It used to be a man, a soldier in fact. Intestines spilled from its gut and wrapped around its arms like chains. They writhed and moved as the monster circled me. They were alive and the monster controlled them. It had three sets of arms and double the amount of legs, its bottom jutted out like a spider’s would.

  It did not speak as it watched. It could not. What humanity had filled the original body had been replaced by the Outsider’s corruption some time ago. There was no telling how long.

  I clenched the dagger in my hand, feeling the floral pattern press into my skin.

  This was no simple being, it emanated an aura of strength, a presence not entirely unlike the Slitherstitch’s. Only this one was younger, wilder. Unpredictable.

  It clawed at its face to rid itself of the blood from my flail. I glanced down at my impromptu weapon. Not even the other scorpion chitins could make a dent in it, yet spiderman here made it explode into thousands of pieces with a collision. A testament to its strength.

  I’d had a taste of it once already, now I knew it hadn’t been a fluke. I shifted my feet and began circling around it. The monster looked through the gaps between its many hands, eyeing me cautiously.

  I weighed the facts. It seemed to prefer hit and run tactics; likely due to a lack of confidence. The veil hadn’t been strong enough to spawn creatures such as these until recently. It was still juvenile and unaware of its strength. I could use that.

  The peeking eyes hardened for a split second before it thrust forward at me, arms crossed in front of its body like a shield. The entrails pulled taut around its arms like cords of steel.

  I threw myself to the side and rolled back to my feet. A sharp pain tore through my torso, my ribs. My stiffened armour pressed against them as I rolled and almost forced my breath from my mouth.

  Not waiting for the thing to regain its composure for another charge, I Bursted forward and threw a diagonal cut with the dagger.

  The monster whirled around and raised its many arms to stop my cut. Steel met flesh and tore through it with ease, until there was bone. My dagger jerked to a halt. I felt as if I’d struck a stone. The hilt vibrated like a humming bird in my palm.

  The monster grinned, and I felt my heart catch. I bounced back in time to mitigate the impact. The rope-like guts slammed into me like a wrecking ball, I grimaced and pushed them to the side. It hadn’t gotten a clean hit on me, still, the pain was blinding as I ground to a halt a few meters back. I used my free hand to hold my side and heaved for breath.

  My dagger grew voracious in my grip, greedily drinking the blood of the monster to activate the embroidery, Butcher. I’d always felt the name didn’t fit the look of the weapon. Butcher sounded like something crude and violent. Silent scream was nothing like that, in its essence the weapon was graceful and precise. A weapon meant to grant dying soldiers mercy by slipping into the gaps between armoured joints.

  Nonetheless the embroidery was handy in times like these. Cutting power was always something a dagger lacked, the embroidery circumvented that.

  I pointed the dagger at the monster and smirked, gesturing at it to come at me.

  Without missing a beat it rushed forward, moaning and shielding its torso with bloodied arms.

  I could still barely see it as it moved, I’d never seen something alive move at these speeds, but I didn’t need to see it to know how it moved. I felt it through my system of threads.

  I swayed to the side, my hair fluttered as the wind cheeks pushed at me.

  I whistled. “Not even John is that quick. Granted, he’s just a whisper, and I take it you’re at a minimum unsung? Or whatever the scourge equivalent is called.”

  The monster whipped back to face me and exploded forward again. I could barely dodge out of harm’s way, but I went out of my way to make it look effortless. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” I taunted and pointed my dagger at the monster with a leisurely smile.

  It barrelled into the portion of the tent where the roof sagged and flailed with its arms to get the fabric out of its eyes. I tilted my head and watched. There was something about how it desperately tried to keep stuff out of its face.

  At first I’d thought it normal, seeing was important in a fight, obviously. But the desperation in the monster’s movements told me there was more at play. My fear washed away, replaced by confidence. I’d grown.

  I cut the palm of my hand with my dagger, squeezing my fist to make the blood flow and pool in my hand. “You’re done for now,” I sniggered and lowered my stance into a battle-ready one. I looked around and found a pile of sand not far from me and hurried over to it before the monster had time to charge again.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  With a moan, the monster tore large chunks out of the tent to free its head, it glared at me and spat on the floor. Hints of red mixed into the sickly color of its phlegm. Despite all the monstrous qualities, it had managed to keep an awfully human face, and didn’t have particularly great control over its expressions. I could tell from the deep scowl that it was getting angry, and I wondered if it knew.

  It ground a pair of its feet against the plastic floor, like a bull before charging. The ground crumpled, blue blood sprayed and pieces of the ripped tent fluttered.

  I whipped my bloody hand forward, sending a spray at the rapidly approaching blur before kicking up a cloud of sand and steeling myself for impact.

  As expected, the moaning monster let out a high pitched squeal as it ran headfirst into my spray of blood and the subsequent cloud of sand. I didn’t have time to see, but I wagered that the sand stuck to its eyes like hot wax.

  I clenched my teeth and tried to jump out of the way. I’d expected that the manoeuvre would force me to take another hit, and that was before realizing the monster had yet to shift into its highest gear. If I’d spotted arrogance in its previous behaviour then I might have expected it was holding back. Sadly I hadn’t, and now I paid the price of my negligence.

  I cleared its charge with my upper body, but my legs felt the full brunt of its force. It barrelled into me like a freight train while I was still midair trying to dodge. My view shifted and blurred as I spun through the air like a boomerang. I didn’t stop until I hit the floor with a loud thud and coughed my lungs out. If I still had air in my lungs I’d scream until there was no more.

  Still, the pain was a good thing. Not feeling anything would be far worse. I glanced to the side, dipping half of my face into a pool of cold blue blood. The monster flailed and screeched, tearing at its face with all arms. I’d assumed that it kept its eyes open as it charged, and as fate would have it, that assumption turned out to be true.

  My blood made the sand stick to its eyes. Only a good rinse would be able to get that out. Which meant that for now, it was blinded. And it was prime time for me to strike. If I could just catch my breath.

  “Fuck me,” I moaned and pushed myself up to my feet. My legs shook and felt like they’d fold below me. I used Burst just as insurance I wouldn’t fall as I awkwardly hurried over.

  I kept my center of gravity low as I got close. The monster writhed and scratched at its eyes, lips quivering.

  “Please,” it cried, “not the dark.”

  My heart ached at the show of humanity, but it hadn’t been enough to stop me before, this time was no different.

  I lunged with the knife, snaking it between the flailing arms to strike true into the monster’s chest. It wailed and threw a guessing barrage of hits my way, but I’d already pulled the knife back out and circled around the monster. Even when I walked with so little grace it couldn’t hear me, not over the constant screaming and complaining.

  I delivered a quick combination of stabs and shoves, always moving to avoid the random punches the monster threw in response. The screaming grew louder, less scared and more angry, as time progressed.

  Even with the enhanced sharpness I struggled to deliver a killing blow. I stabbed the chest and back, aiming for heart and lungs, to no avail. I cut the throat and slashed the belly open. Blood flowed like a river, but the thing didn’t lose its vigor.

  I’d wondered before if the corrupted had their biology tampered with. Just judging on how all specimens I’d seen looked, my guess would have been yes. Yet most died when cut or blown to bits. This monster didn’t. It just got angry. And coincidentally much more dangerous.

  The entrails wrapped around its arms came loose and swirled around it like vicious whips. They tore through the wind with high pitched cracks, forcing me to fall back out of their range. I caught my breath and watched. The monster still couldn’t see. I’d effectively blinded it for the moment, but there was no telling how long it would last. If the monster just calmed down it would be able to figure it out in no time at all.

  I had no plans to let it recover.

  I willed Jackpot corporeal and loaded it with practiced hands. A satisfying click resounded through the tent as I chambered the bullet and took aim. The whips slowed, and the monster craned its neck. It almost looked as if it could smell the approaching danger.

  I pulled the trigger knowing full well that even suspecting the danger wouldn’t save it from my flames.

  The bullet made impact with its chest, time slowed. With my magnified sight I saw how skin parted and made way for the bullet before it exploded inside. The cut and stab wounds I’d left riddling its body flashed with a fiery light for just a moment before fading.

  The monster groaned and coughed out wisps of smoke, the whips fell to the ground. It still lived.

  I ground my teeth and willed away Jackpot. I could finish this safely by shooting at it from a distance, but my bullets were a precious commodity. Jackpot was my most powerful weapon, even more so than my blessing—for now—and I needed to be frugal in spending the bullets. At least until I came up with a way of replicating them. But to do that I needed a surplus to study.

  My father was a man of many vices. But for all his faults he was not a dumb man. Never. Not even when the bottle clouded his judgement. He knew how to read a room, how to scope out what tables to play. And he knew when to gamble. He’d beaten that very same sense into me.

  This was a time to go big or go home.

  I Burst forward, legs still shaky from the hit, and tore a handful of threads from the veil. I summoned my runes, looking for something to use.

  Name: Caleb Kane

  Race: Human (80%) Nameless kin (20%)

  Title: One of reviled flesh, Outsider’s mark, Pact bound, Scourge slayer, Harbinger, Usurper

  Blessing: Shaper

  Acclaim: Unsung

  Accolades: Silent Scream, Battle-worn thimbles, Jackpot, Embrace of Innocence, Flesh of the damned, James’s bow, Old sword, Mask of Beauty, Corroded pocket watch, Shoes of Silent Passage.

  A smile crept onto my face as I summoned James’s bow and activated the mask’s embroidery, Ruin. Unbeknownst to the monster, the accolade broke down in my hands, turning into ash.

  Power flooded my veins and I whispered to the threads, “Harden.”