Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 77 - Fear the Reaper - Part One

 

Memories flooded Sebet’s mind in an endless loop, overlapping and repeating themselves faster than she could react or process them. Dragging her deeper into a suffocating embrace from which she could not escape.

 

There was nothing wrong with the memories themselves. In fact, many of her most recent memories brought Sebet an unexpected degree of entertainment, and even...comfort...

 

Ignoring the memories imposing themselves on her mind as best she could, Sebet’s thoughts turned to her consort, Clarice.

 

The fiery-tempered Human had initially intended as nothing more than an outlet for her carnal and sadistic impulses. However, the predatory empathy unique to Sebet’s Species had proved to be her undoing.

 

In normal circumstances, a Succubus would leverage what it learned from invasive telepathy and manipulate its prey into surrendering everything up to and including their life. However, the Tyrant’s laws, Oaths, and the Contract that bound her soul had left Sebet in a situation where she could not indulge her instincts outside of specifically dictated circumstances.

 

Full of repressed neurosis, shame, and doubt, Clarice had been comically effortless to read and seduce.

 

The problems began after bedding her.

 

Compelled by instincts deeply rooted in her subconscious, Sebet had come within a hair's breadth of breaking her Contract and ending her own life. The intervention of equally powerful self-preservation instincts had bought Sebet enough time for her rational mind to intervene and seize control.

 

Presenting Sebet figuratively stranded and unsure how to proceed.

 

Sebet knew, on a primal level, that she was supposed to feed on her prey when they were at their most vulnerable. Until that moment, she hadn’t understood why.

 

The same tools that made her kind unparalleled predators also created a weakness.

 

Empathy.

 

If the prey of a Succubus could survive long enough, the same empathy that allowed a Succubus to effortlessly manipulate and disarm its prey would introduce a cascade of increasingly complicated emotional attachments. Made more complicated by the lustful encounters that preceded feeding.

 

To sate her ego, Sebet had almost convinced herself that the flaw was deliberate. Intended as a means to secure a mate and ensure the proliferation of her Species. However, this flimsy rationalisation had collapsed under minimal scrutiny. Succubi did not require consent to secure a mate. Domination proved more than sufficient at securing the necessary Bond and could be established as the Succubi required it.

 

Which left Sebet and Clarice bound to one another by codependency.

 

“Pathetic...” The overlapping memories collapsed into darkness, revealing Gric’s cold calculating eyes. “While you slumbered, the Tyrant was assaulted...” The Daemon’s thoughts radiated a numbingly intense hatred and loathing.

 

“Attacked?...” Regaining her mental bearings was difficult, but she was not so far gone that she couldn’t recognise the danger.

 

“Fatally wounded!” Gric’s eyes burned with emerald flames and Sebet felt a sharp pain building in the core of her being.

 

She could tell that he was not attacking her on purpose, but it didn’t make much difference. A petty rivalry wasn’t worth her life. So, Sebet screamed for all she was worth, giving voice to the pain.

 

The intensity in Gric’s disembodied eyes did not diminish, but the pain receded almost immediately. “Our enemies laid an ambush. Anchors tore us from the Tyrant’s side, preventing us from returning...” His voice wavered and Sebet realised that his anger hadn’t been directed toward her but toward himself. “We failed him...”

 

Memories taken from the Tyrant’s mind played out around her, immersing Sebet in the Tyrant’s desperate battle for survival.

 

Almost immediately, Sebet recognised the presence attacking the Tyrant’s mind. Fragments of the same presence were present within the final streams of consciousness from her other selves.

 

Able to sense the Tyrant’s pain, Sebet quickly concluded that her other selves had most likely been terminated by a similar attack. Caught off guard, it wouldn’t have been difficult to overwhelm their mental defences.

 

As the battle wore on, Sebet became increasingly surprised by the Tyrant’s mental fortitude. In isolation, his choices were subpar at best. However, when accounting for the pain disrupting his thoughts, his decisions were better than Sebet would have otherwise expected.

 

Her opinion changed when it became clear the Tyrant held no intentions of retreating from the battle.

 

“Stupid...” Sebet hissed, chastising the Tyrant as he weathered another glancing blow from the enemy’s claws. “You did everything you could! Just leave! Run! Live to fight another day!”

 

Sebet felt the Tyrant’s resolve and knew he wouldn’t make the smart decision. The CORRECT decision.

 

He knew he couldn’t win, and he remained anyway. Committing himself to die.

 

“WHY?!” Sebet shrieked, raging at the Tyrant’s monumental stupidity. “What good would dying here serve?!”

 

Sebet briefly felt Gric’s thoughts align with her own and was reminded that she was not alone.

 

“Why did he do that?...” Sebet asked despondently. Watching The Tyrant’s inevitable collapse had wearied her to an extent she hadn’t thought possible.

 

“The Tyrant could not leave them...” Gric replied, drawing several instances of the memory into focus, directing Sebet’s attention to the Humans fleeing and cowering in the periphery of the battle.

 

Her anger all but spent, Sebet felt a fresh stab of irritation stoke the embers. However, before she could give voice to her grievances, new memories of past events joined those from the battle.

 

Pale and bloated bodies are left to rot in the sun. A massacred village of Goblins, their small pale bodies left to rot and bloat in the sun. A Goblin child impaled on a spear and pinned to a tree.

 

Humans, men, women, and so many children...haphazardly discarded in the corners of dark and fore-stained rooms. Their pale lifeless faces locked in expressions of pain and terror.

 

A city of shambling corpses. More children...

 

“I’m seeing a pattern...” Sebet commented wryly.

 

Gric gave the impression that he was about to reply but abruptly stopped short of doing so. Distracted, the presence of his mind turned elsewhere.

 

Sensing a mounting feeling of alarm, Sebet attempted to force her beleaguered consciousness back into the waking world.

 

Opening her eyes for what felt like the first time in over a century, Sebet began to rise from the unfamiliar bed but stopped herself upon realising she wasn’t alone.

 

Hair slick with grease and clothes breaking of sweat and fear, Clarice was awkwardly slumped over her midriff with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. Were it not for her arms wrapped around Sebet’s midsection, Clarice probably would have fallen off of the bed.

 

Feeling blood begin to rush to her groyne, Sebet was quite suddenly made aware that the changes she had last made to her body had not been reversed during her incapacitation. Seeing no point in letting the opportunity go to waste, Sebet reached for Clarice’s head with one hand while drawing away the blankets with the other.

 

Less than an inch from touching Clarice’s hair, Sebet froze.

 

Two death notifications had appeared in rapid succession.

 

Before Sebet could process what had happened, five more notifications joined the others.

 

Through force of will, Sebet forced her mind into action.

 

Every one of her Acolytes was protected by extensive Contracts. To die while within Tim’s realm meant their attackers were capable of inflicting injuries that could bypass the Contracts.

 

Casting her mind toward her tower and hastily rereading the notifications, Sebet was shocked to learn that her Acolytes had all been slain by the same individual.

 

Anuk’ra.

 

Not recognising the name, Sebet decided to exercise her limited authority and move her Acolytes to safety.

 

In other circumstances, she would not have been overly concerned for their well-being or general survival. After all, each Acolyte’s death made her ever so slightly stronger. However, there were three key issues.

 

Firstly, Sebet didn’t have so many Acolytes that she could let them die so frivolously. Secondly, she had spent a considerable amount of time grooming several talented individuals and didn’t want to see that investment expended for no discernable benefit. Lastly, but most importantly, the Tyrant would not be pleased to learn she had allowed so many of her subordinates to die.

 

Sebet didn’t have permission to move her Human Acolytes to Sanctuary. So she settled for depositing them in a Human city instead. Intending to interrogate them in person, Sebet released a stressed sigh and shook Clarice awake.

 

“B’wah?” Lips and chin slick with drool, Clarice blinked tiredly while staring blankly at the far wall. Pawing away the drool with her wrist and forearm, a host of complicated emotions raged behind her eyes.

 

As a Human, Clarice couldn’t see in the dark. However, her prey instincts had set her on edge. Alerting her that she was being observed and causing her to look toward the faint traces of light filtering under the door at the far side of the room.

 

Unable to help herself, Sebet silently extended her already elongated tongue and lashed it across Clarice’s cheek, aiming at the lingering traces of drool.

 

True to form, Clarice let out a shriek and swung a vicious backhanded blow through the air beside her face as she scrambled back from the bed. Just as quickly as she had retreated, Clarice leapt forward again, advancing on her unseen enemy.

 

Incidentally, causing her to stumble over Sebet’s bed and land in a deliciously compromising and accommodating position.

 

Before Sebet could act on her lustful intentions, Gric made his presence known in her mind.

 

<We are being invaded!> Gric announced grimly, sharing a disturbingly vivid memory of several large chitinous warriors bearing down on him from the remains of what had once been Sebet’s tower. <Are you fit for battle?>

 

<Of course.> Sebet replied hurriedly, silencing Clarice’s cries of alarm by fiercely pressing her lips over Clarice’s mouth and forcing her tongue down her throat.

 

<Arm yourself. Join us in Acheron.> Gric stated bluntly and then severed the connection.

 

Drawing Clarice closer, Sebet squeezed the fiery redhead’s tight muscled buttocks with a clawed hand. Taking care to pierce the skin just enough to generate the pain her consort desired without going so far as to cause a meaningful injury.

 

With a force of will, Sebet drew herself away. Gazing at Clarice’s flushed face and dazed expression, she felt an immense degree of satisfaction. Her consort was not a particularly difficult individual to seduce, but there was a measure of pride to be found in a job knowing she had her in the palm of her hand.

 

“I will be back later,” Sebet purred, raising her consort’s chin affectionately with a clawed finger and forcing her to meet her gaze. “Be ready for my return...” Before Clarice had the chance to react, Sebet used her limited authority to relocate to Acheron.

 

Debating whether the increased testosterone would be a boon, Sebet ignored the stares of the Tyrant’s Bodyguards and began donning her stone armour. It wouldn’t provide the same degree of protection it afforded while in her Human form, but its near indestructible composition would provide an invaluable benefit all the same.

 

While Sebet was occupied donning her armour, Several of the most prominent Daemons, as well as the Tyrant’s champions, appeared on the surrounding plains.

 

If she had not experienced the Tyrant’s desperate battle for herself, Sebet would have been tempted to think Gric was overestimating their enemies' capabilities. As it was, she wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that she felt a certain degree of relief as the massive scaled form of a dragon blocked out the sun and cast them all in shadow.

 

Another one of the Tyrant’s ‘rescues’, the dragon, Ushu, was truly massive. Close to two hundred feet long from snout to tail and thirty feet tall at the shoulder, his pale green and blue scales shimmered with a sickly venomous iridescence as they caught the light. Born aloft by huge leathery wings, not all that different from her own, the beating of Ushu’s wings was strong enough to force the few Humans in attendance to huddle together or risk being blown off their feet.

 

It was just as well they had taken the precaution.

 

Making his landing, Ushu’s immense weight and intense speed caused the ground to shake treacherously underfoot. This caused several of the Tyrant’s Bodyguards to lose their balance and fall to the ground.

 

For their part, the Daemons were radiating an intense aura of violent anticipation. Each a unique abomination unto themselves, Sebet was unsettled to learn that she was unfamiliar with the majority's capabilities.

 

She was aware of Gric, Qreet, Dar and Senn, as the key players amongst the Tyrant’s menagerie of Daemons. Each of them playing a key combat or administrative role within the realm.

 

Almost as large as the dragon, Dar was a mountain of muscle, bony protrusions and heavily scaled flesh.

 

Although small in comparison to Dar, Senn’s serpentine lower body afforded her a considerable degree of height as she required it. Allowing the four-armed Daemon to strike at a deceptively greater distance than an enemy would otherwise anticipate. Bearing two blood-forged stone spears and a pair of blood-forged wave-bladed swords, Senn was one of the few Daemons equipped with manufactured weaponry.

 

The overwhelming majority of the Daemons wore no armour and carried no weapons, seemingly trusting in their claws, teeth and unnaturally resilient hides to carry them through the battle.

 

Even Qreet, a spindly-limbed female Daemon with a deep amethyst hide, seemed content to go to war in nothing more than a dark tattered robe and a magical staff.

 

Of course, Gric was a notable exception. Wearing the blood-forged stone armour created by the Tyrant, Gric had retracted his wings into his body, no doubt to eliminate a potential weakness.

 

The sudden arrival of the Fallen Angel, Ophelia, brought a momentary lull to the anxious murmuring of the Tyrant’s mortal servants. Even the Orcs, who had no history of worshipping the Angels, fell silent and looked upon her radiant aura with awe.

 

Presented to the Humans as an avatar of war, Ophelia had grown incredibly powerful feeding on the Humans' worship and faith. Every article of clothing, her armour, and weapons were low-level relics. Sanctified by repeated exposure to raw Divinity and given purpose by her Divine Portfolio. Were she not one of the Fallen, and a fellow servant of the Tyrant, Ophelia’s presence would have given Sebet considerable cause for alarm.

 

The pair of Fallen Angels had been reinvesting almost all of their accumulated Divinity into cultivating the Humans' religious fervour. However, even without the relics, Ophelia was incredibly dangerous. A true masochist, the Fallen Angel revelled in her own pain and drew strength from it, making her a greater threat as any engagement dragged on.

 

Which was thankfully more than could be said for her progenitor, Orphiel. Little more than a foppish minstrel, it was a wonder he had agreed to join the battle at all. When the fighting started, Sebet wouldn’t be at all surprised if he were to flee at the first sign of danger.

 

At Gric’s telepathic command, the gathered forces of the Tyrant spread across the open field. Each group or powerful individual claiming a section of ground as their own.

 

Gric’s plan at its core was simple. He intended to use his limited authority to draw invaders from Tartarus in small numbers and position them for execution within Acheron. All the while providing support through the same authority.

 

Sebet couldn’t fault the plan at face value, but the plan would fall apart if the both of them were somehow compromised. So it came as no surprise when Gric strongly advised her to stay out of the battle and remain an observer.

 

<Casting out the telepath may not be possible.> Gric admitted through a private connection. <If something goes awry. It is your responsibility to initiate a retreat. Keep your mind closed and remain hidden if you are able.>

 

<If I am able?...> Sebet resisted the urge to make a snide remark, recognising that Gric had not commented to agitate her. Despite the confidence he had projected to the others, Sebet could sense the profound unease warring beneath his calm exterior.

 

They were taking a risk in engaging the enemy. A risk that was arguably unnecessary.

 

Tartarus was a single territory and was isolated from the rest of the realm. There was nothing the invaders could do beyond vandalising the place and fighting amongst the other invaders imprisoned beneath the tower.

 

Assuming they didn’t have a Labyrinth Lord of their own...

 

If they did, then it changed everything.

 

Without the Tyrant to answer a challenge against his rival, Tartarus would be taken from the greater realm, and worse still, there would be no telling where the new portal to the world beyond would establish itself.

 

The risk of the primary cluster of territories being chosen was incredibly high. Which would leave the Tyrant himself at incredible risk, and with him, the entire realm.

 

<I’ll do it.> Sebet agreed determinedly and began raising her mental defences to their highest levels. Cut off from Gric’s telepathy, she felt a momentary sense of grim approval before his mind turned elsewhere.

 

While Sebet rarely indulged in outright reading the minds of those around her, cutting herself off from the most freely available emotional impulses of the crowd left her feeling unexpectedly ill. As if for the first time in her life, she was experiencing true sobriety. Worse even, her skin began to itch and she very nearly began lowering her defences without realising she was doing it.

 

Sequestering herself alongside the trio of Humans, Sebet gnawed anxiously at her lower lip, distracting herself with the taste of blood and pangs of pain the injury provided.

 

Although they were the weakest individuals of the assembled force, the Humans had an advantage the others lacked. They had access to the Tyrant’s Artefacts.

 

Only time would tell if the Artefacts would level the playing field sufficiently for the Humans to pose a viable threat. However, at least for the time being, it made sense to allow them the opportunity to prove themselves.

 

A discordant wail echoed over the plains, drawing all eyes to Orphiel and his bizarre lute. Plucking his fingers at the strings with one hand while holding the neck of the instrument with the other, ghostly apparitions appeared at his back, striking a rhythmic beat on ephemeral drums.

 

The surprisingly upbeat and simple tune took Sebet by surprise.

 

Increasing in intensity, Oprhiel began striking at the cords in earnest. “This is your time to pay! This is your judgement day!”

 

Sebet felt a rush of power wash over her and reinforce her will.

 

“We made a sacrifice! And now we get to take your life!” Synchronising with the lyrics of Orphiel’s strange song, a hulking chitinous monster appeared in front of the Humans.

 

Already in motion, the three Humans struck at the gaps in the chitin between its knees and ankles, driving it to the ground.

 

One of the males, carrying a vicious-looking mace, continued striking at the fallen creature’s knee, mangling the chitin and crippling its leg with Thundering Strikes.

 

Carrying the Tyrant’s spear, the second male stabbed deep into the left side of the chest of the creature in pursuit of its heart while the female levelled her bow at its head and released several arrows in rapid succession.

 

Despite their ferocity, the Humans failed to subdue the chitin-plated creature and were forced to fall back several steps to avoid being struck in turn.

 

However, before the creature could regain its footing, thick gnarled vines covered in poisonous thorns erupted from the ground and seized its arms and legs, momentarily stalling its movement.

 

Leaping back into the fray, the Humans redoubled their efforts, hacking and bashing at the creature with savage abandon.

 

A clean strike from the spearman severed the creature’s head but failed to kill it outright.

 

All around, others were having similar problems dispatching their opponents.

 

No matter how savagely they were beaten, skewered and torn apart, the creatures would continue to fight on and gradually piece themselves back together.

 

Only Dar and Ushu appeared capable of generating sufficiently catastrophic damage to end the creatures outright and prevent their regeneration.

 

So, it came as little surprise to Sebet when Gric appeared to change strategies. Using his authority, Gric began redirecting injured creatures to Ushu and Dar, all the while continuing to feed new arrivals to their other forces.

 

Invigorated by Orphiel’s performance, the battle continued at a feverish pace.

 

With no telling if or when a rival Lord would arrive, Gric was wasting no time in assigning each available group a new opponent.

 

As MP began to grow thin, the Humans became increasingly vicious, targeting areas and organs they believed would inflict the most pain and debilitation rather than the greatest amount of damage.

 

Others had begun doing the same.

 

The Tyrant’s bodyguards, fighting three or four-on-one, had taken to tackling and pinning the creatures while another member of their group amputated the creatures’ limbs.

 

Surprisingly, Ophelia had yet to enter the fray, and Sebet could only assume that Gric was holding her in reserve.

 

Watching the Humans ready themselves for their next opponent, Sebet felt a faint but unmistakable premonition of approaching danger.

 

“Fall back!” Sebet snarled, exercising her authority just in time to draw herself and the three Humans back several dozen feet.

 

Less than a second later, another creature appeared where they had just been standing. Otherwise identical to those that had come before, there was something profoundly unsettling about the creature that gave Sebet pause.

 

A fraction of a second later, Sebet felt something attempt to gain access to her mind. If she hadn’t already been prepared for it, they might have gained a foothold before she could react. However, as a pulse of mana emanated from the newly arrived creature, Sebet realised that she had made a mistake.

 

Before Sebet could so much as cry out in alarm, the creature released a pulse of mana and was immediately surrounded by hundreds of its kin.

 

With her blade drawn, Ophelia raced through the sky and down toward the anomalous creature.

 

Dozens of new arrivals appeared in her path but disappeared almost as quickly, banished from the territory by Gric’s authority.

 

Uncertain why Gric allowed the creature to remain, Sebet attempted to remove it from the realm herself.

 

[ Authority is insufficient for this request. ]

 

Reading the notification that appeared before her eyes, Sebet felt a fleeting pang of fear before managing to return to her senses.

 

Shifting priorities, Sebet began banishing as many of the creatures as she was able.

 

Working in tandem with Gric, they managed to banish all of the other creatures from Acheron. New arrivals and no doubt several returnees, continued to appear but were banished just as quickly as they arrived. Giving Ophelia a clear approach.

 

Sweeping her sword toward the creature’s neck, Ophelia was thrown to the side as a large obsidian blade appeared in the creature's hand, clashed against hers, and cast her aside.

 

Trask, one of the Tyrant’s most recent recruits, bellowed a warcry and charged. Only to collapse mid-stride several large steps later.

 

The three humans collapsed limply to the ground, limbs spasming and twitching in the grips of a seizure.

 

Orphiel’s music stopped and he toppled from the sky.

 

Ushu shrieked and howled in rage, lashing at the ground with his tail and smashing his head into the earth.

 

The Tyrant’s bodyguards dropped their weapons, falling to their knees and crying out in pain as they clutched at their blood-forged helmets.

 

The Daemons charged, but not toward the creature. Surrounding Gric with a wall of fangs, claws, flesh and bone.

 

Recognising the danger they were in, Sebet used her authority to begin evacuating their forces, delivering them straight to Sanctuary’s hospital.

 

The instant Sebet exercised her authority, the creature turned on her and she felt an ancient presence attempting to force itself into her mind.

 

Staggered under the weight of the mental attack, Sebet barely managed to leap into the air in time to avoid the strike from a second creature that had appeared behind her.

 

Easily three times the size of the other creature, the new creature carried a glaive that had to be close to a hundred feet long. The blade was so impossibly large that it would have crushed and dashed her apart.

 

Furiously beating her wings for all she was worth, Sebet narrowly dodged a pair of giant daggers that the creature cast after her. However, even though she dodged the attacks themselves, the change in pressure caused by their passing dragged Sebet off her intended course and sent jolts of pain radiating from her left wing.

 

Banishing the larger creature before it could continue its attack, Sebet gathered her MP and threw a lance of fire at the remaining creature. Expecting the attack to fail, Sebet descended in its wake as fast as she was able, gathering more MP.

 

Blocking the lance of fire with an open hand, the creature caught Sebet by the neck with the same hand.

 

“Now you die...” The creature said dismissively, clattering and licking its disgusting myriad of tiny feeding arms around its mouth. Increasing the pressure, its chitin-covered hand effortlessly crushed her windpipe and spine.

 

Sebet gurgled in triumph and cast her Spell. Almost immediately, she felt a sudden surge of rejuvenating energy flood into her body.

 

The creature’s grip weakened and its arm began to wither.

 

“Jokes on you!” Sebet cackled wickedly, “I’m into this shit!” Snatching at the creature’s weakened wrist to brace herself, Sebet lashed out with the talons on her right foot and anchored them into the crack between several plates that protected the creature’s jugular. Locking her toes, Sebet sent another pulse of the Life Drain Spell out through her foot.

 

No doubt recognising the danger it was in, the creature flailed and battered her with its three remaining arms. However, its claws failed to find purchase on Sebet’s armour and lacked a viable angle to reliably strike at the gaps her armour couldn’t cover in her true form.

 

“Grlkgka!” The creature gurgled hatefully, clearly enraged by how Sebet had managed to turn the tables.

 

“RAAAAAGH!!!” Dar’s deafening roar was the first and final warning of his approach. However, instead of tackling the creature, Dar leapt over them both and crashed into something behind them.

 

Glancing over her shoulder, Sebet was surprised to find that the giant creature had already returned.

 

Tackling the giant creature to the ground, Dar ripped and tore at its desperately flailing limbs with savage and single-minded abandon.

 

When a second giant creature appeared on his flank, Dar ignored it and buried his horned head in the first creature’s bowels. Drawing out the creature’s digestive tract and other internal organs in a spray of gore the second creature impaled Dar’s flank with a long thin sword.

 

Witnessing several more of the giant creatures appearing around her and the other Daemons, Sebet knew she had to act fast.

 

Drawing on as much MP as he could spare, Sebet amplified her Spell tenfold.

 

Already desperate, the creature’s attacks became increasingly frantic. However, they lacked the strength to do any meaningful damage.

 

Just as Dar had done before her, Senn bodily tackled another giant creature that was rapidly closing on Sebet. Coiling about its body, she pinned three of its arms and savagely assaulted its armoured face.

 

Massive vines covered in hooked thorns intercepted three others and drew them into a yawning pit.

 

A barrage of elemental missiles drove back another.

 

With the tides turning in their favour, Sebet expected Gric to join the fray at any moment and help her deliver the killing blow.

 

Several tense moments passed and Sebet’s MP began to run dry.

 

Looking toward the cluster of Daemons, Sebet was shocked to find Gric hanging onto Qreet and another female Daemon’s shoulder for support. Still under the effects of the Enhanced Senses Spell, Sebet could see trails of blood running from beneath his helmet and even make out his laboured breathing.

 

Staggering, Ophelia regained her feet and cast aside her battered and misshapen helmet. Blood was running freely down her cheeks like amber tears and her eyes were lacking focus. Struggling to put one foot in front of the other, she grit her teeth in grim determination and raised her sword.

 

Weakened by the life force Sebet had stolen, the creature collapsed to its knees.

 

Almost entirely out of mana, Sebet took the opportunity to disengage, rolling off to the side and drawing her whip in one fluid motion.

 

Just as Sebet leapt clear, Ophelia drove the tip of her sword through the gap in the armoured plates protecting the creature’s eyes and into whatever lay beyond. Seemingly lacking the strength to penetrate the chitin on the other side, Ophelia’s strike came to an abrupt halt.

 

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, without warning, amber flames erupted along the length of Ophelia’s blade.

 

The creature shuddered and the same amber flames erupted through the gaps in the chitin covering its body.

 

As the chitin and flesh burned away, Sebet expected to find a kill notification. However, no such message came.

 

Making matters worse, more of the creatures were appearing with every passing moment.

 

All but certain the creature was dead, Sebet could only assume that whatever Spell or Ability it had used would continue to run its course until the MP used to create it ran dry. Furthermore, given that she and the others were in no fit state to continue fighting against such overwhelming numbers, Sebet decided that they had to retreat, regroup and form a new strategy.

 

Exercising her authority to take them all back to Sanctuary, Sebet could only take Gric’s lack of resistance as tacit approval. Which meant he was almost certainly in a far more critical condition than she had realised.

 

***** Tim ~ ????? ~ ????? *****

 

It was a typical Spring day in the Adelaide suburbs. Parents were helping their children cross the street on the way to school. Men and women were lining up at the bus station or getting into their cars to head off to work. And all of them were staring suspiciously at me while I was doing my best to pretend that I didn’t notice.

 

Head and shoulders taller than the other men waiting at the bus stop, and nearly twice as wide, I stood out like a sore thumb. By every modern aesthetic, barring height and facial symmetry, I was the poster child for ugly.

 

Entirely bald from the crown of my skull to the bottom of my feet, or Alopecia Totalis, I was wearing a large Bunnings straw sunhat and a pair of dark-tinted swimming goggles to avoid getting sunburnt in forty-degree heat. Of course, this only served to draw even more attention to myself, but it was a necessity I couldn’t go without if I wanted to be able to read anything once I arrived at university.

 

I would have preferred to wear sunglasses, but the irregular shape of my ears and the wideness of my face would have required them to be custom-made. While not exactly poor, I didn’t have so much money that I could frivolously waste it on what essentially boiled down to a matter of aesthetic preference.

 

It wasn’t like those two things would change much of anything anyway. The diagnosed cause of my Alopecia was minor nerve damage that encompassed nearly my entire body. While making me somewhat more resistant to pain, my abnormally thick skin also made me more resistant to abrasions and similar trauma. The combination of the two left my skin a pale and unnatural greenish-grey.

 

I was a monster waiting at a bus stop in the South Australian suburbs. It would have been weird if I didn’t draw attention.

 

When my bus arrived, I moved down to the disabled access point halfway down the length of the bus and waited for the driver to open the doors. While I technically could squeeze through the main door and past the driver, it would be an uncomfortable experience for both of us.

 

When the doors opened, I pretended not to notice as the bus lurched slightly to one side in reaction to my weight. Waving my MetroCard past the card reading machine, I shuffled to the opposite side of the bus and stood in the space normally reserved for wheelchairs or mobility scooters. Again, while I could technically fit in a regular seat, getting out of it on time was another thing entirely.

 

Once the bus driver had finished adjusting the hydraulics to compensate for my weight, and the remaining passengers had boarded, the bus slowly moved on to continue its route.

 

Removing the earbuds from my pocket, I pushed them into my ears and pressed the play icon displayed on the app on my phone.

 

Listening to music was a necessary distraction and made the half-hour bus ride tolerable.

 

Staring listlessly out the window, I felt a fleeting sense of deja vu. However, given that I made this trip a dozen or more times in any given week, I paid it little mind.

 

After getting off the bus at my intended stop, I walked through the park beside the hospital parking lot so I could loop around to the university buildings located nearby. The hospital was a teaching hospital affiliated with the university, so it was common for medical students and teachers to cross through the large parking lot.

 

I was at the point in my nursing degree that I would begin making similar trips of my own to acquire my required job placement hours. Of course, that was assuming my application was accepted.

 

One of the downsides of the university being so close to the teaching hospital was that it made securing the job placement hours incredibly competitive and often meant that the supervisors were short-tempered regarding student error.

 

I had applied to several accredited nursing homes and hospices that I could reach by bus or train, so I wasn’t particularly worried. According to my teachers, no one had ever failed the job placement requirements component of their degree because of a lack of available opportunities. Those who failed, presumably, lacked the initiative to cast a wider net.

 

I was hoping to secure a placement at a hospice I was already familiar with. It was the same long-term care facility that had provided care for my Mum before she passed away. The staff had been nothing but kind to my Mum despite their busy schedules. So, lacking any other meaningful direction in my life, I decided to honour my Mum’s memory by training to become a nurse for a hospice or other long-term care facility.

 

Most of the jobs I was aiming for required a relatively high degree of physical strength and fitness in addition to general knowledge of medical practices and procedures. The former I already possessed in spades, and the latter was why I was attending university.

 

I stopped briefly as I reached a park bench close to the edge of my route. It was occupied by a grizzled old man sleeping beneath a crude tent formed by a filthy blanket hung over the back of the bench and the end of the seat. Out of habit, I withdrew a plastic-wrapped cheese and butter sandwich from my satchel bag and set it down on a free space on the bench.

 

I had never spoken to him before, but the old man was always there, sleeping on the bench when I was on my way to university.

 

No more scruffy than any of the other homeless people I had encountered, he was the exception in that I had no negative experiences with him whatsoever. Our entire relationship began and ended with me leaving sandwiches on the bench.

 

Getting up to leave, the rustling of plastic wrap drew my attention back to the old man.

 

He had pushed away the blanket and was now sitting on the bench instead of lying on top of it. Visibly haggard and with a great deal of overgrown hair, it was hard to guess at his age. His wild hair, stained Metallica T-shirt and torn faded jeans made him sort of look like one of the stagehands for a rock band. Or rather, what I thought they might look like since I had never seen anyone like that in person.

 

The old man was already halfway through the sandwich, happily chewing away with crumbs in his bushy moustache and beard.

 

Feeling quite awkward, I turned to leave again.

 

“Shouldn’t be here,” the old man grumbled and muttered under his breath.

 

“What?” I asked, looking back at the man only to find he appeared to be talking to himself and not to me.

 

Crossing the street, I momentarily removed my sun hat so I could remove my tinted swimming goggles. I had a poor enough reputation on campus as it was, and I had no desire to worsen it further.

 

I was just about to ascend the steps to the main building but paused and looked around when I heard the voice of one of my professors nearby.

 

“Damnable contraption! Wheels are meant to make it easier! Not more difficult!” Professor Anders cursed.

 

Skirting around the hedge and approaching the wheelchair access ramp, I found Professor Anders fussing with the wheel locks of a large road case.

 

The elderly Professor's expression brightened as he noticed my approach and apparent interest. “Ah, Tim, be a good man and help me with this would you?” Professor Anders asked cheerily, in stark contrast to his earlier frustration.

 

“Sure,” I shrugged and knelt beside the road case, checking each wheel lock to see what might be the problem. One of the wheel locks was broken and wasn’t releasing its brake, causing the wheel to drag and spin the rest of the case. “The lock’s busted,” I explained, pointing to the offending wheel lock, “I could just carry it for you if you want. I think my first lecture today is one of yours anyway.”

 

Professor Anders beamed with gratitude, “While I do not wish to impose, I must accept your offer for the sake of prudence. Ms Gilligan requires the contents for today’s Senior First Aid classes.”

 

Taking hold of the spring-loaded handles on either side, I lifted the case without much trouble and very little effort.

 

Because I had taken the classes before, I already knew which rooms had been set aside for Ms Gilligan’s classes.

 

Technically not a member of the teaching staff of the university, Ms Gilligan’s Basic First Aid and Senior First Aid classes were not restricted to students of the university. It was something of a subcontracting situation from the business side of things. Frequented by students, members of the public and most often the employees of local businesses that required renewal of their certifications.

 

All the same, Professor Anders made a point of remaining slightly ahead of me. The three feet of difference in our respective body height drew more attention than usual. However, a well-timed scowl from the Professor had the unerring effect of convincing other students that they had better things to do.

 

“Thank you for the help Tim,” Professor Anders said quietly, “If you would just leave it by the door, that would be quite enough. Thank you. You really shouldn’t be here after all.”

 

I nodded and set the crate down by the door.

 

Professor Anders began making his way over to Ms Gilligan with a big goofy smile on his face. It was the worst-kept secret on campus that they had been ‘not dating’ for the better part of a year. Since it was none of my business, I began making my way toward Lecture Hall C for my first lecture of the day.

 

Unlike some of the other students attending the lecture, I wasn’t surprised when Professor Anders was a little late.

 

When I first started attending university, I had tried on previous occasions to sit in the back row so I wouldn’t stand out as much. Unfortunately, my odd appearance drew the attention of lecturers and teaching aides like moths to a flame. It was incredibly rare for me to attend a lecture and not be called on to answer a question or provide an opinion on the subject material of the lecture.

 

I hated it.

 

What made it worse was when most of the students in the lecture hall turned to look back at me while I gave my response. I wasn’t able to just watch the lectures online either. Because my presence was so painfully obvious that it made my absences impossible to overlook.

 

Technically, I could tell my tutors and professors to ‘shove off’, but the medical field was such a close-knit profession that a recommendation letter from my Professors could affect my entire career.

 

My only option was to suck it up and minimise my anxiety by sitting in the far side of the front row. At least there I would only be able to see a few people staring at me instead of everyone.

 

I spent the time between my scheduled lectures and classes sitting in a private study space in the library.

 

Rather than just goofing off or wasting time, I divided my time between practising sign language with the help of a mirror and reviewing basic medical procedures I expected to be commonplace in palliative care.

 

Leaving university in the early evening, the old man was nowhere to be seen as I made my way to the bus stop to head home.

 

The clouds gathering in the early evening sky suggested that it would be raining by the time I reached the bus stop, so I took out the compact umbrella from my satchel bag and waited for the first drops to fall. The weather was always weird around this time of year and I had just grown to accept it.

 

The bus ride home was proving more or less uneventful. However, I was halfway home before I realised someone seemed to be following me.

 

Without stopping, I glanced over my shoulder and found a young woman with dark brown hair, wearing a business jacket and skirt making an effort to deliberately match my pace down the wet sidewalk. She had an umbrella of her own, so I didn’t understand why she was sticking so close to me.

 

It was only after she made a sudden left turn and made a dash to the front door of a nearby house that I vaguely recalled having seen her on the bus several times before. I also now had an unobstructed view of two rough-looking men who had suddenly pulled up short halfway down the street.

 

Both were wearing baseball caps and dark raincoats, so I couldn’t make out either of their features. All the same, there was something about them that unsettled me.

 

By the way, they both abruptly turned around and double-timed it down the street, I could only assume that they had a similar feeling about me.

 

I noticed the woman peeking through her curtains and gave her a shy wave as I prepared to continue down the street.

 

She pulled the curtains shut before I even managed to raise my hand.

 

Finishing my walk home, I dried out my umbrella and set aside my things before making dinner. I listened to music to fill the silence of the empty house while I ate alone at the dinner table and while washing the dishes in the sink.

 

Going to bed early, I checked and rechecked that my alarms were set to the correct time and then fell asleep.

 

Waiting at the bus stop in the morning, I saw the woman in the business suit again but decided against trying to talk to her. There were just too many ways for it to go wrong.

 

After getting off the bus, I left a fritz and cheese sandwich for the old man on the bench and turned to leave.

 

“Hey,” a gruff voice grunted from the direction of the bench, “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

 

I turned back to the bench and found the old man staring at me while he unwrapped the sandwich I had left for him,

 

“Yeah you,” the old man confirmed before taking a bite of the sandwich.

 

“Sorry, but I don’t keep any money on me,” I apologised, expecting the old man to ask for a handout. I hadn’t carried cash since I was seven years old, buying books from a local library’s book sale.

 

The old man waved his hand dismissively, “You can keep yer plastic,” he grunted, “Though I wouldn’t say no to another sandwich,” he suggested hopefully.

 

I considered the sandwich inside my bag and then my pudgy stomach. “Fine,” I agreed, reasoning that missing a meal wouldn’t kill me. I fished out the other sandwich and handed it to the old man.

 

The old man grinned as he chewed on a bite from the first sandwich and gratefully accepted the second sandwich with a surprisingly clean and well-manicured hand. “Yer a good kid, you know that? But you shouldn’t be here.”

 

I shrugged noncommittally, “Sorry, but I have classes to get to, so...” I began to turn away. The old man made no further attempts to stop me, so I continued on my way.

 

The woman followed me on the way home from the bus stop again, maintaining a fixed distance between us until we reached her house. Just like last time, she didn’t say a word.

 

The next couple of days passed in much the same way. I had made the habit of packing an extra sandwich for the old man because the dip in energy had made it difficult to concentrate during longer classes.

 

The old man ended our brief conversations in the same way each time. Insisting that I shouldn’t be there.

 

Taking it as a sign that perhaps he considered the bench to be his property and didn’t want me trespassing, I took it as a sign to keep our interactions brief.

 

During a less-than-engaging lecture, I couldn't help but think back on what had happened earlier that week. I considered calling the police about the two men but talked myself out of it after deciding the woman must have done so already. Besides not being any of my business, I didn’t know what was going on. For all I knew, she might owe them money and was pretending I was her bodyguard or something.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time someone used me like that either. The handful of people I had thought were my friends in high school had been the same way. They had taken every opportunity to make me out to be a brute on their leash who would do whatever they wanted. By the time I realised what they had done, it was too late.

 

Half of the school had already believed I was a brutish psychopath just because of how I looked, so it didn’t take much ‘convincing’ for everyone else to believe the same.

 

I was a tool, something to be used and then discarded once I was no longer of value. That was the hard lesson I had learned from the experience. I was better off keeping myself to myself. All the same, it was difficult to fight my better nature.

 

Despite everything, I still wanted to help people. I had convinced myself for a long time that it was because I was a good person and that is what a good person would want to do. However, as I grew older it became more difficult to continue lying to myself. I didn’t help people because I thought it would make them like me, I helped them so they would leave me alone.

 

It was far better to be known as the ugly helpful idiot than... an ogre...

 

“Donkey!” Someone called out in a poor excuse for a Scottish accent.

 

Without looking, I could already tell that it was one of the teenage boys lurking in the back of the bus. So I did my best to ignore them.

 

“I said, Don-keh!” The boy repeated more insistently before snickering along with his friends.

 

“Fucking Shrek...” I muttered bitterly while increasing the volume on my phone and absently staring out the bus window. All the while doing my best to ignore my distorted reflection.

 

Ever since the first movie had come out everyone thought they would be the first to make the joke at the expense of my unfortunate appearance. The first few hundred times I had just tried to ignore it. However, when some people realised it bothered me, they would make a point of mentioning it where they knew I would hear it.

 

“You don’t belong here, you ugly piece of shit!” The pimpliest teen snickered, his voice cracking from fear as I glanced in his direction.

 

When it became obvious that I wasn’t going to attack them or retaliate in any way, the taunting continued and only grew worse. To stop myself from dying from second-hand cringe, I decided to get off the bus.

 

Turning the volume of my music back down again, I noticed that my neighbour from down the street had gotten off the bus as well.

 

She was doing her best to look busy on her phone, going through the motions of sending a text or browsing the internet.

 

Already irritable from having to put up with the dickheads on the bus, I wasn’t in the mood for playing at being her unwitting bodyguard. Instead of continuing along the bus route, I began heading for the nearby beach instead.

 

As I expected, my neighbour began to follow me, most likely thinking I was just taking a more straightforward route than the winding path the bus would usually take. However, even when it became obvious that I wasn’t heading home, she continued to follow me out onto the beach.

 

The sky was overcast and the clouds were only growing darker with each passing minute. Strong winds coming in from offshore were driving waves up and over the jagged rocks.

 

Unlike most of the beaches shown on postcards, this beach had a harsh transition between the bare rocks creeping out from the ocean and the dunes littered with sparse vegetation.

 

I had visited this beach all the time with my Mum before she became ill, and it was where I sought refuge from the world whenever I needed to think.

 

Walking down the dunes, I began heading for my favourite spot amongst the rocks.

 

Spotting what looked like a small child lying face down in the shallows. I threw aside my bag and ran toward the water.

 

It was my favourite beach, but it held considerable local notoriety for claiming the lives of unwary tourists.

 

Adrenaline pumping through my veins and blood pounding in my ears, I charged into the surf and toward the child.

 

Deathly pale and clothes tattered by the rocks, the small girl looked close to eleven years old. The disturbance caused by the waves caused her dark inky black hair to splay outward and conceal her face. But I could see several trails of blood in the water and couldn’t help but fear the worst.

 

Reaching into the water, I drew the small girl up into my arms as gently as I could manage and began charging back toward the shore.

 

“HEY!” The sudden screech caught me unprepared and I very nearly pitched face-first into the surf.

 

Looking toward the source of the noise, I reflexively dropped the small girl into the water before my conscious mind was able to process what had happened.

 

Feeling a second wave of panic overtake the first, I began fumbling through the agitated surf for the little girl.

 

“Do you have a habit of just grabbing people!” An indignant voice squeaked, drawing my attention to my left and the small pale-skinned girl treading water slightly out beyond my reach. “Uh uh, you keep your hands to yourself!” She warned and curled back her lips to reveal a mouthful of needle-like teeth behind the pitch-black hair plastering her face.

 

“I...I thought you were drowning...” I muttered defensively while backing away and raising my hands to try and show I meant no harm.

 

“Ironic,” the girl snickered, cocking her head to one side and staring at me intensely from behind her hair. “Because you know, you really shouldn’t be here, Tim.”