The hunched monster began narrowing the distance between Tybalt and itself at a frightening rate.

  It was so much faster than the skeletons and zombies!

  As its hulking form loomed over him, all he could think to do was turn and run. He almost tripped on the remains of a skeleton behind him but managed to keep his feet under him and accelerate, slip-sliding forward, propelled by surprise and fear.

  What in Abadd is that thing?!

  Tybalt’s mind raced even as his body instinctively refused to slow down and look back to see if the monstrous thing was gaining on him. He thought he still had a speed advantage over his pursuer, but it was impossible to be certain. This abomination was not like the zombies or the walking skeletons.

  It felt so much more predatory, like a monster that half his squad would have to fight together. A man-eating creature that had been allowed to gain levels before it was reported to the army. The look on its face had suggested bestial malevolence, but there was something else in its almost human glowing green eyes. Something like human intelligence lived behind those eyes.

  Tybalt finally slowed when he noticed the sound of rattling bones behind him. The sound was too far away. The creature must not be chasing him anymore. He turned around and saw that the monster was looking through the remains of the previous enemies. Sifting through the skeletons’ bones. Searching for something.

  It took Tybalt a moment to process what he was seeing and realize what it was trying to do. He swallowed as he understood.

  The monster wants a weapon, he thought. He had never seen a creature that intelligent before, only heard about such things in stories. He suddenly knew he might be in over his head.

  Gods, what did I get myself into? Will there be more of these things later on? Tybalt couldn’t imagine his current self fighting ten or twenty such monsters as a group. He shook himself and tried to get his emotions under control. I cannot worry about later right now. I have to kill this beast before the Tower sends in reinforcements.

  Tybalt raised his spear and shield and began marching forward. He did not want to run toward the enemy. If he tripped and fell, he thought the monster would be upon him before he could rise to his feet again.

  And as some of the fear receded from the front of his mind, he recognized that the monster was unlikely to find anything in the skeleton’s remains that compared to Tybalt’s shield and spear as a weapon.

  I do not know why I was so afraid at first sight, he thought. Perhaps it is just that the creature is so revolting. So obviously and hideously monstrous. Evil to the core, pure and simple.

  An objective look revealed that the monster was no larger than Tybalt. It looked brawnier than him because of its hunched, compact posture and bestial way of moving around.

  But it actually had the basic size and shape of a human. It even had a humanoid face, though it was too gray for a living person and appeared too small for the skull underneath. He could not put his finger on why he found this monster particularly unsettling as compared with the almost-human zombies. The creature just looked and felt particularly wicked and vile. Not merely predatory, but sadistic. Like it would not kill and eat him, but rather eat him alive to enjoy his screams.

  As Tybalt closed to within eight feet of the monster, it rose from its crouched position and stood, assuming the hunched posture in which he had originally seen it. The creature held a thick bone from one of the skeletons’ legs in its right hand and what looked like a pelvis gripped in its left.

  His breath caught in his chest as the monster’s eyes met his own, but he forced himself to hold firm. I do not have the energy to keep running away forever, and I have the advantage now, he told himself. I have real weapons. This stupid thing only has pieces of bone.

  Tybalt forced himself to step in and slashed at the monster’s neck. To his surprise, it did not bother to dodge. It simply tilted its body to intercept the spear’s edge with its thick left shoulder. The spear landed perfectly on the meat of the shoulder. It entered and traveled through skin and muscle to where Tybalt imagined the creature’s bone must be.

  But to his surprise, the pain of a limb being halfway chopped through did not seem to slow the monster down at all.

  Its strong right arm moved in a blur to take advantage of the opening in Tybalt’s defenses now that his spear was embedded in the creature’s left shoulder. The monster swung hard with the bone club. Tybalt barely reacted in time, raising the shield in his left hand to intercept the blow. Wood and bone collided with a deafening crunch just inches from his head. The creature’s strength snapped the bone club and sent a shudder through his whole body.

  The creature released the bone and latched onto the shield that had blocked its blow. It tried to pry the shield away from Tybalt’s grip, but Tybalt held onto it desperately, aware that this was the last bit of defense he had.

  Tybalt felt fear and weakness surge up within him as he had a premonition of his death. He would have the shield torn away from him, and he would be ripped limb from limb and eaten by the monster. It had been foolish to rush into close quarters with this thing. There had to have been another way. If only he had brought a bow and arrows here. If only he had known he would face such a monstrosity…

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The creature was too strong for him. It had taken all his strength just to block the blow from the club with his shield. Now it was trying to rob him of that defense. And he was growing so tired, while the monster showed no signs of fatigue as yet.

  Please no, he thought. I cannot die here. I have so much left to do…

  His mind was blank of any humans he wanted to see again. His mother was dead, of course. There was only Valmont, the goshawk. It would be easier to think of people he wanted to kill…

  As he was blinking, clutching stubbornly to his shield, and trying to recover from the impact, he felt his spear tug out of the weakened grip in his other hand. The monster was twisting its body around, seemingly abandoning the effort to pull the shield out of his hand. He extended his head to the right to better see what it was doing, and his face exploded with the pain of a sudden impact.

  Tybalt’s head rang with the blow. It went for my head. Did it know about the fight with Baldwin?

  The thoughts that swam through his head seemed very far away.

  He found himself falling backward. As he dropped, his mind managed to put together what had happened. Giving up on ripping the shield from his hands, the creature had instead swung around and smacked him with the pelvis it had taken as its other improvised weapon. Since Tybalt was turning to look at the monster at the moment of impact, the blow struck him full in the face.

  You got me. Son of a bitch…

  His nose gushed blood, and one eye was almost blinded by a second flow of blood from his forehead. The pelvis bone had fragmented on impact, and bits of shrapnel had torn scattered shallow cuts in a few places on his face. He was dimly aware of powdered chunks of bone settling in his long hair, as well, though he did not think he should be so aware of his body in a moment like this. But everything seemed to be moving very slowly now.

  Maybe this is what the world feels like when you’re about to die. The thought teetered through his mind unsteadily, as if he was drunk

  His body dropping uncontrollably onto his back. His left arm reflexively pulling the shield in close to defend his head and upper chest. The monster throwing itself down after him, as fierce and energetic as ever, trying to reach around the shield and go for the throat.

  It would have been obvious to any observer, Tybalt included, that he lacked the power remaining in his body to fight this thing.

  No. I refuse to die like this. In some anonymous place, fighting some twice-damned, nameless monster. I will not die until I get whatever reward this place has to offer.

  He felt his back crash into the powdery gray soil and sink in. The impact knocked up a thin cloud of gray dust, but thankfully, it was a soft landing.

  The creature’s face loomed down at him through the gray dust, and Tybalt found his right fist punching it right in the mouth. He did not know how his body was still fighting, where the strength in his fist came from, or what part of him was giving the orders, but he felt grateful.

  Keep it up, he told himself. Just as long as you do not stop fighting, you are not dead.

  The monster recoiled with the blow, then twisted its lips into a grotesque parody of a grin. Tybalt felt the fear seize irrational control over his heart for a moment. The now-unarmed creature slammed both its fists down onto his shield and uttered a guttural roar, as if trying to frighten him.

  But Tybalt’s shield arm held firm under the blow. He thought he noticed, with some slight satisfaction, that the creature’s left arm, the one with the spear still sticking out of it, was a bit weaker than the right. So his attacks were having some effect. He found some renewed courage in that.

  Then the creature was reaching behind his shield, grabbing his left arm and then his left hand using both of its limbs. At first, Tybalt resisted the creature’s grappling attempt. Then, as the monster got a firm grip on him, he suddenly lost all feeling in his left hand.

  To his horror, the strange numbness began traveling up his arm. Wherever the loss of feeling went, it brought loss of control with it, as if the limb was developing a progressive paralysis.

  What is this? This feeling? Am I—is my body giving up? No! Why? You cannot give up, bastard! Not until you get whatever this tower has to give you. The power, glory, and fame you deserve. Not until you rob that twice-damned Baron of everything he has. Him, and everyone he loves…

  The monster continued to grip Tybalt’s left hand in its right fist, and the numbing sensation spread further, slowly moving up the elbow and toward the shoulder. With its weaker left fist, it reached around, trying to grab hold of Tybalt’s right hand.

  He pulled it away from the creature’s grip, grabbed a fistful of powdery gray soil, and threw it in the monster’s face.

  That slowed the creature. It took a moment to use its weaker, less mobile arm to try and wipe the dust from its eyes.

  More human than I had dared to hope, he thought.

  Tybalt’s right hand took this moment to grope at his left side. He was at a bad angle to try and pull his spear out of the creature’s shoulder, but he thought he still had his backup weapon at his waist somewhere.

  As he grabbed for the dagger unsuccessfully, the green eyes above him opened once again, gleaming emeralds staring at him ravenously.

  Then the monster’s left hand was on his neck. Tybalt felt the same numbness he had experienced in his left arm begin to take hold of the flesh around his throat and collarbone. His upper body began to turn cold and clammy. The muscles in his neck, just like those in his left arm, stopped responding to his commands. Tybalt beat at the wrist with his free hand, but the creature simply smiled at his feeble efforts.

  As the numbness slowly spread from the point of contact through his upper chest and up into his jaws, he felt the flow of air into his body stop.

  This power—I cannot breathe!

  Tybalt forced himself to abandon the futile effort to break the monster’s grip on his neck. His right hand returned to the attempt to locate his backup weapon. He groped at his right side, searching for the hilt. He realized after a few precious seconds that the dagger was on the opposite side.

  Somehow he had gotten confused in this desperate moment.

  His hand flopped to his left waist to search for the dagger, but it began to seem as if he could not endure the creature’s touch for long enough to arm himself.

  No… my dagger… I—I can still win…

  As his fingers moved increasingly clumsily along his belt, the edges of Tybalt’s vision began to close in around him. The world was growing dark.

  His fingers kept moving, though. If he died, it would not be for lack of effort to live.