DISCOVERY PART 4G

Day 428; 0012 (Late Night)

Focus: 513

513’s screaming did not let-up as his enfeebled movements grew more labored with each step he took.

[Damn it. Come on, think. THINK!] He ordered himself, looking for ways to stop the Tree Mimic before it had made a complete escape.

Spotting the faint silhouettes of several javelins he had stuck into the ground earlier, before the fight had begun, a devilish smile crept-up his face.

513: “Ehehehe...heheheh.”

He cackled, maniacally.

Forcing his legs to move, 513 slogged through the black fluid, ignoring the pain from his creaking joints and aching muscles. The ordeal felt like he was treading knee-deep in mud while having his legs flayed with blunt knives, but he refused to falter. His mind had a single goal: to end the battle now before it becomes an issue in the future.

There was an obvious reason for why he chose to fixate on this decision, as opposed to releasing the Tree Mimic as he did with Areikys. That reason was simple: numbers.

Areikys controlled an untold amount of False Arachnes, on the other hand, the Tree Mimic hunted alone.

This indicated a few things that 513 was able to surmise. That [1] the Tree Mimic was a loner, like him -- never really fitting-in with the creatures of the forest; and [2] its kind numbered few.

This assumed logic was all 513 needed to solidify his course of action.

Grunting with each step, he eventually reached the javelins, which had only been a few meters away. As 513 inspected them for damages, he came to a sudden realization.

[No wonder I could see so clearly.] He thought while staring at his surroundings covered in absolute darkness. [I’ve been using True Sense passively this whole time...fuck.]

As he continued to brood-over his mishap, he scanned the area to locate the Tree Mimic’s current position and then sighed.

[Well, since I’m already using it, might as well continue until I finish.] He mused while plucking one of the javelins from the ground and assuming a throwing position. As he coiled his arm back, ready to launch the weapon, a sharp pain coursed through his veins, causing his left hand to grow numb.

513: “Gah…”

He groaned, as the javelin rolled-off of his fingertips and into the pitch-dark fluid.

Wincing as he stretched out his fingers to regain feeling, he stared at the remaining javelins still sticking-up from the ground. After taking a moment, he reached over and grabbed a new javelin -- rather than the one he had dropped -- then readied himself.

513: “Phooo...hmph!”

Exhaling slowly through pursed lips, he launched the javelin into the air with what little strength he had left.

Watching it glide through pure darkness, 513’s face immediately soured. He knew right away that the javelin was not going to hit its mark. The projectile won’t even come close to its target.

Without confirming its landing, 513 laid his hands on another javelin from the dwindling stock and prepared another throw.

[No need to be stingy…] He told himself. [...I can always...heal…]

Mentally prepared, his body began to change. It bulged as he put strength into his core muscles and throwing arm, stretching and almost tearing-off the armor he wore as his body grew in size.

As he accumulated more power, he suffered through excruciating drawbacks.

He sensed each strand of muscle stretch to the point of shearing -- their ductility waning as they reached the point of rupture or break. His arms and chest felt as-if they would burst at any moment, while an extreme, ballooning force, squeezed at his internals like an ever-shrinking band wrapped around his waist.

The anguish 513 felt was not new to him, but that did not mean he had grown immune to its discomfort.

With a momentous throw, he screamed in pain.

513: “UWAAAH!”

The thrown javelin pierced through the air like a rocket-propelled missile, colliding with the Tree Mimic’s back in a thunderous roar. The impact forced the creature onto its knees, as large chunks of its body were blasted away.

The midnight air was muddied in bright yellow and dark green as aerosolized parts of the Tree Mimic descended to the ground like a flurry of snow.

The thrown javelin, which had carved-out a large bore-hole through the center of the Tree Mimic’s body, appeared to be undamaged in the attack. Though, only half of it could be seen, as the remaining half was buried inside a large boulder located a few meters underground.

[Nice.] 513 thought, as he cracked a tired smile. [...definitely worth...]

The attack’s aftermath had both combatants suffering from major injuries. The Tree Mimic, completely paralyzed; and 513, ceasing from the pain of having his muscles swell and detach from his skeletal structure.

In the midst of the suffering, only one laughed.

513: “HAHA...gah, fuc...k...gahahah...ergh...fuck…haha...”

Crazed, 513 chortled to suppress the pain.

[Now to finish off this prick…] He considered. [...why can’t I...I can’t move…]

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Day 428; 0247 (Late Night)

Focus: 513

513 had been stuck in-place like a statue for what seemed to be hours. While immobile, he had swapped back to actively using True Sense, pulsing every few breaths to get a 360° view of his surroundings.

The long wait had allowed him to calm-down and reflect-over his most recent chain of decisions.

[How vexing. If I had gone on the offensive from the very beginning, I wouldn’t be in this position.] He scolded himself internally. [One of these days, I’m going to die from being too god damn passive.]

It was a reality check that he had failed to recognize in all his days surviving in the forest. He had, for the most part, been the recipient of aggression, not the other way around. If he wanted to live, rather than survive, he would have to acknowledge that even with all his proactive measures -- setting traps, developing a heightened sensory ability, procuring weapons and armor, etc. -- fundamentally, his decisions were still a form of reaction, rather than decisive action.

[I need to test the limits of my body BEFORE I get into a fight, not during.] He mused while giving his entire frame a look-over with True Sense.

The bulging muscles that came as a result of overloading his body with enhanced strength had been subdued, retreating back to their original shape while his body repaired itself. But the after-effects of his extreme actions were clear -- he had ultimately incapacitated himself, making it so that he was just as vulnerable as the Tree Mimic.

[A decision made in haste...how poorly thought-out.] He contemplated, furrowing his brows. [As I am now, I am completely defenseless...even a small creature could snuff me out in an instant.]

513 spent some time wallowing in self-doubt and pity before eventually rising out of his mental slump.

Taking a deep breath, he made the 36th attempt at moving his legs since becoming a living gargoyle.

513: “Yes, yes, YES!!!”

He exclaimed with joy, as his body moved for the first time since throwing the javelin.

With persistence, 513 gradually regained mobility in the rest of his body, slowly stretching-out each muscle so as to not injure them any further. Although the aches and pains were still present, they were now much less severe.

Once he was able to reliably move around, 513 scanned his own figure with True Sense, revealing the extent of the damage his recklessness had inflicted on his body.

[Skinny…] He muttered internally, as his once bulky frame was now reduced to a fraction of its size. [How foolish...no, stop that...move forward, not back.] He argued with himself while wiping dried muck off of his torso.

513: “The healing rate is much faster, but the cost is unequivocally extreme...how can I dictate the rate of regeneration? Is there a determinate; a constant? Is the healing rate proportional to the amount of energy expended, or the amount of consumption?...”

513 mumbled his thoughts into the night, contemplating how to manage his super-human regeneration as he treaded through dried, caked layers of pitch-dark fluid.

513: “...in any case, I should finish-up so I can sleep.”

He whispered, as he trudged his way-over to the spear-sword, which was sticking out of the heavily damaged tree protecting his campsite.

[...I missed you…] He thought, slightly confused why.

After yanking the spear-sword out of the tree, 513 turned his attention to the Tree Mimic.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Day 428; 0307 (Early Morning)

Focus: 513

513: “You aren’t looking too good are ya!?”

He inquired of the Tree Mimic while stabbing it in several spots with his spear.

Tree Mimic: “GRAAAH!”

513: “Shut up.”

513 commanded while continuing to stab at the beast.

513: “Go to sleep...”

Tree Mimic: “STOP IT! STOP IT! STO-”

With a vindictive swing of his spear-sword, 513 cut into a large vibrating tube found inside the cavity once containing the Tree Mimic’s mock face, severing its ability to speak.

[I guess I’ll split it right down the middle.] He thought, thinking nothing of the cruelty he had just delivered.

The Tree Mimic quivered uncontrollably as 513 made his way up to the top of its frame; it knew its end was near.

Grunting as he stabbed the spear-sword into what he had assumed to be the Tree Mimic’s head, 513 leaned forward, gripped the shaft of the weapon with both hands like a boat paddle, then dashed across the full-length of its body, dragging the spearhead buried into its frame like a bladed anchor.

The action flayed the Tree Mimic like a butterfly, revealing its stringy-mess of insides to the cold, night air. Curiously, any internal fluids that spilled-out from the creature’s strangely assembled organs, quickly solidified into a porous mass that reminded 513 of multicolored pumice.

Tree Mimic: “...”

The sounds of muffled moaning came from the creature as its labored breathing became more apparent.

With the Tree Mimic nearing its end, 513 swung the spear-sword in a wide arc, dislodging black liquid off of the spearhead. He then approached the creature once more, kicking it several times in anger.

513: “You stupid fuck.”

He muttered, in resentment.

It was childish and petty, but he didn’t care.

---Chapter End