Terror. Doom. The absence of them is a strange sensation in itself. Becoming so acquainted with the emotions, forgetting existence without them, feeling them fade - like the sunset, the coolness coming and a breeze, I'm on land now, able to relax, able to give in -

Exhaustion.

To be fighting, tearing through enemies all while your mind works calmly, methodically, easily thinking through strategy and situation. It makes killing like cutting grass. That once you kiss death, a wave is not enough to excite you.

It was a completely different method of fighting for me - to be strongest, unopposed. Without uncertainty, challenge, unpredictability - animal minds are simpler then tic-tac-toe. Just attack, attack - and it doesn't matter how unpredictable the movements in no move can mate.

The king of the jungle - maybe a pawn on earth, but I was an emperor in the lower realms. This beach - living was as easy as breathing. Add that with my time experiencing true terror, true doom, it was impossible for me to comprehend it here. My life just wasn't threatened enough.

Then screams, my name, I feel sleep ripped off me, and I scramble out to see what has them panicking, which ones been hurt, or killed and -

Crabs.

Fear, Death

Just a small nudge. Gone. As I see the spindly threat. Two crabs had washed up on the beach.

Combat. It is raw and uncomplicated. You kill the things trying to kill you. All of your existence narrows to a single point, where life and death hangs in the balance until they are tipped to the victor -

I yawn, then walk up and punt one crab back into the ocean, and the other I smacked rapid style with my mauls, grabbed the body - which in fairness was about five times bigger then any supermarket crab I'd ever seen - I didn't really look at it, I dropped it in front of the others. Along with a pot and a stick of butter, ignoring their mutters I returned to fall face down, back onto the blankets and reclaimed an almost untroubled sleep -

Screaming -

Concern, Unease

Still I bolt out of bed, scrambling, and - Crabs.

Ten crabs, a little pocket of them, bouncing in the waves a patch of jagged chiton in the sunset, all their pinchers wrapped into each other like a tangled patch of neurons, I looked at my friends - "What is it?"

"Cody, that's...a lot of monsters. They're coming right for us."

"Where's Brandon?" This wouldn't be happening if he was here, but he hadn't come back after that little spook and I guess this was my punishment.

"Exploring."

"Alright. You guys know how I'm about three times stronger then one of you, right."

"Yeah." Mike said, nodding impressively. Jason looked less pleased, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"There's three of you." I turned around and face planted - back into bed -

"Aaaaaahhhhh-"

"Jesus Christ!" I shouted, are they stupid?

And of course they were. They went into a dungeon with mostly sporting equipment. By choice. Of course I didn't tell them no, because I should have connected what was happening. Brandon missing, the guys acting antsy. it wasn't like them, they were still cautious, but not chicken shit. I'd completely forgotten that sensation I'd felt the first time I was attacked by a bug -

Like all the hair was standing up on my arm, I felt the buzzing, even before I heard it. But it hadn't happened again, I'd also learned how to use my senses, there wasn't a time after the bug that I wasn't listening for a buzz. My intuition had gravitated to much more practical outlets - for me...danger was silence - and with the waves...

100 Crabs - coming at us on a wave, a thick mat of them. What was going on...I blinked, still unsure of what was happening. Still bitter from being pulled from sleep to do a chore - But, a part of me registered that this was easy money, an allowance and I love crab. It was a treat, I know my mother loved it too, but it was rare it made it next to a steak, my father's preference...

So...why not?

I was still blinking, rubbing gritty sleep from my eyes, feeling the crystalized slick of dried salt on my body as I watched them emerge. I felt the hovering group behind me - staring at the crabs, sweeping the beach as though they were looking for something - Brandon still...

I watched the crabs -

Crabs that broke ground with a crippled shuffle to emerge from the waves - four treacherous claws and a devious shell and I met them. And I realized, yes it was a chore, because I had to wait until they hit land for me to even strike. Hitting them in the water was like bobbing for apples. They bounced away from the teeth of my mauls -

And then once there I realized how clever their build, understood why - hard backs held off the ground by long legs that sunk into the sand like hammered nails when I struck - designed to deflect me, designed to deflect any diving blow from above - like the reptile-birds. We'd stumbled into nests, patches, they were too densely populated for me to do more then peak with the others, but I could imagine -

A war - air vs. sea, two enemies clashing. Each eating the other. One growing long beaks and a way to escape, to protect their nests and break the hard shells, the others a stalwart defense - it was interesting...

To see nature in motion, to think about it - except, I should have thought of something else. The sky wasn't filled with the reptile birds and darkness was falling and...

I just wasn't in danger.

They watched with confidence how I dispatched the creatures, both hands blazing -

The huge overhand swings of my mauls met the rigid shell with a satisfying crack and as I felt the body bend beneath, exploding chitinous flakes outward to splash amongst the foamy surf that tickled my toes. Cheers followed every crunch, but aside from the cracking shells the crabs were silent.

-1 HP

-1 HP

-1 HP

The four claws were fast and I could have dodged them, I wanted to test the reach, the strength before I waded into the center to kill them faster. The claws opened too small to wrap, to sever - more than a finger or toe, and my magical shield only allowed a pinch as the jagged edges slid off my legs without drawing blood, leaving blisters instead. So the fight would be easy.

I rained down blows with complete confidence, focusing on doing it as quickly as possible for I could get back to bed, and I heard the mix of admiration, the imagination of their voices to do as I could, they had seen me fight - but they hadn't seen me butcher - hadn't seen how much devastation, how quickly I could deliver it -

And they enjoyed it, too. As a few broke past me as I focused on the clustered group, the guys playing like outfielders chasing the ones that slipped past - working together - cheers for every kill - sharing in the chore and reward, this was perfect I realized. Easy money, its coming right to us -

Then I noticed them muttering. Concerned - they had weapons out, armored, not watching me -

They didn't even shout as Brandon finally made it back, running - quick beats in the sand - quiet. He looked at me, then came over to join - a sledge hammer -

I realized. That the birds weren't clouding the sky. Why not? Wasn't it dinner time? And it bothered me. And as I looked at the ocean, there was just - so much to eat - and it had just been - thirty minutes?

That's the problem, when you don't see something as a threat, and you're so use to being selfish. So use to asking how does this effect me - that's the problem with -

Friends -

Had I not decided to trust them already. To take the risk of friendship and reveal my secrets, then I knew I'd be forced, to make a decision now. To risk sharing everything I could do. Because -

"This is bad."

Concern. Unease.

That, or planning to let them die. And still they might because this was not just my battle, this was a team battle - a team dungeon. And I didn't know it would be different, but...of course -

As I pulled back to explain, "I have to kill them, you guys have to make a plan. Think about what can happen and decide. Behind us, there is the thicker brush of the forest, the bird things, and who knows what else. The crabs, more and more are coming, I'm not sure but I think it's waves of them. That we're going to be overwhelmed. None of us have a way to kill a large amount of weak creatures, not in these numbers."

"Stay." Mike said instantly - no explanation, and I didn't have time to hear one - but I had my answer when they others didn't contradict him, I was already moving to our shelter -

My hands focused on the palms we'd made into a hut, what a shoddy thing it would have been if not for a joke that destroyed it, not that much better now - but there was nothing out there that dangerous...And now I run my fingers over it - not finding what I want. Not rich heavy woods, but the foamier balsa of the pulp - not smooth and sturdy but...porous - Still I pour everything I have into growing it stronger. I realized this would be a battle of attrition and my mana would save us if I could manage it right. It became a platform for them to escape if they got wounded. Where we could get above the wave of crabs.

Finished, around my body I called to the other pieces of my set - let them wrap me in the wildness and bloodlust I found in the jungle, I felt my mind shifting back to the heathen hunter - the arrogant apex persona I used to dismiss the monkeys, because this would be similar -

Wraps of the Serpent

Description: The sleek scales and potency of the serpent strike is captured in these arm wraps.

Stat Modifier:

+1 Agility

1 of 3 pieces in the Jungle Fief Set

Durability: 50/50

Quality: Good

Guard of the Plaxon:

Description: The resilience of its armor and ferocity of its protective spirit make the Plaxon a seemingly impenetrable foe. This loose armor cinches at the waist and legs to cover vital areas while still leaving a person free to move effectively.

Stat Modifier:

+10 Defense

2 of 3 pieces in the Jungle Fief Set

Durability: 200/200

Quality: Good

And of course the Cowl of the Apex all combined, and I had my bonus -

Cowl of the Apex:

Description: A hood and half cape worn over the shoulders to fall over the lower back, crafted from the body of an Apex Predator of the Basic Jungle Dungeon Biome and infused with the spirit of the beast.

Stats Modifiers:

+1 Agility

+1 Strength

Traits:

Pride of the Tiger - This was not made to protect, to hide, or to defend - but only to instill fear. It was crafted as a message to those who see it, 'Look at me. I'm coming.' And those who see it will never doubt the killer of this beast.

3 of 3 pieces in the Jungle Fief Set

Durability: 100/100

Quality: Good

Jungle Fief Bonus -

Ability - Culling the Weak (Passive)

Know the relative strength of your enemies.

It wasn't perfect. I can't say I'm disappointed in how they turned out, it's just - compared to the tiger? Of course they wouldn't be as powerful, as magnificent as that victory, and I had used just a small amount of it, just the head and chest - the open jaw to frame my face forever in its roar -

It's just the rest of the tiger now felt, well - dead.

I thought I just needed inspiration, another idea. But the more I crafted and tried to force it, the more I realized it wasn't just what I could do. I could create anything, it just wasn't special. No added bonus or abilities.

There was something more to it than what materials were left, there was a resonance in them. That energy I somehow managed to harness in the process of shaping the material itself, harmonizing it into purpose.

It was artistry, something I was completely unfamiliar with. It wasn't any particular skill with knives and leather and the processes of construction that determined the result, at least not alone. It went beyond a formula or pattern and existed in the realm of intuition and the abstract.

But there was an obvious weight of power that remained in a strong foe, a portion of it. That was what I tapped into to make the finished pieces. My successful crafts were the result of not forcing but appreciating - I still couldn't tell if it was a personal or actual limiter. But I could clearly feel a truth, that if I deviated, forcing the transformation into something it didn't want to become - that all that potential energy could be lost.

It wasn't something I was willing to risk...so instead I was forced to act within the nature of the creatures, tapping into their essence.

It was with the snakeskin I realized the difficulty of it - it was beautiful and smooth, cold and hypnotic, the way it captured the light and I wanted boots from the prized scales. But it wanted to sway and strike, to be sinuous and speedy from where it attached to the trunk -

My trunk. And so it would only adorn my arms and even though I had thought I'd set out to make boots but I ended up swallowed in the work and suddenly found that I was consumed - only my hands peaked out of the snakes protruding mouth as the hide wrapped up my arms and snugged my chest.

The Plaxon solidified my understanding as it rebuked the idea of being boots - it would never be walked on, not even in death - that wasn't the protection it offered. All its durability and purpose was turned to protecting the offspring and it's use gravitated to my waist, the power of motherhood in it longing to fall like a dress -

It was a battle of wills that resulted in the compromise of a loose guard, I felt how easily it could be a skirt, I felt the ebbing of power even as I subverted its purpose to something I was inclined to wear.

Potential? That was the best way I could describe it. Potential was the possibilities of a material as it resonated with me - with my intent. What came out of my crafting was the meeting of the two. A negotiation and a compromise.

My mauls spun and crushed as I continued to eviscerate the crabs, ignoring their attacks for the greatest offensive output. The others did their best to assist - the lobbed orbs of Jason had some effect, but they were mostly down to using weighted weapons. Sledge hammers and axes.

And I was puerile in my attacks - still learning a new foe now the I realized how serious I had to come up with a strategy, figure out the best way. I was able to add weight to my weapons, adjust them, make them more effective to force a single hit kill. But I had no martial arts - no set of moves and if I wasn't careful I found myself tangled trying to be faster, made worse by the crabs starting to spread out once they established a beach hold...

I pounced, bringing my weapons down to crush, and was already rolling, spinning. Wide sweeps for my next attack, as I gathered the tension of my legs and lunged again - like a frog. The sand slid off and down my shield as I slithered and skated across the beach doing flips and somersaults, trying to bring as much momentum and energy into every blow - dispatching a cluster, and moving to the next - a brief lull -

"I'll be back -" I shouted, then ran further up the beach, to do something I should have done as the first thing getting here. But...I was stupid. Occupied. The trees, the thin palms that existed in this soil, the wide bladed fronds. The whole place was sand and rock. This wasn't a jungle. Trees, real trees, just...didn't grow. There was no high canopies to catch monsoons. There was no rich earth for roots to grasp and hold, no reservoir of clean water unsalted...

Bad soil...still I plucked the trees, doing what I could to come up with a make shift solution, all my running about brought me twenty of them - and I shoved them back into the ground, feeding them, pushing mana into their roots - begging them to grow. Begging their trunks to widen and their roots to grow deep to support the weight I needed them to hold -

They wanted more leaves instead, to catch the sun and feed flowers and - they didn't want to be big trees - I gave up, turning instead to a trusted seed, a known seed so small. I looked back and saw my friends, doing their best, killing the crabs, keeping a swath of beach clean around our shelter that grew narrower by the minute.

I focused on the ground wishing I could sense it, too, but I was digging, doggy paddling and sending a wide spray of sand behind me I dropped the seed in and closed the dirt over it and let it grow, guiding it, trusting it and asking it to trust me - that this place could become a rich jungle - if only you start, you can make it so -

And the seed sprouted, slow and steady, uncrushed I fed it - let it carry and take my energy for itself, it's fuel - it was achingly slow, as pained shouts from returned blows delivered by the crabs reached my ears, but my focus was on the tree...feeding it. I was nearly out of mana as it was just a sapling and I splurged for a mana potion and brought it's size up more, and another -

It was a tree - a small tree. But...a hopeful tree.

I turned around, running and dropping into an explosive bear crawl, re-entering the fight. Bounces landed me in the next pocket of pinchers and I beat a rhythm, like tribal drums upon their shells, a rapid melody accompanied by the heavier crushes of the sledge, but it wasn't fast enough to end the crab dance - more, an endless ocean of them - the beach in both directions moved with them. It wasn't a coordinated assault, as the crabs surged onto the beach -

And in a way we were winning. Crab bodies were everywhere, injuries healed in-between. and the guys had money, knew they were investing in their stats, and growing stronger, growing more confident, but -

More crabs. They came out thicker and thicker, in an unending mass, clustered, waiting for the waves to bob them them ashore as the light faded. Brandon threw up his light spell and mine joined - his a red orb and mine, amber, mixed with the white moon light as we became bloody shadows tearing through the night.

I looked at the guys and they looked back; I felt the strangeness of it, already the closeness I felt to them, the bond that fighting together brings. It was something my father had shared once, unintentionally - blood brothers. It was a rare response, almost a snort of derision that escaped, when it was presented like a cut hand, something that can be...acquired from a shake or swapping platelets by choice...

So much meaning can be contained in a glance - I'm doing everything I can.

So much can't be held back -

I'm not sure it will be enough. I'm not sure if I can save you -

Because they had been forced to abandon the beach - and now their growth stagnated. They were on top of the hut, a rickety structure, finally taking the high ground and at first we'd been - relieved. But the crabs, they didn't move around. They were now packed so tightly they couldn't move left or right, instead they started to climb up -

Up palms, up rocks, up the hut. Any obstacle seen they mounted - and I was being torn. What to do - abandon now? They had lost their income stream, had given it up too early, all it took was one to crumble and I hadn't seen which, or if it was a mutual retreat, but they had climbed and the ground they'd held collapsed, lost forever. I was unable to win it back.

Now they looked at the bulging closeness, the crabs that were rising up to them along the sides and didn't have the leverage to swing a sledge effectively, they could bat them away, sweep them off but no longer kill -

I shook my head, running back to my tree and jumped onto the trunk of it - keeping myself free of the grasping claws as I poured what I had earned into it. Everything. Growing it stronger, wider. Deeper roots -

Thinking about what was coming. If I was lucky, if I could get the tree strong enough to support five...I weighed the least, and I didn't need it to support me.

I could lift and carry one at a time, maybe two. Maybe I could get back in time for the others...I returned, for more coin, to keep them safe -

Jason slipped first, losing his balance on the uneven roof as he tried to knock a crab back and over - he dropped his hammer, and his hands scrambled, falling forward - as they reached for his feet kicking, grabbing onto his limbs

I scrambled over the crabs, over their bodies leaving my earned pocket of respite, diving next to him even as they pulled him back out -

The fearsome screams, not of pain but his face - all that beauty torn away in seconds, a lost eye, a chunk of ear missing, and long lacerations across his soft skin twisted him into a macabre mockery of his handsomeness.

I saw the puzzlement on his features, and a disbelief that warred between confusion. He was okay - and then I saw him snap. Literally, his fingers snapped, crackling and tickling with energy, suddenly the blue orbs no longer left his hand but became his hand. His fingers no longer wound up and threw lobbed orbs, ineffective, they became blades of the energy flicked off his fingers -

A sharp spray that shredded as the guys pulled back from his flechette staring in wonder at the change, and I threw myself out of the way - he'd done it!

As he suddenly shedded the scales of terror they lifted off his fingers and dove into the mass of crabs, and they were saved - for seconds, before he sagged beneath, drooping and then collapsing to his ass, spent -

Still -

It reclaimed the spot I'd lost, my declining health from losing a toe hold was pushed back and I started to swing and crush once more before making one last trip, one last burst of mana before I had to decide -

I had to choose.

Freedom is choice -

Who do I save? Who do I risk?

In the tree, I feel it's strong enough, ready to hold him without a problem, I'd feel comfortable - I would risk two - The two lightest, for sure -

I drain my mana to dregs, last drops, refill and drain again - until I'm positive it could support my choice - support two. With me knocking the crabs off, keeping the weight off where they didn't have to swing it back and forth in the loose sandy soil - feeling the shake of my head, knowing everything is wrong -

Because choice is always right - to have it, to be able to choose. But - who's choice? How did I do it? How do I...,

What if they choose to die together, what if -

Each second a swing, a slam, a crack of death delivered, but now I'm moving in slow motion - to stop the horrific accident about to occur, and I was there! Right there!

And I couldn't do anything...

Even as they rallied, their coordination buying more time, team-work pushing back the clock, pushing back the decision - they worked together to fling crabs back into the living tide, they'd switched to the spears I'd made now, instead of anything heavier. I saw the strain, their breathing - as they equalized. Nobody was stronger - when strength wasn't enough. Nobody smarter when it was a mindless task -

Just push back crabs - or we die.

Words forgotten, no congratulations, no excitement, no gratitude or graciousness - just push back the crabs.

Live. They could do it - for another...hour? Maybe, if they didn't make a mistake?

Minutes? If they did? How about with three of them? How long would they last -

Two?

One...

My health had stabilized in the low thirties, my legs purpled into eggplants and my armor was shredded, my wraps twisted, my Cowl - safe still, high enough. And - I made my move.

Because it was my choice. It was my tree - and while I wanted it to be enough to support them all -

I took all the coins I had left and slapped them into Jason. I couldn't delay -

"Spend it on you!" I shouted.

"No!" Mike shouted as I tore him off the hut - he had to be first. I couldn't risk carrying two, taking twice as long - leaving everybody vulnerable...and they listened to him. I couldn't risk it...asking what they wanted, I didn't know what he would say.

They just had to survive two minutes.

Alone -

I carried him carefully, losing my mobility with the added weight, I could no longer find gaps in the sand, force my feet into pressured gaps between swollen shells, I shuffled, kicking back the crabs to make my own path up the beach as he resisted. Twisting and flailing, slapping at me, brutal punches -

Not his strongest, but I felt the injustice delivered, felt it between us both because it was a reminder.

Mike was the lighter of my two burdens.

Somebody had to be last. And as much as I still disliked the notion - I could see the truth, understood Derek's value. He thought differently then I did. And Brandon -

As I stumbled to the base of the truck, Mike continued to sob as I pushed him up the tree, "Grab the branch, Mike! Pull yourself up!" I felt the reluctance, even as he hurried and scrambled, I watched the tree sway with his weight, holding my breath and feeding it everything I had earned -

"Climb slowly! Don't swing!" I shouted, I turned back to hurry - and then I found hope - as my eyes found a new light.

Blue Light -