–2506 HP!
HP: 2594/5100
The flat of the wooden-sword-bat slammed against my face and unearthed me from the ground. My sense of up and down was inversed as I soared in the air, my spine shrieking in pain as I crashed into and through a wooden deciduous tree before finally rolling to a stop.
Nearly… half my HP… in one hit?
Disoriented, I forced myself to stand, push through the pain and think. Think! Think! She was incorporeal, meaning I could not touch her, my golems could not touch her, and she was immune to physical harm. On top of that, she was fast and she was strong. She was overpowering me, and I had a skill literally called [Herculean Strength] which augmented my lifting and striking power about a hundred-thousand-fold, relative to my weight.
Her weapon isn’t intangible.
Her weapon was not intangible, but the rest of her was? How did that work?
[Sixth Sense – DANGER DETECTED!]
She lunged at me at a speed that would outpace racecars, macuahuitl swinging overhead and wide. The weapon – aim for the weapon –
“[Diamond Bullet.]”
A crack of supersonic air echoed through the forest as the diamond projectile struck the wooden object and bounced off like a rubber ball hitting a concrete wall.
“Oh for fuck’s sakes!”
I side-stepped the overhead swing at the last moment, the impact cratering the ground and costing me my footing. The little devil did not hesitate, ceasing the advantage, she balanced the grip of the weapon on her shoulder lifting it into the air, and then swinging it in an arch designed to simultaneously cut me in half and break every bone in my body.
“[Earth Control!]”
A crude riot-shield of granite rose in my left hand just as the impact came.
–256 HP!
HP: 2338/5100
[Warning!]
You have attained the Negative Effect: [Crippled]
You cannot use the affected limb [Crippled] is mitigated.
My left arm was crushed. The damage was such that the limb hung loosely without me feeling any connection to it. My arm had never been broken before. Neither in this life, nor the previous. The feat impressed and disturbed me. I was a skeleton, yet somehow, it never occurred to me that any of my bones could be rendered immobile.
The crudely made granite riot-shield did its job in protecting me, even at the cost of shattering, the cost of my left hand, and the cost of sending me sliding across the earth. My amusement with the entire situation was gone.
“Why are you attacking me?”
[Sixth Sense]
The sound of objects whistling through the air again came to my attention. The Mask of Janus ensured immunity to flanking attacks, granting me relief that I did not have to deflect the sniping rounds aimed at my back, as they dropped harmlessly to the ground before they connected. The presence of the sniper reminded me that Arol was not alone. That was troubling. Even assuming that I was, somehow, able to find a way to beat the incorporeal little ghost, what were my chances of also succeeding against whoever it was that was cautious enough to hide in wait, and take shots at me from afar?
She wielded her oversized macuahuitl like it was a butter-knife, spinning it into the air in contrast against her tiny, diminutive form. “You’re asking the wrong question.” Her voice was one that matched her appearance and seeming age. High-pitched. Feminine. Underlying with a tint of what was either sarcasm or disdain.
My preconceived notions of what ‘nightmares’ were supposed to be was changing with every passing second. Unlike Ilikbolg and the monsters I met at the Final Sanctuary Woodlands who seemed to be devoid of reason, purpose or personality, being nothing more than the stereotypical fantasy beasts, Arol before me was nothing of the sort.
“What is the correct question?”
“Definitely not that one.”
My amusement grew. “Snarky aren’t we.”
“Just sit still and this’ll be over in a couple of seconds.”
“Can’t do that I’m afraid. Death and I have danced once, and it didn’t end well.”
Her lips twitched. “Poor dancer?”
“Terrible,” I said. “Stepped all over her toes. Poor Lady Death enduring my two left feet.”
“I hope you taste better than you dance.”
“Taste?”
I stared down at my form. I may have disguised myself a bit too well. With the aid of my Chameleon Panther Cloak and the large Iron Gauntlets I wore, I understood how someone could mistake me as something actually worth eating.
Sighing, I exposed my coat and revealed the contents within “Unless you have a craving for bones… I’m afraid my taste isn’t going to be anything spectacular.”
The girl stood still for several minutes. “You’re a skeleton.”
“Unfortunately.”
She slammed her weapon into the earth and let out a large, disappointed groan. “A skeleton? I can’t believe –” she muttered several words I had never heard before underneath her breath. Several of them were most likely colorful expletives.
“Wunder!” she called to the forest “It’s just a stupid skeleton!”
“I take offense to the stupid part of that –”
“A stupid skeleton with a quick tongue!” She huffed, pointing her finger at me. “What’s a skeleton doing sitting in front of a fire, roasting rabbits in the middle of the forest? It was something so stupid I thought for sure you were a rookie adventurer.”
I opened my mouth, but she continued off on a tangent. “And what’s with that stupid mask and stupid cloak and weird iron shoes? Why are you dressed like that? Why’s your aura so weak? You’re named aren’t you? You’d have to be named to talk so you’re definitely named. You were named recently, right? What’s a named one doing in the Hlahan Forest alone? Where’s your Nightwitch or Nightshaman? Are you contracted to an Aljutha? Why do you smell funny? What’s your –”
“Arol, I don’t think the skeleton here can answer a dozen questions at a time.”
The creature that approached from the forest was almost my height, but with several inches added that
