Chapter 18

  Floor Four

  “If I ever meet the asshole who designed Floor Three, we’re going to have some very serious words,” I said, glaring over my shoulder as we headed into the tunnel to the next floor.

  “Words?” replied Rel, his voice conveying utter certainty. “If I meet them, the only word they’ll have time to say is ‘ARGHHH’ before a huge fireball explodes in their stupid faces.”

  Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t encourage Rel’s violent fantasies, but this time? Fireball away, buddy.

  Zombies. Seriously?

  Fortunately for the designers of the Tower of Potential, our moods improved considerably when we entered Floor Four.

  It was a forest, very similar to the one where Rel and I had first met. Stepping onto the soft earth and taking a deep breath of fresh air was like stepping back into a simpler time.

  “Now this is how you design a floor!” squeaked Rel excitedly, darting off to scurry up a tree.

  After Floor Three, it almost felt like a personal apology. Well played, Mr. or Mrs. Tower designer. You may have just avoided the wrath of a disturbingly vengeful squirrel who has no reservations about melting people’s faces with massive fireballs.

  I looked around and a small smile crossed my lips. Blue sky. Sunshine. Gentle breeze. No zombies trying to eat our brains.

  This was the life.

  “Hey, Pete,” said Rel, a note of mischief in his voice. “Remember the first time we met? I think it went something like this. ‘Up here, numb nuts.’”

  “I’m not surprised you remember it so well,” I said, shrugging. “After all, it was probably the luckiest day of your life.”

  A branch bounced off my head.

  Now it really felt like the good old days.

  “So,” I said, as Rel leapt back down to the ground. “It seems very peaceful here. What do you think we’ll have to fight on this floor?”

  “Hmm,” muttered Rel, reaching up to adjust his wizard hat. “A forest such as this is home to any number of dangerous creatures.”

  “I think I have it…” I said, an expression of not-so-genuine horror dawning on my face. “What if… What if… we’re attacked by a horde of feral arboreal observers?”

  I winked at him.

  “I’ve heard those things can be vicious little bastards.”

  Rel let out an indignant humph.

  “I’ll have you know, asshole,” he snapped, “that arboreal observers are the purest and most noble of creatures. They would never lower themselves to participate in something as pretentious as the ‘Tower of Potential’.”

  The words ‘then why are you here?’ were so desperate to escape my lips, but I sealed them tight.

  It wouldn’t be a branch bouncing off my head next time.

  We spent a little time wandering, searching for anything of interest, but other than a few birds resting in the trees, the place seemed incredibly peaceful.

  As I passed a particularly girthy tree, I felt the overwhelming urge to karate chop the big fucker. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a trip down memory lane.

  The side of my hand struck it like a weapon of treestruction, and the trunk exploded in a shower of bark.

  And then…

  The trees woke up.

  It started with a deep rumbling, the very ground itself trembling beneath our feet.

  “Pete,” said Rel slowly. “What have you done?”

  I lowered my hand guiltily.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It just looked so damn choppable.”

  Roots started to tear themselves free of the soil in an explosion of dirt, lashing and writhing through the air like some very pissed off snakes. They all came to a stop at the same moment – dozens of them – and then slowly turned to face the same direction.

  The direction in which I was standing.

  They darted forward.

  I leapt out of the way.

  Rel was standing behind me.

  Whoops.

  I heard a furious squeak as a mass of writhing roots smacked the shit out of Rel.

  It was hard to say for certain over the sound of thick roots slamming against the ground with enough force to crush a car, but I’m pretty sure I could hear a high-pitched ‘Peeeeete!’ from somewhere within the tree sandwich.

  And then a fiery explosion erupted, causing charred roots to hiss and retreat, the smell of burning wood thick in the air.

  In the centre of a circle of scorched earth, surrounded by piles of ash, stood Rel.

  He did not look happy.

  Okay, that might be an understatement.

  He looked fucking livid.

  His wizard hat had been pulverised into something unrecognisable.

  He slowly bent down to pick it up. He clutched it lovingly to his chest, muttering soothing reassurances. Then he turned, eyes so full of fury they would have made the devil falter.

  “Pete,” he said, his voice calm. Too calm. “If my hat’s self-repair enchantment is unable to fix this damage, then I can promise you one thing. One day, when you’re an old man on your deathbed, you’ll think back on all the defining moments of your life. Some good. Some bad. Some happy. Some sad. But one particular day will stand out.”

  He paused for breath. I gulped.

  “It was a day that you tried many times throughout your life to forget, but it refused to go - burnt onto your memory like a brand. That day is this day. The day you discover what true pain really is.”

  Holy shit.

  My words failed me.

  The trees decided they weren’t quite done with us yet. Clearly, they were not good at reading the room, because if they were, they’d have done everything possible to avoid drawing Rel’s attention.

  Their trunks began to part at the bottom, the wood creaking and tearing as the split crawled upward. It stopped halfway up the trunk, the lower half now divided into two deformed legs. Roots gathered at the base of each, twisting and tangling together to form something resembling feet.

  I was afraid to take my eyes off Rel, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking up.

  Higher up the trunks, branches had wound their way together to form powerful, twisted arms.

  Holy shit.

  Trees with arms and legs.

  Despite the fear of Rel’s retribution sitting on my shoulders like a ten-ton boulder, I couldn’t help but smile.

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  They’d picked the wrong fucking guy.

  I raised both my hands, fingers and palms perfectly straight. It was time…

  Time for Peter Brookes, Bane of the Forest, to resume his most sacred duty.

  I danced amongst the walking trees, my hands unleashing a whirlwind of karate chops that even the most discerning sensei would have been proud of.

  I may or may not have started making the hyah noises. Loudly.

  As a dutiful student of the University of Gains, I attempted to dodge every retaliatory attack, and it very quickly paid off.

  You have gained 1 agility.

  Current agility: 3

  Once they witnessed the avatar of destruction they had unleashed, a few of the trees foolishly turned their attention on Rel, thinking him an easier target.

  Big mistake.

  Have you ever heard the saying ‘channel your anger into something productive’? I don’t think what Rel did next is quite what the person who coined the expression had in mind.

  Let’s just say, things heated up.

  Explosively.

  Imagine a pyromaniac and a world-class acrobat having a child, then spending eighteen years teaching it everything they know.

  Oh, and imagine the child was actually a squirrel.

  Rel moved like a grey whirlwind. I watched wide-eyed as he leapt from the ground, soaring over twenty metres into the air to land against the trunk of a tree. He pushed off the surface with his hind paws, using it as a springboard. As he did so, his tail – a fireball flickering at the tip – lashed out, cracking against the bark. The fire latched onto the trunk, crackling gleefully as it raced across the surface. Within moments, the tree was consumed by a raging inferno. It crumbled and collapsed, reduced to nothing more than a blackened heap of charred wood and ash.

  The trees tried desperately to fight back as Rel darted amongst them like a fiery reaper, their twisted arms swiping through the air, but they’d have had more luck trying to catch the smoke.

  By the time it was over, the air was thick with the stench of burning, and ash drifted on the breeze. My jaw dropped a little as I surveyed the scene of utter destruction that Rel had crafted.

  Honestly, watching him work had been like witnessing art. Very violent, deeply disturbing art - but art nonetheless. The trees had been his canvas and his fireballs the paintbrush. Let’s just say that this particular painting involved a lot of brush strokes.

  I slowly turned to face him. Part of me didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. My fate could rest on what I saw.

  My sigh of relief was so deep I’m surprised my lungs had enough air left to finish the job.

  His hat was reforming.

  It still hadn’t quite regained its original shape, but at least it looked somewhat like a hat now, rather than an unrecognisable mound of fabric that looked as if it had been run over by a car.

  A car that then reversed.

  And ran over it again.

  Then the driver got out and stamped on it a few times for good measure.

  And then… never mind. You get the idea.

  “Listen, buddy,” I said slowly and gently, like one might when encountering a lion in the wild. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t realise you were standing behind me…”

  Rel stared at me, his expression unreadable.

  But then – thank the fucking heavens – he laughed.

  “My hat truly is a work of art,” he said, rocking it gently in his arms like it was a baby. “To sustain such damage and come back from the brink? The craftsmanship is truly remarkable.”

  Crisis averted.

  “You dare to defile my domain?” came a voice from behind us.

  Crisis activated.

  Reluctantly, I turned to face the new arrival.

  It was a tree that looked like a person.

  Or maybe a person that looked like a tree.

  A tre-erson? A per-tree?

  Never mind.

  It stood around seven feet tall, with a broadly human shape - arms, legs, a head, a torso, the usual setup. The main difference was that it wasn’t made of flesh and bone, but of densely interwoven roots and branches.

  “Is he squinting or are his eyes narrowed?” whispered Rel.

  I stared into the thing’s pulsing emerald eyes.

  Definitely narrowed.

  He looked pissed.

  “Listen,” I said, raising my hands placatingly. “My friend and I were just walking through the forest, minding our own business – definitely not karate chopping anything – when the trees decided to wake up and attack us.”

  Rel nodded.

  “I think they were jealous of my hat. In fact, I’m fairly certain they woke up specifically to steal it. When they realised they wouldn’t be able to, they were overcome by rage and attacked us.”

  The creature looked at me. Then at Rel. Then at his hat.

  Its ‘lips’ curled into a mocking grin.

  “You think I’d be fooled by such a ridiculous story?” it said, before gesturing to Rel’s hat. “Who would try to steal that ugly rag?”

  Oh shit.

  “I’ll give you one chance,” said Rel, his voice quiet with menace, “to take that back.”

  The thing laughed - a deep, rumbling sound that made the soil vibrate. It raised a ‘hand,’ palm up, and an orb of crackling green energy formed, rapidly growing until it was as large as a man’s head. The creature slammed it down into the earth, and a shockwave of green energy blasted outwards in every direction.

  The trees in the nearby area were torn apart. Roots, branches, and fragments of trunk hovered suspended in the air for a moment before racing back down to the forest floor, circling the creature like a hurricane with green arcane energy flashing across its surface.

  Then the remnants began to gather, twisting and fusing together to form rough replicas of the creature itself.

  It had summoned a small army.

  Rel shrugged.

  He had that look in his eye – one I was very familiar with.

  He was about to take a huge shit all over this guy’s life.

  “I gave you a chance. After all, Grandmaster Rel is celebrated across the land for his compassion and mercy,” he said. “All you had to do was apologise for insulting my hat, and perhaps I could have found it in my heart to forgive you.”

  Rel raised a paw, and a tear opened in the air in front of him.

  “Instead, you chose death.”

  It started as a small, jagged cut in reality, but it expanded violently until it was over eight feet tall and four metres wide. It was like staring into the abyss – pure, unrestrained darkness.

  Oh, tree person. You’ve really gone and fucked up.

  A hulking skeletal warrior emerged from the portal. It wore rusted chainmail and carried an enormous two-handed sword.

  It was followed by another.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Soon, eight skeletal warriors stood in the clearing, each carrying a different weapon - and each looking equally fucking terrifying.

  The tear in reality winked out of existence.

  The warriors turned to face Rel, and then as one, they dropped to their knees.

  “I am Commander Osian. We are here to serve you, my lord,” said Osian. “What are your orders?”

  “Well,” said Rel.

  He was trying to be dignified, but I could tell he was absolutely loving this. The spell was beyond his wildest dreams - or perhaps beyond my wildest nightmares.

  “That dickhead over there,” he continued, gesturing to the tree creature – who didn’t look quite so arrogant anymore – and his army. “Insulted my hat.”

  The skeletons let out a collective gasp.

  “Truly, my lord?” asked Commander Osian. “Then he deserves to die, for no reason other than appalling fashion sense.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Indeed,” said Rel, with a grave shake of his head. “Such crimes cannot go unpunished.”

  Commander Osian nodded, and he and his soldiers rose to their feet. Silent as the grave, they turned to face the tree creature and his minions. Then they let loose a war cry.

  “For the lord and his hat!”

  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. Rel would be unbearable once this was over.

  The skeletons charged.

  The replicas of the tree creature raced out to meet them.

  The two forces clashed.

  Rel stood in the middle of it all, leaning on his ‘staff’, and barking out entirely unnecessary orders to his soldiers.

  He was loving life.

  Across the ‘battlefield’, I noticed that the tree creature was trying to make a stealthy exit, so I skirted around the edges to cut him off.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “You were Woody Big Balls a few minutes ago, and now here you are, slinking off while your minions do your dirty work.”

  The creature flinched at the sound of my voice, then slowly turned to face me.

  It cleared its ‘throat’.

  “Fool!” it spat.

  You know that voice people use when they’re trying to appear confident and unfazed? Yep, that’s exactly how he sounded. It’s a bit like a baby wearing one of its dad’s suits – anybody with a pair of eyes can see that shit doesn’t fit.

  “My ‘escape’ was merely a ruse to draw you out,” it continued.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, buddy,” I said. “So, shall we do this?”

  It snarled and raised both its arms. The wood of its hands twisted and creaked, reforming itself into two jagged spikes. With a roar, it dashed towards me, swinging one of its ‘blades’ in a fierce backhanded strike.

  It cut a hole in my shirt.

  And… wait!

  I distractedly shoved the creature aside with one hand, sending it skidding across the ground in an explosion of dirt and leaves. Excitedly, I reached up to grab the collar of my shirt and yanked it forward so I could see my chest.

  A cut!

  Well, kind of.

  There was a very faint red line. I quickly removed my shirt, then reached up and squeezed the ‘wound’.

  “C’mon,” I muttered under my breath. “Bleed, baby. Bleed!”

  A drop of blood slowly welled up.

  “Yes!” I roared, breaking out into a little dance. I was truly relieved that Rel was not there to witness it.

  The creature watched from where it lay on the ground, an equal measure of horror and confusion in its eyes.

  I met its gaze, and it recoiled slightly at the utterly fanatical gleam in my eyes.

  “Do it again!” I said, gesturing impatiently for it to get back up.

  The creature clearly felt I was mocking it, for it rose to its feet and charged once more, bellowing its frustration and anger. Its blade struck my chest with enough force to slice through steel as if it were paper.

  Another small cut.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s the good stuff!” I said. “Again!”

  It snarled and its arms became a blur as it unleashed dozens of slashes in a matter of moments. I just stood and watched, a demented smile curving my lips.

  You have gained 1 durability.

  Current durability: 27

  And then…

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groaned, as the creature’s ‘blades’ bounced off my flesh.

  I shrugged.

  It was fun while it lasted.

  My hand shot out and closed around its throat.

  I squeezed.

  The debate as to whether it was a human tree or a tree human was over.

  Now, it was just dead.

  I wandered back over to the battlefield – whistling happily as I considered my newly improved durability - to see that the creature’s minions had fared no better. The ground was littered with chunks of splintered wood.

  Rel’s warriors were once again kneeling before him, the squirrel pacing back and forth in front of them, his little paws behind his back.

  “You are the most noble of warriors,” declared Rel. “What you have accomplished on this day will never be forgotten. Your deeds will inspire artists to create masterpieces and bards to compose epic sagas. When parents ask their children what bedtime story they would like to hear, do you know what they will ask for?”

  He paused, letting the moment breathe.

  “The tale of the day when Lord Rel’s heroic warriors marched into battle to defend the honour of his majestic wizard’s hat.”

  Rel paused again, looking into the eyes of each of his soldiers.

  “You have earned your rest. But know that one day soon, I shall once again call upon your aid. Will you answer the call?”

  “Yes, Lord Rel!” they bellowed, a disturbing fervour of devotion in their voices.

  Rel nodded, his eyes glistening.

  He raised his paws and a tear once again split the air, quickly widening into a dark portal.

  The soldiers rose, bowed, and marched back into the abyss.