Chapter 11: Massacre

The screaming began during breakfast as everyone ate around the fire. Giddeon was relaxing over morning coffee with Uzari and Kilner when a single, ear-piercing shriek shattered the morning quiet. A few seconds later, it became a chorus of bloodcurdling cries, all coming from the north side of Base Camp Six.

A shot rang out, followed by several more.

“This isn’t good,” Johnny stated.

Giddeon slapped his cup down, snatching up his rifle. Your perception’s astounding. He squinted through the dust and haze as tents to the north began collapsing. Silhouettes fled in all directions, running from some unknown threat.

Then, he saw them: ragged figures sprinting like rabid animals. Most were humanoid, though some were twisted into shapes that boggled the mind. The screams escalated as people were ripped from their feet or overwhelmed by a mob as they ran. Shots began popping off like firecrackers as the first wave of creatures reached the center of camp.

“Grab survival gear and weapons, leave everything else!” Hinelin commanded, leveling his rifle toward the north. “Head to quadrant R, as planned. I’ll come find you after—”

“Going sssomewhere?” a melodic voice interrupted.

A stranger materialized directly in their midst, forcing the group back in a ripple of gasps. Dressed in a tailored tailcoat of striking blues and stark white trim, he cut a bizarre figure against the camp dust. Small rubies glinted on his top hat, which failed to contain the honey-blonde hair spilling out of it down to his waist. Though gaunt and nearly skeletal, his frail hand held a massive black tome with shocking ease.

“Who are—”

The black book snapped open on its own. The stranger thrust his arm at Hinelin, fingers splayed wide as he hissed a single, sharp word.

The air howled. Hinelin was hurled backward, crashing through a tent and dragging the canvas down with him. His body tumbled across the dirt several times, then lay still.

What in the blazes?

“Pleassse, don’t leave,” the sharp-dressed man pleaded, his grin mocking them as his gaze swept across the group. “The entertainment’s just beginning!”

Giddeon lifted his rifle.

“Gid, duck!”

Johnny’s warning was a heartbeat too slow. The stranger whipped around, his arm snapping toward Giddeon as the same curt word fell from his lips.

Giddeon’s world flipped upside down. An invisible force slammed into his chest and launched him backward. “It’s invisible magic!” Johnny yelled right before Giddeon hit the ground, the air rushing from his lungs. He rolled across the dirt until his head and right shoulder slammed into a heavy crate, stopping him. Lying flat on his back, he stared up at a spinning sky.

Women shrieked amidst the frantic scrambling as the remaining crew scattered in all directions.

Magic? Giddeon shook his head, trying to rid his ears of the persistent ringing noise drowning out all other sounds. Invisible?

“Yes, now snap out of it,” Johnny commanded. “The camp’s under attack. Get up and let me look at him. Er, get a view of him, will you?”

Giddeon blindly felt around for his rifle, then spotted it twenty feet away. Cursing, he flipped onto his stomach, rolled behind a supply container just to his left, and surged up into a crouch.

Chaos swallowed the camp. The stranger spun with dizzying grace, sending crates, cots, and heavy equipment flying with each thrust of his palm. He ignored Giddeon’s team for now, laughing as he shredded the base, turning their home into a graveyard of torn canvas, scattered supplies, and splintered wood.

“Oh no,” Johnny whispered in a tone that made Giddeon’s heart skip a beat. His AI had never spoken like that before.

Tell me!

Giddeon’s UI popped up, flashing his assailant’s character sheet.

His heart pounded as he tried formulating a desperate plan.

“Now might be the time to try that experimental program,” Johnny suggested.

“His stats are ridiculous!” Giddeon whispered through gritted teeth, pressing his back against the heavy container. “Even if I allocate every drop of mana, I’m still no match for him.”

“Call it forced volunteering—it doesn’t matter. What other choice do you have?”

“What good will it do?” Giddeon argued back, his eyes searching the wreckage. Thirty feet to his right lay a Vibane axe, knocked clean out of its crate. Not close enough for comfort, but reachable.

“Focus on his weak point,” Johnny urged. “Forget his higher total. His Endurance is low. If you can land a solid blow, we can win.”

“What about the rest of the camp?” Giddeon asked under his breath.

“Wh-who are you t-talking to?”

He jerked around as a hand yanked on his sleeve, nearly cracking skulls with Oomah who huddled beside him.

“I’m…trying to come up with a plan,” he covered quickly.

“S-should we j-just rush him?” Oomah’s teeth chattered, her eyes wild as they darted everywhere.

Both winced as a flying piece of debris slammed into their container, jolting it an inch. Oomah squealed.

Giddeon grabbed her arm, steadying her. He shook his head. “Just run. I’ll distract him. Grab Hinelin and make a break for it when I make my move. Got it?”

She nodded numbly, sniffling as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“What game?” he asked quickly.

Oomah blinked through her panic. “What?”

Redler screamed in the background, followed by Eddington’s raw cry. Oomah winced, shrinking back.

Giddeon caught her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “What game did you play?”

“A-Asteria,” she stammered. “Like y-you.”

“Be the hero you were,” he told her.

He turned and peered around the edge of the container. The madman cackled, maintaining his erratic telekinetic assault until two Aiges from another team bolted south through their camp.

The stranger’s gaze snapped toward them. He released his tome, the black book vanishing into thin air before it could hit the ground. As he thrust his arms forward, both limbs stretched impossibly thin. Glistening green-black scales erupted from his skin. His fingers fused, melting into twisted, hissing serpents with flickering forked tongues and fangs dripping viscous green saliva.

The twin serpent-arms whipped across the clearing, coiling around the fleeing Aiges and hoisting them screaming into the air.

“No running,” the man scolded, his laughter bubbling over their screams. The snakes buried their fangs into exposed flesh, causing small rivulets of blood to seep out of the wounds and down their shoulder and hip. The Aiges’ cries quickly died as spittle dribbled from their lips. Their bodies continued convulsing long after the serpents uncoiled, leaving them quivering in the dirt.

This was Giddeon’s chance. He lunged from behind the container, snatching the Vibane axe mid-stride.

Nearby, Hinelin rolled out of the collapsed canvas. Wheezing from bruised ribs, he snapped his double-chamber rifle to his shoulder.

Boom!

The thunderous crack nearly deafened Giddeon. A second shot followed hot on its heels. Giddeon slowed his sprint unconsciously, his eyes locked on the stranger as the heavy rounds slammed home and sent the man recoiling backward.

The figure remained chillingly silent as he straightened with slow, agonizing grace. His tailored coat was shredded across the chest and stomach. Instead of blood, armor-like scales glistened beneath the torn cloth. The left side of his face had morphed, transformed into a horrific, vertical slit which pulsed with an inner violet glow.

“The plight of man is no match for a god of nature!” the thing hissed.

Its arms undulated hypnotically before shooting forward with inhuman speed for Hinelin’s throat. Sliding the two rounds quickly in, the team leader abandoned his open rifle to frantically dive to the side, avoiding the snapping jaws by a hair’s breadth.

Crap!

Giddeon internally berated himself for the hesitation as he threw himself back into a sprint. The creature continued snapping at Hinelin with one arm while smoothly redirecting the other toward Giddeon. The second serpent head lashed out at him, jaws unhinged.

“Roll!” Johnny screamed.

Giddeon dove. The snake’s fangs whistled just above his head. He hit the dirt, rolled, and surged back to his feet to deliver a heavy downward swing with the axe.

It was met with an effortless block. New scales sprouted instantly across the creature’s chest. Giddeon’s arm vibrated painfully as his blade slammed into what felt like a mountain of steel. The recoil sent him stumbling back, wide open.

“Dodge!” Johnny cried.

He had no time. Giddeon threw himself flat, his back slamming hard into the earth. The snake snapped the empty air where his head had just been a millisecond prior. White stars danced across his vision, and the back of his skull stung. Through the haze, the serpent loomed, tilting its head to stare down at him. Its mouth opened wide, hissing as it reared back for a lethal strike.

Then a barrage of debris filled the air. Uzari, Vessa, Orion, and Oomah swarmed the creature, hurling anything they could grab—chairs, small crates, and tent stakes. None of it pierced through its scales, but the sudden chaos distracted the monster. The serpents pivoted, snapping wildly at the flying projectiles.

Giddeon seized the moment, rolling frantically away.

The monstrous man smiled wryly, ignoring the rain of supplies striking his scaled body. “Brother!” he called out, his melodic voice carrying over the din with malicious glee. “The peasants appear intent on entertaining us!”

A second figure plummeted from the sky, crashing into the dead center of the camp. The impact sent the group scrambling back in terror. Crouched on all fours was a filth-streaked man in a tattered loincloth and a sleeveless hide vest that exposed corded, bulging limbs. A black sack shrouded his head, with jagged cutouts for his mouth and a single, bloodshot eye that darted crazily around.

Loping forward like a trained hound, the beast-man rubbed his head against the blue-suited man’s leg, mewling softly.

“This is my brother, Azazel,” the speaker introduced, his fingers caressing the wild man’s scalp with disturbing affection. “I am Lannister, and this is the first—and last—time you will ever hear my name.”

He leaned down, whispering, “Be a good boy, Azazel. Find me the strong ones.”