We’ll just like to point out that we’ve seen a wyrm before, one of Seth’s minds thought as they watched the monstrous creature.

“And where would we have seen such a thing?” Seth asked, stepping back cautiously, increasing the distance between him and the monster.

In one of Jonathan’s books, the mind answered hurriedly. But that’s not the point. The point is that that’s not a Wyrm. Whatever it is. It. Is. Not. A. Fucking. Wyrm.

“Are you saying its name is a lie?”

It’s definitely got to be!

“And does this information help us?” Seth drew an inch of blade of the sword at his right hip free as the creature’s body began trembling, the sand around it reacting violently.

No.

“Then shut the fuck up and get to work. All of you!”

RIGHT! another mind roared, and Seth drew his sword free.

One of the Wyrm’s massive legs cut through the air like a thrown javelin. Its length was significantly longer than the one before it.

Seth’s sword came free, tracing an arc before him. The discarded limb struck the flat of his sword and veered off its path to crash in the sand ten paces to the side. The force of the impact jarred Seth’s arm and he almost dropped the sword on its return to its sheath.

This is going to be a problem if we fail at the return, one of his minds warned.

“Thanks,” Seth said, sarcasm evident in his voice. “I had no idea, seeing how I’ve never gone through this before.”

Sarcasm won’t help us, another mind thought.

“Neither will stating the obvious. Now get back to work.”

Seth drew the sword at his right hip and it sang through the air as it arced to cut off the attack of another limb. He returned it to its sheath, unsheathing the second one immediately to cut off another attack. He was dual wielding as [Lucid Dreaming] had forced him to on the few occasions he’d failed his daily quest in the last year. This time both limbs that came at him did not fall to the side, instead, they retracted back to the creature.

Seth frowned at this. “You know I was hoping we’d be victorious by the time we’ve cut down all of its limbs.”

It’s a horde, Seth, a piece of his mind sighed.

“I know.”

No. You don’t. It being a horde means there’s more than one of it.

Seth cut down eight more limbs. Of all of them only two fell beside him, raising a plume of sand. “There’s more of this thing?” he spat.

A lot more.

Seth chuckled bitterly. He was going to be here a while.

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“Then we best get on with this.”

He stepped forward and cut down another limb. His minds let him go, watching, studying, finding a path and guiding him as it did in every [Lucid Dreaming]. He stepped slowly, fully aware of the possibility of an attack from beneath him.

Each step he took was under the guidance of his minds. The cutting, he did himself.

For every attack, he unsheathed his swords and his shoulders ached. This was the reason he hated failing his daily quest. The soreness from this was far worse than what would come of the initial training.

And there were also deadly monsters trying to kill him.

He couldn’t forget the fear that made his hands shake during his first experience of this. That fear seeped into him now so that he was forced to dodge the next attack for fear of missing it on his next draw.

Tossing himself to the side, he rolled in the sand and came up to his knees quickly enough to avoid the limb that stabbed the ground, then tilted his head to the side as another whizzed past his cheek to embed itself in the sand behind him. There it stayed.

He let out a heavy breath and came to his feet as attacks came to a brief pause. He watched the beast before him as each limb crawled against the hot desert air as if seeking out solid ground. He grimaced at the stinging sensation in his cheek. It stung him in a line that let him know he had not entirely avoided that last attack.

There was also the pain. Another reason he hated it here.

Do you think it’s poisoned? One of his minds asked.

Seth did not take his eyes of the creature. His personal attention was unwavering even though he had his minds on it.

“Only one way to find out,” he answered.

Keep going and hope we don’t pass out, another mind replied. We hate this.

“I know, buddy.” Seth stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword, then charged the creature… I know.

He struck countless numbers of limbs in his charge. It filled the air with the echoing clangs of metal against metal. Seth refused to question the sound when he was certain he was defending against carapaces of some kind simply because he did not have the time for it.

He closed the distance between him and the monster. The hope of giving it a strike of his own spurred his actions. But as he drew close enough, a particularly nasty limb struck him.

He brought his swords to up in defense fast enough to take the blow. He crossed his swords in front of him, but the force of the blow sent him flying. He shot through the air, control lost to him, and landed in the sand. He found himself glad to be in the desert as the sand cushioned most of the impact of the fall. If it had been hard floor he would’ve broken a few things from it.

But he couldn’t rest now. He rolled off the ground, primed for defense, his minds cataloguing everything that happened around him. The sand he raised as he rose. The tangy taste of iron in the air. The pain in his cheek. The soreness in both shoulders. The sharp point of the monster’s leg coming straight for his right eye.

Seth’s arm moved in a blur and his sword struck the limb before it got close enough to blind him.

In this way he continued until his clothes were torn and his skin was riddled with cuts. Still, failure was not an option. He would not die today.

……………………………

Seth had no idea how long he had been here; neither did he know how much longer he would be. He knew when the punishment was deemed successful he would be returned. But of all the criteria that aided in deeming it successful the only thing he knew was that all objectives of his daily quest had to first be accomplished. But there was no point keeping track of how much of it he had done. He could’ve executed a thousand draws and checking it would only find him accomplishing two hundred. He could’ve taken a million step and still be judged at eight hundred. The notification only counted an action as complete when it was done perfectly. To count on the notification’s criteria of accomplishment was to be a fool or a servant.

He refused to be either.

The monster waited patiently as Seth got to his feet, sand falling from his body and caked in his mess of hair. He did not have the time to wonder why it did nothing as the sand beneath his feet shook again more violently than the first time.

He did not spare it his attention because he already knew what it was.

“A fucking horde,” he muttered under his breath as another mutated Wyrm roared from the sand to his far left. He kept his eye on the first and allowed one of his minds watch their new enemy. He flexed his fingers, loosening them up as best he could and rounded his shoulders.

He prepared himself.

Again? his mind asked.

He nodded. “Again.”

Then he charged the monsters and their countless limbs.