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Shards of Reminisce Ch.48
🕑 Added 2025-03-23 02:41:33 +0000 UTCDays easily pass when you have your mind focused on something. For me, I’ve dedicated myself to learning more about blacksmithing and the forge.
The book was useful, sure, but books can only teach so much. I needed a hands-on approach, for the most efficient learning and gaining more levels. For that, I ended up asking around Vale for a blacksmith willing to take on an apprentice or a part timer, or a hobbyist or whatever. Thankfully, I found one relatively quickly. And what a lucky find that was—the master is a faunus like me, a bull faunus to be exact. He’d been wanting to teach somebody about the forge for a while now, so I easily filled the position. No questions asked about my background, just my willingness to learn and that thanks to reading those newbie books, I had a grasp of the whole thing and he was appreciative of my first attempts at metalworking.
Which was perfect for my new master.
This has been occupying my mornings and thoughts in the past couple of days. Does that mean I’ve been skipping Roman’s work?
Technically yes.
If they truly needed me, they would have called, or Neo would have come to drag me back to the warehouse, if she got bored with writing. But none of that has occurred, so there’s no reason to go back there besides some stupid routine that was imposed on me. I’m content to not go and do other things that actually interest me, things that will actually benefit me in the long run. And most importantly, not having to deal with their shitty attitudes.
Wait...
The prick pays me per job.
Eh, I don’t really need it now. Junior pays me decently, and I get tips daily from all the drinks I mix. I already have plenty of savings tucked away, and if I need more money, I’ll just go beat up some gangsters and take their things. Easy money, and sometimes even fun. It’s their fucking fault to begin with.
Huh, it feels liberating now that I think about it. Yeah, he has that video but it is actually on Neo’s scroll but I don’t care if she hands it over to the prick,
I turn my attention back to the forge. First step, according to Master Tusk, is selecting the right metal stock. For a beginner’s cube, we’re using scrap—nothing fancy, just something to practice technique with.
I grab the metal tongs, their wooden handles worn smooth from years of use, and select a long deformed tube from the scrap pile. Carefully, I place it deep into the heart of the forge and wait for the metal to reach the right temperature.
The color is what matters according to my new master. Too cold and the metal won’t be malleable enough. Too hot and it becomes too soft, prone to deform like jelly.
When the steel finally glows a bright orange-yellow, I know it’s time. I grab the large tongs again, pulling the heated metal out and quickly transferring it to the anvil with a satisfying hiss.
My ears flatten slightly against the noise as I grab my hammer. The handle fits perfectly in my palm. I begin with the corner strikes, just as I was taught. Each blow needs to be deliberate, not too hard, not too soft. The steel begins to compress, the rectangular shape slowly morphing with each hit.
“Damn it,” I growl as I notice one edge cooling faster than the others, turning a duller red. Back into the forge it goes. This is the tedious part that the books never emphasize enough—the constant reheating.
Heat, strike, repeat. Heat, strike, repeat.
And the heat causes me to sweat a lot, hence I’m practically only wearing the leather apron and shorts, but I keep going.
After the third reheat, I’ve managed to roughly shape two of the sides. I rotate the piece, careful not to burn myself on the still-glowing metal. My tail curls up behind me for balance as I lean into the next series of strikes. The sound of metal on metal echoes throughout the workshop.
By the fifth reheat, my arms are starting to burn, but I can see the cube taking shape. Each face needs to be as flat as possible, each edge sharp and clean. I use the flat side of the hammer now, smoothing out the surfaces with more controlled taps.
The final shape emerges after nearly an hour of work—a rough cube that still needs refinement. I grab the file next, its teeth biting into the cooling metal as I work to true up the edges, making them as straight as possible. Sweat drips from my brow onto the floor, but I ignore it, focused entirely on the task at hand.
Eventually, I get a cube, which is quickly submerged inside the quenching barrel filled with water, causing steam to erupt everywhere. The hissing sound is oddly satisfying. The water bubbles and boils around the metal, the temperature difference shocking the steel into its final hardened state.
Soon it cools down, leaving a metallic cube, simple but solid. It’s not perfect—one corner is slightly rounded, and there’s a small divot on one face where I struck too hard—but it’s mine.
I wipe my sweaty brow and sigh before fanning myself a little because the whole damn place is really hot, but I’m finally done. I pick up the cube and bring it closer to my face, inspecting every edge and surface. The imperfections are there, but overall, the structure is sound. No major cracks, no weak points that would compromise the integrity.
Meaning this is my first forged object, and it is a success.
[Novice Blacksmith increased by 1, 36/50]
I’m getting close to reaching the job breakthrough, so this is definitely good progress overall, despite not being a long time since I picked up the hammer. Next week I should be learning the basics about armor, which is what I’m really interested in following right after weaponry. Maybe I’ll be able to forge my own set someday.
I stand up from my hunched position, muscles aching in a satisfying way, and grab a towel from the nearby hook to wipe the sweat from my body. The forge’s heat has left me soaked, which only proved to be a good decision to be half naked. I leave the main forge area, entering a different room where I’m immediately hit with a sudden chill—an extremely refreshing cold, which I welcome with a pleased flick of my ears.
My feet carry me to the bathroom for a quick washing. There’s no shower here, just a sink to wash my face and wet other parts, but that would suffice. Better than nothing. I splash the cool water on my face first, letting it drip down through my skin, then wet the back of my neck and arms, feeling immediate relief from the forge’s lingering heat.
After the cleaning, I summon a water bottle and spare clothes from my inventory. There are no more words to describe how much I love my inventory, and leave the bathroom, gulping down the water greedily. My throat had been parched from the heat and the coal dust floating in the air.
“Heading out, Master Tusk!” I call as I proceed to leave, my body already starting to dry in the cooler air. “Thanks for today’s lesson!”
The older faunus waves back from where he’s organizing some tools, his tusks glinting in the forge light. “Same time tomorrow, kid. And remember to practice those hammer strikes—your right side is still dropping too low!”
Outside, I look up at the sky, squinting against the brightness. The sun hasn’t reached the middle of the sky yet, meaning it’s pretty early still. And with me being close to leveling up, that means one thing.
Another incursion to the Forever Fall forest. Nothing like killing a couple Grimm to cap off a productive morning.
But then I get a shiver down my spine for a strange reason, or more like a strange feeling in my gut. Maybe I’m getting paranoid after the whole attempt on my life… ok yeah, if I’m getting this really weird gut feeling so I will just go for the safe option.
I grab my scroll and quickly type out a message to Neo as I walk.
“Going to Forever Fall. Coming?”
Her response comes almost immediately.
“Skipping work AGAIN, kitten? Roman will be sooooo mad”
I roll my eyes and type back. “Like I give a damn. You in or not?”
“Why?”
“Just need some company.”
“My kitten has strange tastes for a date.”
“Please?”
“Sure. Was bored anyways.”
“Same spot in 30.”
Her final response is just a heart with a knife.
Well, now I have company, and that should ease that strange gut feeling.
Now to take a proper shower and gather more gear and head to the pilot. Those Grimm aren’t going to kill themselves, unfortunately.
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The bullhead’s engines hum beneath us as we leave Vale behind, heading towards the crimson canopy of Forever Fall. I’m sitting across from Neo, who’s leaning against the metal wall, her parasol propped beside her. But something’s off, like really off. She’s not playing around or trying to tease me like she usually does.
Her mismatched eyes keep drifting to the window, unfocused, like she’s seeing something beyond the clouds. It’s not like her to be this... quiet. I mean, she’s always quiet, but her body language usually screams volumes. Today, it’s barely whispering.
“Hey, something wrong?” I ask, leaning forward.
She turns to me, blinking as if just remembering I’m here, then shakes her head with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Are you sure?”
Neo narrows her eyes slightly, then reaches over and pats my head, ruffling the fur between my ears in that condescending way she knows annoys me. When I don’t back down, her lips curl into a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes, and she pinches my cheek soI pull back, swatting her hand.
Fine. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then I won’t bother her.
We spent the rest of the flight in silence.
“Approaching drop zone,” the pilot announces over the intercom. “Opening rear hatch in thirty seconds.”
The bullhead slows, hovering over a clearing in the perpetual autumn forest. The red leaves below us rustle in the downdraft as the rear door begins to lower, revealing the red forest.
I roll my shoulders before I make the jump, as I do want to practice a landing strategy.
We leap together from the bullhead, the rush of air filling my ears. I twist my body mid-fall, positioning myself for a clean landing, but when I glance over at Neo, she’s already opened her parasol. The wind catches it, and her descent slows dramatically, as if she only weighs like a feather.
How the fuck is that thing supporting her weight?
I shake my head, dismissing those pointless thoughts.
My feet hit the ground with a solid thud, knees bending to absorb the impact. I straighten up and glance skyward, watching Neo float down gracefully, parasol twirling lazily.
Won’t ask questions.
I begin stretching my arms, loosening up for the fight ahead, when suddenly a hand grabs my collar and yanks me downward. Before I can react, I feel the soft press of lips against my cheek—quick, fleeting, and gone before I can properly process it.
I whirl around, but Neo has already vanished, her semblance leaving nothing but empty air where she stood a moment before.
And seconds later, a message pops in my scroll.
“Good luck, kitten.”
I rub my cheek, ears twitching as I scan the area for any sign of her. She’s around here somewhere, perched in a tree or hiding behind some bushes.
Either way, I summon my claws, feeling the familiar weight materialize in my hands as I go deeper into the forest.
And the Grimm soon come out from the hiding places and swarm me. They should look imposing with their bone masks and red eyes, but to me, they’re just moving targets now. One strike, and they dissolve into black mist.
Rinse and repeat.
But I already know how this weird system works and lock my gaze in one direction. “They should appear about….”
A pack of beowolves emerges from between the trees. Larger than the ones I’ve been fighting, with more developed bone plates covering their shoulders and spines. The alpha stands slightly ahead, its mask decorated with rather odd red markings.
“Now.” I grin, crouching into my fighting stance.
The alpha lets out a howl, and three beowolves rush forward. I sidestep the first, driving my claws deep into its neck as it passes. The second and third attack simultaneously from opposite sides. I duck under one’s swipe and leap over the other, twisting in mid-air to slash both their backs deep enough before landing.
“Three down,” I call out, knowing Neo is watching from somewhere. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Almost like it understood me, the alpha snarls, barings its giant fangs, and the remaining pack moves to circle me. Smart, for a Grimm that is.
Because I’ve faced this situation many times.
As expected from these beasts, they all lunge in unison. I run and dive between the legs of one, slashing its underbelly as I roll. Coming up behind another, I drive both claws into its back, using the momentum to vault over a third. The monster turns to face me, but too slowly—my claws rip through its throat before it can react and kick it away.
And the pack is no more, leaving only the alpha who lets out a roar.
It charges, faster than I expected. Not leaving me time to jump out its charge and end up clashing against it, my hands holding against its giant claws. And just like other times, it quickly tries to chomp my head off, but I use that moment for my right hand to break free from its hold and counter with a vicious slash across its face, splitting its bone mask. It staggers back, giving me the opening to finish it with a clean double strike through its chest and cut it in half.
Hah, how things have changed since then, an alpha was actually a threat to me.
The body collapses onto the ground before it dissolves, leaving me some time to roll my shoulders and take a look around.
But since I don’t hear rustles or footsteps, I continue walking deeper into the forest and the grass becomes taller, almost reaching my knee.
That is when I finally hear that particular rustling of trees making me raise my fist again. But rather than let them have the initiative I will be the one who will attack first.
Yet, as I take the first step, my foot catches on something, and I stumble. I quickly look back, ears perked in alert. Only to find a root where there definitely wasn’t one before causing my face to twist into a frown.
Didn’t this happen before? When I first ventured into this forest?
But my thoughts are interrupted as three boarbatusks come charging through the underbrush roaring, tusks lowered and ready to skewer me. I spring back to my feet.
‘Class change: Gladiator!’
My claws vanish in a shimmer of light particles, replaced by a sturdy sword in my right hand and a new shield strapped to my left arm.
“Come on, then!” I growl, raising my shield.
The first boarbatusk charges, its tusks aiming for my midsection. Instead of dodging, I brace my feet and slam my shield forward, meeting its charge head-on. The impact reverberates up my arm, but my stance holds. And I get the desired effect, causing the Grimm to stagger backwards.
I don’t give it time to recover. I lunge forward, driving my sword deep into its exposed belly, causing it to squeal and writhe before becoming still.
One down.
The second boarbatusk is already spinning towards me, trying to flank me. I drop to one knee, shield raised at a specific angle. The monster hits my shield and glances off, its charge disrupted as it careens past me and slam against a tree. As it struggles to regain its footing I’m already on top of it and stab its weak point and kill it instantly.
The third one does not attack, just like it has been shown many times. The grimm who survives somehow gains an instinct of survival and doesn’t charge recklessly, creating a standoff that soon transforms to be circling me warily growling and occasionally snorting.
It feints a charge, then backs off when I raise my shield.
That was strange.
But eventually the monster lunges and tucks into a ball and spins in place, much to my surprise but soon I understand that it is building up momentum. When it launches itself at me, it’s moving faster than the others. I was ready to take it head on but it was a split second when everything seemed to slow down as my head screamed to not take that attack head on.
And that voice wins.
Instead, I step to the side at the last moment and thrust my shield out, catching the edge of its spin. The impact nearly tears the shield from my grip, but it serves its purpose to perfection—the boarbatusk’s trajectory shifts, sending it crashing into a nearby tree. However, what actually surprises me is that the impact uproots the tree.
I shake off my surprise and rush towards its fallen form and my sword finds the weak spot beneath its chin quickly. With a final squeal, it goes limp and dissolves into black mist.
And done.
I straighten up, rolling my shoulders and looking around and no response meaning another short break.
I try to run towards the east, but suddenly I’m falling again. I whip my head around and—what the actual fuck?
The stupid root is back. No, maybe it’s a different one?
No, it’s literally impossible. It has to be the same one.
No, this isn’t fucking normal. It never was fucking normal to begin with.
‘Class change: Dancer!’
My sword and shield vanish, replaced by the exotic chakrams in each hand, their edges razor-sharp. My body feels lighter instantly, more fluid, and I soon find a rhythm in the air.
I try to run again and this time leap high into the air at what I know it’s the right time, my body twisting to look down at the ground below.
And the same root is moving, it’s fucking moving. Not swaying in the wind, or broken, but actually slithering across the tall grass.
As if sensing it’s been spotted, all pretense of stealth vanishes. Dozens of roots shoot up from the earth, writhing like tentacles as they try to grab me or stab me. I twist my body into impossible angles as I fall. Thankfully my new class gives me the flexibility and grace to avoid everything.
Another root lashes past my face, missing by inches. I respond with a slashing arc of my chakram, severing it cleanly. Another tries to wrap around my ankle, but I kick it off and use it as a springboard to launch myself higher.
More roots converge on me from different angles. Forcing me to throw my chakram and cut them before they get close and giving me an opening to land safely. A perfect landing, my weapon ricocheted and returned back to my hands. Arming myself for a spin that results in more severed roots falling into the ground before they can even touch me.
Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the roots retreat back into the earth, slithering beneath the soil and grass like they were never there.
“What the hell was that?” I mutter, scanning the area. Because this couldn’t have been from a Grimm, this is something else entirely. If it was a person using his semblance, then Neo would have found whoever was responsible and killed the asshole.
These things have to come from somewhere.
And now absolutely I’m sure they were the same that attacked me weeks ago.
I would have called in the bullhead to pick me up but now I won’t, not because I’m stupidly curious but because I have Neo with me. So I decide to follow the roots, or more like the trail it left as to find where they’re coming from. Something this bizarre isn’t going to just fade from my mind, and besides, whatever this thing is, it tried to kill me. That makes it personal.
I continue following the trail, taking down more small Grimm along the way. They seem pathetically weak compared to what I was fighting earlier, almost like the newborns from Patch.
“Too easy,” I mutter, slicing through a juvenile beowolf that barely puts up a fight. Something’s definitely off about this whole situation.
The trail leads me to an empty patch in the forest, a perfect circle where nothing grows—no trees, no crimson grass, nothing. Just bare, dark soil. In the center stands what appears to be some kind of crude totem—a twisted, ugly thing about three feet tall. It’s made of gnarled wood, bone fragments, and what looks disturbingly like dried flesh. The figure vaguely resembles a reptilian humanoid with a hunched back and elongated snout. Small fetishes made of feathers, swaying gently despite the lack of breeze.
I unconsciously gulp as every instinct in my body screams danger. Something about it feels deeply wrong, fundamentally unnatural, even for a forest filled with soulless monsters.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, my foot lashes out, connecting solidly with the base of the totem. It topples over, and I stomp on it viciously, grinding it into the dirt.
What?
Why the fuck did I do that?!
I lift my boot, staring down at the crushed remains in confusion.
The air suddenly changes—growing heavy, cold, the scent of decay replacing the sweet smell of tree sap. Everything about me bristles up—tail puffed out, ears flat against my skull. My entire body is screaming at me to run, a new primal fear I haven’t felt… since Mountain Glenn.
My head whips around, searching for the source of this dread. “N-Neo?!” I call out, voice cracking slightly. “If this is some kind of twisted joke, it isn’t funny!”
However, a small hand grabs my shoulder from behind, and I nearly jump out of my skin but recover fast as it is Neo who appears at my side, her mismatched eyes wide with alarm, head shaking emphatically.
Whatever this is, she’s not behind it—and the fact that even she looks disturbed is terrifying in itself.
A rattling sound, like dry bones clicking together, echoes from the tree lines. We both turn toward the noise, gripping our weapons. That’s when the forest seems to darken as elongated, lanky arms extend from between the trees—impossibly long, with fingers that end in curved disgusting looking claws.
The creature that emerges steals the breath from my lungs. It towers above us, at least fifteen feet tall, its body a twisted mockery of something vaguely humanoid. Bone-white skull serves as its face, but not like any Grimm mask I’ve seen before—this one has a crown of jagged antlers sprouting from its head, reaching toward the sky like gnarled branches. Bits of leaves, moss, broken twigs—hang from the antlers, swaying with its movements.
Its torso is emaciated, ribcage clearly visible beneath stretched black skin that seems to be peeling in places, revealing pulsing red tissue underneath. Those impossibly long arms nearly scrape the ground, joints bent at unnatural angles. Its lower body fades into a mass of writhing roots and vines that seem to be both part of it.
But it’s the eyes that freeze me in place—not the usual burning red of Grimm, but hollow sockets filled with a swirling mist that seem to reach out toward us.
The monster tilts its head, skull face regarding us with terrible intelligence. From its throat comes not a roar or growl, but a sound like winter wind howling, breathing?
Oh gods…
This isn’t like any Grimm I’ve faced before. This is something ancient, something that shouldn’t exist.
It is going to kills us.
Oh gods… we are going to die, we are going to diewe’regoingtodiewe----
My mind clears out.
What the fuck just happened?
I quickly turn my gaze towards Neo who has gone rigid beside me, her usual confident demeanor shattered. Even she, with all her psychotic fearlessness, recognizes the wrongness of this thing.
Not even Cinder was able to achieve this effect on her!
I blink rapidly, forcing clarity into my mind.
“MOVE!” I yell, shoving Neo hard to the side. She yelps in surprise—an actual sound from her silent throat—as she stumbles away.
In the same motion, I hurl both chakrams at the monstrosity, the bladed discs cutting through the air with deadly precision. They slice through several roots and ricochet in what passes for the creature’s chest.
It doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t even acknowledge the attack.
Instead, it extends one grotesquely long arm, the clawed fingers stretching impossibly further, aiming straight for my throat. I dive to the side, rolling across the ground as those talons gouge the earth where I stood and just in time as my chakrams return to me.
The roots beneath me come alive again, whipping upward, trying to catch me. I slash through them and get away from their grasp.
The creature’s maw splits open wider than should be possible, and a thick, swirling fog pours out. It spreads across the ground with unnatural speed and the memory of Goobbue comes back.
“Don’t let that touch you!” I shout to Neo, leaping onto a low-hanging branch to avoid the creeping mist.
Neo seems to have recovered from her initial shock. She flips gracefully over a lashing root, her parasol open and spinning above her, keeping her aloft longer than gravity should allow. When she lands, it’s with renewed purpose, her usual smirk returning as she drives the hidden blade of her weapon into a writhing tendril.
Watching her move sparks a memory—our training sessions, right when I unlocked my new class. An idea forms.
“Neo, catch!” I yell, throwing one of my chakrams towards her.
Her mismatched eyes widen in understanding as she catches it with her free hand. She nods, a deadly grin spreading across her face.
I spin sharply, using the momentum to launch my remaining chakram at her. She catches it mid-air, spinning with the motion before sending it right back with that same fluid grace I remember from our practice sessions. The blade slices through more roots on its return.
Feeling a surge of confidence, I jump into a spin and snatch the weapon out of the air, landing solidly on both feet. My tail swishes behind me as I grin at her.
Neo giggles silently, nodding in approval despite our desperate situation.
Soon enough, we fall into a rhythm, creating a new but deadly dance against our monstrous opponent. Neo launches one chakram high into the air while sending the other straight at me. I catch the lower one and spin, using the momentum to snatch the falling weapon before immediately throwing them back into a crossing pattern.
She responds with an elegant pirouette, catching both chakrams mid-spin before seamlessly transitioning into a fluid motion that sends them whirling back at different heights. Each blade finds its mark, slicing through the creature’s body or severing its tendrils.
My body starts moving on its own, instinct taking over as I weave and twist. Each catch flows into the next throw, building a continuous chain of movement. When Neo sends both weapons spiraling toward the monster’s skull face, I drop into a backflip, catching one as it rebounds and immediately returning fire.
My tail swayed in time with our movements, helping me balance through the more complex maneuvers.
Neo’s response is to add more complexity, incorporating cartwheels and flips between catches. She makes it look effortless, like she’s performing instead of fighting for our lives.
The forest becomes our stage, the sound of spinning metal and our footsteps the only music we need.
I match her energy, letting my body flow more naturally. When she throws both chakrams in a crossing pattern toward the creature’s torso, I spin between the rebounding blades, catching one behind my back and the other in front before reversing their trajectory in another seamless motion.
We keep this up, our movements syncing perfectly: catch, spin, throw, repeat. The chakrams trace glinting arcs through the air as we dance around the monster, slicing away at its form piece by piece. For a moment, I think we’re winning. The monster’s movements grow erratic, its attacks less coordinated as we whittle it away.
Then, without warning, it slams both claws into the ground. The earth beneath us buckles and heaves, throwing us off-balance.
The creature doesn’t roar—it shrieks, a high-pitched wail that pierces through my skull like a physical force.
“FUUUUUUCK!” I drop my weapon, hands clasping over my ears as pain lances through my head.
When the shrieking finally stops, I’m on my knees, disoriented, as my eardrums keep ringing. Before I can recover, something clamps down on my shoulder—hard. Pain shoots through me almost like….
I look down in horror to see a smaller Grimm, a newborn beowolf, latched onto me. Before I can throw it off, more appear, seemingly materializing from the same fog from earlier. They swarm over me, jaws snapping at my arms, my legs, my throat.
“GET OFF ME!” I roar, desperately trying to shake them off. But for every one I manage to dislodge, two more take its place. Their combined weight drags me down, pinning me to the ground and tearing and ripping my clothes.
Through the mass of black bodies, I catch glimpses of the towering monster. And it isn’t attacking me but it is watching, it is fucking watching me with those stupid mist-filled eye sockets observing my struggle with what almost seems like satisfaction.
And then it leaves.
My right arm is nearly immobilized, my left barely keeping snapping jaws from my throat and kill me.
“NEO!” I call out desperately, unable to see where she is through the swarm.
Where is she?
Is she okay?
Has she abandoned me?
The weight increases as more beasts pile on. My vision starts to dim at the edges, as I keep trying to fight them all on but the weight is crushing.
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!
I’m not dying here!
I roar with primal fury, summoning a burst of strength. My arm breaks free from the pile of Grimm, just enough to reach into my inventory. I summon a fire Dust grenade, not hesitating for even a second before activating it and smashing it against the beowolf trying to tear out my throat.
“Eat this, you bastards!”
The explosion is deafening, a burst of heat and light that incinerates most of the Grimm pile. The concussive force throws the rest off me, their bodies dissolving into black mist before they even hit the ground. My ears ring and my skin burns, but thankfully my aura holds and I don’t suffer much damage from that.
‘Class change: Gladiator!’
My sword materializes in my hand, my shield strapped firmly to my arm once again. In one fluid motion, I rise to my feet and execute a spinning attack, the blade cutting a full circle around me. The remaining Grimm dissolve into nothingness, their dying howls lost in the ringing of my ears.
But that earns me a brief respite, where I fall onto one knee gasping for air but I quickly get back up and I frantically look around for Neo, as I have no idea where she is.
When I find her, my heart skips a beat.
Neo is fighting the monstrous grimm.
No.
She isn’t fighting.
Neo, the girl who can easily take down skilled hunters with ease, making them look like fools… Is losing. Badly.
The massive Grimm has her by the leg, its elongated arm swinging her through the air like a rag doll before slamming her against the ground.
Again.
And again.
Her pink aura flickers wildly with each impact, close to breaking.
The sight leaves me frozen for a moment, unable to process what I’m seeing. Neo is stronger than me, more skilled, more experienced.
So how the fuck is she losing?
But that’s when it hits me—Neo is deadly against people, yes. She has shown me that many times. She’s a master at reading others, predicting attacks, using her opponent’s strength against them.
But Grimm?
They move differently, think differently. They don’t fight with technique or reason, just primal instinct and hunger.
She doesn’t have the experience against Grimm that I do. All those hunts, all those times I’ve fought for my life against these monsters—they’ve taught me something she never needed to learn.
I shake off the confusion and rush forward as fast as my legs will carry me. With a powerful leap, I propel myself onto the monster’s back, driving my sword deep between its protruding vertebrae. It shrieks, thrashing wildly the second my sword pierce its body, but I hold on, climbing higher up its twisted form.
“Let her go, you bastard!” I roar, summoning another grenade from my inventory. It glows ominously in my hand as I activate it.
The monster turns its skull face partially toward me, just enough for me to catch sight of that gaping maw.
Perfect.
“Eat this, motherfucker!” I shove the grenade deep into its throat, feeling the heat of the activated dust against my hand before I yank it back.
The explosion is instantaneous, a muffled boom followed by flames erupting from the creature’s mouth and eye sockets. The force is enough to make it release Neo, who drops to the ground with a pained gasp, rolling several times before coming to a stop.
I jump off as the monster staggers backward, its movements jerky and disoriented. Landing in a crouch, I sprint to Neo’s side, scooping her up in my arms.
“I got you,” I mutter, retreating several paces while glancing back at the creature.
The grenade barely did anything to it. The flames are already dying out, and that skull face turns toward us, those mist-filled eye sockets seeming to narrow in rage. It shrieks again, a sound that makes my blood run cold, and the forest floor erupts with roots—thicker, more numerous, and faster than before.
They surge toward us like a tidal wave of wood and earth. And I know there’s no way we can outrun them, not with Neo injured. A split-second decision forms in my mind.
“Sorry about this,” I say to her, then throw her as far as I can to the side, away from the approaching wave.
She flies through the air with a surprised expression, landing roughly but safely beyond the reach of the writhing tendrils. As I’d hoped, the roots ignore her completely, all of them converging on me instead.
They wrap around my ankles first, then my legs, my torso, my arms—entwining me in a living cocoon of twisted wood. I struggle fiercely, trying to summon a weapon, to break free somehow, but the roots only tighten their grip, crushing the air from my lungs and restricting blood flow to my limbs.
I can’t move… No, I can barely breathe.
And to make matters worse, the monster charges for the first time, its elongated arms dragging along the ground, skull face fixed on me with terrifying purpose. Its mouth stretches open, wider than any natural jaw should allow, revealing rows of jagged, thorn-like teeth.
Time seems to slow as it closes the distance between us. I watch, unable to look away, as death approaches on those impossibly long limbs.
There’s no escape, no clever trick left to play, and I can only stare the oncoming disaster.
The creature lunges, and I feel its teeth sink deep into my stomach. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced explodes through my body, white-hot and all-consuming. I scream, the sound tearing from my throat as the monster shakes me violently, like a dog with a toy.
My fists pound uselessly against its bone mask, each impact sending jolts of agony up my arms.
With a final, vicious shake, the monster hurls me away. My body crashing against a tree trunk, the impact knocking what little air remains from my lungs and I crumple to the ground.
I try to rise, to push myself up, but my body refuses to cooperate. I fall back, gasping as my hand instinctively covers the gaping wound in my midsection.
It is warm. Sticky, warm… fuck.
It is seeping between my fingers, this looks really bad.
“Fuck..” I hiss, the metallic taste already filling my mouth.
Through blurring vision, I watch the monster approaching, taking its time now, clearly enjoying this moment, my agony. But suddenly, a small figure appears atop its head—Neo, her face contorted in a silent snarl of rage.
She drives the hidden blade of her parasol deep into one of its mist-filled eye sockets, twisting the weapon with vicious precision. Not satisfied, she grabs one of its antlers and snaps it off at the base, wielding it like a spear to stab at the creature’s other eye.
The monster thrashes wildly, trying to dislodge her, but Neo is already gone, leaping away. She lands near the tree line, immediately sprinting away, drawing the monster’s attention from me.
It turns, forgetting me entirely, and gives chase, those long arms propelling it forward with terrifying speed.
I try again to stand, to help Neo somehow, but my legs buckle beneath me. The world spins, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. I collapse back to the ground, my cheek pressed against the cool earth.
She is buying me time, probably hoping that I will get back up to help her.
I need to move. I need to help her. I need to...
My thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind as consciousness begins to slip away from me much to my horror.
My world reduced to flashes of crimson leaves and black spots. Yet somehow, I’m still aware enough to notice movement nearby—a newborn Ursa. It grows rapidly, fur and bone plates forming as it prowls toward me.
I can only breathe loudly, each intake a stabbing pain in my ruined midsection, as I watch it approach. The Ursa rears up, preparing to tear out my throat with those massive maw.
In a last, desperate act of defiance, I summon my shield—just my shield, as my sword was lost—and thrust upward as the beast bears down on me.
To my surprise, the edge of the shield cuts clean through the Ursa’s neck, separating head from body in one fluid motion. The creature’s momentum carries its dissolving form over me as I collapse back to the ground.
A painful chuckle escapes my bloodied lips. That was my last act of defiance.
The last fuck you to this shitty world.
My vision darkens further, the edges closing in like curtains. This is it, I think.
Not a bad way to go out, all things considered.
At least this is somewhat on my terms
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
A warm sensation spreads through my body, starting from my core and radiating outward to my limbs. I gasp deeply, air filling my lungs as if for the first time. Strength returns to my muscles in a rush, the fog in my mind clearing instantly.
I push myself up on surprisingly steady arms, looking down at my stomach. The wound isn’t gone—it still looks bad, angry red flesh visible through torn clothing—but it’s no longer bleeding. The edges have begun to knit together even, although I still need medical help.
That’s when another notification interrupts my vision.
[Level 20 milestone reached!]
[Class traits unlocked!]
[Pugilist: Greased Lightning Lv. 1]
[Gladiator: Tank Mastery Lv. 1]
What?
I stare at my hands in wonder, witnessing faint lightning crackling around my arms. My entire body feels lighter, more responsive, like I’ve shed some invisible weight that’s been holding me back all this time.
“It’s this…real?” I mutter, flexing my fingers as the energy dances between them.
Rising to my feet, I test my balance. Still a bit shaky, but functional. The wound in my stomach protests with each movement, but it’s manageable now—painful, not lethal.
“Neo,” I remember suddenly, my head snapping up. The monster was chasing her. She led it away to save me.
I take a deep breath, feeling the new power coursing through my veins, and set off in the direction Neo fled, following the trail of destruction left by the monster’s pursuit.
I run faster than I’ve ever run before, trees blurring past me as I follow the trail of destruction. The new energy coursing through my body propels me forward with unexpected speed, my feet barely touching the ground.
I reach another clearing just in time to see Neo’s small form crashing against a tree trunk, her pink aura shattering into fragments that dissolve into the air.
“Neo!” The name tears from my throat as I rush to her side, planting myself directly between her and the advancing monster. Its skull face tilts to one side, those mist-filled sockets regarding me with what almost seems like surprise.
I glance over my shoulder quickly. Neo is pushing herself up with trembling arms, her usually immaculate appearance now ragged and bloody. She’s conscious—thank the gods for small mercies—but clearly in no shape to keep fighting.
Turning back to the monster, I brace myself. The creature charges, moving with that unnatural speed that defies its skeletal appearance. Its claws are extended, antlers lowered almost like it wants to impale me.
I have no time to dodge, no clever maneuver to attempt. All I can do is plant my feet firmly, raise my shield, and clench my teeth, preparing for the impact.
The monster crashes against my shield with enough force to uproot a tree. The sound is deafening, like a bullhead hitting a mountain at full speed. But instead of being thrown backward or impaled, I don’t move an inch. The creature, however, bounces off my defense, staggering backward as if it had hit a solid wall.
I blink in surprise, staring at my shield, then at the monster. Which seems equally confused, its skull tilting further as it regains its balance.
“Tank Mastery,” I murmur, remembering the trait I just unlocked. A grim smile spreads across my face.
The creature lunges again, this time with a horizontal swipe of those elongated claws. I raise my shield once more, catching the blow dead-on. The impact reverberates up my arm, but again, I stand firm. With a grunt of effort, I push back, sending the monster skidding several feet away.
It stops, breathing that misty air in and out of its skull face, circling around us slowly. It’s studying me, looking for weaknesses, showing an intelligence far beyond normal Grimm.
I keep my shield raised, but my mind is racing. This standoff can’t last forever. Blocking attacks is one thing, but we need firepower to actually kill this abomination. We need—
Something clicks in my head.
Roman’s weapons.
The crates of weapons the asshole wanted me to sell. I still have them in my inventory.
Without taking my eyes off the circling monster, I focus on them, summoning every weapons crate I have access to. They materialize behind me in a cluster, the ones marked with explosive warnings prominently positioned.
“Neo, use this!” I call over my shoulder.
I hear her unsteady footsteps approaching, then a soft gasp as she sees what I’ve brought out. A moment later, I catch the unmistakable sound of a crate being pried open.
The monster seems to sense the change in our strategy. It howls, that bone-chilling sound that makes me shudder, and charges again. This time, not directly at me, but trying to circle around to Neo.
“Oh no you don’t!” I pivot, shield still raised, intercepting its path. “You fucking want her? You go through me first!”
The monster tests my defense again and again, each time with increasing desperation. It swipes, it charges, it tries to burrow beneath me—and each time, my shield is there, an immovable object against its unstoppable force. My arms should be aching, my legs trembling with effort, but my new trait keeps me strong, keeps me steady.
Behind me, Neo is working quickly, the sounds of crates being opened and ammunition being loaded filling the brief pauses between attacks.
The first shot rings out, an explosive round that catches the monster in its shoulder, tearing away a chunk of its twisted form. It shrieks, more in surprise than pain, and redoubles its efforts to get past me.
“That’s right,” I growl, gritting my teeth as I deflect another blow. “Keep coming, you ugly piece of shit!”
Neo is relentless now, a barrage of firepower raining down on the creature from behind my shield wall. Explosive bullets pepper its body, each one tearing away more of its form. A grenade arcs over my head, landing precisely at the monster’s feet before detonating in a spectacular burst of fire and shrapnel.
Chunk by chunk, the creature’s body is being torn apart. It’s wounded now, truly wounded, black ichor dripping from numerous gashes in its emaciated form. Its movements are becoming erratic, less coordinated.
Another grenade explodes directly against its skull face, cracking the bone and sending it staggering backward. It shrieks—a sound of genuine pain this time—and turns, hunching over to cover its damaged face as it attempts to retreat into the forest.
“Oh, no you don’t!” I snarl, rage and adrenaline pumping through my veins.
‘Class change: Pugilist!’
My shield vanishes, and I feel the crackling energy of Greased Lightning surge through my body, illuminating my arms with dancing electricity. I stomp my foot down hard enough to crack the forest floor, then charge forward with newfound speed.
With a powerful leap, I soar over the retreating monster, grabbing its remaining antler in mid-air. Using my momentum and body weight, I wrench its head downward, forcing the creature to crash face-first into the ground with a satisfying crunch of breaking bone.
Before it can recover, I’m on top of it, straddling its broken form. I grab each side of its skull face, fingers digging into the cracks created by Neo’s explosives. The monster shrieks, its arms thrashing wildly, claws raking across my back.
“DIE ALREADY!” I roar, pulling with everything I have, every muscle straining with the effort.
There’s resistance, then a sickening crack, followed by the sound of tearing flesh. With one final, primal yell, I rip the monster’s head clean off its body. Black ichor sprays in an arc, splattering across my face and chest.
The arms stop thrashing. The roots stop writhing. Everything goes still.
Silence.
I just remain there, atop the creature’s body, its severed head still clutched in my hands. I’m panting heavily, each breath burning in my lungs as the adrenaline begins to fade and the true extent of my injuries makes itself known.
The head in my grasp begins to dissolve, turning to black smoke that slips between my fingers. Soon, there’s nothing left of it—nothing except a large, red shard that falls to the ground with a heavy thud.
It’s about the size of my hand and seems to pulse with a faint inner light.
I collapse onto my knees beside it, exhaustion finally claiming its due. My body is a catalog of pain—the wound in my stomach, though no longer bleeding, throbs with each heartbeat. New cuts and bruises from the final struggle make themselves known, a chorus of agony singing through my nerves.
But we won. Somehow, against all odds, we killed that... thing.
“Neo?” I call out, voice hoarse from screaming. “You okay?”
I turn to look for her, hoping to see that smug, triumphant smile that usually follows a victory. Instead, I find her leaning heavily against a tree, her clothing torn and bloodied, her usually perfect hair matted with sweat and dirt. But she’s alive, and right now, that’s all that matters.
My gaze returns to the red shard lying on the ground.
It is one of my shards, it has the same feeling that all the other shards I have been looking for.
Curiosity overrides caution, and I reach out to pick it up, turning it over in my palm. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing like a heartbeat against my skin.
I stare at the red shard, turning it over in my hand as a disturbing thought forms. The shard must have been consumed by the Grimm, transforming it into that abomination. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes because Grimm don’t naturally evolve into... whatever that fucking thing was.
And that’s when another cold realization washes over me.
Is this what happened in Mountain Glenn too? Another one of these things?
A shard can create such a nightmare, and who knows how many shards are scattered around the world.
Just how many of these nightmares are prowling around?
I make a split-second decision, closing my fist around the shard and crushing it in my palm. It is absorbed into my body like all the other shards I’ve collected. The familiar warm sensation spreads up my arm and throughout my chest and thankfully no pain comes crashing down on me.
Finally, giving in to exhaustion, I lay flat on the forest floor, staring up at the crimson canopy above. Every inch of my body screams in protest, but I’m too drained to care. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my chest rising and falling painfully with each intake of air.
But then I hear footsteps getting closer, soft but steady. I try to turn my head, wincing at the effort it takes.
It is Neo who makes her way toward me, her usual grace diminished by injury but still moving with more elegance than most could manage at their best. Her clothes are torn, her face smudged with dirt and blood, but those mismatched eyes are as sharp as ever.
She drops to her knees beside me, then lays down next to me, wrapping an arm around my chest in a tight embrace. Her head nuzzles against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck.
With her free hand, she pulls out a flare gun from somewhere in her tattered outfit and fires it into the sky. The bright signal arcs high above the trees.
Now the pilot will come for us.
“We actually made it.”
For a moment, we just lie there, two broken bodies, clinging to each other but content that we are alive, hurt but alive.
“Next time,” I murmur, “let’s just watch a movie.”
Neo’s silent laugh vibrates against my chest, and despite everything, despite the pain and exhaustion and the lingering fear, I find myself smiling too.
[Affection with (Neo Politan) has been increased by 8, 42/100]
What a fucking day…
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
Fuck off….
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AN: I thought about this, Neo is a very skilled and extremely dangerous fighter but she is not a huntress. Meaning she wouldn’t actually have much, if any, experience fighting Grimm, and while I think she would be able to handle the trash mob Grimm, I highly doubt she would be able to fight the older ones much less the evolved species. She would be a case of overspecialization.
Comments
Ironwolfej
Sounds legit to me. Excellent chapter as always
