Chapter 5: Skirmish At The Border

  As he crossed the border into Sweden, a long day and night later, two hounds coming out of nowhere ambushed Erik. He had little time to react, though he threw himself off the bike, avoiding one of the pouncing Hellbeast by a hair’s breadth. The dog-like animal landed in a roll and was quickly back on its four feet.

  The second hound charged at Erik a moment later, and Erik dodged to the side, trying to reach into his backpack as he did. It grazed his side, and the slight nudge was enough to throw him into a spin with a broken rib or two.

  Luckily, the beasts didn’t seem used to their prey fighting back, so when he was down they were in no rush to strike at him again. Both inched closer to the Remnant with a hungry growl. For their part, that was a mistake.

  The Titan reached into his backpack, finding just what he was searching for and pulled the things out. With a box of screws in one hand and pebbles in the other, he was ready to fight back.

  The man threw one of the small rocks at the foremost beast as hard as he could while still being accurate, then another at the second. As each rock hit its target, a deep boom sounded as if a minor explosion had occurred. The dogs fell over on their sides in response, stunned—but not dead.

  The pebbles caused a concussive blast, and Erik couldn’t help but smirk at how powerful a blast it had been. It proved quite effective against the hounds, it seemed. Still, he didn’t know how long the effect would last.

  The problem with the stick he had used earlier was that he couldn’t attack the parts of their bodies that were covered. That might’ve reduced the structural integrity of the solidified mass keeping the creatures at bay, after all. The glue would act as a shield to them, meaning he had no choice but to attack whatever part of them was sticking out of the concrete-like material.

  It was a decent way of keeping one out of the fight while focusing on the other, but he would have to see how long the concussive blast would last on them first. He already knew that throwing another small rock wouldn’t affect them for quite some time after the first one hit them.

  The moment the beasts hit the ground, Erik grabbed a handful of screws from the box and threw them at the closest hound. Unlike the stick and pebbles, he had to use more of the screws at once, the reason for which became apparent the moment they landed on and around the target.

  Erik felt his magic in them activate, and each of them shone blue before they lifted off the ground. They hovered there for just a second, after which they released a bluish plasma between two or three other screws. The result resembled a birdcage of lightning, and Erik could soon smell the grilled meat of the dog. Its body smoked even as it convulsed from the voltage.

  The second dog rose from the ground just when Erik was picking out more screws to throw at it. By then, it must’ve regarded him as a threat to either itself or its partner. It charged at the man without a thought, but Erik had a trick up his sleeve prepared for that as well.

  Throwing the screws back into the box, he picked up a playfully purple frisbee he had in a separate pocket in his bag and threw it straight at the monster. Erik activated it and felt the warm sensation of his magic surging for a brief instant. The frisbee somehow turned itself upright as it stopped in mid-air—its flat side now facing the fast-moving beast.

  The beast paid it no mind as it rushed its target. The sound, like that of a bird hitting a window, reached Erik, now with a new batch of screws in his hand. Hoping, not knowing, that the frisbee-shield was one-directional, he threw the latest batch of screws at the confused beast.

  The creature bled from its mouth and had lost a few of its large brownish-white teeth. The force behind the impact must’ve been enough to push a large truck off the road. Had it rammed into a truck, though, the otherwise impervious canine would come out of that collision unharmed.

  Did the fact that the shield was magic nullify the beast’s resistance, or could the entire creature have crushed itself in the impact if Erik’s magic had been stronger? How much of the force it crashed with had dissipated in magical ways before the rest affected the monster? Were the laws of physics wrong when magic was involved?

  The screws flew past the invisible shield without a care in the world, and Erik activated them right as most of them hit the creature. His body surged again, even as the load of metal took some time to ramp up. Erik was glad the beast had hit the wall with such force, as it did nothing but shake its head sideways in confusion. The second beast fell, filling the air with more smoke and the smell of burnt hair and meat.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The lightning-emitting screws lasted for about five seconds, which Erik hadn’t noticed from the earlier ‘tesla bomb’ he’d thrown. The attack of the second hound took his attention before it had died down, so who could blame him? Five seconds seemed to be the maximum time for the concussive rocks and the high-voltage screws’ effects—which gave Erik some newfound respect for the stick. A short while later, the frisbee fell to the ground, the magic in it vanished without a trace.

  Erik picked it back up, but it didn’t feel right in his hands this time. The familiar instinct from his first touch of the object surfaced, aware of its potential, but now it felt hollow. Erik charged it with magic again, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. He then tossed it and activated the shield once more.

  It had lasted ten seconds last time and did so the second time as well. When it had fallen to the ground the second time, Erik reached down to grab it. It cracked and broke apart into a dozen pieces. The plastic shards didn’t give Erik’s Unexpected Arsenal any feeling at all as he lifted them back up from the ground; it seemed these were of too poor quality to survive the magic coursing through them.

  It took him a while to realise he’d just killed Hellhounds. At least he hoped they were dead, as they lay still, not so much as breathing. It took a sudden guttural groan from one of the fried beasts to make him realise he’d been mistaken to just check one of them before making assumptions. He’d never fought something intending to kill it before yesterday day and now…he’d done it.

  The Titan moved closer to the unconscious being. He felt more than heard its ragged, slight breathing as even the ground rumbled in sync with its lungs. It would survive if nothing else happened to it, and he didn’t know when it would wake up from its slumber. The Remnant considered checking his bike to see the damage and leaving the beast behind.

  That wouldn’t help in the long run, though. He couldn’t be the anime hero who always left his enemies alive only for them to turn to his side because he had said some profound words that resonated with them. His hands rummaged through his backpack in search of something specific. This was an excellent opportunity to experiment…

  He pulled out a medium-sized kitchen knife he’d found. It didn’t react to his magic at all, but that wasn’t the reason he’d brought it with him. He hadn’t found a pocketknife, but he was certain that having something sharp while surviving in the wilds would prove more useful than not. He might exaggerate the ‘wilds’ part considering he was at the border control between Norway and Sweden, but he didn’t care. It was just him and magical survival out there.

  He got close to the wounded hound and stabbed it with the knife. It ripped the beast’s thick skin, but only just. He tried again with as much force as he could, but it only went a little deeper.

  Erik wanted to test the knife for just that reason: would it work if he was the one who wielded it? Could he grab a knife, a sword, or even a gun, and it would kill the monsters when he used it because he was a magical being?

  The results were…mixed. Had the beast been just a normal animal, he would have penetrated its thick skin with the amount of force he had used without trouble, considering his improved strength relative to his more mundane self. That it ripped the outer layer of skin meant that just holding it had a slight effect on the interplay between the metal and the monster, though. If modern rifles couldn’t penetrate, there was no way a regular kitchen knife could.

  Finally, he focused on his own magic. He reached into the pool of power he felt in his chest, trying to lead it through his arm and into the knife. As the magic reached his hands, he felt resistance, as if the magic didn’t want to leave him, or the knife was refusing it. He thought he got a trickle through, however.

  Focusing on keeping the gentle flow active, he once more stabbed the beast, and the knife went through skin and muscle both, though it took more force than Erik had hoped. The low rumble of the beast stilled as its chest sank for one last time.

  Erik scavenged the long-since abandoned customs buildings for resources, finding a larger duffel bag and a cooling box with no wire anywhere around to plug into it. He attached the box to the front of his bike and transferred his random collection of items to the somewhat larger bag. The cooler box was in the headlight’s way, but it would have to do for now.

  He got back on the road a moment later, this time on the wrong side of the border. He still wanted to avoid most towns, as he still wasn’t confident enough that he would win any more fights against the demons. If he didn’t see a beast coming or if one didn’t charge straight at him and into the invisible shield, the creature would tear him to shreds. All it took was one dog from his side, or one with enough intelligence or instinct to get away from the frisbee or pebble Erik threw at its face.

  While avoiding population centres was fine and all, Erik still had something to search for on his trip to the UB. Considering the desolate wasteland that seemed to be the Scandinavian Empire, hunting for treasure wasn’t at the top of his priorities but if he found some, it could help his survival. ‘Treasure’, in his case, was probably the most correct word for it as well. Crystals and gemstones.

  If he wanted to get stronger fast, that was the easiest way right now. Rock shops or nature museums would be his best bet since he wasn’t sure the tiny diamonds or rubies inserted into rings or bracelets would even be viable. He needed raw material, after all, not pretty stones.

  He recognised he wouldn’t soon stumble upon a suitable place and that his survival was the most important thing. He was short on time to get to Jessie’s. She wouldn’t wait in Afterlife forever. She couldn’t.