—Chapter 14—

—Hexes—

Kellan leapt over the few chairs of the busted airplane and made his way to a rent in the side of the wall. He glanced out across the muddy swamp, all the way to the ruined chain-link fence. The “alligator” was there—Queen Hexiton—and Kellan caught his breath at the sight of it out of the mud.

The yami was a massive alligator the size of a flattened bus. It had six legs, each with an extra joint, bizarre human-like hands, and razor-like claws. Its underbelly and “hands” were all metal. The scales were a mix of steel, copper, and shiny aluminum, and the claws themselves looked to be jagged tin. The top part of the alligator was green and tan, with muscles so bulging, Kellan would’ve sworn the best was steroids.

The monster had emerged from the mud, smashed the fence, and was now lunging for Mavis and the others. Sen and Husker fled, but Mavis lingered behind to slow the beast.

With animalistic rage, the alligator crashed into one of the dilapidated mobile homes. The puny dwelling didn’t stand a chance. It crumpled under the beast’s massive weight and size, some of the metal paneling sparking when it came into contact with the alligator’s copper underbelly.

Mavis stood her ground, throwing random junkyard objects. A lawn flamingo. A brick. A blue plastic kid’s swimming pool. When she struck the beast’s eye, it flinched and then snapped its jaws in her direction.

Mavis threw a lawn chair.

The alligator caught it with its massive jaws. In a single bite, the piece of furniture was crushed in half.

Husker and Sen stopped and turned, watching the combat without interfering. Sen occasionally screamed something—he was the one screeching the whole time?—but Husker said nothing.

“Kellan!” Mavis shouted. “Hurry!”

With his breath held, Kellan examined Sevriss. It was… a short sword, or maybe a gladius. Kellan had taken enough world history courses to know he didn’t have anything particularly unique or linked to a culture.

“Dammit,” he muttered to himself. “I really don’t know how to use a sword.”

The blade pulsed with an eerie energy, somehow discontent. Kellan chuckled.

“You got any ideas?”

No words filled Kellan’s ears, but he felt a desire from the sword… A desire to be set down. Eager to comply with the magical object, Kellan placed the sword on the floor of the ruined airplane. He thought it would slip down into the mud—because the plane was at a slight slant—but something stranger happened.

The blade disappeared into the shadows.

Serviss completely left his field of view, as though the darkness was liquid, and the sword had sunk below the surface.

In a panic, Kellan reached down to grab it. To his shock, his hand plunged into the shadows. His fingers twisted around an object. He pulled up, half-surprised and half-elated to see he no longer had a sword.

He had an assault rifle.

Kellan laughed once, the happiest he had been since entering the nightmare world. The darkness wasn’t quite as terrifying when Kellan felt like he could defend himself against the night terrors.

For just a couple seconds, Kellan examined his new weapon. The Mk-17 SCAR was standard issue for special forces agents. Kellan had held hundreds. This one—black in design and with a rail system on the barrel—was lighter weight than he remembered. When he tried to check the barrel and the magazine, to count the number of rounds, nothing opened.

“What is this?” he muttered to himself, even as the rumbles and sounds of shouting continued across the muddy field.

Sevriss never answered with words, only feelings. It felt… happier now. Perhaps bloodthirsty. And maybe even… judgmental. Like it wanted to see what Kellan brought to the table.

Magical Item [Semi-Sentient Weapon]—Sevriss [Mk-17 SCAR-H Mode]

A mythical weapon that is said to appear once on every dimension. Powerful and versatile, it transforms to match the preferred weapon-type of its wielder. It’s also cursed. Weapon damage varies depending on the weapon [SCAR, (7 + dexterity– target’s dexterity) and doubles the bonus from firearms enhancing abilities and magical skills]. Has a 10% chance to double arcana when used to make the finishing strike.

The black—cursed—rifle was the type meant for standard range engagements. The massive alligator was a few hundred feet away, which was within easy range. Kellan braced the rifle and then took aim.

He didn’t need long.

When he fired, the SCAR rifle had less of a kick than the standard version he used back home. The bullet slammed into the fleshy part of the alligator.

[Alex Kellan] shot [Queen Hexiton] for a total of 18 damage. (9 +100% Sharpshooter Modifier + Sevriss Bonus)

[Queen Hexiton] reduces damage of each hit equal to its armor rating of 5.

[Queen Hexiton] takes a total of 13 damage.

How much health did it have? Forty-five?

Although Kellan wasn’t the biggest fan of quick math, subtraction was an easy game. He glanced at the rifle, wondering if there was any need to watch his ammunition. Normally, his rifle held twenty rounds. Sometimes, if he used a belt of ammunition, he could have more, but with the magical weapon, he had no idea what to expect.

The giant yami stomped his six legs, causing a minor quake throughout the area. Threes shook, and leaves filled the air like a green snowstorm. Mavis fell to the ground, as did Sen. Kellan grabbed part of the airplane to keep his balance, but the ruined aircraft bent and creaked.

After a jolt, and the sound of metal being twisted, the passenger section of the plane tilted further, becoming a makeshift slide. Kellan held on to the side of the plane, his fingers getting stuck in the metal. He had forgotten about his ability to mold metal like clay, but he was quickly realizing it had plenty of applications.

It’s only limited by my cleverness.

“Kellan!”

The alligator charged for the downed Mavis.

Without a second thought, Kellan let go of the plane. He slid as he took aim, but it was just enough to get a hit almost in the exact same spot.

[Alex Kellan] shot [Queen Hexiton] for a total of 16 damage. (8 +100% Sharpshooter Modifier + Sevriss Bonus)

[Queen Hexiton] reduces damage of each hit equal to its armor rating of 5.

[Queen Hexiton] takes a total of 11 damage.

Kellan landed in the mud, sinking to his knees.

This chump can’t handle a gunner. It’s just an animal. I could kill it with ease, so long as I maintain a good distance.

For some reason, the alligator’s scales stitched themselves back together, as though it were healing its injuries. Did it have worms? Or was this some sort of ability it had?

I spoke too soon. What if this thing can heal forever? I have no clue what these things can do.

The beast had already taken twenty-four damage, yet it didn’t flinch or thrash around. It grew angrier and angrier, roaring into the forest and disturbing the branches. When it pounded its metal feet, everything shook again.

Kellan fired. Another hit. Eleven damage. But the healing happened faster—more desperate. And the creature seemed stronger for it, like it was going into a berserker rage.

Then it rushed for Mavis, its jaws wide open.

She tried to stand, but her bad leg made it slow going.

Kellan mentally prepared himself to continuing firing, but he knew Mavis likely wouldn’t last long against an angry magical beast. One that I enraged!

Thankfully, the monster never reached her.

At some point while Kellan had been focusing on Mavis and the yami, Husker joined the fray. In one dramatic motion, the werewolf-man threw off his cloak. His reddish-brown fur reminded Kellan more of a fox than a wolf. His pointed ears had black tips, and part of a chest and stomach had white fur. He wore a pair of trousers, ratty from use, but not dirty. Manacles were around his upper arm, wrists, and ankles, however. Bits of chains hung off each, and the links of the chains shone with glowing writing.

The writing became more intense as Husker leapt for the alligator. He collided with the beast’s jaw. Husker latched onto the alligator, even as the monster lifted its long snout into the air. Husker’s claws sank into the beast flesh—beyond the scales—and purplish energies pumped into the monster.

Little by little, cracks formed in the monster.

Husker’s eyes glowed the same purple, his fur on end. He panted loud enough that Kellan could hear all the way across the field of mud and on the busted airplane.

Although Kellan couldn’t “see” the damage being dealt, he was a witness to the utter obliteration of the monster’s scales, muscles, and face. Whatever the purple energy was, it didn’t like the alligator.

The yami thrashed, trying desperately to dislodge the werewolf. At one point, the half-rotted back slammed Husker against one of the mobile homes, denting the side. Husker groaned, but never released the monster.

When the yami slammed him a second time, blood exploded across the side of the mobile home. But it was too little, too late. After the second slam, the monster staggered on its six legs.

Kellan held up his rifle and fired. He didn’t even look at the notification. He just watched as the monster collapsed to the ground, its body breaking apart and its blood pooling under it.

For some reason, the rifle felt… satisfied.

Without waiting for instruction, Kellan walked across the muddy swamp. Unlike last time, he took his time, using his hands to feel for the barbed wire. His magical ability was still in effect, allowing him to mold the wires whenever he came into contact with them. His ability to ignore pain also made the swamp an easy trek. No matter how many sticks and rocks he stepped on, Kellan felt fine.

He yanked himself out of the sludge and headed for Mavis. She stood in the blood puddle around the yami, her eyes on the crimson arcana glittering in the gore. With a shaky hand, she knelt down to examine them.

Kellan walked over, splashing through the blood as he made his way to her side. Six arcana crystals sat in a pillar of light streaming down from the forest’s canopy.

“Six?” he balked. “The Pestbyter was scarier, and it only gave me three. Not that I’m complaining. Apparently, we need this stuff.”

“I’m not sure why it gave us six,” Mavis muttered. “It’s larger? And it did seem… powerful.”

“Take them.”

She glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “All of them? I think you and Husker deserve a few.”

At the mention of the werewolf, Kellan turned his gaze to the over side of the alligator corpse. Husker was on the ground, curled in the fetal position, his breathing rapid. The purple energy was no longer flowing from his claws and fangs, and his eyes had returned to their normal darkness.

Without his cloak, he seemed thinner than Kellan thought he would be. Emaciated.

Kellan walked over, and Mavis decided to join him.

“What’s wrong?” Kellan asked.

Husker closed his eyes and remained still, his shallow panting the only noise he made. The chains and manacles around his limbs had stopped glowing, but the writing on each remained prominent. Kellan couldn’t read any of it—it was in a language he didn’t understand.

“Leave him alone,” Sen said as he stormed over. “Don’t touch him.”

“What’s going on? How did Husker kill it? The alligator looked like it was getting stronger for a moment…”

“It was,” Sen stated. Once he was close to Husker, he placed his hands on his small hips. “Wyld magic has control over animals, vegetation, and primal urges. It’s the magic of the beginning, and most wyld mages develop feral powers—red of tooth and claw. It’s the same with the yami. Yami are just beasts of corrupted magic, so they get even deadlier versions of normal powers.”

“It was berserk?” Kellan asked, his eyebrow raised.

“That’s right. A normal wyld mage can do the same thing—once in a berserk state, they heal faster, their damage is increased, but they also lose rational judgment. This beast is known for killing people by surprise. Once it’s taken enough damage, it starts its mayhem cycle.”

Mavis knelt next to Husker. When she reached out to touch his reddish fur, Sen slapped her hand.

“I said don’t touch him.” With a child-like glare, Sen stepped between the werewolf and Mavis. “Are you secretly two people? Because one person couldn’t possibly be this dumb. It was a simple instruction.”

Before anyone could speak, Sen huffed.

“Did you get Sevriss?” Sen stared up at Kellan with a frown. “Tell me that gun is what we’re looking for.”

Kellan held the rifle close. “Yeah, but it said it was cursed.”

“No one cares about that.”

“I think I do, little man. It said I would die a violent death, far from loved ones.”

Sen scoffed. “Listen, if we make it to Zenith, all curses and hexes will be lifted. That’s why we’re going in the first place. Both my sister and Husker are under the effects of terrible hexes, and we have to get that fixed.”

“What’s the difference?” Mavis asked, almost with a laugh. “Between a hex and curse.”

With the matter-of-fact tone of a dictionary, Sen replied with, “Curses are weaker, and can be lifted through tedious means. They also only affect a person once. For example, Kellan will suffer a violent death. Obviously, there’s no other effect, and it can’t happen again. It’s a onetime deal.”

Mavis nodded along with the words.

“Hexes happen multiple times. For instance, look at Husker.” Sen gestured to him with a quick wave of his hand. “Technically, Husker was given powerful death magic—a mix of entropy and meta. He can destroy most magical creatures so long as he can maintain a firm grip. He drains mana and life at a shocking rate. But every time he uses his reaper touch, the hex takes a terrible toll.”

Before Sen finished the story, Kellan glanced over. The werewolf seemed dejected. His tail was between his legs, and his hands trembled. It almost seemed like he didn’t want to continue living. He just stared at the grass in front of him, his gaze glassy.

His fur was matted with blood, and his ribs seemed awkward—like they were broken—but otherwise the man seemed healthy. What was wrong?

“What happens to Husker?” Mavis asked, obvious concern in her voice.

Sen crossed his arms. “Every time he uses his ability, a member of his family dies.”