Oak’s lungs worked like bellows as he panted. He was beat to shit, but in that glorious moment, the ache of his body receded, fading into the background. I might be a biased judge, but I am pretty sure you look even worse than I do at the moment, dear ogre. Breath came to him easily as he stared at Gluk with a hungry look on his face.

Gluk lifted a giant fist in the air. His eyes and nose bled rivulets of blood that dripped onto his burned chest.

“You have changed my mind. I will not cook you after all,” Gluk said. “I will eat you alive, starting with your feet, and listen to your sweet screams as I devour your flesh.”

Oak lifted his cleaver to bring Gluk’s attention to it. “If I slice you enough, will I find a skinny ogre somewhere underneath all that blubber?” he asked.

Gluk roared in rage and charged. Oak pointed his left hand at the ogre and cast a quick burst of flames from the tip of his knife while he dodged out of Gluk’s way. The ogre collided with the fighting pit’s wooden wall, screaming in pain and rage as burnt skin sloughed off his giant bulk. Oak closed the distance, dodged a brutal uppercut and went to work with his blades. He put his back into it and sliced deep into Gluk’s belly with his cleaver.

Oak circled the ogre, and Gluk threw haymakers at his face, trying to take his head clean off. He was a mouse dodging and weaving, a bear ripping and tearing. His claws were steel, and his flames burned hot like the heart of a forge.

Gluk stumbled, trying to hold the bleeding wound on his belly closed. “You pestiferous, mutton-headed leper!” the ogre shouted. “I hope your cock shrivels and falls off! I hope your balls rot and fester with pus!”

“Your words are wind, fat meat.” Oak laughed. “I'll slice you and dice you to ribbons. Do you not recognize death when you see it?”

He dove under another desperate punch, and stabbed his hunting knife deep into Gluk’s side, close to the armpit. Using his weight, he dragged the knife down against Gluk’s ribs, opening a massive wound which bled like a small river, covering his hands with hot blood. Gluk lashed out and shoved Oak away, knocking the wind right out of him.

The shove rattled Oak’s already cracked ribs, but the pain of his broken body was a distant afterthought. He gasped for breath, leaning against the wall of the pit. Gluk was now utterly incoherent, roaring insults and swaying on his feet. Oak spat blood on the floor and aimed a stream of flame at the ogre’s face, painting flickering shadows on the wooden walls of the fighting pit.

Gluk leaned back to dodge the flames and lost his balance. The fat ogre fell down with a mighty crash that shook the earth. Oak seized the opportunity to chop at the ogre’s kneecaps with his cleaver.

“Whoreson! Arselicker! Pillock!” Gluk shouted and attempted to grab a hold of Oak’s leg.

Oak dodged back, but Gluk surprised him and crawled after him on his destroyed knees. Bleeding from a dozen wounds and suffering from burns that would have killed an ox, Gluk dragged his failing body across the pit, shielding his face from bursts of flame with his left hand. Cornered against the pit’s wall, Oak swung his cleaver down at Gluk’s hand and cut halfway through the bone.

Gluk screamed. The ogre’s left knee gave out, but as he stumbled to the side, he snatched a hold of Oak’s shoulder and dragged him to the ground.

Somehow, in the midst of their struggle, Oak ended up on top, while Gluk wrapped his hands around Oak’s midsection. The ogre squeezed down. Snarling and crying, hands shaking from the effort, Gluk gave it his all as he attempted to break Oak in half. The pain almost made him pass out. He spat blood and croaked silently, as air was driven from his lungs and his vision dimmed.

Like my old man said, if all else fails, be a savage.

Oak stabbed his hunting knife into Gluk’s right eye. Using the knife as a handhold, he struck the ogre’s skull with his cleaver. He chopped viciously, and the cleaver traveled down, up and back down again, sending blood and chips of bone flying with every desperate strike as the combatants fought to kill each other so they themselves might survive.

***

Oak could not see anymore. There was only the cleaver in his right hand and the trajectory it had to travel. His arm moved almost on its own. Oak was not even sure what he was hitting anymore, when suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel. The crushing pressure vanished and for the first time in what felt like years, Oak drew a breath. He panted and shook, delirious and relieved. Giggles escaped from his mouth, but they hurt so much he had to stop himself from laughing.

When Oak’s vision returned, the first thing he saw was Gluk’s head, or what was left of it. There were deep wounds all over and the ogre’s skull had broken open at the temple. Oak’s cleaver was embedded in Gluk’s brain. With great effort, Oak pulled the cleaver free and stopped moving. A familiar notification popped up in the upper right corner of his vision.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

+ 1 Soul

+ 3 Fuel

Time passed and Oak lay on top of his dead opponent, wondering if moving a limb could possibly hurt more than staying still. He was hurt worse than ever before, bruised and bloodied, ribs broken and a tooth missing. Something was also wrong with his left shoulder. It did not move properly.

Oak thought it mighty unfair that the excitement of battle faded, while the pain seemed to increase by a factor of ten. But he knew there was nothing for it. He had to move, and he had to move now before consciousness left his body behind.

Climbing out of the pit was the hardest thing Oak had ever done. Hands shaking with the effort and covered in cold sweat, he dragged himself up, legs slipping against the smooth walls of the pit. When he got over the fence surrounding the pit, he collapsed and lay on the floor gasping like a fish on dry land.

What I wouldn’t give for a warm meal and a bed with clean sheets.

Sadly, both things were well out of his reach.

A tremor disturbed the Waking Dream and something struck Oak’s wards. On pure instinct, he dove into the Dream and it saved his life. The very moment he was back in the Dream’s version of the tavern, Oak moved left as fast as he could and, in so doing, dodged a strike from a poltergeist. He called forth the ghost of the sparrow, clad himself in the memory construct and flew straight up and then towards the tavern’s door, dodging a mouth extending from the ceiling that attempted to eat him.

Thinking quickly, Oak hitched a ride on a table that was drifting through the air above the poltergeist, and prepared for a fight. Heart pounding, he made sure that Kaarina’s Horror was ready and waited for his moment.

In Oak’s experience, battles inside the Dream resembled knife fights in the dark. The person who did not make noise or reveal their position usually got off the first strike, but in the end, everybody got stabbed.

The poltergeist facing Oak held no resemblance to the sickly thing he had ripped apart near Spoke. It was much larger and shaped like a giant worm. Elven and human heads bulged from its purple body, their faces twisted in utter madness and rage. The worm had a head with a large mouth surrounded by three sets of fangs curving towards the maw. The thing bit at the floorboards in fury, trashing the spot Oak had been in a heartbeat ago, agitated by his disappearance.

The table drifted along in the Dream’s current and Oak found himself right above the worm’s head. He shed himself from the form of the sparrow and dropped on top of the worm. Kaarina’s Horror punctured the poltergeist’s skin and penetrated deep into its body, only stopping when the stinger hit the rotten floorboards.

The poltergeist trashed around in fury. A long spike of bone burst from the worm’s back and struck Oak in the chest. He nearly fell from the worm's back, mind reeling from the aftershocks of a section of his wards reaching their breaking point. He had three human ghosts devoted to his wards, and one of them almost buckled under the strain of the poltergeists' attack.

The worm attempted to bring its mouth and fangs into play, but Oak sunk his stinger into the poltergeist’s head, over and over again, all the while dodging spikes that burst from the worm’s body to skewer him. Memories of despair and horrific violence leaked from the worm's wounds, spilling into the Dream.

Finally, frustrated with his lack of progress, Oak sank Kaarina’s Horror deep, and started walking backwards, pulling with all of his will. The stinger's edge parted flesh, and he sawed, intending to cut the worm in half lengthwise. By the time he had gotten halfway down the creature’s body, it had stopped trashing and lay there unmoving on the tavern's floor.

Oak let out a shaky breath and stared at the monster. Mouths opened from the floor and the tavern feasted on the ghostly corpse of the dead poltergeist.

I guess I deserved that for diving into the Dream so I could strike at Gluk. Cause and effect. I made noise and something noticed. I really do have to avoid doing this.

Suddenly, a passing tentacle tore apart the ceiling of the tavern. The slippery flesh of the tentacle brushed Oak’s dream form and in a single instant, two of the ghosts holding his wards together shattered. He could feel the echoes of the painful memories the tentacle was made of as he spun through the air and landed on the floor.

Elves being torn apart limb from limb, screaming in agony. Claws like knives sinking into soft flesh.

Wails of pain tried to escape from Oak’s lips, but he held the hurt tight, and pushed it down. In the Unreal Sea, drawing attention to yourself was a deadly thing. Especially right now. The tentacle snatched the worm’s body and lifted it out of the tavern.

Dazed and confused, Oak followed it with his gaze. Above the tavern, a gigantic sea monster drifted in the air, swimming in the sky between floating houses. It was easily the size of a five-story apartment building and though Oak had never seen a whale; he imagined they might have looked a bit like the creature swimming in the currents of the Dream above him. If whales had tentacles all over their body and teeth that looked like swords, that is.

A leviathan, Oak thought tiredly. He stayed absolutely still, wrapping the remainders of his wards tight around his mind and minimizing his presence.

There was a reason towns and cities had wards and he was staring one of them in the face right now. The tentacle brought the remains of the poltergeist in front of the leviathan's face. Massive jaws opened wide and the leviathan swallowed the worm. The ghostly horror never stopped moving even as it ate and soon it had drifted out of view.

The tavern's ceiling was knitting itself together, but before it could fully close up, Oak could see another leviathan drifting through the sky far on the other side of the city. Yeah. Fuck all that, he thought and left the Dream.

It was a relief to sink back to his own body.