Chapter 13: A New Toy

  Gaia World, 4 Days After The Shattering

  Pawel's brief rest in the basin had done little to restore his strength. His legs still ached from the earlier exertion, and without a proper spear, he felt exposed—his hatchet offered no reach for fending off those relentless clay tadpoles. He needed a new weapon, something sturdy, and ideally a sheltered spot to hole up before full night descended.

  As he trudged onward, his eyes scanned the underbrush for a suitable branch. He snatched up one straight limb, considering how to cut and sharpen it, but it proved too thin and flexible—more whip than spear.

  "I need a bigger stick," he muttered with a chuckle, a childhood memory bubbling up .

  "Yeah, I'm totally not running—I just need a bigger stick!"

  His gaze fell on a fallen branch half-buried under foliage and shadows. He wrestled it free, the wood scraping against roots and leaves with a dry rasp. It was larger than expected, still attached to a hefty chunk of trunk that had sheared off with it.

  Ehh, too much work to trim down, he thought, eyeing the gnarled form.

  But something about its shape drew him in—the natural curves suggesting an ergonomic grip, imperfections that could serve as spikes.

  He set to work with his hatchet, chopping away small twigs and shortening the handle to shoulder height. What emerged wasn't a spear but a crude hammer-axe: an eight-kilogram head with protruding sharp spikes for thrusting and swinging, balanced just right in his hands.

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  Focused on his new prize, Pawel barely registered the approaching chattering until it was too late. He spun, hammer in hand, just as a clay tadpole coiled for its leap, teeth clacking menacingly. Fluidly shifting his testing swing into a downward arc, he took two quick steps forward and brought the spiked end crashing down.

  WHAM!

  The point pierced the monster's clay skin, the heavy head flattening it in a spray of brownish innards that splattered across his arms and face.

  "Argh!" Pawel spat out gritty flecks in disgust, but a wide grin split his features.

  "Hell yes! Big stick!"

  He had no time to celebrate. Another tadpole lunged for his hands; he released the hammer instinctively, stumbling back two clumsy steps to avoid the attack.

  Spotting a third wobbling into jumping range , he lunged for his weapon again. Seizing the handle, he swung wide, catching the airborne monster on the hammer's side and sending it smashing into a nearby trunk with a wet squelch.

  Without breaking momentum, Pawel rotated his swing, dashing forward to meet the last assailant.

  He smashed it into the ground with the same devastating force, its body crumpling in a satisfying burst.

  Breath heaving, he scanned the encroaching darkness for more threats.

  Nothing stirred—at least nothing he could see, besides puffs of purple mist from despawning victims.

  At this point, the night was so thick he could barely make out details beyond a few meters.

  Adrenaline still thrumming in his veins, Pawel shouldered his backpack and pressed on—or tried to.

  In the pitch black, he tripped over roots and got smacked by unseen branches, progress grinding to a halt.

  Finally, he gave up on stealth and pulled out his flashlight, its beam cutting a narrow path through the gloom. Even that proved insufficient against the tangled terrain. Just as exhaustion threatened to drop him where he stood, he stumbled into a small valley reeking of moisture, ringed by a thicket of bushes.

  Descending into the inky depths with only his flashlight's dim glow, Pawel found a cramped clearing amid the trunks. Gathering wood for a fire was impossible—he'd risk poking out an eye in the dark. And would flames attract more monsters anyway? Still, he needed to spot attackers before they pounced.

  Resigned to taking additional risk, he opted for his glowsticks, snapping and shaking a few to life before scattering them in a rough circle around the clearing's edges. Their eerie green light cast long shadows but illuminated the perimeter enough to warn of intruders. Sinking into the middle, shrouded in relative darkness himself, Pawel surrendered to an uneasy vigil, the night's chill seeping into his bones as he braced for whatever lurked beyond the glow.