Ezzie said.

I said.

I said, already turning away.

Ezzie said.

I bit my bottom lip. I really, really didn’t want to die again. But on the other hand, it wasn’t like I had an endless amount of time here. And I’d already been playing for three days without any Renown to show for it. I said.

Ezzie said.

Fatwing bumped up against another imp and the two started arguing. Then Fatwing opened its mouth impossibly wide, its jaw unhinging like a snake’s, then fluttered its wings once, twice, rose into the air and dove.

It swallowed the other imp whole, then just floated off as if nothing had happened.

Ezzie said.

I said, shuddering.

Fatwing burped off in the distance.

Ezzie said.

I looked up and sure enough, the huge, black imp was gliding my way, its bright red claws held out in front of it. The imp screamed as it drew closer, banking left and right just as the others had but much more quickly and with no discernible pattern to its movements.

Ezzie said in a rushed breath.

She was right about that. I put the shield up against my shoulder and leaned into it, waiting for the imp to make contact. I drove forward as I had before but this time my legs buckled beneath me and the imp’s weight drove me back, my heels skidding in the dirt.

Ezzie said.

The imp flapped its wings and picked up speed, and I had to backpedal to keep from being driven off my feet.

Ezzie said.

I braced myself, pushed the imp right, and spun to my left. The imp kept going, but banked a hard one-eighty and flew right back at me.

Ezzie said.

I caught the imp and was once again driven back. I disengaged the same way, and the imp banked just as it had before.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Ezzie said.

I grunted as the imp smashed back into me.

Ezzie said,

I said, gasping the words. I pushed the imp left and spun right, grabbing a pair of daggers out of my bracer as I went. I whipped them forward and one of the two struck home, embedding itself in the imp’s right wing. Fatwing crashed to the ground, tumbling across the cracked earth.

I said through the link.

The imp flapped its wings, wincing as its webby tendons flexed around the knife I’d thrown. It reached up with a bony hand and yanked the knife free, the blade melting beneath its red-hot fingernails, the molten metal dribbling onto the ground. The imp waddled forward on its underdeveloped legs, its speed greatly reduced.

I stabbed my poisoned blade into the dirt and threw my third knife at the imp, who was much too slow to avoid the attack, even given the distance between us. I tossed the fourth as well, but the knife went wide.

Ezzie said.

I said.

I reclaimed my sword, raised my shield and charged, easily knocking the imp off its feet. Pinning it was easy enough, and I landed a few quick strikes to the top of its head in rapid succession.

Ezzie said.

I kept wailing away, hitting the imp with everything I had right up until I felt heat on my forearm. I glanced at my shield and spotted five glowing circles forming in the metal, the scales bubbling and warping around them.

Ezzie said.

A fingernail poked through the shield, then another.

Ezzie said,

I slashed the imp once more, placed the hilt of my short sword between my teeth, rolled away and ripped a throwing dagger free as I went.

I raised my half-ruined shield—the holes had melded together, and the resulting gap was the size of my fist—and waited for the imp to regain its feet.

Only it didn’t. It just laid there on the ground, thrashing its thin legs, its wings beating uselessly.

Ezzie said.

I knelt to catch my breath; it was abundantly clear that the imp wasn’t going anywhere. I tossed my shield to the side and placed both hands on the hilt of my short sword. I stepped around the flailing imp so that its head was directly beneath me, but so that my legs were out of the reach of its claws.

I brought the sword down hard, right between the imp’s beady, jet-black eyes.

I raised the sword again, readying a final blow.

Then the imp began to laugh.

“The hell?” I said aloud. “What’s it got to laugh about?”

Ezzie said.

The imp’s already large belly began to inflate, the sagging skin bulging until it became taut. Black veins appeared as the abdomen kept swelling, threatening to tear the imp open.

Ezzie started, but cut off as the imp exploded beneath me. The detonation blew me off my feet and sent me ragdolling into the air.

I flew until I collided with the trunk of a withered tree, the force of my motion ripping it halfway out of the ground. I slid down its length, ears ringing, my ribs bruised if not broken.

Ezzie said.

I spat out a mouthful of black ichor. It tasted salty, and sickly sweet.

You contracted a disease!

You are afflicted with {Blood Rot}!

Effect: -5 maximum health every 60 seconds until player dies or disease is cleansed.

A novice healer may be able to cleanse this disease.

This disease has a 1% chance per tick of mutating into {Blood Plague}.

Ezzie said, as the Constructor bobbed over to Fatwing’s dark, pulpy remains.

Ding!

You found a rare item!

{Lecherous Ring} has been added to your Constructor!

{Lecherous Ring} (Touchstone) (Binds on Pickup)

Grade: F

Item level: 12

Slot: Finger

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +1 Strength, +1 Dexterity

Magical Resistance: 10

Effect: As long as this ring is equipped, player is granted the ability {Lecherous Strike}.

Touchstone cost: Absorb 15,000 HP using {Lecherous Strike}.

Durability: 30/30

{Lecherous Strike}

Description: Your next melee attack or melee-based skill deals an additional 50% weapon damage, and you convert 33% of the total damage inflicted into health. This ability deals unholy damage.

Cooldown: 20 seconds

Cost: 20 stamina