Parker charged out of the safe point, chasing the four-armed monster.

  Paul jammed his pipe wrench between its mouth, which was a horrible latticework of mandibles, whirling blades and squirming proboscises looking to latch on and tear skin apart like a meat grinder.

  Parker circled around, hoping to cripple the beast's legs.

  Behind him, many creatures rose from the dune cave, chased by something—rolling caterpillars like the ones Matthew had killed, the strange four-armed demons, salamanders, and stone golems with six arms that had red veins running along their bodies and heat so powerful the air shimmered.

  He grit his teeth, ignoring them. They fought among each other and attacked people at the safe point.

  I have to kill this now, then help the rest, can't hesitate. Don't be afraid just move

  He planted his feet and swung the sword, mimicking the swing of a baseball bat since it was his only experience.

  One of the monster's blade-like arms blocked the strike before it snarled at him—this one could see, small green and red eyes hid behind its horned helmet.

  It raised Paul into the air with its two gripping hands and engaged Parker in a sword fight with its blade arms.

  They were fast, attacking seamlessly. He could only retreat, blocking the occasional blow—no chance to counterattack.

  He jumped to the side, locking its right blade in place before trying to kick its leg.

  The creature simply jumped over his kick while carrying Paul, simultaneously performing a downward slash with its left.

  Parker had to fall completely to his back and roll away to avoid the killing blow. Yet, the side of his head burned with sharp pain.

  He touched it, wincing—it was deep, not bone-deep, but deeper than any head injury he had ever gotten.

  He gripped the sword harder and attacked again. He was sorely outmatched.

  Every exchange was life-threatening. If he attacked without considering how the bug would retaliate, he would die.

  Worse was the fatigue. He was already tired before this—the last fifteen hours had been a question of what would break first: his mind or body.

  Yet everything demanded that he keep going. His arms burned with every swing, but thankfully, the demon wasn't overpowering him.

  Maybe it was the fact that he had gone up in levels, or the vigor stat card, but he felt strong enough to keep up with the monster.

  Each of its strikes rang with power that normally would have blown him away.

  Its speed, however, was incontestable. Every strike blurred, hard to follow.

  He had to jump away as one of the salamanders spat a ball of fire at them. It tried to get around the blade monster, only to taste the speed of its blade.

  The Salamander retreated with two deep gashes on its face, only to be impaled by Parker, who was behind it.

  He pulled the sword out of its body and continued pressing the blade demon—if it was given any time, it would use those blades to kill Paul.

  He clashed again with its fast blades, but he was ready now.

  I can't avoid its counter, but I can try to reduce the damage while closing in.

  He charged, letting one blow cut his side slightly before roaring, "Die!"

  He put all his power into a downward slash, but it caught the blade.

  It held Paul with one hand and caught the heavy blow using its other, supporting it with the blade arm below.

  It didn't go unscathed—its hand was eviscerated—but it escaped death.

  Parker barely escaped too, falling back as its second blade nearly disemboweled him.

  "Damn it," he cursed as blood began leaking down his leg.

  —

  Vasilis picked up his gun with a burning hatred ON his mind.

  They tricked me. Damn it! That bastard. If I die here, I have to make sure Parker follows me.

  He stood, watching with venomous anger as Parker fought a monster with four arms, trying to help the boy captured by the creature.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He pointed the gun at him, taking time to center it before he heard someone scream—one of Parker's mules, covered in fire, as a red-and-black lizard approached him.

  It turned to Vasilis, a long, thin tongue slipping in and out of its mouth. It opened its jaws, preparing to set him on fire, but two shots from his gun put it down.

  Then things got worse.

  He had to hit the deck as fast, heavy balls of white bone slammed into the walls, bouncing around with each blow powerful enough to make his ears ring.

  They left just as suddenly as they arrived, leaving him in utter confusion.

  Stumbling to his feet he ran into the safe point looking around frantically, he found his friends hidden in a corner. He ordered, "Give me the essence!"

  Lenny immediately handed him the bag, still weak from the smoke. Petyr, however, looked at him defiantly, not handing over the one in his hand.

  Vasilis stared at him, eyes wide and full of wild insanity. "Petyr, give it to me."

  Petyr shook his head. "That's not enough for you?"

  "I can make it to level three now. You know how my special trait works," he said quietly, his hand still out. "Don't waste my damn time before something else kills that bastard."

  "Forget killing him. We have to get out of here! We've already gotten—"

  "Don't tell me what I'll do with the essence I got! Give it to me!"

  Petyr's face fell as Vasilis screamed at him. "Got yourself? You really think you did this alone?"

  "Yes, you fucking doorknob! You think any of this was by your power? We only got this far because of me—my gun, my authority, my plan!" He shouted, approaching Petyr, hand still stretched out. There was a confused look in his red-rimmed eyes. "The hell's wrong with you? Get in line now, or else."

  He raised the gun, pointing it at Petyr. He looked slightly unsure but held it steady despite their stares.

  Petyr looked hurt at first, but his face slowly twisted with disappointment.

  He raised the bag to give Vasilis and said, "I knew before that you would never accept anyone as a comrade, but I…"

  He sighed and moved to hand over the bag.

  Vasilis, however, received a hard hit to the back of his head and fell over. His vision blurred almost blacking out.

  Petyr's surprised voice exclaimed, "You!"

  Vasilis crawled away, looking up to see the First Messenger. He took off a gas mask, throwing it aside.

  He had scattered black hair and a full beard. He cleaned a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and placed them on his face—cold blue eyes examining him disdainfully.

  He turned to Petyr and held out his hand. Petyr stared at it, unsure, before quickly handing over the bag of essence.

  The dark-haired Messenger then turned to Vasilis and put out his hands. "The wish coins."

  Vasilis stared up in disbelief at the Messenger, then at Petyr. "Who the hell are you, and what right do you—"

  He looked for his gun but found it far from him.

  The First Messenger kicked him down as he tried to stand, then placed a knee against his shoulder, reaching into Vasilis' brown jacket to take out the three wish coins.

  He stood up and walked toward the gun, but Vasilis caught one of his legs and spun on his back, kicking the other from under him.

  He rolled and jumped for the gun, but Petyr grabbed him, spinning him around, trying to hold him down.

  Petyr threw a punch, but Vasilis dropped down, dodging it, before punching him in the groin and pushing him away.

  He intercepted the First Messenger, who was trying to get back to the gun.

  He had trained to fight and kill with his father for a long portion of his life.

  None of it was simple. He never got used to it—people looked at him and never expected he could fight.

  So many fights he ended quickly and brutally.

  As the messenger avoided his right haymaker by leaning back, Vasilis immediately stabbed at his neck with his left, his hand straightening into a blade to bruise the windpipe.

  The messenger brushed it aside before righting himself and looking at him evenly.

  Vasilis watched his stance and composure.

  "You know how to fight? What's your name before I shoot you in the head?"

  "Matthew."

  "Where'd you learn? Doesn't look like they just taught you how to throw a punch." Vasilis rambled as he circled Matthew, expecting to inch closer to his gun, but Matthew cut him off, stepping in.

  Matthew didn't answer. He simply took off his glasses and tucked them into his pocket.

  Vasilis frowned. "Why be so boring? One of us is going to die here."

  "I didn't just learn how to fight. My dad always fought to kill, so if I wanted to enter the house, I had to fight to survive."

  " 'No food till you fight' was a house rule. Every day, he beat and insulted me for losing. Up until the day I killed him, he never agreed I was the better fighter."

  Vasilis smirked. "My dad believed that if you were going to kill someone, you should do it without any tricks, mano a mano." He laughed. "But all I'm full of—"

  He struck before finishing his sentence, dropping low to sweep Matthew's legs. Matthew stepped back.

  "—is tricks," Vasilis finished, rising with sand in his fists, throwing it at Matthew's eyes.

  Matthew covered his eyes while keeping a vague view of Vasilis. He planted his feet, waiting for the sneak attack, but he had miscalculated—Vasilis doved behind him, grabbing his gun.

  "Wrong move, bozo!" Vasilis cried, turning and squeezing the trigger.

  He expected fear, anguish—regret even—in those cold blue eyes. Instead, Matthew was already stepping towards him.

  Space distorted in front of him. The bullet got caught in the warping air pausing, gold dyeing the bending space.

  A resonant hum rose as a white sword formed.

  The bullet deflected off the sword, and Matthew slashed the gun from Vasilis' hand.

  Vasilis screamed as the tip of his middle finger was sliced off along with the gun.

  Matthew watched the broken weapon fall, then admired his sword.

  The blade was pure white, its hilt, crossguard, and blade seemingly carved from a quartz-like crystal that glittered even in darkness.

  The crossguard was a cluster of fingers with sharp nails, and black leather wrapped the grip.

  The leather coiled around his hand the moment he held the sword like bandages.

  The leather now released him, soon after he slammed it's pommel into Vasilis' head, silencing the boy.

  He turned to Petyr, who had been watching in awe.

  "I'm going to help the others. Please bind him," Matthew ordered before leaving.

  He dove into the carnage, helping those holding the monsters at bay as they tried to reach Parker.

  A fire-breathing lizard fell to a sneak attack from his blade, he made sure to use the abilities of the sword.

  A bone caterpillar was on top of someone, he split it open through a gap in its armor.

  It rolled away, but the person it had been eating was long dead, their face completely gone.

  Matthew winced at the carnage before forcing himself to turn towards Parker, but a massive sound shook the cavern.

  A violent clamp—so forceful he covered his ears, wincing as a sharp migraine tore through his skull.

  The ants had emerged.

  They poured from the Dune tunnel and the tunnel leading to the White Temple, cordoning off all escape except for the Dark Forest.

  Matthew's face darkened in horror as he realised what was going to happen.

  "Brian!" he cried over the battle's terrible noise. "Get inside the safe point!"

  The cavern was deafening, but Brian heard and acknowledged him.

  Everyone scrambled toward safety, glancing back at Parker, who danced between monsters, fighting the Blade Demon that held Paul hostage.

  A small shape sped between the creatures—inhumanly fast.

  Asha.

  She held two knives, slicing a salamander's nose as she dodged its fire and ran past to help Parker.

  Stone shattered in the tunnel, sending debris flying. Dust choked the air. Heat billowed, suffocating everything.

  Stone titans left the center of the cavern to fight the loud ants. Shapes flew overhead, screeching, roaring, wailing like wraiths.

  Joey screamed into Matthew's ear, barely heard over the chaos.

  "We need to help Parker!"

  "No. Everyone leaves now," Matthew shouted back. "I'll find a way once the Forest Monarch joins the fray!"

  The fire and smoke had cleared. Joey turned toward the tunnel leading to safety, then back to Parker—surrounded by enemies.

  Fiery defiance filled his eyes.

  "NO!"

  Some people fled. One was caught by another four-armed creature, forcing Matthew to intercept.

  He thrust the bag of essence into Joey's hands. "Leave now!"

  The Blade Demon brutally decapitated its victim.

  Matthew gasped but attacked, his Armament suppressing his presence.

  He crept behind it and jumped, stabbing his sword through its throat as it greedily munched on its headless prey.

  The creature struggled, trying to reach him, but Matthew stood on its lower body.

  He ripped the sword out through the side of its neck. Black blood sprayed onto the white stone as the demon fell.

  Matthew turned, checking that the others were leaving, before looking back to Parker.

  Then, he waited—hiding, staying out of the way of the warring beasts.

  They just need to survive until the Monarch comes. I don't know why I'm so sure he will,

  He didn't wait much longer.

  A powerful, deep roar shook the cavern with mystical force.

  The Monarch's black form filled the space, drawing the attention of every monster.

  Matthew glanced back to confirm the safe point's hidden tunnel was covered. Then, he ran toward the Monarch's side.

  As expected, all the creatures ran toward the safe point as it was the only empty tunnel not blocked by stronger predators.

  A salamander spat a fireball at him. Matthew dismissed his sword and rolled, dodging, before continuing his frantic sprint.

  He shouted to Asha and Parker, but they couldn't hear him through the noise.

  The Monarch ignored him. It roared at the white ants.

  The ants reacted immediately. Their legs bent, steam and dreadful sounds of a popping, boiling liquid leaking from their joints.

  Then—they launched into the air, attacking.