My cheeks strained as I tore through the wind. I used Skin stitching to harden my armour before I slammed into a wall of sand bags. Clouds sprayed around me as I shot out the other side and skittered across the ground. I managed to stop my momentum by shoving the tip of my boots and fingers into the sand.

  I coughed and heaved for breath, clutching at my abdomen with a hand. For the first time in a few weeks, fear crept up on me. It lingered in my throat like a ball of lead that wouldn’t disappear no matter how I swallowed or coughed.

  “What the fuck was that…” I muttered and looked around.

  The hit helped me escape the scorpions, but it came at the cost of a few busted ribs. I scrambled to my feet, rushing to put my back against a wall. I still held the dagger. The thread I tied around its pommel made sure I almost never dropped it, not when I’d made the preparations. Boy was I glad I’d made preparations.

  My mind raced. If the speedy thing went after me, then Daryl and Julia should have made it out. At least I hoped so. It would definitely improve my chances.

  I just needed to hold on long enough for them to notify Nyla of the dangers inside.

  My breath caught in my throat. On second thought, there was no guarantee Daryl would. I didn’t know what kind of man he was, but judging by my experience in the forgotten lands, Blessed didn’t have the best track record at being selfless. If he truly saw me as a danger to the squad he wouldn’t send Nyla to help me.

  I could only hope he was no more than a common dick. If he actually was ambitious to boot, then the pickle I found myself caught in sure made me feel ill at ease. Calm down, Cal. I took a breath. I just needed to kill the thing before it killed me. Simple.

  I looked to my sides. Beige camouflaged tents stood neatly ordered in two rows, filling the stretch of the star formation all the way to its end. There were more here than where we’d come from. Their housing, probably. Why they all lived in one part of the formation, I couldn’t fathom. But they probably knew better than me. I hadn’t fought the scourge on Earth for more than a day or two; who was I to question their reasoning?

  The sand masked the noise of my shuffling feet, the wind brushed away the indentations I left behind. With my experience in sneaking and my boots working together in an environment such as this, I was near soundless. Only the flapping of my clothes caught in the wind made noise.

  There was no doubt that the scorpions and that other thing would find me. It was just a matter of time—keeping a low profile bought me more of it.

  I hurried inside and caught my breath. Inside, bunks had been upturned and dressers emptied in a rush. Clothes littered the floor like leaves. There was no one inside but me. I sheathed my dagger into my belt and awkwardly shoved my hand inside my armour to feel my ribs.

  I winced. My skin was already turning blue under the ominous armour.

  My ribs would heal, as far as I could tell. Probably quickly too with my empowered physique and all. But they’d be a damn nuisance to fight with. Taking more hits without Skin stitching activated would be a bad idea. Yet I couldn’t fight with it active. It was too cumbersome and restrictive.

  What I needed was to trap the quick bastard. To fight it after I dealt with the scorpions. That way I could avoid taking more hits than needed, and pay them back for the nasty hit they gave me.

  I let my sight shift to that of the veil. Slight tremors and shifts in the patterns told me all I needed to know. Magic was being used, likely the scorpions. I hadn’t been able to see the ripples of their blessings when they were hidden below the ground. Much like how I hadn’t been able to see the birds’. The quick thing—however—I had noticed, I just hadn’t been quick enough to react. That worried me. I wouldn’t be able to predict its approach, meaning I’d have to rely on my other senses.

  With the winds howling up small sand storms and whipping against tents I placed no faith in my eyesight or hearing.

  I plucked a thread and tied it around ankle height in the opening from which I’d entered the tent. I didn’t bother keeping it incorporeal. There wouldn’t be time for me to activate it and trip the quick thing. No unsung in the world would be able to react in time if it rushed at them. Well, maybe John.

  I shook my head. No time for that.

  With another piece of thread I closed off the other entrance, just like I had the first. Slight tremors in the veil approached. Time was running out.

  I crumpled a long piece of thread in my hands and laid it on the tent floor, covering as much of it as possible, then repeated the process a few more times until I’d covered as much of the floor as I could. I finished my preparations by tossing one of the bunks to block one of the two entrances. It wouldn’t even hold a whispered back, but it forced them to move it if they wanted to come inside. Giving me ample time to fire at them if that was their chosen method of approach.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  With all the preparations done I readied myself in the middle of the tent. I squeezed Jackpot in my hands.

  Holding a promise of violence always had a way of calming me, even in the worst of situations. Jackpot was far and beyond the best at that though, with it eating away at anxiety and all.

  The veil shook just outside of the tent. Threads coiled themselves into tight knots and shivered with power.

  “Go time,” I whispered and whirled around, firing my wand before confirming my target.

  A scorpion turned the corner, skidding to a halt before rushing at me. My bullet ripped through the air and crushed it. The bug screeched and writhed as its shell cracked. Flames flickered within, lighting it up like a christmas ornament. It trembled and fell to its belly with a few last convulsions before it went still.

  I didn’t have time to admire my handiwork before more rushed in behind it. The first of them tripped on the thread I blocked the doorway with. It made for rough footing as the rest the pack thundered inside. Hard shell ground against shell as they clambered to get over their fallen friend.

  I dashed forward, brandishing the dagger and willing away Jackpot unloaded. There was no time. I needed to deal with as many of the corrupted bugs as I could before the real threat arrived.

  Behind me, the bunk used to block the other door got flung to the side, bringing with it one of the weight bearing pegs of the tent. A segment of the roof sagged in response.

  Even without seeing them, I knew where they all were. However they tried to move, they stepped on parts of the thread that I’d prepared in advance. They stepped on parts of me. I could feel their every move.

  I used Burst and felt the muscles in my lower body swell as I exploded forward, covering the last portion between me and the staggering group.

  There were three of them, four counting the smouldering one. And they realized just as I that they’d made a mistake in coming after me. They weren’t the ones cornering me, I was the one who’d cornered them. And there was no time to retreat and readjust.

  My dagger flashed through the air like a ghost. Even the hard shell couldn’t withstand its thin tip. The shell parted soundlessly, making way for the cold steel of the blade and the scorpion screeched and thrashed at me with both pincers and its stinger. I blocked one of the pincers with my free hand and diverted the other off course with a kick while twisting my torso to avoid the stinger.

  My ribs flared with pain, but I clenched my teeth and pushed on.

  I let go of the dagger and grabbed hold of the stinger before the scorpion could retreat. The thread I’d anchored to the dagger flickered with blue light as it got stretched out.

  With another use of Burst, I tore at the stinger, and swung the scorpion like a flail of sand-brown shell and screeching despair.

  When cracking nuts, you needed a blunt tool, like a hammer. I had no such thing, so the bug would have to do.

  Although it struggled in my hands, twisting and jerking around to stab me with the spear sized singer, it soon gave up the struggle. I slammed the closest one. It flew through the air, it smashed straight through the tent’s wall and flew onward out into the camp.

  The trampled one struggled to stand, I didn’t really need to bother with it. Its shell was already riddled with cracks from the previous treatment of its brethren. But it too got to feel the wrath of my scorpion flail. It had been a rough couple of days. Weeks even. If this was the last chance I had to let loose then so be it. I would enjoy every bit of it.

  A wild smile crept onto my face. It took considerable effort to not laugh in chorus with the thunderous crash of my impromptu weapon as I went about my carnage.

  The last scorpions to enter realized that this was no battle. It was a slaughter. They tried to escape but I was upon them in moments. They were all whispered, and I unsung. They weren’t my match. Not without the element of surprise.

  They’d even been so gracious as to give me time to prepare.

  I dashed around the tent like a wraith, wreaking havoc wherever I passed. My dagger was too small to kill in one hit, so my bug-flail did most of the heavy lifting. The poor scorpion suffered a fate far worse than death. I wondered if the scorpions understood what was happening. I wondered who they hated most. The man wielding their friend as a weapon, or the weaponized friend whose shell was used to crush them.

  I started enjoying the thought when the mystery opponent finally showed up. My flail slammed down onto the back of an escaping scorpion.

  A spray of blue painted me from my face to my knees. It dripped from my chin, and pooled on the plastic mat below. My breath came ragged. The scorpion I’d taken as flail had finally passed some few moments ago. None of the scorpions remained.

  “So it’s you,” I growled.

  The thing, moaned and paced, eyeing my threads that covered to floor. Sand swirled around it like a protective veil. All I could see of it was the vague outline of a humanoid body, only it had more limbs than it should

  I looked to my sides. The insides of the tent had seen better days. Blue innards hung like decorations on the few bunks that still stood upright. Pieces of the tent had been ripped, others torn apart. I pulled my dagger out of the flail-bug and held it in my free hand, not letting go of the stinger just yet. It might still have another purpose.

  “Are you going to step inside?” I asked and spit a glob of blue goo to the ground.

  I stopped, the outline of its head tilted to the side. The being’s eyes shone like white motes, fiery and hot like candles. They cut through the obscuring sand like knives through butter and chilled me to my core.

  Now this was a foe worthy of fear.

  The figure rippled and faded like a haze. My eyes shot open as I felt my threads contort. I activated Skin stitching and slammed my bug-flail blindly in the direction of its approach.

  The resulting crunch was sickening. Blue blood sprayed as the scorpion’s torso was smashed into pieces. The thing stumbled and clutched at its eyes as if the blood was acid, and the obscuring veil settled.

  A rush of bile burned my throat. I swallowed. “You sure are one ugly son of a bitch.”

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