“Incoming,” Rory announced, grimacing as he did. Their short reprieve from the first stage had come to an end, as Rory could make out the shifting of trees in the distance. With each passing second, the movement grew closer and closer.
Large creatures?
Rory saw Apostolos manning the ballista, a javelin already prepared and aimed. For his part, Rory drew back his bowstring, waiting patiently.
So, what will it be? Boss, or more minions.
As the rustling grew nearer, the trees finally parted as something large burst through.
Well, fuck me running. That already looks like bad news.
Appearing was a crocodile -if crocodiles normally grew to thirty feet long and stood atop long galloping legs. Emerging from the top of its skull were what looked like the horns of a water bison, and feathers of all things fanned off its sides.
Gator of the Feathered Depths
Level: 56*
A powerful beast that lurks deep within the depths of endless riverbanks. This specimen has grown stronger and more dangerous by basking in the light of the heavens, empowered by dreams of a divine feathered beast.
“We’ve got an Alpha Variant!” Rory shouted. While not quite a Territory Alpha, Alpha Variants were some of the most powerful monsters you could find amongst their level, with all the prerequisites to become a Territory Alpha in the future potentially.
And the worst part? It wasn’t alone. Seated between the crest of its horns was a golden bird, far stockier than the deadly quick hummingbird from earlier.
Golden Shoebill
Level: 55*
Absorbing the power of the heavenly light, this bird has traded the endless freedom of the open sky for a life spent battling amongst the foliage of the forest floor. Has formed a symbiotic relationship with another deadly predator, the two working in near-perfect tandem.
“Shit,” Rory cursed. Not one, but two Alpha Variant monsters, the only silver lining was the Golden Shoebill was only level fifty-four instead of level fifty-five.
“What’s the plan?” Apostolos shouted, a hint of apprehension causing his voice to crack.
Good damn question.
Normally it was easy to piece together what a monster specialized, speed types, tank types, berserker types, etc. Alpha Variants were different, they were almost always strong in every category.
“You take aim at the Shoebill. I’ll try to deal with the Gator.”
Releasing a 15% Blood Legacy shot, the arrow flew like a red laser, only to plink off the armor of the gator.
Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s tougher than those hippo monsters from a few waves ago.
Firing the first shot, the battle had begun as the monster croc tore forward with impressive speed for a monster so large. Rory fired yet another arrow, this one charged up to 25%, and still it plinked straight off the croc. Wincing mentally, Rory braced as the monster barreled into their wall, the entire thing quaking from the massive impact.
Shit!
A moment after impact, a javelin was sent flying through the air toward the shoebill. Unlike the gator, it didn’t simply ignore the projectile. Instead, it swept its powerful wings together, a gust of wind altering the projectiles path.
The good news is that it doesn’t seem to want to eat shots like its tank friend. Bad news, it’s damn powerful as well.
The shoebill wasn’t his priority, and so Rory could only hope Apostolos was coming to a similar assessment.
Bigger fish to fry.
Grasping a new arrow, it raced through the air before exploding in front of the gator, a writhing mass of ghostly vines ensnaring the monster and its bird friend.
Any hope Rory had for the entrapping arrow was banished within moments as the shoebill swept its wings forward, the wind it summoned slicing through the ghostly vines.
“Magic user!” Rory shouted for Apostolos to hear. Not that he’d likely missed it, but it was worth sharing on the off chance.
Next up!
Another arrow was released, slamming into the gator even faster than the earlier 25% Blood Legacy arrow, amped up to a headache inducing 30%. The instant the arrow slammed into the gator, it exploded with crimson flames, an explosive blood essence arrow.
Holding out hope, the dust parted to reveal the gator, now clearly irritated. A deep, reverberating bellow escaped from between its massive jaws as it brought its two front legs forward, slashing into his wall. With horror, Rory saw the savage talons tearing huge chunks straight from the wall.
Oh, holy fuck, that is bad news.
Against an Alpha Variant wave mini-boss, his walls would hold only a few minutes even if he fully maximized the defensive inscriptions within.
Rory had fully expected whatever appeared to be dangerous, but this was even more than what he’d anticipated.
Think, think, think!
If the monstrous gator got through their walls, they’d be in for a shit sandwich, nowhere to flee.
Is it time for Big Bertha already?
Rory shook his head. Dangerous as the monster was, it was still a tier five, it was beatable, he just had to be creative.
But.
But not like this. Mind racing with desperate ideas, Rory suddenly latched upon one. Turning his head toward Apostolos, he shouted.
“Keep the Shoebill here, I don’t care how! By itself, it shouldn’t be able to break through the walls easily, and I don’t think it can fly!”
“Master!?”
Apostolos stared at Rory, a look of fear flickering through his eyes as he suddenly connected the dots to what Rory was about to do.
Really fucking stupid.
Not giving Apostolos a chance to say anything else, Rory grasped the edge of the wall before leaping off and over the monster croc, landing halfway through the clearing between their camp and the surrounding forest.
Rory whipped around and released an arrow, another explosion bearing down on the back of its skull.
“Let’s dance, you overgrown tadpole!” Rory shouted. For a moment, the gator seemed to glance between his camp and Rory, as if unsure which to pursue.
C’mon!
Thinking for only another moment, a deep basso escaped it as the shoebill deftly leapt from its head, landing on the ground in front of the wall as the gator turned to face Rory.
“Now for the fun part,” Rory muttered, a somewhat crazed look in his eyes. “Run like a bitch!”
Turning tail, Rory began fleeing for all he was worth, pumping his arms and legs like he was back in his youth, racing down the track.
Except, there usually wasn’t an oversized monster crocodile in hot pursuit, tearing through the forest and simply bouldering over any trees too small to withstand the force of its charge.
Running for everything he was worth, the gator pursued, seconds turning to minutes, all thoughts of what was happening back at the camp gone from his mind.
There wasn’t really a reason for the desperate run, he wasn’t running anywhere in particular. Instead, he simply needed the gator to focus entirely on pursuing him, and not think of turning back around. Another advantage to the desperate run for his life, was it gave Rory time to think. It was strange, an Earthly human couldn’t have had two separate trains of thought running in near perfect tandem, but Rory had invested heavily in cognition. As long as one train of thought was kept simple, such as the simple focus of not dying, the other train of thought could operate independently.
Thus, Rory planned as he ran, his body on near autopilot as his secondary thoughts kept him alive as he swerved and dodged and leapt over forest foliage and the occasional oversized lizard maw.
Hmmm. Yeah, that could work.
While Rory hadn’t explored much of the area, only a few miles in any given direction, there was one location he’d discovered that had stood out to him. There wasn’t really anything special about it, no unique resources or even interesting magical landmarks.
Nope, it was perhaps one of the most basic things you could find in nature, even back on Earth.
C’mon, it shouldn’t be much further!
With the memory of the land flashing through his mind, Rory adjusted his path, burning through the essence within his blood weave at a moderate but constant rate.
“Come on you soon-to-be-boots!” Rory shouted, huffing the wind from his lungs.
Another… mile, maybe two?
Rory was already confident his plan was stupid as hell, but he’d given up the advantage of a defensive position when he’d lured the monster croc away. Without specific planning or the advantage of combat skills, Rory was nothing more than a ball of attributes and the croc had him beat by a landslide in that category.
Still running with all his might, at last, Rory saw the sign of it, the tiniest trickling creek one could ever find. Veering toward it, Rory re-doubled his speed.
Eight hundred… Six hundred… four hundred…. Two hundred!
Reminded of his old race, the two-hundred-meter dash, Rory imagined the finish line only a bit ahead. The trees began to thin out, and without the obstacles the Alpha Gator was almost upon him.
Three.
Rory reached behind his back, hand snatching the arm of his bow.
Two.
Yanking it forward, Rory prepared himself, bow in one hand, arrow in the other.
One!
In an instant the space ahead of them cleared as his vision swam. It was disorienting, but Rory already knew what to expect.
Here goes nothing!
Racing forward with one final desperate kick of effort, Rory leapt.
Straight off the cliff overlooking the massive sea of trees the went as far as the eye could see.
As he leapt, Rory spun mid-air, facing the cliff he’d just leapt from. The monster croc hadn’t had the time to make the distinction between cliff and the rest of the forest, the endless sea of orange trees made a confusing perspective when viewed from above. Charging straight off the cliff after Rory, the croc bellowed out in confusion and rage.
Got you fucker!
Snarling with vicious satisfaction, Rory released the arrow, Blood Legacy fired at 50% strength. Faster then even Rory could keep track of, the arrow shot forward, straight into the open jaw of the monster croc and into its stomach.
Before exploding, the sudden force tossing the internally wounded croc to slam against the side of the cliff.
Eat, well not lead, but eat whatever!
Had he not been mid-free fall, Rory would have felt embarrassed at the rather terrible one-liner, but then that didn’t matter because Rory was mid-free fall. Gravity taking full hold, the two began to fall, the monster croc bouncing and crashing against the cliff side as Rory fell unimpeded through the air.
For a mile.
There had been a very specific reason Rory hadn’t utilized a fully powered Blood Legacy arrow, and that was because he needed to not pass out, something that was more than likely to happen if he released an arrow with everything he had. Even then, Rory wasn’t sure a full-strength Blood Legacy empowered arrow would be enough to kill the Alpha Variant.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Which is why he’d decided to add in the element of fall damage.
Trees rapidly approaching, Rory took another deep breath as he readied a new arrow.
This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I should probably live.
Arrow knocked back, Rory channeled what remained of his energy, using everything left for a final Blood Legacy empowered arrow as he aimed it directly beneath him.
Well, it works in movies.
Gritting his teeth, Rory released the arrow as it flashed forward, and the tree beneath him exploded in a shower of force, shrapnel, and leaves.
The good news was, Rory didn’t crash straight into the ground after falling a mile straight.
The bad news was, his fall was arrested by the shockwave of the explosion created by his Blood Legacy empowered arrow and the cloud of debris it created.
The rest is up to you, Apostolos.
Then everything went dark.
----------------------------------------
Several minutes earlier, Base Camp
“Keep the Shoebill here, I don’t care how! By itself, it shouldn’t be able to break through the walls easily, and I don’t think it can fly!”
“Master!?” Apostolos shouted as he saw his master fling himself over their wall, directly past the giant lizard monster. Apostolos watched him land, turning mid air and firing back with one of his explosive arrows. Other than a short-lived rattling of its skull, the giant monster seemed more annoyed than hurt.
“Let’s dance you overgrown tadpole!”
Apostolos stared, stupefied as his master taunted the monster. In clearly wasn’t pointless, the monster looking back between the camp and his master, before finally deciding his master was the priority. Apostolos swore he saw his master mutter something before he turned and ran, sprinting off through the woods.
Oh, Eon above!
Apostolos would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to see the main threat of the wave chasing after his master, because it meant it wasn’t tearing apart their wall.
Still, doesn’t mean I’m out of danger.
The secondary boss of the wave, the Golden Shoebill, had remained behind. It was apparently just as surprised as Rory was to see the oversized lizard chasing after his master, a moment reprieved as neither attacked the other.
Letting only a split second pass like that, Apostolos focused, orienting the ballistae directly on the shoebill before releasing the crank of the war machine.
With a tremendous twang the javelin flew forward, striking the shoebill.
Or it would have, had the shoebill not reacted, swiping its wings and knocking the javelin aside.
Shoot.
The ballistae was his best bet at injuring the monster, a mid-tier-five Alpha would absolutely laugh aside anything he could fire from his bow himself.
Turning to face Apostolos with a beady eyed glare, the shoebill swept its wings forward as bladed jets of wind sliced through the air. Apostolos reacted well, ducking behind the wall as the air blades slashed into the wall, far less effective than the claws of the true wave boss.
What do I do? What do I do!?
Apostolos was very quickly beginning to regret his attitude toward pushing the waves. His master hadn’t been kidding about how much of a ramp up the waves could become. Sure the monsters of the earlier waves could have torn him apart if they caught him outside their walls, but they’d been manageable. Now he was facing down a monster that seemed entirely out of his league.
Because it is.
The danger of a monster was something like a full rank higher then their tier suggested, or so his master had explained. A tier four monster was a danger to a tier four ascender, but manageable by a tier five. A tier five monster was dangerous to a tier five ascender, but manageable by a tier six.
Meaning, at best, Apostolos was pushing two tiers above his punching weight, ignoring the fact that the shoebill was an Alpha variant as well.
What do I do?
Apostolos had thought the ballista was his answer, the sheer power the javelins fired from it could demonstrate was far beyond what Apostolos himself could, comparable to a Blood Legacy charged arrow from his master.
And yet, the shoebill was knocking them aside without concern.
Reloading as fast as he could Apostolos did the only thing he could do in the current circumstances, which was continue blasting with the oversized crossbow, ducking out of the way whenever the shoebill turned its focus toward him.
The good news was, the shoebill barely was paying him any attention, retaliating with the wind blades with a lazy sense of urgency.
The bad news was, that was because it was striking their walls with the wind blades instead. Their walls were strong, and they’d hold for a while if need be, but awhile may only be a few minutes, a dozen at best. Far longer than when the wave boss itself had been brutalizing their wall, but far less time than Apostolos felt like he needed.
What do I do?
At times like these, he was sure his master would come up with the perfect plan. The stories he’d told Apostolos of his first year surviving on Aelia alone was basically one long gauntlet of overcoming such challenges. Even after Apostolos had awoken one day in the middle of his camp, his master had taken it in stride, taking care of Apostolos and teaching him along the way.
The thing was, Apostolos wasn’t his master. He’d never been forced into the fire like this, never had to overcome against all odds. On one hand he could try to simply hold out until his master returned, but who knew how long that would be. He didn’t have it in himself to see his master losing, even to the giant wave boss, but that didn’t mean he could end up out of commission for some time.
I have to treat this like I’m on my own!
Gritting his teeth, Apostolos popped his head back out and fired the ballista at the shoebill, doing his best to calm himself and take stock of the situation, just like his master had taught him.
Observe, think, assess.
Again, the shoebill defended itself impeccably, a wind blade slicing through the ballista. For a moment, though, it was almost like the light was playing tricks on his eyes. Its feathers seemed to twinkle, like fireflies in the night before fading a heartbeat later.
No, don’t assume, observe.
The walls continued to be battered down on, the rhythmic thump of blades of air crashing into the wall a dull repetitive reminder of the potential death awaiting.
Reloading as fast as he could while staying out of the immediate danger zone, Apostolos again popped out, swiveling the ballista and firing at the bird monster. Again, for the briefest of moment when the monster defender itself, there was a slight twinkle in its feathers. Yet, for whatever reason, the twinkle only appeared when defending itself, and not when attacking.
Something’s relevant about that.
Ducking his had behind the wall as a wind blade whipped past, Apostolos ground his teeth, trying to think as quickly as possible.
Golden Shoebill. Description refers to how it absorbed ‘heavenly light’ to grow more powerful… Does that just mean sunlight? So why does it sparkle only when defending itself?
There was definitely something there to work with, yet Apostolos couldn’t make sense of it.
Sunlight. Maybe if I block out the sun?
That was…. Difficult given he couldn’t just turn off a star, much less the two stars that hung overhead.
What do I do? What would Master do? Surely, he would have some sort of gadget made or-
Thoughts halting, Apostolos suddenly realized what he was doing wrong.
I’m not my Master. Why am I trying to pretend like I am?
He had learned from his master, he owed his education and much of who he was to him, but Apostolos wasn’t Rory.
For starters, Pneuma.
Taking a deep breath, Apostolos grabbed the hilt of the javelin loaded into the ballista, closing his eyes as he did.
His master had often told him how using magic was difficult for him, as he had described it, there was a sort of ‘divide’ that made it so that magic didn’t feel natural to him.
Apostolos had no such problem, it had always been a part of life, there was nothing ‘special’ about magic for him, it simply was. He often forgot about it because his master rarely used magic in such a fashion, but it was important that Apostolos remind himself that he wasn’t his master.
Thus, holding onto javelin, Apostolos began to tie together a spell, forming a web of intent through the Pneuma flowing from his mind into reality, infusing the javelin. It was antithetical to their specialty of creation, of permanence, a temporary effect that would last for only a few seconds.
But that was all he needed, in theory.
Popping back out from hiding, Apostolos swiveled the ballistae so that it was aimed behind the shoebill before firing. Splitting through the air in an instant, the missile crashed into the earth, throwing up an explosive of dirt and debris like a cloud cover. For a moment nothing happened, the shoebill almost seemed confused why Apostolos had seemingly purposely missed.
That was, until the second of nothing happening dragged on, the smokescreen of dirt holding in the air without falling.
It worked!
Making something float with Pneuma wasn’t easy, but it was far easier when all you were doing was holding dirt particles in the air, obscuring sunlight from streaming down as easily. Grabbing another javelin, Apostolos repeated the process. The shoebill didn’t seem willing to let Apostolos do as he pleased, though, sweeping its wings out to prevent the javelin from smashing into the earth and blowing up more dirt and debris. Yet in doing so, the monster left itself vulnerable for a split second, a second which Apostolos took advantage of by simply hurling a javelin at the monster.
His aim, heightened by a well invested cognition attribute, proved true. The javelin sailed forward, clipping the wing of the shoebill. It wasn’t enough to inflict severe damage but inflict damage it did. Golden ichor began to spill from the monster’s wing as its beady eyes snapped forward to focus on Apostolos, as if really noticing him for the first time.
Mentally pumping his fist, Apostolos was already ducking behind the wall as a sudden barrage of wind blades ripped through where his head had been a moment before.
Good news is I hurt it. The bad news is, I hurt it. Now its going to put more effort into trying to kill me. The silver lining, every attack aimed at me, is one less attack on the walls.
Optimism was a trait Apostolos tended to err toward, unlike his master who preferred to take a ‘eyes wide open’ view, be it good or bad, cynical or hopeful. The status quo had been shaken, and a shakeup was exactly the thing Apostolos needed.
New plan, new plan…. It needs sunlight, or it wouldn’t be so against my smokescreen. Wait, smokescreen!
Taking advantage of the bombardment from the shoebill, Apostolos leapt down from his propped ladder, sprinting over to their storage shed. From within, he grabbed a large bloodwood branch before then sprinting to their campfire. Sticking one end in, he waited several seconds before it began to slowly char and flare up with crimson blood-colored sparks.
Good!
Jogging back to the wall, Apostolos carefully climbed back up the ladder, not moving too fast that the flame would die out. Listening to the continued wind blade bombardment, Apostolos shook his head before leaning in close to the flaming branch.
Magic is significantly more difficult when you make something from nothing. Its why master utilized his ghost arrow to ignite the Penghou rather than trying to throw a giant fireball at it directly.
That thought in mind, Apostolos began puffing a steady stream of air onto the ignited branch, channeling Pneuma through his breath as he did. Within moments a large curtain of oily, rust-colored smoke began to billow away from the branch as it burned expeditiously. Is it traveled overhead, it froze in space, within the same dirt curtain Apostolos held in place. The pounding barrage of wind blades suddenly lessened, as the shoebill likely began to pay attention to the sudden blanket of smoke billowing out and carpeting overhead.
That, or it couldn’t continue blasting away with wind blades.
Might as well take another risk.
Popping his head over the wall, Apostolos quickly took stock of the situation. The shoebill was staring overhead, confused and almost… annoyed? It attempted to sweep its wings toward the blanketed patch of sky, but the power within had greatly diminished.
So, it IS drawing strength from the sunlight!
Smiling viciously, Apostolos was forced to duck out of the way with a squeak that he was glad his master wasn’t around to hear as several feathers were launched out from the monster now that it couldn’t send its razor wind.
Still dangerous, but more limited.
Grabbing an arrow, Apostolos knocked his bow. His arrows were far less dangerous then his master, given his lower attributes and inability to use Blood Legacy, but he didn’t need this arrow to be directly dangerous.
After all, it was his master’s favorite trick arrow.
Peaking out for a split second, Apostolos blind fired the arrow in the relative direction of the monster before ducking out of the way again. Less then a heartbeat later he heard the familiar pop as the ghost vine arrow exploded outward, the net of phantasmal vines hopefully having netted the shoebill.
Go time!
Grabbing a javelin instantly, Apostolos rapidly loaded the ballista, the Golden Shoebill having indeed been caught in the net of ghostly vines. Without the cutting power of its wind blades, it was forced to tear through the net physically, something that it was rapidly doing, but not instantly. All he needed was the few simple seconds to finish loading the war machine, turning it toward the monster, and firing.
Ripping free of the netting, the shoebill was able to react, but without the strength of its wind blades, could only defend itself by sweeping its swings upward in an attempt to shield itself. Tough as the monster was, the javelin was unable to pierce through its wings fully.
But at the very least, it ripped a large hole into one of the wings of the monster, which flopped weakly to its side.
Got you!
Feeling victorious, Apostolos went to grab a final javelin until…
Until his hand found nothing, the pile of javelins was gone.
Oh. Oh, that was all of them. How didn’t I realize that?
His options had suddenly gotten dramatically worse. Without the high powered javelins, all that was left was his bow, which had no chance of piercing the monster’s deceptively tough skin.
Well, not quite.
There was one other weapon he could use -not counting Big Bertha- that would be able to damage the monster.
His spear. Spring-Loaded, it could lash out and cause wounds where his arrows couldn’t.
“Meaning I’ve got to fight it up close,” Apostolos said with a gulp.
Master would not approve of this.
But then, who was it that had leapt from the safety of their walls to do battle with an Alpha Variant first?
And when you think about it, this one has been greatly weakened already.
It was down a wing, and currently unable to draw upon its full might while the sunlight was obscured.
Which is the other thing. I can’t hold this magic forever.
Already he was beginning to feel the strain of holding the smokescreen overhead.
“Only one choice, I guess.” Apostolos said, doing his best to channel the sort of feelings he imagined his master had, the casual air of, if not confidence, indifference.
With his resolve steeled, Apostolos took a page of inspiration from Rory as he leapt from the safety of their wall, landing a few feet past the shoebill which whipped around awkwardly. Facing Apostolos, the pest that had been harassing it from behind the relative safety of the imposing walls surrounding their camp, its beak opened, slamming shut with a spine shivering clack.
In doing so, it also happened to reveal a beak full of viper-like teeth, another shiver running down his back.
Too late to undo what’s been done.
Squaring off against the monster, Apostolos began shuffling around. The shoebill watched him for a moment, before charging. It was fast, far faster than Apostolos, but between its awkward gait from its wounded wing and Apostolos’s heightened reaction time due to the cognition slant of his attributes, Apostolos was just barely able to avoid the beak slamming through the air where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier.
Almost ended my heartbeat!
Knowing no action should go without a reaction, something his master had taught him, Apostolos flicked his arm forward like a whip, as the metal canister he held suddenly sprang forward like the striking stinger of an enraged scorpion.
Having never seen the spear before, the shoebill was unable to avoid the blow, the spear dragging out a carved red line through its already wounded wing, the wound began to weep even more golden ichor.
“First blood,” Apostolos huffed out with an airy laugh. It was the first wound inflicted in direct contact with one another, one that Rory would have been proud of. Spinning the spear, Apostolos backed up as he took up a two-handed stance and faced off against the monstrous land-bird.
It was another way he was different from his master. While he wouldn’t phrase it in such a way directly to his face, his master was quite frankly, lousy as a fighter. His attributes were higher than Apostolos, and he had a knack for thinking outside the box, a mindset that had earned him his vocation as Architect of the Precursor’s, but that didn’t make him a real fighter.
Apostolos wouldn’t claim he was some godly warrior, but at the very least, he had more talent for it than his master.
Turning the spear tip forward, Apostolos reacted as the bird charged forward once more, batting aside its beak.
Or he tried to bat it aside. In reality, the one batted aside was he, the bird far more powerful and heavy than he. Thrown to the side, Apostolos quickly came up to a roll, which was fortunate that he did.
Had he not, rather than the beak of the bird putting a hole into his stomach, it would have taken his head clean off.
There was something about a monster bird driving its beak straight through your stomach that had the ability to snap reality in a single focused moment, a moment that Apostolos found himself floating in as if it would never end.
Am I dying?
He’d thought he’d had a better chance at beating the monster than this, but even wounded and weakened, it had in only two attacks managed to land what was likely a lethal blow.
No. Not yet.
If he died here, the monster bird would be able to potentially claim their camp.
“Over…my…. dead…. body!”
A surge of power flooded through his body; Apostolos lashed out with the spear. The monster, still beak-deep in Apostolos, had nowhere to run as in a single fluid strike, the spring-loaded spear was driven directly through its eye socket and brain. Powerful as the Alpha Variant may be, it was still a tier five monster, it couldn’t simply ignore a strike to a vital ignore even from a lower tier such as Apostolos.
With a strange sense of anticlimax, the Golden Shoebill dropped instantly, its beak pulled free from his gut.
Huh. That doesn’t look good.
Looking down at his stomach, a hole larger than his hand had appeared.
I don’t think I’m supposed to see my organs. Or supposed to feel no pain.
With a giggle that felt entirely out of character, Apostolos began to laugh.
Oh. I think I’m in shock.
Teetering over to the nearest tree, he sagged against it, slowly sliding down until he was on the ground, his body bent over as all the strength within him fled.
Sorry, Master.
Half a smile on his face, there was no time for reflection or even fear. With his eyes closed, the light from Apostolos’s world vanished as his spark was snuffed out.