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CHAPTER 29 Weather the Cruel Storm
🕑 Added 2025-05-13 16:17:00 +0000 UTCDavid was staring down the massive predator. Now or never. With his left hand, he threw a rock at it. The predator, amused and driven by habit, sliced the projectile mid-air. Good, keep doing that.
The guards were frozen in shock, staring. The predator’s laughter grew, a high-pitched chittering noise, shaking its massive frame. It spread its scythes wide, clicking its mandibles. ‘Go on, little thing. Struggle.’ Is that what you think of me?
As if he were picking another rock, David slammed his satchel against the ground and a distinct sound of shattered glass rang out. He immediately threw it, then jumped behind building’s corner. He heard Darryl’s panicked shout “COVER YOURSELVES!”. Bless that man.
The monster righted itself as the unexpected object flew at it in a gentle arc. The predator smacked it out of the air as usual. The world went white.
The explosion was deafening. A shockwave tore through the world. A wave of heat and shrapnel followed, ripping through the battlefield. The worst of it tore into the predator with merciless force. The monster was thrown back until it crashed into wall, it’s body and limbs torn to shreds. Chunks of metal struck against flesh, metal and wood.
His contraption had worked a little too well. Shrapnel tore into anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius, even piercing some shields. Men screamed. Some dropped to the ground, clutching bloody wounds. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Yet, even after all that, the beast still moved. It twitched, then tried to right itself, but Darryl wasn’t going to give it a chance. He burst out from behind a dented tower shield and sprinted.
The monster swiped wildly, limbs jerking, trying to right itself- but Darryl was already moving. He dropped low, sliding through the mud and under the scythe aimed at his neck. He drove the sword right into its chest.
The predator convulsed, its entire body spasming. Darryl immediately let go of the sword and jumped back.
Cracks formed along its chitin. Steam erupted from within as frost and fire battled inside its flesh, the opposing forces splitting it apart from the inside out. It let out a sickening, gurgling screech. It tried to move—to fight—to do something. But the strike was devastating. It was dying, and it knew it.
The creature’s grotesque form shuddered violently as it collapsed into the mud, black blood spilling out in thick, oozing pools. Everyone watched the predator’s death throes in awe. It must have been an incredibly painful death. A well-earned one.
Even after it stopped moving, everyone kept staring in silence. Trying to reconcile what had just happened. Almost everyone.
Darryl bent down. His fingers closed around something half-buried in the mud. David’s stomach clenched. The man picked up the remains of his satchel. No. No, no, no. It was the worst possible person to find the evidence.
Darryl turned the torn fabric over in his hands. His brow furrowed. His gaze flicked to David for just a second… then he stuffed it into his pocket without a word. He plucked the sword from the predator’s corpse and shouted. “Beast is dead! We need to help at the barricades! Move!”
David exhaled slowly, pulse hammering. There would be consequences… later.
The remaining guards, shaken but alive, rallied at Darryl’s command. Those who couldn’t run were left behind.
David was still trying to calm himself when a mystical hum cut through the ringing in his ears. Before he even realized, he was walking towards the smoldering corpse. The predator. The nightmare. Its lifeless eyes stared at him.
Who’s helpless now.
He enjoyed watching the black blood bubbling beneath it, assessing the damage to its carapace. The explosion was way stronger than he imagined, but it all worked out.
The closer he approached, the hum intensified, but it no longer covered him in warmth. It felt ominous, like a dark whisper, a quiet temptation.
He saw it for the second time: Gentle, unfittingly beautiful – a golden strand slowly floating upwards from the beast. David almost reached out for it but caught himself before his fingers connected.
He remembered the last time. How Calland’s life flashed before his eyes. And how his body adapted after that. What even was that thread?
Maybe…? The morbid curiosity swelled in him. Maybe it could help answer some of his questions? Back then in the forest, did he choose wrong? Could he have prevented it all? Why was he spared?
The golden thread slowly floated upwards, and the mana around it was quickly fading. If I let it go, I might never know.
His fingers twitched. The predator was many things, but it wasn’t weak. If I take it…
He exhaled. His hand shot forward.
Contact. A surge of agony. A silent scream caught in his throat.
He lost control of his arms. His bones cracked and fractured. So did his mind - His field of view doubled, then quadrupled.
It kept splitting, multiple insectile eyes coming to life and filling with visions.
-=-=-
A blur of motion and mana. A labyrinth of stone. A voice, commanding to seek; to slaughter. Blood spattering across the walls. Pleasure. A woman’s scream. The predator stalked its prey. The weak scrambled. Slaughtered.
Danger. Failure. The strong prey. Frustration.
Frustration. Wound. Retreat. The weak eluding its scythes. Protected. Infuriating.
Infighting. Arrogance. Weak hate the strong? The pieces moved. Useful. Bring them back. Bring the slaughter back.
A savage fight. Novelty of true pain. But still a victory to be reaped. Interruption. Laughably weak prey… Then pain like it had never felt before. Failure. Regret. Pain. Pain. PAIN.
-=-=-
David reeled from the clear sights of unbridled violence that made even Calland’s life pale in comparison. Hundreds of people were butchered before his eyes. bodies dissected, heads sent flying, guts spilling in every direction. He clenched his teeth.
What was his part in all that? He desperately wrestled with the memories. Answer me!
His eyes went wide. He wanted to stop it, but it was too late. The truth came and he was not ready for it. He had saved Sophie. He had doomed them all.
The realization struck him like a wall of bricks. I did this. He had seen the knights in the square. Trailed them. His body shook. No! I SAVED her!
Had he minded his own business… The knights would have died - and nobles would have come in strength to avenge their children.
If only he wasn’t there, trying to play the hero, it would have all worked out. But Sophie would die… He tore at his face in anger and cried out in pain. Something cut his face. Warm blood streaked down his cheek.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he jumped, looking around for the attacker. Debris and silent corpses surrounded him. Everything was still.
He looked down. His hands kept twitching. He recoiled, falling into the bloody mud. My… nails? He slowly touched them. Bone grated against bone. He stared as his body shook.
His breaths grew rapid, shallow. His vision was going dark. This can’t be real. No, no, I’m just dreaming.
He blinked rapidly, hoping everything would dissipate like mist. But they were here to stay. His flimsy fingernails were replaced by sharp, jagged claws.
NO! The word tore itself from his throat unbidden. I only wanted to help! He slammed his hand into the mud, claws carving deep into the filth.
It’s not fair! Color slowly returned to his face as he raged.
I just had to be too fucking curious.
He stood up and took a wide swing. His claws tore into the predator’s unmoving chitin.
This is YOUR fault!
He sliced and tore at the battered corpse. With every move, black blood splattered onto him. A grating sound filled his ears. The predator’s laughter echoed through his mind.
He started infusing mana into his punches, his muscles screaming at him to stop.
The pain replaced the grief, if only briefly. He kept at it until there was no more air in his lungs.
He fell back down into the mud, exhausted. He looked at the mutilated parts in front of him.
“I WON!” He screamed. “WHY DON’T I FEEL LIKE IT!?”
Emptiness settled in his heart. The predator’s cackling laughter still echoed through him.
I could run. Leave it all behind. His eyes turned towards the horizon.
Something flared back up in his chest. If he could reach a town, where no one knew his guilt… But Aura would cry.
Could he pretend none of it happened? No one would ever know…
But Darryl saw me. He even took the amulet.
David’s shallow breaths started hitching.
There was no way out.
No way to escape what he had done.
He became a monster, and hundreds would die for his pointless vendetta. Maybe everyone would… He started sobbing as the full weight of his actions settled on his heart.
What would he even do if Aura and Bert died? I failed Marie and that wound will never leave me.
Time around him seemed to stop.
Engulfed in tragic visions of the nearest future, he sat there, crying his heart out. Until he had no more tears left to shed.
His chest ached. His breath came in shaky gasps. He could still feel the wetness on his face. But then he swallowed. He straightened. His hands curled into fists.
No. There’s no time to sit here and wallow.
He remembered what was truly important. Never being helpless again.
If they all got through the night, they could try again. He could do better next time. As long as they lived, he could keep trying.
He could protect them.
His ears were now a constant cacophony of dark whispers and the predator’s laughter. These claws… were they punishment? Or were they a tool?
The world around him moved on, and so would he. He could only keep on going.
He had to find Aura and Bert, that was all that mattered now.
Everything changed… but nothing changed. Nothing important.
He got up, and as he ran towards the smithy, his claws scraped against one another, the sound unnatural and eerie, sending shivers down his spine.
