Skyborne Raider

Unsheathing our weapons and ignoring the trapdoor above us, we scan the tunnel for the turtles.

“There, on the ceiling. There’s one,” I point my finger at the blob with a squishy resting hear.

“Astrid, can you aim for its head?”

She nods and carefully takes aim. In the poorly lit area, she misses the small target. The arrow bounces off its shell and falls to the ground with a skitter.

“We need more light!” Mike decides, rushing to fully open the door. I join him, and together we push the heavy stone slab door wide open, letting in as much light as possible.

We quickly return back past the flame, close to Astrid.

“This will do!” We nod at each other as a large portion of the cave is now well illuminated.

Meanwhile, Astrid fires another shot. This time, the arrow pierces the creature's neck and gets stuck. A health bar appears above its head, already half depleted.

“Great, at least you woke it up,” says Mike, moving toward the spider turtle, unsheathing his sabre.

Eyes and legs pop out, and the creature quickly advances across the cave dome ceiling toward us.

*Slash and chomp*

I hear the clunk of metal striking the shell, followed by an unsettling cutting noise and a weird gurgling sound.

Mike buries his blade into the turtle’s neck, making a deep cut halfway through.

The turtle quickly retreats, its head dangling by a thread of flesh, blood spilling everywhere, mostly dripping from the ceiling as it maneuvers in circles.

The creature struggles to breathe, blood filling its windpipe, causing it to gurgle. The health bar drains slowly.

Terrifying sound to hear as it echoes through the cave.

“Leave it, Mike. Let's move forward. It’ll eventually die from hemorrhage,” I suggest.

*Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.*

Five more health bars appear in the dark area. Of course, they don't illuminate the environment, but the strong light from the cave door and the spider’s glowing eyes do at least a bit.

“Nice! They see us and hide thinking we don't see them, but the system makes them visible. What a stupid flaw. Stealthy foes are basically useless. Haha!” shouts Mike and turns back to our archer.

“Astrid, this fight isn’t for your bow. Stay behind us, be an extra pair of eyes, and finish off the ones we immobilize.”

I quickly move to keep up with Mike. Repeating my tactic from before, but now with better illumination. The turtles seem to switch to their faster phase after losing half their health. I smack the one I can reach to, in the middle of the shell with my hammer.

*Loud crack.*

It’s almost the same sound as opening a walnut with a nutcracker. Well a way bigger walnut.

*Slurp*

The turtle retreats into its shell. Another strong smash follows with another *Crack.*

“Mike! Now! It’s open! Before it loses too much health!”

Mike knows exactly what I’m planning. He stops slashing the limbs of another turtle, takes a few quick steps backward, spins, and drives his sabre’s tip into the opening I created.

The high-pitched noise stops.

“I can see much better now; my eyes have adjusted!” he says, moving back to the immobile turtle he had crippled by slashing its limbs. With half its health gone, the turtle begins to morph into its second phase.

*Thud*

Astrid pins an arrow into one of its eyes. Red jelly starts to pour out.

Mike rushes in and stabs the creature through the other eye. His sabre goes in easily but somehow gets stuck. The turtle squeals, and its health bar drains steadily.

He braces against it with his leg, struggling to stay in place as the armored hybrid resists.

“Let me help. I’ll make another opening.”

Trying to hit precisely to avoid bending Mike’s sabre, I accidentally scratch it with my hammerhead. Sparks fly on impact.

His sabre is freed, and I switch arms, my right forearm is too pumped and hurts. Smashing another hole in the shell, I leave it to Mike to finish it off.

Then I rush toward the group of turtles further down, in complete darkness. I can only see their silhouettes, dimly lit eyes, and health bars.

*Bash, Crack, Smack*

Raging, I hit everything in my path, cracking shells and occasionally striking eyes, causing them to explode.

One turtle dies after I land a direct hit on its head, turning it into mashed potatoes.

I fiercely turn in the fight, taking a quick glance at my hammer. It reflects some of the flame from the distant bowl.

“This feels really good! These moves are sleek!” I say to myself, but I’m interrupted by a sharp pain in my knee.

“Shit! That hurts! Fuck!”

The turtle’s head looks pretty harmless, yet it stings like hell! It has many rows of tiny but razor-sharp teeth.

I bash the turtle’s shell to pieces, annihilating its eyes in the process. Disgusting yet satisfying. All before they even transform into their faster phase. My hammer buries itself inside their intestines and through the bottom of their shell, creating a square-shaped hole.

It seems the bottom part is brittle—must be their weakest point.

Repeating the process, I smash two more into unidentifiable goo without taking any significant damage. A satisfying *Ding* is my reward.

Markus Hale foreigner level 9

Strength 12 no skill

Agility 3 no skill

Willpower 4 no skill

Endurance 3 no skill

Mike and Astrid don’t hesitate for a second, wiping out the remaining turtles. Astrid stabs them with an arrow in hand, while Mike precisely stabs and cuts them.

Once every sound, movement, and light is gone, we run to the end of the cave. Squeezing through a narrow crack one by one. Outside the cave, I take a deep breath of fresh air. Disemboweling those hybrids released a horrible stench that soaked into our clothes and shoes.

Astrid lost three arrows in the fight, and I dulled part of Mike’s weapon. Not sure if I can call this a successful raid—more like a necessary one. If these demons spawn again, we’d better avoid this direction altogether. So far, nothing has been easy.

“Markus, your knee again. Are you alright?” Astrid asks while sipping from her water bottle. She drips the last few drops. Mike wants to offer his, but it’s even emptier.

We gallop down the rocky road with an annoying slope, making us wobble as we walk. I ask the couple how it’s possible that Astrid can shoot the bow so precisely.

Mike smirks at me. “She chose that bow because her high school PE teacher was a member of a historical fencing group that practiced LARP. He was an over-motivated lunatic who brought real weap...”

“He was a historian and enthusiast,” Astrid interrupts him.

“He taught optional classes for free after school and over the weekends. I spent my whole summer shooting hundreds and hundreds of arrows with various bows, both modern and historical replicas.”

“Good for you, Astrid.” I genuinely appreciate it.

“But then he got expelled for safety reasons,” adds Mike.

“Yes, it’s true,” she confirms with a sad tone after seeing me waiting.

Almost near the end of the rocky road, close to the merchant’s shack, Mike suddenly decides to run ahead.

“Hey! No, no, no... I see where you’re heading. We don’t need to visit him,” Astrid tries to stop Mike.

He doesn’t listen and storms the shack, bashing through the door. We speed up and follow him in.

*Swoosh*

Mike unsheathes his still-bloody sabre and points it at the merchant.

“You traitor! What was all this?”

The merchant looks at the three of us with a superior air, yet his eyes betray extreme disappointment. Was it because he couldn’t get what was in the chest? A quick thought flashes through my mind.

“What’s so precious that you’d lure three innocent people to their deaths?” Mike presses, his voice rising.

“Pass,” the old wrinkled creature with long gray hair responds.

“What pass? Talk, or I’m going to slit your throat, you sleazy dastard!” Mike yells, almost touching the merchant’s chin with his blade.

“Don’t you filthy dare threaten me!”

Mike isn’t afraid and continues to press. The tension in the shack is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

The old man points his only hand at Mike, his fingers in a flicking position.