As we claw our way up the hill we manage to evade another two fireballs, each one just as poorly aimed as the first.

Sailing past us and exploding harmlessly on the sand below the hill, as we get ever closer to the frightened Rovers.

Glancing back I can see where their fireballs turned the sand into tiny mirrors which reflect the sun's rays in all directions.

Whoever this mage was, they were very inept at aiming but that certainly doesn't make them any less of a threat.

One fireball could put me out of commission, at least temporarily.

All that means however, is that when I kill this mage my worth will go up, and thus my creator will be more valuable as well

After the third fireball though, it seems the mage has either given up or become unable to cast their magic.

I would prefer to still be cautious but Malgazar is starting to get impatient, pulling ahead of me in its haste.

I regret having to sacrifice my manoeuvrability for speed, but I have to keep pace with Malgazar.

So I just start concentrating on sprinting up this hill as fast as possible.

Digging my locomotive limbs into the cracks in the rocks and hurling myself forward with every fibre of my being.

All I can seem to do is just keep pace with Malgazar, I’m unable to retain my prior lead.

And it's unenthusiastic about giving it back to me, slowly pulling ahead with graceful leaps.

So be it.

Let it bear the brunt of the charge, I will come in behind it and butcher what remains.

Sure the general was the main target but what was a general without an army?

Malgazar could have him, I would have the rest.

Closing in on the line formation that the Rovers have adopted to counter us, I slow slightly, allowing Malgazar to take the lead.

Thanks to my evolution, just before we slam into their lines I notice them getting ready to hurl javelins at us.

Ducking to the side I manage to dodge the brunt of the salvo, the fact that Malgazar was in front probably helped.

The javelins just ping off its hide just like the arrows had earlier.

Malgazar doesn’t so much as flinch, they just keep rushing towards the Rover line.

Thanks to this, I can’t even afford to rip the javelins out, instead I have to pick up the speed so I don’t get left behind.

When it reaches the frontmost ranks Malgazar skids to a halt and swings its horrible head downwards.

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The Rovers on its left surge forward to take advantage of this but Malgazar lashes out with one of their weird legs and sends two of them flying.

Before the ones on the right can attack it as well, I slam into them.

Sweeping them off balance with my tentacles while I whip my numerous tendrils around like flails to take care of the ones I can’t knock down, I manage to create a bubble of free space.

Protecting Malgazar’s right flank and hopefully securing myself and therefore my creator some glory.

I was hoping that while I kept the horde of rugged Rovers back that Malgazar would dispatch the ones on the ground.

Instead, I feel the ground shake slightly as it starts to stampede towards the centre of this army.

Leaving me here alone, to fight a whole hundred or so soldiers.

And who knows what else.

I stop going for any lethal strikes and purely focus on defence and maintaining my bubble of free space.

I still kill the ones who I or Malgazar wounded as well as the ones on the ground of course.

Using my tentacles to slam downwards, caving in skulls, shattering bone, ending lives.

I don’t just use my tentacles to finish off these Rovers, I also use my tendrils.

Darting these smaller limbs of mine around necks, before tearing and ripping them open.

Blood sprays into the air in great bursts, turning the yellow sand dark red.

It was easy, so very easy. My evolution hadn’t just affected my eyesight, it had affected everything.

I was greater than I was before, while these humans had remained lesser.

Caught up in jubilation at the realisation of my newly increased power I barely manage to spot and duck out of the way of a fearsome fireball.

Soaring past me it flies down the hill.

I glance left, right, up and down. Yet I see nothing but common grunts.

Where was this cunning mage?

Taking advantage of my lapse in concentration, one of the Rovers charges at me, severing a whole tentacle thanks to my distracted mindset.

Before it even hits the ground though, I smash him directly in the face with a rock I’d picked up, knocking him over.

He hits the ground almost at the same time as my severed tentacle.

Before his friends can get close enough to help him I hurriedly pick up his dropped sword, plunging it in his back.

Letting out a shriek of agony he starts writhing in pain, before I can finish him off though his friends get within striking distance of me.

So I have to leave him be and kill his friends first.

Striking out with a tendril I feint a grappling attack, putting them on guard and allowing me to slink backwards.

The Rovers behind me had been trying to set up an encirclement, amateurish as it was, it was still a threat.

Weaving my way out of the semi encirclement, I start to carefully walk around the outskirts of their reforming line formation.

Sure I could charge in, kill a few dozen, thus creating a gap, and then rush through that gap to reinforce Malgazar.

But, where was the glory in that?

I needed to prove myself, I needed to be more than just some accomplice or helper.

And I would achieve this with the blood of these Rovers.

I just need a good opportunity to attack.

While observing the poorly maintained line I spot a few points of interest, areas where I could potentially wipe out a dozen or more Rovers.

The only thing stopping me is that blasted mage.

Where were they?

I needed to find them, if I could kill them then not only would I have gotten rid of a major threat but I also would have earned quite a hefty amount of glory.

Hopefully earning more praise and appreciation for my creator.

Finally, just as I was starting to ponder if I should just charge in at the next sign of weakness, I spot the mage.