Page 111 of Deadly Reckoning
They’ve brought with them twelve creatures, all of them snapping, snarling, hissing, and growling. Some are in the shape of snakes, bright purple, and covered in spikes.
“Those are poisonous, don’t touch any part of them,” the guy mutters.
“Got it.”
“The blob-looking things spit acid. The only way to kill them is to hit them with their own acid,” he continues. “The things with six arms obviously like to grapple, so do not let them get their hands on you. You won’t escape.”
“And the riders?”
“Leaders of the Hunt, they should be beheaded, but leave them to me, they are notoriously impossible to kill,” he replies.
I nod, I grin, “Understood. You take them out, I’ll kill the rest.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, “Crazy fucker.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter as I take off running toward the approaching threat.
I’ve never been very good at standing still and waiting for something to attack.
Once again, I wish I had my favorite curved swords.
My magic buzzes, and I push away my shock as replicas of my swords appear in my hands, made purely out of my magic.
A grunt of surprise from beside me shows that the unknown supe has caught up to me.
When I glance at him, he narrows his eyes, “Ready for some fun?”
“Want to bet who drops the most?” I chuckle as I slice through the neck of one of the snakes and then stab it through its head, instinctively knowing how to kill it. I’d question the knowledge, but it's not a new development. Whenever I’m up close and personal with an enemy, I just seem to know how to kill it. Most of the time, it doesn’t work all the time.
The guy shrugs, “Sure. I bet I kill more.”
“I’ll take that bet, loser buys the other one a beer. There is beer here, right?”
“Mead,” he grunts as he takes out a blob.
“That’ll do.”
We stop talking as we find ourselves surrounded and end up fighting back-to-back.
I haven’t ever trusted anyone but the guys to fight back to back with me, and it confuses me why I’m so comfortable with this stranger to do it. I can’t exactly question it now though, so instead, I fight. Making sure that neither of us fucking dies.
Honestly, it's what I do best.
Not potion making, and everything that comes along with it, although I do love it. No, I do that to keep the more violent part of me entertained, itkeeps me calm, and I learned at a young age that it was vital that I remained calm.
Fighting is my happy place.
Killing shit is what I love to do, as fucked up as that is.
One of the riders jumps off his not-horse and comes flying toward me. I don’t think, I just react.
Ducking the dagger he’s thrown in my direction, which seems to surprise him. I catch the ball of magic that he throws in quick succession after throwing the dagger and launch it back. He’s so surprised that he barely ducks out of the way in time. I use his distraction to my advantage, and I rush toward him.
One of my swords stabs him in the stomach, and I pull it up, his insides spilling out, as my other sword swings and takes his head. Blood covers me, and I grin as he falls to the floor, kicking his head away from his body and watching as his own not-horse eats it.
That’s slightly disturbing.
My distraction costs me, and one of the creatures with six arms and apparently claws slices my arm, as another creature catches my leg.
