliath responded.
“Finished!” Pointy exclaimed, handing a five-foot spear over to Kilo. It was translucent just like his arrows and spiralled towards the end.
“Good weight,” she complimented, spinning it against her wrist. “Boseman, the explosive?”
Boseman dug around in a small pouch on his waist. He pulled out a heavy cylindrical package with plastic wrap covering it. Bringing it next to the spear he unravelled it; a black substance reached out and grabbed the top of the spear. “Don’t touch the black shit,” he told her.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” she replied wearily, grabbing the spear below the centre. “Is it timed?”
“Impact.”
Kilo breathed in and took two steps back. “Aiming!” With a short run-up, she launched the spear high into the air. It soared across the entire length of the cave, skimming the roof until it connected with a stalactite. Boom; rocks flew about the cave, hidden by billowing smoke.
“I’ve lost him!” Nest shouted.
Boseman’s hands began to vibrate as the debris made its way to them. Arching his back, he smacked his hands together, creating a shockwave that counteracted the blast.
Waving dust out of his face, Nest re-focused his eyes. He could see the mass following after him but not Roach.
“I’ve lost sight,” Nest confirmed.
Goliath grunted. “Let’s hope he pulls through. Elora, you ready?”
Elora turned towards them. Her body was radiating heat on a scale unlike anything they had seen before. As if in a desert, she had become a mirage. “I am,” she responded, her tone shaky.
“Alright, princess, let's see if you ain’t all talk,” Boseman half-teased, grinning under his mist.
“They are converging into the centre—this might actually work,” Nest commented in disbelief. “Are you sure he won’t die?”
“Would you care anyway?” Goliath asked him.
Nest debated his reply. “No,” he concluded. “Wait! There he is!”
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Miasma filled Roach’s lungs as he dodged and weaved as many as he could. It was his second lap around the bottom floor of the mine; he was getting tired. Regenerating now would trap him in an endless loop of being torn apart. He needed to keep going.
He thought about his Stage 3 of training. It was the hardest part - pure survival of the fittest. It didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to others. He darted into the centre when he reached his absolute limit; it was the last stretch.
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Elora placed her palms above her head and runes grew within them. Fire flickered in her eyes. She screamed. Twelve enormous projections suddenly appeared at the top of the cave. They were deeply complex; writing within runes within shapes - each identical. The projections were translucent, tinted red and fixed at each corner of a dodecagon.
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Roach leapt into the centre pile, punching and kicking, clawing his way to the top. He felt sharp fangs dig into his knee and with only a split-second later, it was torn off. With a breathless gasp, he pushed himself up as far as possible with his remaining foot.
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“Anytime, princess,” Boseman spat.
The twelve formations began to spin wildly, becoming a blur to the naked eye. Nest watched with anticipation while Pointy curled into a fetal position with his hands clamped against his ears and eyes tightly shut.
The formations stopped. The silence was loud.
Like a rocket propulsion engine, twelve bursts of flames shot down into the cave, scorching the rotten flesh and rock. It shook the very mountain they were in and the crust below. They went on for no less than five seconds but in that time a shroud of smoke billowed toward them.
“Boseman!” Kilo yelled.
The giant half-orc reared his shoulders back and brought his arms shooting forward, his palms connecting so rapidly that it produced a visible sound wave that counteracted the rush of smoke, pushing it away and upwards.
A moment of silence passed before anyone could see.
“I feel lightheaded,” Elora mumbled, her mouth drooping.
Kilo quickly caught her fall and pushed her back upright. “Hey, lady, wake up.”
“Is it over?” Pointy questioned, uncurling from his fetal position.