Diving out of the way of the skeleton’s sword had put Marie further from the only exit to the room, and the rack of ancient spears beside her would shatter as soon as she hit the undead creature with them.

  But what choice did she have?

  Part of her soul screamed as she picked out another perfectly-preserved weapon from thousands of years ago - an exquisite artefact of a culture that might no longer exist - and smashed it across her opponent’s shoulders to buy herself another second of life.

  She did scream when she took the chance at an opening and threw herself across the room at a rack of swords on the opposite side, only to feel the bite of old, rusted metal slice into her back.

  She kept moving, trying to keep the blade from cutting deeper, and fumbled for the first weapon that came to her hand.

  Pain rippled as she span, bringing the blade up to block another blow, and doing so just in time as the undead soldier’s blade and hers met with a clang, sending a shock down into her hands, but this time her weapon held.

  Exhausted, battered, wounded. Marie was outmatched in so many ways. But there were two elements in which she held an advantage over the ossified construct: speed, and the ability to think.

  The blossoming agony in her back only brought clarity to her weary mind, and though she suspected it was within her ability to do so, she kept from willing her [Adrenaline Surge] to activate. Chances were she’d need it soon though.

  The sword felt ungainly in her hand. Awkward. Wrong.

  FINE. Have it your way. Let’s improvise, pute.

  She tossed the sword.

  Like a frisbee.

  In the exact way swords weren’t meant to be tossed.

  The point of the blade caught the undead soldier right in the shoulder, and sent it staggering back, crashing into another row of weapons behind him, sending the whole lot tumbling.

  Marie felt her eyebrows raise.

  She hadn’t expected that to work!

  She reached down for another weapon and came up with the remains of a battle axe. She heaved it in an underhand throw and it slammed into the undead’s chest armour with a clang, knocking the skeleton to the floor.

  Okay. They’re not heavy. Remember that for next time.

  Before the creature could rise and swing at her again, Marie took two quick steps and jumped, landing with all the force she could muster on the breastplate that covered its chest.

  The metal collapsed, crushing the ribcage and spine beneath into yellow-white splinters, and as she stumbled backwards, Marie was rewarded with the sight of the rest of the body disanimating, individual bones rattling across the ground as the magic that had bound it together vanished.

  Was it destroying the spine? Or the amount of damage?

  There was no time to question further or revel in her victory though; as echoes of the clang and crash of the crumbling body faded, noises from outside the room began to filter into her consciousness.

  The fight had been quick but it had not been quiet. The things that roamed the streets had noticed.

  She was about to flee when a glinting in the thin light that filtered through the doorway caught the corner of her eye, and she cursed the lack of time and the flaring pain in her back as she stooped to pick up a battered copper pot that had been hiding behind the now-collapsed weapons pile, trying not to think of what it might have been used for back when the city was alive.

  With only seconds to act, she grabbed a scabbarded sword that had fallen close at hand, feeling the ancient leather crack and flake in her grasp, swung the strap over her shoulder and ran back across the courtyard.

  There was no way she was leaving without some of the first real artefacts she’d ever found.

  Sounds of scuffling and scraping and the clanking of metal on bone grew as she dashed into the room where the pottery shards lay strewn across the floor. There was no time, but dammit she’d make some if she had to.

  She placed pieces into the pot as quickly as she dared, hands flashing out to pick up a dozen of the more significant fragments, and stood, holding the copper vessel by both its handles.

  A second later she cursed as she turned and caught sight of her spade, still propped up in the corner, reminding her of why she’d made it this far.

  Out of time, she tucked the copper pot under one arm, grabbed the spade with the other, and took off running.

  —

  The first of the skeletal patrol was shambling into the courtyard when Marie blew right through it.

  Literally.

  She’d activated [Adrenaline Surge] in desperation as she’d sprinted across the open ground and seen the figure coming into sight.

  But though she was only a couple of inches over five foot, and maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, she had a real body full of organs and muscle.

  None of the skeletons did.

  A solid object, moving at speed. Maybe triple the mass of the undead soldier.

  It exploded when she hit it.

  There was a stinging as the bones went flying and lacerated her arms and face, but she wasn’t stopping.

  Even if she could crash through one with minimal injuries, there were scores more converging on her location, and there was no way she’d make it through a dozen, let alone the hundreds that swarmed the streets nearby. And that wasn’t even taking into account the open wound leaking blood into her t-shirt and down her back.

  She ignored the pain and the part of her brain that was in full panic-mode as she pumped her legs and sprinted for the ruins of the devastated shops and houses on the opposite side of the street.

  Even there, amidst the wreckage and the rubble, bodies of bone were rising - unadorned by the remnants of wargear. One-armed, ribs shattered and cracked, or with chunks missing from skulls or radii or femurs. As one part panicked and the majority of the rest was fixated on figuring out the safest route ahead, a tiny part of Marie’s mind registered that they must have been the people that had lived here once - civilians cut down in whatever tragedy had befallen the city.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  But that was something to dwell on another time.

  Marie headed for the centre of the ruined row, putting as much distance as possible between her and the shambling masses now coming round the corners of the street. The patrol was behind her, turning, but too slow to react.

  She sprinted across the open ground and onto the rubble, her [Sure Footing] giving her a path to escape that the skeletons behind couldn’t follow, at least not anywhere near as quickly as she could.

  Broken stones and chunks of rock rose to more than seven feet high at the back of the shattered shell of a one-time shop and Marie didn’t slow as she took it in great strides.

  The cobbled street on the other side was rutted and pitted but she landed like a gymnast, knees flexing, pot and spade held tight, the illusion only spoilt when she straightened and flinched away from the pain where the sword swung across her back collided with the weeping gash she’d just received.

  Unfortunately, the commotion she’d raised had not been limited to the one street that ran round the garrison, and even as she recovered she saw dozens of bodies all around turn to see what had entered their domain.

  She kept going, leaving a trail of blood drops and clattering skeletons in her wake; soldier types or once-civilians both stumbled round corners and over ruins as they sought to kill the intruder for whatever reason the undead might have had.

  Feet flying, she passed hundreds before they could react, swinging her spade into those too close for comfort or blocking her path and avoiding the others. She was certain she could outrun the attention, head in the direction of the manor, and build up enough of a lead and hide.

  Until she came across the Scar.

  —

  Marie stumbled to a halt, heart beating so fast it seemed as though it were a constant thrum. Her head felt light as blood kept seeping from the cut in her back.

  The silence that normally suffused the city had been replaced by a rolling clattering as the thousands of undead she’d outpaced continued to shamble after her. She wasn’t clear of them - there were some even now on the street where she’d stopped that turned and began to lurch in her direction.

  But there was a chasm in the ground a few steps ahead - a gaping wound in the earth. Unnatural in shape and size and depth, as she peered down into it. The street had been split, leaving an opening three or four yards across that stretched as far as she could see to the north and south.

  Through the adrenaline and blood loss one thought poked its head through.

  What in the name of god could have done that?

  She was close to the second marketplace, she thought, peering at the tallest points she could see around with [Gauge Distance] and [Direction Sense] pinging in her mind. Perhaps not far from where her tent hopefully still lay.

  Moving before the skeletal bodies around could close in and block her, she started to run south along the edge of the scar in its direction.

  —

  A minute later she was greeted by an even more disturbing sight.

  This is not where I arrived.

  The open ground had seemed like a market or city square from atop the hill, but up close it was something else entirely.

  Perhaps it had once been a thriving mass of residential homes, or vibrant rows of shopfronts and merchants stalls. Or a temple district. Or a series of crafter’s workshops. Or a mighty castle with walls half a hundred feet tall.

  No one would ever know, because the place was now a roughly circular depression about six feet deep and, save for the steep sides of melted and hardened rock, entirely flat.

  It wasn’t even that whatever had been there had been wiped out; there were still patterns in the ground that suggested the shape of bricks and stones. It was just that it had been completely levelled.

  If she’d wanted to, Marie was sure she could have scrambled down and then slid across the space as though it were an ice rink, it was that smooth.

  But even from a dozen yards away the sense of wrongness from the place made her want to gag.

  Not even the skeletons wanted to go into the crater it seemed - it was completely devoid of anything.

  She’d arrived at the outskirts of the anomaly moments before, running on the tail end of her [Adrenaline Surge], but the trail of undead she’d left kept closing the gap.

  There weren’t many options left. Around the lip of the crater bodies were beginning to turn her way and stumble in her direction. There was no safe way skirting the depression.

  There was no safe way anywhere.

  She eyed the chasm. It had run for hundreds of yards before eventually merging with the circle of utter devastation, leaving a crack in the empty crater that seemed to run down into the centre of the earth.

  Three yards was a long way to jump, but she thought she could make it.

  Not with all she was carrying…

  …but to leave it all behind at the last hurdle…

  It was clear on the other side, as far as she could see.

  —

  The sword was the first thing she tossed. It arced over the chasm and landed on the other side with a dull thump. She winced as a few pieces of the leather scabbard cracked off but they were only flakes, and it held.

  Better than leaving it behind to be lost forever.

  The copper pot was the second thing to go.

  This time, she took a different approach, and pictured a target - the cornerstone of some ruins that lay a few feet beyond the chasm's edge.

  It worked, sort of. She wasn’t really attacking the remains of the building, but she felt at least part of her [Basic Proficiency: Improvised Weapons] taking effect and the pot skidded over the ground and smacked close to the point she’d been aiming for.

  Most of the fragments of pottery inside spilled, and she bit back a curse as a couple of the larger pieces shattered, but as the pot rolled to a stop, all the pieces had at least made it over the gap.

  She turned and decapitated one skeleton that had gotten too close with her spade.

  For a moment she considered using the spade like a pole to vault the distance, but it didn’t seem long enough, and she didn’t know how to pole vault anyway.

  She sent it over to the other side in an overarm throw, like a javelin, and watched as it stuck in the ground, handle vibrating from the impact.

  Then it was just her.

  The [Adrenaline Surge] was almost spent. She could feel the seconds ticking down. How long had it been? A minute and a half? Two?

  She backed up a dozen steps and took a deep breath. Closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.

  And ran.

  Much-abused feet pounded on the cracked stone ground, arms pumped at her sides as she sucked down air through a grimace of pain.

  She reached the edge of the chasm and leapt…

  …arms and legs flailing as she sailed through the air..

  …eyes widened in fear as the inside of the chasm loomed large in her blurred vision…

  …she braced for impact, hands turning to claws ready to scrabble at the hard-packed earth and stone…

  …and she slammed onto the ground on the far side.

  Her breath left her body in a rush at the impact. She could feel her ribs compressing from the force.

  Her glasses fell off.

  The adrenaline finally ran out, and for a moment she closed her eyes and groaned at the pain blossoming all across her body.

  I cannot keep doing this.

  But she wasn’t safe yet.

  Pulling her feet in from dangling over the edge of the chasm, Marie shook as she got to her hands and knees and patted round for her glasses, then crawled to the pottery shards and returned them to the makeshift container.

  Marie forced herself to her feet and limped over to retrieve sword and spade, then paused for a moment as she heaved, though nothing came up, before stumbling off into the silent streets beyond.

  —

  The sky was beginning to lighten, as much as it ever seemed to do, and the greenish glow that suffused the city began to pick out a few more details as Marie stumbled up to the shattered wall of the once-manor, though up close it seemed less impressive - more of a townhouse, perhaps for some onetime successful merchant. There were still a few signs of its function in the layout: the shell of a large building, a significant area behind that would have been the garden, with a smaller structure - now collapsed - that might have housed servants off to one side.

  Marie didn’t care right now.

  It had taken another hour to reach this point since leaping over the scar, and regardless of whatever putain de Skills or Classes this place gave her, there was a limit to what her body could endure.

  The wound on her back had dried but with every step she took she could feel the t-shirt, fused with the drying blood, pulling at the scab.

  She’d pushed her body beyond the limits of [Lesser Endurance], whatever good that did.

  So she was going to walk up to this satanée house, pick a spot under the most intact section of this satané garden wall, and get some satané sleep before she passed out.

  And she did.

  [Fighter Level 8!]

  [Skill – Thick Skin gained!]

  [Skill Augmentation - Bonebreaker Charge (Adrenaline Surge) gained!]

  [Scholar Level 3!]

  [Skill – Basic Reconstruction (Pottery) gained!]

  [Explorer Level 6!]

  [Skill – Precise Cartography gained!]

  [Skill – Mighty Leap gained!]

  [Skill – Silent Steps gained!]

  https://www.patreon.com/collection/817753 and I greatly appreciate anyone who chooses to support me there.