What the hell were they going to do? Half their ammo had been spent on just a single one of these creatures. I mean, one on its own was no problem, but...Milo looked to his companion. Backlebutt wore a stoic, considering look as the chorus of clacking bones approached. None of the monsters were visible yet, but they weren’t far off.

Apparently reaching a decision, Backlebutt surged forward with purpose and started regathering the stones he’d thrown. Milo quickly joined in, even using Skim once more to gather some extras. He was down to six mana now.

As the skeleroos grew ever closer and they’d collected all the stones they could, Backlebutt grabbed Milo’s arm and looked him in the eye. He said several words of gibberish, followed by a few vague gestures and some assured nodding. He then urged Milo toward where the skeleroos would emerge as he stood next to the rocks they’d prepared, holding one in each hand.

Milo took a few hesitant steps forward before stopping and looking back at Backlebutt forlornly. Don’t make me do this, man. I’m not a tank. His companion unsympathetically waved him forward. Sighing, Milo complied.

If he’d understood Backlebutt’s miming correctly—and he was pretty sure he did—the basic idea was that Backlebutt would hang back and pelt them with rocks, distracting and stunning them, while Milo waded into the thick of things and dismantled them with his hammer.

He was not a fan of this plan.

However, Milo didn’t have any time to protest further as the first of them appeared around the bend. It paused for a second, as if assessing, before hopping closer. Two of its friends appeared behind it. Crap. Crap crap crap. Milo was panicking. He needed more time. The first roo was getting closer.

Milo activated Pause for Thought as the leading roo began the leap that would take it to just fifteen meters away. He could see two more of the creatures landing behind the first pair that had appeared. Five of them. Maybe more.

Milo had been on the verge of freaking out, but dialing the flow of time down to less than 1/10th of normal speed had the blessed effect of taking all the urgency out of the situation, allowing him to calm down somewhat and rationally assess.

Geez. Okay. What’s the situation here? What are their weaknesses? They’re light, so Backlebutt can knock them out of the air. That’s good. He’ll be making my job easier, keeping them off balance. They spend a lot of time in a locked trajectory, which makes them easy to hit. Also, no meat armor. Makes it easier to take out a crucial joint and cripple them. This first one is alone, so I have a chance to practice my strategy before more come. What is my strategy?

The skeleroo was at the peak of its jump by now, almost two meters above the tunnel floor.

Hm. I’m fast. I know I’m fast. I can probably surprise it by rushing forward to where it’s going to land next and be attacking it before it’s ready. These things aren’t that dangerous, honestly, as long as I can get to them one at a time. I can do this. I am the hunter.

I am the hunter.

It was a mantra that had served him well in sports, whenever he realized he was playing too passively, reacting to his opponent’s moves rather than taking initiative himself and actively directing the flow of play. It put him in the mindset of seeking to create and exploit opportunities, rather than merely coast and survive. I want to win. I will win.

Pause for Thought expired just before the skeleroo landed. As it crouched for its next leap, Milo, too, crouched. His stance was wide, balanced, his weapon steady in his hand. He darted forward a split second before the creature itself leaped, racing to where he knew it would land. From behind and left, he heard a small grunt of effort from Backlebutt.

A rock careened through the air to smash into the airborne monster, knocking it slightly to the side and stunning it, just like the first one they’d dispatched. It actually managed to keep its feet under itself as it landed, barely, using all of its available limbs and long tail to help balance. This time, however, Milo was on it immediately, bashing repeatedly with the blunt end of his hammer into whatever part of it he could reach. His third swing caught it in the neck, snapping it, and a kill notification appeared in his vision. He blinked it away, searching for more enemies.

He found them immediately, a pair of them just a single hop from his position, as well as another pair that were ignoring him for the moment to focus on Backlebutt. To his dismay, he noticed they’d abandoned their large hops at this point and instead adopted a gait more traditional to the kangaroos Milo was familiar with, making them significantly more grounded and maneuverable. They’re adapting, he realized.

Backlebutt chucked a stone before grabbing another in each hand and backing away from the two skeleroos approaching his position. The stone glanced off his target as it dodged, its effect negligible.

Meanwhile, Milo had his own problems as the pair of roos targeting him hopped forward, spreading out to split his attention to either side. So big. Milo hadn’t fully realized how large kangaroos were until now. He’d heard they could stand as tall as a man, but he’d never really processed that information before. Flustered, he backed away hurriedly, stumbling when his heel caught on a rock and nearly falling on his ass before regaining his balance.

He wanted to turn around and run to gain some more distance, but he knew how far those things could hop. They were playing it safe for the moment, but they could be on him in an instant if he gave them an opportunity.

Lacking any better options, he steeled himself and stopped backpedaling, immediately rushing the one on his right in hopes of catching it off guard.

No such luck.

The skeleroo ducked and leaned to the side, dodging Milo’s hammer swipe. Meanwhile, the one on his left slammed into Milo at thigh level with its powerful hind legs, using its tail to support its weight as it did so. The blow hurt, but it didn’t have the weight behind it that a flesh-and-blood kangaroo’s would have. Nevertheless, it spun Milo slightly to the left and distracted him enough that the one which had just dodged was able to get in a slash with one of its forelimbs.

Milo felt searing pain along the right side of his body as the creature’s sharp claws tore through the skin covering his ribs. Screaming in surprise and pain, he flinched back and away. The one that had kicked him before—well, it kicked him again.

“Ow!” Milo yelled accusatorily. “Cut it—” he paused as he swung his hammer, catching the skeleroo in the foot when it tried for a third kick, “—out!”

Meanwhile, the other kangaroo kicked Milo right in the side where it had previously slashed him. Milo screamed again, turned, and fled down the tunnel. He’d decided he’d had enough abuse for the moment.

Now facing the other direction, he was treated to a view of Backlebutt, darting left and right to avoid attacks from the skeleroos. The stocky man was surprisingly nimble. Still, he was obviously struggling and lacked any feasible method of counterattack.

This isn’t good. Instead of us working together to take them down, they’ve split us up and taken away our greatest strength. Milo was kicking himself, realizing it was probably his fault. If he’d headed off the monsters approaching Backlebutt instead of just focusing on the first two, he’d still have ranged support from his ally.

Gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his side, Milo raced down the tunnel to engage the monsters that were slowly herding Backlebutt back the way he and Milo had come from. He could hear the clackclack of bouncing, bony pursuit behind him, but he was running fast enough that, if the roos stopped to attack, he would suffer at worst a light hit or two before leaving them further behind.

Here we go, Milo thought as he drew near one of the roos hounding Backlebutt. He needed to make this one count. He wouldn’t be able to stop to make the strike, since he would be vulnerable to attack from his own pursuers if he did. He would need to make a precision strike to its spine or head while practically at a dead sprint.

Fortunately, he had just the skill for that. Bringing all his focus to bear, Milo activated Pause for Thought once more. Immediately, he felt as though he were floating. He was currently midstride, right foot having just left the ground, left foot waiting its turn to fall. Whoa. This is amazing.

He couldn’t be distracted, though. This had to be perfect. Come on, Milo. Focus.

Left foot—turned in, striking the ground just—so. Torso—rotated. Right shoulder—pulled back, hammer poised to strike. Left arm, up and balancing. Eyes—locked on target. Execute.

The muscles in Milo’s chest and arm strained as he willed the hammer forward through space. He could see the skeletal kangaroo begin reacting to his presence, breaking its focus on Backlebutt to turn ever so slightly Milo’s direction. It was far too late.

Milo’s hammer smashed into the base of its skull. He was briefly able to see multiple cracks forming at the site of impact, shards of bone chipping free before the entire thing ripped from its spine and took flight down the tunnel.

Yes! Milo shouted internally at his victory. He was pleased to see an expression of surprise forming on Backlebutt’s face and congratulated himself on coming to the man’s rescue in such unexpected and heroic fashion, until he remembered that he was bringing him two more problems to deal with. Not the best trade for the one he’d just taken out. Oh well, he seems like a professional. He can deal with it.

Milo now had to concentrate on navigating the transition from slowed to normal time, which was always pretty tricky. He still had a few more seconds of subjective time, enough to allow him to get his right foot planted before deactivating his skill slightly early.

As ever, the return to normalcy was extremely jarring. He was able to stay upright for about half a second before he overbalanced, toppling forward. Somehow, he’d gotten his weight too far in front of him and his legs couldn’t quite keep up. Milo hit the ground hard, doing his best to turn the fall into a roll and only half succeeding. Ow.

No really, ow. The hard tunnel floor, strewn with rubble, was extremely unforgiving. He immediately felt bruises forming in several places, and he dearly hoped he hadn’t broken anything. He was pretty sure he'd opened up the gash in his side a bit more. At least he hadn’t accidentally tried to use his severed wrist to brace his fall; he might have blacked out from the pain.

There wasn’t any time to sit and nurse his injuries, however. He immediately looked up, surprised the skeleroos hadn’t taken the opportunity to attack him while he was vulnerable on the floor. Fortunately for Milo, they’d decided to take the opportunity to gang up on the unarmed Backlebutt instead.

Backlebutt was having a rough time of it. He’d managed to change his direction and was slowly leading the three creatures toward his ammo pile, but he was taking a lot of hits with three attackers now versus the two he’d had to contend with before.

Groaning, Milo realized he needed to go back into the fray immediately. It was critical that he take the heat off Backlebutt so the man could do what he did best.

Scrambling to his feet, Milo hobbled forward, wincing with every step. His body screamed at him to take a break, but he had to ignore it. There simply wasn’t another option. If they took down Backlebutt, they’d move on to Milo and that would be the end of it. He hadn’t been able to face just two of the monsters; the combined onslaught of three at once would be practically impossible to withstand.

Grimacing, Milo hobbled faster.