Chương 121: Uninvited Allies

Swallowing hard — his throat had gone dry in an instant — Lloyd spun around on the spot, desperately trying to keep at least half of that tight, silent circle within his line of sight as it closed in around him with unsettling, mechanical precision.

"You've got to be kidding me." The Thin Creatures crept toward Lloyd from every direction, weapons raised in perfect unison, as though obeying some single, invisible command echoing from somewhere deep within Oblivion itself. Lloyd strained to keep his eyes on every one of them, though he knew it was simply impossible — no set of eyes could watch six directions at once, and his heart was pounding so violently it seemed to thud somewhere up in his throat.

Then one of the creatures suddenly swung its dagger, aiming straight for his neck, the motion so fast that Lloyd barely caught it out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, the distance was just short enough, and he managed to dodge in time, jerking his head aside — though a thin, stinging cut opened up on his cheek regardless, immediately starting to burn and throb, a warm, sticky trickle of blood running down his skin.

Without thinking, he took a couple of steps back, retreating from the flashing blade, feeling the ground beneath his feet grow increasingly uneven, but by the time he realized his mistake, it was already too late. One of the creatures raised its spear, its long shaft slicing through the air with a whistle. Before Lloyd could even fully turn around, the monster had already swung it at him, aiming straight for his chest, the spearhead closing in relentlessly, catching the island's dim light in a cold, metallic gleam.

But the spear never reached him. Suddenly a blade burst straight out of the Pale creature's torso, entirely coated in thick, oily-looking blue blood — the gleaming point punched clean through it, from the inside out, with a wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh. A few drops of that strange blue blood even splattered across Lloyd's face, leaving cold, viscous spots on his cheek, and for a moment he froze in the same complete bewilderment as, apparently, the impaled creature itself, its body jerking in shock.

The monster dropped to its knees, staring down at the blade jutting from its own chest, tilting its head to one side in an almost mechanical, emotionless gesture, as if trying to understand what had just happened to its own body. Then whoever stood behind the creature yanked the blade back out with a wet, squelching sound, and immediately a sharp, air-splitting whistle rang out as the blade cut through space in one precise, practiced stroke.

The creature's head flew from its shoulders, unleashing a fountain of blue blood that rained down over Lloyd like a sudden, warm shower, spattering his outfit with dark, spreading stains. A second later the headless body of the monster crashed to the ground, flooding the area around it with a spreading blue puddle, its limbs still twitching convulsively for a moment, claws raking at the flattened grass.

Lloyd finally got a decent look at his unexpected savior, now standing right in front of him, weapon at the ready. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! It was a man in his mid-twenties, dressed in crimson garb layered over sturdy black armor, marked with small scratches and dents — the scars of previous, far more serious battles.

His short, tousled bright-red hair stuck out in every direction, and small dark teardrop earrings glinted faintly in the dim light from his ears, swaying with every sharp movement. In his hands he held a black sword, as if forged from solid obsidian, now entirely coated in that same thick blue blood, running down the blade in thin, winding rivulets.

The man glanced briefly at his weapon, then swung it in a sharp, practiced motion, flinging off the blood in a wide, dark arc, and settled into a firm combat stance, leveling the sword at the remaining creatures, whose forms kept slowly tightening the circle, seemingly unfazed by the loss of one of their own.

"Who is he? Where did he even come from?" raced through Lloyd's mind, a fragmented, frantic thought, but he didn't have time to finish it. Suddenly another creature appeared right behind Lloyd, swinging its dagger dangerously close to his neck, but the blade never reached him — an arrow suddenly buried itself in the creature's eye, sinking in all the way to the fletching with a dull, heavy thud.

The monster let out a quiet but unbearably sickening, grating shriek, like the screech of rusted metal, and a second arrow immediately followed, striking it and forcing it to stagger backward, stumbling on its long, spidery legs, the dagger slipping from its grip into the grass. The final arrow struck it square in the head, glowing faintly with some strange, pulsing light, like a smoldering ember.

The instant it hit, the monster's head burst into dozens of small, wetly gleaming fragments scattering in every direction, its limp body crashing to the ground with a dull thud, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Standing behind the red-haired Swordsman were several more people, though Lloyd never got a single second to properly look them over — all of them immediately broke into motion, charging the remaining creatures, scattering across the clearing in different directions with practiced, seamless coordination, as though this wasn't the first time they'd fought together.

One of them loosed another arrow, which sliced through the air with a whistle; another surged forward with a drawn blade, letting out a short battle cry; and another, judging by the sound, murmured something resembling an incantation, causing a brief flash of pale blue light to flicker through the air.

The creatures, for their part, wasted no time responding in kind, raising their weapons and spreading out across the clearing with that same unsettling coordination, their long, bony forms flickering among the trees and bushes like ghosts, advancing and retreating in turns, each one trying to isolate and surround its opponent.

The clash of steel on steel, the whistle of blades cutting through air, the dull thuds of falling bodies, and hoarse, fury-filled shouts — all of it crashed down at once over the once quiet, peaceful clearing, tearing its dead, motionless silence apart with the full cacophony of battle. The ground trembled with every strike, the grass lay flattened and soaked with foul-smelling blue blood, and the very air seemed charged with the tension of the raging fight.

And so the true battle between Players and Monsters began, and Lloyd, still standing in the middle of all this chaos, sword trembling in his hands, still hadn't quite worked out whether he'd just become an ally to these strangers or simply stumbled into the middle of someone else's, far more serious war.