I spun around, remembering at the last second to suck down Miasma from Butcher and the mewler. I couldn’t afford to run empty in the middle of this.
Fat jungle leaves rustled. A squad of four Technols burst onto the path, translucent green shields projected out in front of them. None of the guys were huge, but they were stocked on weaponry. Two packed belt-fed machine guns with ridiculously long strings of ammo over their shoulders, a third one was winding up to throw another Spirit bomb, and the last guy stomped forward in a mech suit blasting flames from its arms.
I made sure they saw me, then backpedaled toward the opposite side of the path, trying to draw them away from Warcry’s unconscious body.
“Mass Grave!”
Nothing happened.
Death cultivator is not advanced enough to carry out Mass Grave without Hungry Ghost’s help.
Time seemed to slow down as the machine gun guys swiveled their barrels toward me. I had time to register their identical sunglasses and see the lenses flash with some kind of targeting app. Their fingers moved on the triggers, almost in sync.
“Rigor Mortis!” The Spirit blasted off my palm strike, slamming into the gunner on the right and freezing his muscles.
The other gunner’s muzzle flashed. Hot red pain sliced across my bicep, and I hit the deck a little late.
Three Corpse Sickness exploded off me in retaliation. They crossed the space between us in a heartbeat, drawing the guy’s fire while I reached out with Dead Man’s Hand and snagged his life point. There was a wall around it, sort of plastic-feeling. Moldering Bones ate it away in a second, then Dead Man’s Hand smothered the flickering flame. He tumbled dead onto the path.
Barely, I remembered to start Reclaiming the Dead along with the Swallowing the Universe breathing. The more Miasma I could hang on to, the better.
I killed the second gunner before Rigor Mortis could run out, then turned toward the guy lobbing Spirit bombs at Smoky and Unu.
A massive metal claw closed around my throat.
Crap! I’d forgotten about the guy in the mech suit.
The claw squeezed. My Adam’s apple creaked under the force as the strangulation cut off my airway, but my neck miraculously didn’t snap. More Proving Forge benefits.
A streak of red flames tore past me. Warcry hit a Ki-strength enhanced jump and knocked the helmet off the mech suit with a brain-scrambling roundhouse. The helmet caught the driver’s head as it flew off, ricocheting it off the back of his armor. He dropped me, stunned. The suit veered off and stumbled over one of the dead gunners, its flamethrowers belching fire and blackening vegetation as it went.
I crushed the driver’s life point, then reached out and grabbed the Spirit bomber’s life, too, taking him out.
“Thanks,” I yelled to Warcry.
“Just watch your back, yeah? And don’t accidentally murder-grab me. I’ll be coming out up there at the head of the trail.” With that, he jumped over a log and disappeared into the jungle.
Up at the front of the path, two more squads of Technols were closing in on Smoky and Unu. The rock guy’s tommy gun was still blasting away, but his bullets had only made it past a couple of their translucent green shields. Smoky’s wooden barricade still protected their back, but it was shaking. The veins in his neck and arms stood out, and his teeth gritted like he couldn’t keep the rotting logs and vines together much longer.
A memory from Sanya-ketsu’s dream came back to me. I couldn’t use Mass Grave yet, but I had plenty of Miasma with all these bodies lying around the path. Maybe I could get more than one Dead Man’s Hand going at once.
I pulled in as much of the fresh Death Spirit as I could, then directed Three Corpse Sickness at the squads harrying Unu and Smoky. As the closest Technols turned toward the new threats, I shut my eyes and focused on reaching out from the chest of each Corpse.
It took way more Miasma than usual, but three Dead Man’s Hands crushed three life points. Three Technols dropped dead in their tracks. Clouds of turquoise Death Spirit bloomed from their bodies.
Warcry leapt out of the jungle at the head of the trail, taking down a straggler from behind with a huge flaming roundhouse to the back of the head.
I directed my Corpses toward another three Technols. That remote Dead Man’s Hand trick used a ton of Miasma, but as long as I kept creating bodies, I’d have plenty more fuel for the next attack.
One of the Technols started yelling. There was too much noise to hear what he said, but all the Technol shields flashed red and white, then tinted black like the windows on a limousine. The yelling guy lobbed a blue-white ball of Spirit into the air.
There was no boom or explosion, just a light so bright the skin on my face and arms constricted like they’d been sunburned. I threw my hand over my face, but my corneas were already seared.
I tripped and hit my knees in the dirt, rubbing at my streaming flash-burnt eyes and straining my ears for sounds of attack. The fire in the healing script tattoo roared, adding that to its monumental tab of damage to clear.
I threw out a wide blast of Dead Reckoning and just barely caught one Technol life point at the edge of my range. I grabbed with Dead Man’s Hand, but he passed my limit before I could take him out.
I relayed the information. “They’re retreating.”
“Could be a trick,” Smoky growled off to my left. “Hit us once we’re relaxed.”
“Nah, he knows if another attack’s coming,” Warcry said. “He’ll warn us if it’s about to kick off again.”
Little by little, the script tattoo cleared the flash burn from my eyes. My vision was still blurry, but it was better than nothing.
Warcry was off to the edge of the path, leaning back against a tree and prodding at his blood-encrusted ear.
