The scratching grew sharper. Like nails clawing on bone.
Tom slowed, glancing over his shoulder. Maybe I should turn back.
Before his thought could settle, the forest shook.
A streak of violet fire tore the sky open. It crashed into the clearing like a meteor. Sand, soil, and shredded branches exploded outward.
Tom raised his arm to shield his face. When the smoke thinned, he saw it.
A towering mass — three times his size. A body stitched from countless Razorbugs, their mandibles fused, eyes clustered into one grotesque face that twitched in all directions.
Its arms weren't arms anymore; they were scythes long enough to split a tree in two. Four legs stomped the dirt, hooves cracked like stone. From its back ripped out wings not like insect or bird. Patterned like a poisonous butterfly but dripping with violet ash. Behind it, a tail swayed, a blade cloaked in unnatural flames.
Tom's hand slowly drawn in his slot to bring the weapon out. Big one. Ugly one. Don't panic.
He opened his mouth. "Hey, do you—"
The creature shrieked, cutting him off, lunging before words could weave meaning. Scythes tore the ground where he'd stood a second ago. Tom rolled aside, coat brushing dirt.
The Yari spun in his hands, its edge gleaming. He lunged, stabbing into its torso.
The blade sank deep. Tom thought it might work.
But the monster didn't flinch. The Yari's glow dimmed. Unfortunately, that thing was soulless being, wandering in the forest....
The beast twisted its head, grinning with hundreds of teeth.
Tom pulled the spear back, chest steady. He muttered low:
"Of course. Just my luck. A body without a soul."
The monster raised its scythes again, violet flames from its tail licking higher, promising the fight was only beginning.
Tom exhaled slowly.
The Yari dissolved back into his slot, vanishing like smoke.
Behind him, the air shifted. Wood groaned. Then it came.
The Hawking's Trojan Chair hovered into being — tall, strange, impossible, and yet his own.
His Face loomed above him, silent and watchful, its hollow eyes reflecting the burning violet light.
Tom's side ached. The Lion deity had left marks; his muscles still trembled if he pushed too far. Not good timing… but nothing I can do about it.
The monster screamed. Its jaw unhinged, flames swelling in its throat.
Then,
It spat a volley of fireballs, each spinning with violet trails.
Tom didn't flinch. His eyes followed the arc, feet already moving.
He darted left, then cut right, keeping his steps minimal, controlled.
One fireball curved unnaturally, too fast. It surged toward his face.
Tom's hand lifted, almost casual. Fingers brushed the sphere.
It rotated.
The burning mass spun in place, twisted around, and shot back at the creature with double force.
The explosion cracked against its torso. A screech burst from its mouths. Smoke bled from scorched flesh.
Tom stayed still. His breath even. "Good. That works."
But the monster didn't retreat. It convulsed. Its scythe-arms thrashed, wings cracked wide, the violet fire licking higher. Its entire body shook as if breaking its own limits.
It roared, louder than before, then charged like a stampede.
Tom narrowed his eyes.
"Berserker mode? Figures."
His mind ticked. Direct clashes won't last. Need layers, angles and traps.
He raised one hand, rotating debris from broken trees into the air. Branches and shattered roots spun into whirling arcs, floating around him like satellites.
With careful nudges, he angled them into choke points.
The creature stormed forward and clipped a spinning branch. It snapped across its leg like a blade.
Another rotation. A stone curved midair, circling back to slam into its wing.
Not enough to cripple, but enough to force hesitation.
Tom used that heartbeat to backstep, placing himself between two narrow trunks.
The monster lunged blindly. Its scythes slashed. The trunks splintered.
But as they broke, the falling wood rotated unnaturally, turning midair into spears that pierced back into its hide.
Tom's chair drifted higher, silent, oppressive.
He stared coldly, unshaken, voice almost a whisper:
"You're big, you're angry, you're powerful. But you're not smart."
The monster howled again, shaking off the wounds. It stomped hard, preparing its next wave.
Tom flexed his fingers, sweat running down his temple. He whispered to himself:
"Alright then… let's see who runs out of tricks first."
The monster lunged first.
Its scythe-arm carved the air, violet fire dripping from its edge like acid rain.
Tom didn't step back. He stepped into the swing.
Daggers slid from his belt, short and silver. His left hand caught the blow, redirecting it, while his right stabbed forward with a burst of kinetic rotation.
Metal scraped on flesh. Sparks lit between the clash. The shockwave trembled the ground.
Tom twisted his wrist. The scythe veered sideways, stabbing dirt instead of bone.
He leaned back, let the monster's weight drag it deeper, then flicked his other dagger against its jaw. A shallow cut, but enough to sting.
The creature screeched, wings thrashing.
Tom stepped back once. Twice. His boots ground against soil. His chest tightened.
The monster's body swelled, its violet fire pulsing. The air warped.
"...No way." Tom's calm cracked. His eyes widened.
It's going to blow itself up.
The ground quaked as the scythes dug in, channeling flames into its own chest. Heat rose like an oven.
Tom's heart pounded. He counted breaths. Options.
Daggers wouldn't hold. Yari wouldn't pierce something this wide. His Face hovered silently above him, waiting.
Think.... Faster.... Faster....
His index finger twitched. An idea flickered.
He drew in one sharp breath, then pointed at the beast's head.
The world rotated, not its skull.
The monster's skull spun backward with a sickening crack. Its body spasmed, balance lost. The glow inside dimmed for a single second.
"Now."
Tom yanked the Trident from his slot, water spiraling around its tips.
With both hands he thrust forward, channeling all control he had.
A torrent exploded from the weapon, pressurized and sharp, slicing the air like blades.
The stream hit the twisted neck and severed it clean.
The monster's head spun away, still flaming, before crashing into the dirt. Its body shuddered, collapsing with an earth-breaking thud.
The grotesque form began unraveling. One by one, the countless Razorbugs making up its flesh dissolved into ash, fading into violet sparks.
Their shrieks echoed faintly, a chorus of dying insects, until nothing remained but dust carried by the desert wind.
Tom lowered the Trident. His breath dragged, heavy, uneven. His arms trembled from strain.
He looked at the empty ground where the monster had stood.
"Checkmate."
The dust was still hanging in the air when the familiar flicker appeared.
Blue letters slid in front of Tom's eyes.
[ Quest Completed : Razor's Feast ]
[ Reward : 250 coins, 1000 EXP ]
Another line blinked into existence,
[ Current Balance : 1100 coins ]
Tom dragged the back of his hand across his forehead. His breathing slowed, the sharp taste of iron still on his tongue.
"...Hah. Guess I survived."
The system wasn't done. A softer glow opened like a book in the air.
[ New Lore Unlocked ]
[ Saved in Lore Archive ]
[ Title : The Queen of Rot ]
Tom tilted his head.
"The hell is that supposed to mean…?"
The lines dissolved, leaving the forest quiet again. He could hear the wind sifting through broken branches, the low hiss of burned earth.
For a second, he thought of opening the lore right away. Curiosity bit him, but exhaustion pressed harder.
Instead, he shook his head, slipping the Trident back into his slot.
"I'll read it with Grace. She'll probably make more sense of it than me."
His Face hovered above, silent on its chair, staring down like a pale ghost. Tom ignored it and started walking toward the faint trail of light breaking through the trees.
The forest still reeked of ash and dead insects. At least, for now.... it was quiet.