Chương 18: Victory Part 1

I didn't think, I just moved. My boots hammered against the sodden earth as I sprinted toward the giant red-glowing lighthouse that was my partner. Dimitri didn't even need me to shout a plan; he looked at me, saw the manic glint in my eyes, and instantly knew we were in sync. With a roar of pure, unadulterated friendship, he leaned into his rotting barrel lid and gave the Bovine Crustacean currently chewing on him a massive, two-handed shove.

The creature's six chitinous legs scrambled for purchase, clacking uselessly against the grass as it lost its center of gravity. The moment its soft, cow-like chin was exposed to the sky, I didn't hesitate. I pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. Two sapphire orbs of mana hissed through the air, punching straight into the creature's skull with the sound of a hammer hitting a ripe melon. The beast let out one final, gurgling low and collapsed into a heap of stone and steak.

The remaining four crab-cows finally remembered I was the one doing the actual murdering. They swiveled their eye-stalks toward me, their mandibles clicking in a way that suggested they wanted to turn me into a human panini. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. They charged, but they forgot one very important detail: the eight-foot-tall Russian wall standing in their way.

Dimitri stepped into the gap, his tracksuit stripes a blur of motion as he intercepted the swarm. He was a master of the defensive arts, using that hunk of notched iron to parry horns and slamming his wooden lid into anything that got too close. I stayed tucked safely behind his massive shadow, peeking out like a very lethal jack-in-the-box to deliver blue-flavored death. I was in the zone now. I wasn't just shooting; I was performing. One after another, I picked them off. Click, bang, sizzle.

A mana bullet to the eye-stalk here, a sapphire slug to the throat there. Three more of the armored nightmares hit the dirt, their legs twitching in a final, pathetic rhythm. The eighth and final monster decided it didn't want to be part of the "legendary saga" anymore. It turned its stony backside to us and began to scuttle away toward the hills as fast as its six legs could carry it. It was actually trying to flee the scene of the crime.

I raised my Training Prototype-7 one last time, squinting down the bulky sights. The adrenaline was still humming in my veins, but my voice went low and cold, the kind of whisper that belongs in a noir film.

"Revolver Style Tier 1: Arcane Discharge," I breathed. I pulled the trigger. The gun let out a final, triumphant crack, sending a bolt of concentrated magic racing across the meadow. It caught the runner square in the back of its bovine head, right where the armor met the neck. The creature didn't even have time to moan; its legs buckled mid-stride, and it skidded across the clover for several feet before coming to a dead stop.

The meadow went silent, save for the heavy breathing of a very tired weeb and the sound of Dimitri humming a cheerful tune.

"Well," I said, leaning over and resting my hands on my knees.

"I think we just won the war on beef-crustaceans."