The next enemy was before me. I had no choice; I had to employ Level Flicker.

  The creature’s hood shifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of its face—an eyeless mask with the texture of burnt skin and a jagged slit for a mouth. Vapor continued to seep from beneath the hood, curling into the air like smoke from a dying fire. In fact, I could smell a campfire now.

  Its oversized hands twitched, fingers stretching unnaturally as they clawed at the ground. The skin on its arms split open with a sickening rip, and from the gaps, smaller arms sprouted like grotesque buds, each one clutching a fibrous string that seemed to grow from its own flesh.

  “Alright,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the hatchet. “Guess we’re doing this.”

  The creature’s larger right hand suddenly shot up, its palm pointed at me, its fingers stretched. The smaller hands moved quickly. A string was between the index and middle finger. One of the small hands pulled it taut.

  An arrow grew from its own body, the shaft slick with that purple, oily substance. The arrowhead was veiny and throbbing.

  The creature released the string, and the arrow shot toward me with terrifying speed. New Arm materialized, I moved to block the arrow with my boosted perception helping me line it up. But before I could even think to breathe, the arrowhead rumbled. It split a moment before hitting my arm, unfurling into a tiny clawed hand. It hit New Arm, and gripped on. I got a sense for the pressure–it would be miserable trying to get rid of this thing if it grabbed flesh.

  I stared at the creature from behind my arm. “Choosing to block instead of dodge… I might have just gotten lucky.”

  “I will… hunt… the pale monkey,” it repeated.

  “Yeah, I’m not a monkey, though.”

  I moved quickly. This arrow was connected to the monster by a similar skin rope, too. I grabbed the shaft with my right hand, dismissed New Arm, and then immediately resummoned it. Grabbed the hatchet with New Arm, pulled on the arrow with my right hand, and severed the rope.

  The creature nocked another arrow. This time, the arrowhead was already writhing, the tiny hand flexing and grasping at the air.

  I was faster with my summoning and shooting of the God Arm—charge-up and all. The bolt flew and struck the disproportionate giant. Having one arm up seemed to throw off its equilibrium. It fell onto its left, barely catching itself.

  Good. I seized that opening, already running up to it with the hatchet raised, boots pounding against the ground.

  The creature hastily released the arrow, and I sidestepped. The sudden boost from my flicker threw off the arrowhead’s hand timing, and it missed its chance to grab my face. I closed the distance, swinging the hatchet in a wide arc. The blade bit into the creature’s side, slicing through its tattered skin and sending a spray of purple ichor into the air. It let out a guttural roar, the whistle of the wind accompanying it, and its body twisted as it tried to recover.

  I yanked the hatchet free and brought it down again, this time aiming for its bow arm. The faster I got rid of this, the better off I would be. The blade sank deep, and the creature’s arm went limp, falling with a ground-shaking thud. The fibrous string between its fingers fell slack. The smaller hands writhed, their movements growing erratic as the creature howled and swiped at me with its other arm.

  But just then, right at the moment of a flicker, I heard it–the echo of another bowstring, the whistling—oh damn.

  I had to move, but I was already mid-step. It wasn’t going to work. The arrow struck before I could react, the small-clawed hand at its tip latching onto the back of my head. The grip was like a vice, the claws digging into my scalp as I felt the rope connected to the arrow go taut.

  “No!” I yelled, but the creature behind me yanked hard, pulling me off my feet. My body slammed into the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of me. The monster in front of me, its bow arm ruined but still in for the fight, took its turn to seize the opportunity. Its remaining arm swung in a wide arc, its gnarled fingers tearing through earth and raking across my side and sending me rolling amid upheaved stones. Pain exploded across where its claws tore, and I felt warm blood soaking into my shirt.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The creature behind me pulled again, reminding me of its presence and dragging me across the rocky ground. I scrambled to grab onto something, anything, but it all happened too quickly. My body slammed into a tree, the force of the impact sending a jolt of pain through my spine. I gasped, my vision swimming for the second.

  It yanked again, pulling me upright and against the tree. Its massive hand closed around my right arm.

  “I was born… to be the greatest hunter,” it groaned.

  I struggled, but its grip was ironclad. This one could sprout smaller hands too–dammit, they were really the same types! The smaller hands sprouting from its arm began to move, their tiny fists hammering into my elbow with unnatural strength. I felt the bone crack. The hammering became faster. They were shaking my whole arm.

  The monster in front of me lunged, its ruined arm hanging limply at its side, but its other hand reaching for my face. Many arms sprouted toward me. Its fingers clamped down over my mouth and nose, and I felt a sudden, unnatural pressure in my chest. I felt air moving past me and heard its whistle.

  Its face was right in front of me, its mouth like a perfect circle as it sucked the air out of my lungs.

  My vision blurred as I struggled to breathe, my chest burning with the need for oxygen. Dark spots began to appear in front of me, as if my eyes were failing.

  The many little hands were hitting my elbow like drums. And then it happened. The drumming stopped, and all at once, a human-sized fist hit my elbow, breaking through with a sickening, wet snap. Pain shot through my arm, white-hot and blinding, the feeling of splinters sticking out through my skin being something I would never forget.

  “THANK YOU!” I roared, clarity crashing back in with the pain.

  New Arm, and then God Arm! I propped it against my right shoulder. The barrel hummed as it charged. The hum built to a crescendo. The monster behind me was still pulling, like it wanted to rip off my arm. I made visual contact with it and adjusted right before the trigger clicked, my vision narrowing on its head.

  The bolt of lightning erupted from the God Arm, lancing into this creature behind me. The air split with a deafening crack, and the monster let out a shriek that echoed through the cavern. Its grip on my arm faltered, and I pulled my arm in before ripping off the hand arrow.

  Now, for this idiot in front of me. I was so thrilled that I got that jolt from the arm break. It wasn’t just sucking out the air–it did something else. It even made my stats display distort and flicker. Most importantly, it was like it was stuck in this breath-sucking for a few more seconds.

  I resummoned the God Arm, and jammed it into its mouth. The creature’s slit of a mouth conformed around the tip like it was sucking on it. I fired again, the bolt tearing through its head in a bright display that sent purple ooze flying in all directions.

  I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air as the pressure in my chest finally released. My side was on fire, my arm was broken, and my head was pounding from the arrow’s grip. But now that I was free, the first thing that I looked at was my arm. It went blurry–actually blurry–the color of my bloody bone mixing together with my pale skin. A second later, it was healed. The pain in my side receded, too, but then I saw the cost of all of this.

  “Zero HP. Shit.”

  A sound got my attention.

  The creature behind me was still twitching, its body smoking from the God Arm’s blast. I grabbed the hatchet with New Arm, my prosthetic hand gripping the handle tightly and with no chance of faltering. I staggered to my feet, my vision swimming, scrambled over to the ambusher, and brought the hatchet down on its head. The blade bit deep, and the monster let out a shriek.

  “I was born… to be the greatest hunter!”

  “I don’t care!” I yelled, swinging the hatchet into its head again.

  Purple smoke exploded into my face. I swung it again and braved the smoke as it was joined by the ichor this time. I yanked the hatchet out, but this time, the blade crumbled before my eyes.

  It hit me just then–durability. Things had durability scores! I may not be able to see them for everything, but if my Signature Weapon did, then something like the hatchet must too!

  The other creature–the one relieved of its head–was convulsing. Purple ichor sprayed from its head, but it was still moving. I raced over to it and swung New Arm into it repeatedly, caving its chest in, ripping out a leathery rib and jamming it back into its body repeatedly until it had a dozen new breathing holes.

  Smoke flowed out like a film had been punctured, and finally, the convulsing stopped.

  I quickly shot up and looked around. My HP was at zero. I had braced for this. I was sure I wouldn’t die when I hit zero… But what that meant was that, most likely, wounds I took while at HP: Zero would stick!

  I ran into the woods, toward the abandoned village.

  I dismissed New Arm. Running armless, I reminded myself of what I had to lose in this vulnerable state.

  When I got my first level, my hand didn’t come back. The chances that critical rule still held were high–anything I lost when I didn’t have HP might not come back!

  My hope now was thus–pray to the Checklist that finding an abandoned settlement would count and award me a level…