I sat there like I was stargazing.
Sweat slicked my hair flat to my forehead, blood that wasn't mine dripped from my knuckles, and sap clung to my clothes in sticky streaks.
Splinters from the minions' bark-flesh littered my arms, stinging every time I moved. Around me was a mountain of corpses… Dozens, maybe hundreds of the Titan's spawn, all piled like firewood, the evidence of their endless, stupid pathfinding mishap into my little pocket of swordswing distance.
I sat in the middle of it, still balanced on that ridiculous sack of cheesewheels like some kind of throne, panting so hard I thought my lungs might burst through my ribs. My eyes were wide and dry, twitching at shadows, while my fingers flexed uncontrollably as if my body was still swinging, still killing.
The fight was over. At least, this wave was, but the Titan of Ashen Bark still loomed in the distance, alive and waiting, its molten veins pulsing slow and steady like the breath of a god.
