Faylinn hovered anxiously around Cedric, her small, blue glow flickering with nervous energy. Cedric glanced at her, his expression serious. "Can you feel it too?" he asked softly.
Faylinn responded with a worried mew, her tiny body trembling. She didn't understand what was happening, but she could sense the immense, frightening presence that seemed to fill the air around them.
Cedric nodded, acknowledging her fear. "It's okay, Fay. Stay close to me," he whispered, signaling for her to come to him. He began to retreat slowly, each step measured and careful, trying to remain as passive as possible.
But just as he was beginning to think they might escape unnoticed, a massive shard of ice hurtled toward them. Cedric's eyes widened, and he instinctively jumped to the side, rolling on the ground to avoid the deadly projectile. The cold air bit at his skin, and he felt the ground tremble from the impact.
Before he could fully recover, a deep, rumbling voice echoed from the cave. "Outsider," it bellowed, dripping with malice. "You do not belong here"
"I don't intend to stay here for long, I just—" Cedric began, his voice steady but wary, trying to convey calm amidst the growing tension.
The voice from the cave cut him off, its tone deep and resonant, reverberating through the forest like a distant thunderclap. "I do not care, outsider. Your presence here poses a danger to my world."
Cedric's heart pounded in his chest. The voice was ancient, filled with a cold, unyielding authority that left no room for negotiation. It didn't take a genius to figure out what kind of creature lurked within the cave.
Cedric knew that only a dragon could possess such power and knowledge. Memories of the blue dragon flashed in his mind, reminding him of the peril he faced. Every dragon would see him as a threat.
He could feel the immense power radiating from the cave, a palpable force that made the air around him heavy and oppressive. Faylinn hid inside his shirt, her tiny body trembling with fear. Cedric tried to maintain his composure, acting as if he didn't understand what the dragon was talking about.
The rain began to fall more heavily, the droplets pattering against the leaves and the forest floor. The sound was soothing yet ominous, masking the silence that had settled over the forest. Each step Cedric took was measured and careful, his eyes darting around, seeking any possible escape routes.
The dragon's voice echoed once more, colder and more menacing, sending a chill down Cedric's spine. "I cannot allow you to live. You will only bring more chaos."
As the dragon spoke, a frosty mist emanated from the cave, spreading rapidly through the forest. The temperature plummeted, and Cedric's breath turned to visible puffs of vapor. The ground beneath his feet hardened as the moisture in the soil froze, creating a slick, treacherous surface.
The icy breath of the dragon expanded outward, crystallizing everything in its path. Grass blades became brittle spears of ice, tree branches were adorned with shimmering frost, and the falling raindrops transformed into tiny shards of ice, tinkling softly as they hit the ground. The forest, once alive with the sounds of nature, was now eerily silent, muffled by the thick blanket of frost.
Cedric's body ached from the cold, the bitter chill seeping into his bones. He could feel the icy grip tightening around him, threatening to freeze him in place. Faylinn, nestled close to his chest, shivered violently, her tiny body radiating a faint, desperate warmth.
The dragon emerged from the cave with a thunderous roar, its massive form casting a shadow over the forest. Its scales were pristine white, shimmering like ice in the light. Majestic and fearsome, the dragon's wings spanned wide, flapping with a force that sent gusts of icy wind across the landscape.
As the dragon ascended high into the sky, it flapped its wings again, sending sharp, frozen rain droplets hurtling toward Cedric like a barrage of icy daggers. Cedric reacted instinctively, raising his arm and teleporting away in a blink. The force of the teleportation yanked him off his feet, and he tumbled across the frozen ground, groaning as his broken arm was jostled painfully.
High above, the dragon prepared to unleash another deadly wave. Its eyes, like crystalline shards, locked onto Cedric with murderous intent. In a desperate move, Cedric raised his arm toward the dragon, channeling his power to slow it down. The dragon's movements became sluggish, its powerful wings flapping in slow motion, giving Cedric precious seconds to think.
Glancing around, Cedric realized the forest offered no refuge from the airborne threat. His eyes darted back to the cave, the only place that might provide some semblance of cover. It was a dangerous and reckless idea, but he was out of options.
With a whispered command to Faylinn, Cedric focused his power and blinked toward the cave's entrance. "I have a plan," he murmured, unsure if it would work but knowing he had to try. Faylinn let out a worried mew, her glow dimming with anxiety.
As they reached the cave's mouth, Cedric glanced back at the dragon, still struggling against the temporal slowing effect. He knew the effect wouldn't last long. Steeling himself, Cedric moved deeper into the cave, hoping the narrow confines would give him an advantage against the massive beast.
The cave was dark and foreboding, the walls lined with jagged rocks and icy stalactites. Every step echoed in the cold, empty space, amplifying the sound of his racing heart. Faylinn stayed close to him, her light flickering nervously as she scanned the surroundings.
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The dragon, slowly regaining its control after being momentarily slowed, could feel the presence of the outsider inside the cave. With a powerful roar, it dashed toward the entrance, its massive form barreling through the narrow passageway, intent on killing Cedric.
As the dragon dove into the cave, Cedric's trap was already in place. The moment the dragon entered, it became entangled in a thick web of vines that Cedric had carefully positioned to crisscross the cave like a giant spider’s web. The vines, though strong, strained under the dragon’s sheer size and strength, but they held just long enough.
Cedric seized the opportunity. He sprinted forward, leaping onto the dragon's massive head. With his sword in hand, he aimed for the dragon’s eye, the only vulnerable spot he could reach. But his broken arm hindered him; instead of a decisive stab, he could only manage a deep slash across its eye.
The dragon roared in agony, thrashing its head violently in an attempt to shake him off. Cedric struggled to maintain his grip, feeling the dragon’s raw power surge through every muscle and sinew. "Fay, more vines! Tie it down!" he shouted as he was thrown off the dragon’s head.
Faylinn, responding to Cedric's call, quickly summoned more vines from the rocks around the cave. They erupted from the cave walls and floor, wrapping around the dragon’s limbs, tightening like constricting serpents. Cedric, despite the intense pain in his arm and ribs, teleported himself back onto the dragon, this time aiming for a killing blow.
But before he could strike, the dragon unleashed a massive breath of ice, freezing the vines solid in an instant. The frozen vines shattered as the dragon broke free with a powerful jerk. It swung its massive tail with devastating force, striking Cedric squarely in the chest.
Cedric was hurled across the cave, his body slamming into the hard rock wall with a sickening thud. The impact forced the air from his lungs, and he coughed up blood as he crumpled to the ground, his vision blurring from the pain. The cold, the dragon's fury, and his own injuries were all taking their toll. He could feel his strength waning, but he knew he couldn’t give up—not now.
The dragon inhaled deeply, preparing to unleash another deadly breath of ice aimed directly at Cedric. The cave rumbled with the force of the dragon's power, and the temperature plummeted as frost began to form on the cave walls. Just as the dragon released its icy breath, Faylinn acted. With a determined mew, she summoned a massive web of vines that sprang up in front of Cedric, creating a barrier that barely withstood the freezing onslaught.
The vines crackled and groaned under the intense cold, some of them snapping under the pressure, but they held just long enough to shield Cedric from the worst of the attack. The dragon, realizing that the enclosed space of the cave was hindering its movements and allowing Cedric and Faylinn to exploit its vulnerabilities, decided on a new strategy. It could no longer afford to be confined; the open sky was where it could unleash its full power without obstruction.
With a powerful beat of its wings, the dragon shot toward the cave’s exit. It planned to destroy the cave entirely, using its ice spikes to collapse the structure and bury Cedric alive beneath tons of rock. The loss of its home was a small price to pay to ensure the outsider's death.
Seeing the dragon's intentions, Cedric knew he had to act fast. As the dragon began to ascend toward the cave’s mouth, Cedric leaped from his cover. With every ounce of strength he had left, he used his teleportation power to blink onto the dragon’s head just as it soared out of the cave.
However, his broken arm and battered body betrayed him. As he landed, he struggled to find a grip and started to roll off the dragon’s massive form. Desperately, he tried to drive his sword into the dragon’s scales, hoping to anchor himself, but the blade merely glanced off the creature's thick, impenetrable hide. He continued to tumble, sliding down the dragon’s back until he reached its tail.
Faylinn, sensing Cedric's peril, summoned more vines from the ground, trying to tether the dragon’s tail to the earth. The vines coiled around the tail, tightening like a snare, but the dragon’s sheer strength was too much. With a furious shake, it snapped the vines and sent Cedric flying high into the sky.
The wind whipped around Cedric as he was launched into the air, the world spinning below him. He could see the vast expanse of the forest, the mountain, and the sky all blurring together as he ascended higher and higher. The dragon, momentarily free from Cedric’s interference, wheeled around, preparing for its final attack.
The dragon roared in fury, its massive wings beating the air with enough force to send shockwaves through the sky. It hurled itself toward Cedric, jaws wide open, ready to crush him in a single bite. But just as it closed in, Cedric summoned his power, blinking out of its path in a flash of light.
He reappeared on the dragon's head, the wind whipping around him as the creature continued its frenzied flight. This time, Cedric was determined not to lose his grip. With a deep breath, he focused his power, slowing the dragon’s movements just enough to give him a fighting chance. He drew his sword, feeling the weight of it in his hands, and with all his strength, he plunged it into the dragon’s eye.
The dragon let out an ear-splitting roar of agony, but even as it was slowed, it retaliated with a flurry of ice. Frozen rain droplets, sharp as daggers, hurtled toward Cedric. Some of the shards struck him, slicing through his skin, while others whizzed past, narrowly missing him. The pain was intense, each cut burning with the cold, but Cedric knew he couldn’t stop. It was do or die.
With one sword embedded deep in the dragon’s eye, Cedric used both of his arms to push it in further. The agony from his broken arm was almost unbearable, but he fought through it, gritting his teeth as he forced the blade deeper. The dragon thrashed wildly, trying to dislodge him, but Cedric clung on with every ounce of strength he had left.
The pain was excruciating, his body screaming for him to let go, but Cedric knew this was his only chance. With a desperate grunt, he yanked the wooden splint from his arm, the sharp pain causing him to gasp. Without hesitation, he drove the splint into the dragon’s other eye, kicking it in with as much force as he could muster. The dragon’s roar of pain was deafening, echoing across the sky.
Blinded and enraged, the dragon shook its head violently, trying to dislodge Cedric. He clung to his sword, the only thing keeping him attached to the dragon’s head. His feet scrambled for purchase on the slick, bloodied scales, and he kicked the splint further into the dragon’s eye, using it as a foothold.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The dragon's erratic flight grew even more chaotic as it twisted and turned, desperate to rid itself of the pain and the outsider causing it. Cedric’s body was battered and bruised, the cold and the pain threatening to overwhelm him, but he held on, knowing that letting go would mean certain death.
The wind howled in his ears, and the world spun around him as the dragon continued its frenzied attempts to shake him off. Cedric could feel his grip weakening, his strength fading, but he refused to let go. He was hanging on the edge, both literally and figuratively, fighting for his life against a creature that was as majestic as it was deadly. The dragon flew faster, its movements becoming more desperate and unpredictable, but Cedric knew he had to find a way to end this before his strength gave out completely.
Cedric held on tightly as the dragon soared above the clouds, the wind whipping at his face, the frigid air biting into his skin. He could feel the atmosphere thinning, making it harder to breathe with each passing moment. The dragon's wild thrashing had slowed, but the beast was still very much alive and dangerous.
With a deep breath, Cedric twisted the sword already lodged in the dragon's eye, pushing it in as deep as it would go. The dragon roared again, but this time the sound was weaker, a clear sign that the battle was taking its toll on both of them. Cedric knew they were reaching the end—both he and the dragon were worn out, their strength nearly spent.
The dragon’s flight faltered, and Cedric seized the moment. Summoning every ounce of remaining strength, he yanked the sword out of the dragon’s eye, blood and ichor spraying into the cold air. The effort left him gasping, but he didn’t hesitate. With a final, desperate lunge, Cedric drove the blade into the dragon's other eye.
His sword plunged in with a sickening crunch, and the dragon's roar turned into a guttural scream of agony. Its massive body convulsed, wings flapping erratically as it lost all sense of direction. Cedric clung to the hilt, his knuckles white, as the dragon’s death throes sent them both spiraling downward through the clouds, the ground rushing up to meet them at terrifying speed.
The dragon crashed into the ground with a bone-jarring thud, Cedric lay panting in exhaustion on top of its massive head. The fight had drained him of nearly all his strength, and his body ached from the countless wounds and the sheer effort it had taken to bring down the beast. He tried to catch his breath, the sound of his own ragged breathing filling his ears.
But something felt off. The ground beneath him wasn’t the grassy earth of a forest or the rocky terrain of a mountainside—it was... sandy? He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and slowly pushed himself up to look around.
A wave of noise hit him, and he realized he was surrounded by walls of sand-colored stone, rising high above him. The ground beneath him was indeed sandy, the kind found in deserts or... arenas. Cedric looked around as he fully registered his surroundings.
He was in a massive colosseum, Thousands of voices filled the air, cheering wildly, their faces blurred in the distance as they looked down at him from the stands.
His body tensed as an amplified voice boomed through the colosseum, drowning out the cheers of the crowd. "Demons and Monsters, looks like we just have a new contestant joining the fight!" The voice was smooth, dripping with enthusiasm, clearly reveling in the spectacle. Cedric’s stomach turned as the announcer continued, "What should we call him? Seeing how he slayed the all-mighty ancient beast, let’s call him... THE SLAYER!"
The crowd's deafening cheers echoed through the colosseum, Cedric felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. His muscles ached, his broken arm throbbed with pain, and every breath was a struggle. He had been fighting relentlessly, pushing his body to the brink. All he wanted now was to rest, to find a moment of peace after the chaos, but it looked like he won't be getting that any time soon.
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A few hours earlier
Tristan walked through the bustling marketplace of the village, his eyes scanning the crowd with focused intensity. The village was inhabited by creatures known as the Orinths, a species with feathers covering their arms and back, giving them a bird-like appearance. Their tall, lean bodies moved with a fluid grace, and their eyes, sharp and bright, were constantly in motion, taking in their surroundings. The Orinths were known for their agility and keen senses, often serving as scouts or messengers in their communities.
“Excuse me,” Tristan said, approaching one of the Orinths who was tending to a stall filled with carved wooden trinkets and woven fabrics. “Have you happened to see a tan-skinned, black-haired human around here?”
The Orinth tilted its head, its sharp eyes narrowing as it considered Tristan’s question. The Orinth seemed cautious, recognizing that Tristan was not from around here. “No, I have not seen anyone like that,” the Orinth replied in a voice that had a melodic, almost whistling quality.
Tristan’s shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment, but he nodded his thanks. He knew it was a long shot, but he couldn’t afford to give up. Cedric had saved their lives, and the thought of him out there alone, possibly injured, gnawed at him.
“Your Hi— I mean, Tristan,” came a voice from behind. Magnus approached, carrying several bags filled with supplies. His broad frame and determined expression gave Tristan a small measure of comfort. “Did you find anything related to Cedric?”
Tristan shook his head, his disappointment evident. Magnus gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll find him eventually, Cedric is not a weakling who would die that easily” Magnus said firmly, his voice filled with conviction.
Together, they walked back to the small wagon where Elysia and Liora were waiting. It had been days since the incident at the manor, and the search for Cedric had been relentless. Tristan had been using what little money they had left to purchase essential supplies, hoping to extend their search.
“Still no trace of him,” Tristan said as they reached the wagon. Elysia looked up from where she was sitting with Liora and immediately embraced Tristan, her warmth a small solace in the cold reality they faced.
“I’m sad too, Tristan,” Elysia whispered, holding him tightly. “But Cedric wouldn’t want you to dwell on this. He’d want you to focus on what needs to be done.”
Tristan clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. He knew she was right, but the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on him. “Argoth needs to be stopped,” Elysia continued, her voice gentle but firm. “That’s what Cedric would have wanted. And that’s what we need to focus on now.”
Tristan nodded, though his heart ached with the knowledge that he had failed to protect his family and his team. This guilt, this sense of inadequacy, was what drove him now. He couldn’t let Cedric’s sacrifice be in vain. He had to be stronger, for everyone’s sake.
Tristan and Magnus mounted their horses, ready to continue their journey. "Alright, let's go," Tristan said, his voice steady but laced with underlying determination.
The small group traveled through the forest for about an hour, the horses pulling the wagon where Elysia and Liora sat quietly. The dense canopy of trees overhead cast dappled shadows on the forest floor, the only sounds being the soft clopping of hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves. Tristan used the time to focus inward, trying to concentrate on controlling his power. He knew that one of his biggest flaws was the time it took for him to gather his strength. If the worst were to happen… he didn’t want to think about it.
"Careful of the tree, your highness... your highness!" Magnus's voice broke through Tristan's concentration, snapping him back to reality. Tristan startled, quickly pulling the reins to steer his horse away from a looming tree trunk.
"Sorry, I was just... I was just trying to use my power. I need to control it better, so that... Maybe Cedric would still be here with us. I'm sorry, Magnus," Tristan confessed, his voice tinged with regret.
Magnus glanced at him with empathy, sensing the burden Tristan was carrying. "Maybe you need some other tool or something to help you—an artifact, perhaps? I’ve got my bracers that contain a magical shield. Maybe you could find something similar for your ring."
Tristan looked down at the ring on his finger, a family heirloom passed down through generations. "I don’t know," he admitted. "This ring was given to my father by my grandfather Aldric, and then to me. They say it contains a part of a dragon’s essence, and since our family has a bit of dragon blood in our veins, that’s why I can wield fire at will. But finding something to enhance it… that’s going to be tough. There aren’t many dragons left, at least not that I know of, and I don’t even know if any of them would be willing to communicate with me."
Tristan’s gaze remained on the ring, a symbol of his lineage and power, but also a reminder of the weight he bore. He then glanced at Magnus. "What about your bracers? How did you get them?"
Magnus hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much to reveal. "I got these bracers after finding them in some kind of lost temple," he said, his tone measured. "It’s actually one of three artifacts, part of a set that I… split with someone. But that’s in the past. I’m fine with the way things are right now."
Magnus’s words hung in the air, a subtle but clear indication that there was more to the story, something deeply personal that he wasn’t ready to share. Tristan sensed it and decided not to press further. Instead, he refocused on the path ahead, the journey through the forest still stretching out before them. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the road was long, but Tristan’s resolve had only strengthened.
Magnus tried to steer the conversation in a different direction, sensing the weight of their previous discussion. "Talking about dragons, do you think they—" But before he could finish, his words were cut short as he suddenly slumped off his horse, unconscious.
"Magnus?" Tristan called out in confusion, his eyes widening as he spotted a tiny needle embedded in Magnus's neck. Alarmed, Tristan quickly drew his sword, scanning the forest for any sign of attackers. His heart raced, every muscle tense as he prepared for a fight, but it was too late. He felt a sharp sting in his own neck, and the world around him began to blur. He barely had time to register the needle that had pierced his skin before his vision darkened, and his body grew heavy.
As Tristan collapsed to the ground, the last thing he heard was a rough voice murmuring, "Nice catch. Thranak is going to pay us handsomely for these humans."
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Darkness enveloped him as he drifted into unconsciousness. In his mind, memories and nightmares twisted together. He found himself back in the palace, facing Argoth in a brutal fight. The clash of steel echoed in his ears, and the suffocating dread of the moment overwhelmed him. Argoth's mocking laughter filled the air as he overpowered Tristan, effortlessly blocking every strike.
Then, just as Tristan thought he had a chance, Argoth turned his attention to Tristan's mother, seizing her with a cruel, unyielding grip. "You’re too weak to protect her," Argoth sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
"No! Let her go!" Tristan shouted, lunging forward, but his movements were sluggish, like he was trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape. Argoth’s grip tightened, and Tristan’s mother cried out in fear. The scene grew darker, the weight of his failure crushing him. Argoth's figure loomed larger, more menacing, as he began to drag Tristan's mother away into the shadows.
Just as Tristan was about to be swallowed by the nightmare, he jolted awake, gasping for breath. The sensation of sand beneath him was the first thing he noticed, its gritty texture jarring against his skin. He blinked rapidly, disoriented by the sudden change in environment. The roar of a crowd reached his ears, and as his vision cleared, he found himself lying in the middle of an arena, surrounded by towering stone walls and a sea of spectators.
The noise of cheering echoed around him, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation. Confusion and panic surged through Tristan as he struggled to understand where he was and how he had gotten there. The harsh sunlight beat down on him, and the scent of dust and sweat filled the air. He glanced around, his heart pounding in his chest, realizing with growing dread that he was in some sort of colosseum, about to face whatever fate awaited him in this strange, hostile place.
Tristan struggled to grasp what was happening as he tried to shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare. The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, cutting through the roar of the crowd. "The big man strikes down two contestants like a beast!" The voice was filled with excitement, echoing through the stadium as the crowd erupted in cheers.
Tristan looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The arena was vast, a chaotic battleground filled with platforms, traps, and towering walls that split the area into different sections. The noise was overwhelming, with demons, monsters, and other creatures battling for survival. His mind raced, trying to piece together how he had ended up in this deadly place.
"The handsome blondie has woken up, Demons and Monsters!" the announcer's voice called out again, drawing Tristan's attention. "If you want to place a bet on him, you better do it now! And remember, if he dies, no refunds!"
Before Tristan could fully process the situation, a spear flew past his face, embedding itself in the ground just a few steps away. Instinctively, he spun around, his eyes locking onto a menacing figure approaching him. It was a Ghurbith, a hulking creature with sinewy, dark-gray skin, its body covered in jagged, bony protrusions.
Tristan reached for his sword, but his hand found only air—he was unarmed. Panic surged through him as he quickly tried to summon his power. Small orbs of fire began to form around him, but just as quickly, he felt a sudden, constricting pressure around his neck. His hands flew to his throat, where he could feel a strange, metallic device—a collar or necklace—tightening and cutting off his breath.
"Uh-uh, no powers in the arena!" the announcer chimed in, almost gleefully. The crowd roared in approval as Tristan fell to his knees, struggling to breathe.
The Ghurbith warrior closed in, swinging a jagged sword that seemed to hum with a low, ominous vibration. Tristan barely managed to duck under the attack, gasping for air as he desperately searched for a way to defend himself. His eyes fell on the spear still lodged in the ground.
With a burst of adrenaline, Tristan grabbed the spear and retaliated, thrusting it toward his opponent. "Ooh, a textbook move from the blondie!" the announcer's voice rang out, filled with amusement as the crowd cheered louder.
Tristan's mind raced as he parried another attack, the spear his only lifeline in the chaos of the arena.
Tristan had no other choice but to fight his way through. With each step, he dodged, attacked, and countered, relying on the lessons drilled into him since childhood. The platforms and traps in the arena became his playground as he maneuvered with precision, knocking down each opponent that came his way. His movements were fluid, instinctive, each strike more confident than the last.
The crowd roared with approval, their cheers echoing through the arena. "It looks like we have two star contestants today, Demons and Monsters!" the announcer's voice boomed above the chaos. "The blondie and the big guy—looks like a tough match! Place your bets now between the two of them!"
For a moment, with no immediate threat, Tristan allowed himself to breathe. He dropped the spear, his hands moving to grip a sword left behind by one of the fallen contestants. The weapon felt solid in his hands, familiar, giving him a sense of reassurance.
Then, the walls began to lower slowly, revealing what lay on the other side. Tristan tensed, every muscle in his body coiled, ready for whatever challenge awaited him. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the heavy, ominous sound of the massive walls grinding down.
A loud thud echoed through the arena, like something enormous had just hit the ground. Dust billowed up from the other side, obscuring Tristan’s view, but he could feel the presence—something big, something powerful. The crowd’s cheers rose to a fever pitch as the announcer’s voice rang out with barely contained excitement.
"...let’s call him... THE SLAYER!"
Tristan's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the lowering walls, the dust cloud beginning to settle, but not enough for him to see clearly what awaited him on the other side. His grip tightened on the sword, his breath shallow as the realization sank in—whatever was on the other side, it was coming for him.