Zeke leapt down the scree-covered incline, kicking up a rooster tail of rock fragments as he slid down the slope. His armor held up to the sharp rocks, but it screamed in protest. If the giants didn’t already know which way he’d gone, then they certainly did now. Zeke could only hope they were still following him as doggedly as they had for the past couple of hours. Throughout his flight, he’d periodically positioned himself on an overlooking cliff to peek back at his pursuers, but he hadn’t seen them in some time.

After a long slide, Zeke reached relatively flat ground before springing to his feet and continuing his speedy retreat. Dodging boulders, trees, and scraggly bushes, he sprinted faster than he’d ever run before. The increase in his stats – specifically agility and dexterity – allowed him to run far in excess of Earth’s human limitations, but that speed came with the caveat that he had to maintain focus, lest he misstep or run headlong into a boulder. He’d doubtless survive the resultant crash, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. Even though he hadn’t seen the frost giants for a while, that didn’t mean they’d given up. Any delay might see him captured or killed. Worse, it would expose Abby and Talia, who were even now in the midst of infiltrating the Jotun city of Hivtgard. So, Zeke bent his entire will upon maintaining his focus through his wild sprint through the rugged forest.

Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he’d been able to bring Pudge along. Not only had the dire bear become a fearsome fighter who could hold his own in any battle, but Zeke had begun to take his companion’s comforting presence for granted. While, in a lot of ways, Pudge was still immature, there was something about him that calmed Zeke in a way nothing else could. However, the reality of the situation was that Pudge simply couldn’t keep up with the pace Zeke had been forced to set. Over a short distance, Pudge could move just as quickly as anyone else, but doing so rapidly exhausted him. So, Zeke had convinced the adolescent bear to follow behind the group of Jotuns, ready to pounce if the situation demanded it. If everything worked out the way Zeke hoped, they wouldn’t be pushed into such circumstances.

Freezing people still following, Pudge sent, as if, even at a distance that could be measured in miles, he could hear Zeke’s thoughts. Perhaps he could. The bond between them was something of a mystery, and one Zeke hadn’t really tested or explored. It was enough that he had his friend; any further exploration or study seemed like it would somehow cheapen the relationship they shared. Getting tired.

So, the giants were still following. That was a relief, especially given how far away Zeke sensed Pudge was. His senses weren’t exact, but they were strong enough that he could judge that Pudge was still miles away. So, if the bear could see the Jotuns, that meant the frost giants were losing ground. He could outrun them, if only just. The problem was that he had no concept of their endurance. Certainly, sprinting through the mountain forest would sap their energy, but for all he knew, they were endurance hunters, and they could keep going for days, if at a slower pace. No – he wouldn’t lose them in the mountains. Of that much, he was certain.

As Zeke began climbing another slope, he slowed to a jog. Looking around, he thought he recognized a few landmarks. A pine tree that grew at a sharp angle, likely due to the heavy winds of the winter storms. A curiously shaped boulder that vaguely reminded him of a face. And a pillar of rocks, forty feet high, that seemed to sprout from nowhere and for no reason. He smiled. He was close to his destination. A few minutes later, he finally found what he was looking for.

His plan was simple enough. During their trek through the mountains, Zeke and his companions had come across many wondrous sights. As dangerous as his new world was, it was also incredibly beautiful, and there were great swaths of nature that had been untouched by man or any other sentient creature. It was while admiring a particularly pristine mountain lake that Zeke had discovered a perfect spot for an ambush.

He quickly climbed a cliff to find himself overlooking a narrow ravine, through which a mountain stream flowed. So long as the Jotuns followed his trail, which they almost certainly would, given their actions so far, the frost giants would soon find themselves in an extremely precarious position. Not that they would know it until it was too late, though. That was the whole point of an ambush, after all.

Zeke knelt in place, mentally judging the distance across the ravine and up the slope of the nearby hill. It wasn’t a mountain, but it wasn’t all that far off. However, what it lacked in size, it more than made up for with loose rocks and boulders. So long as Zeke didn’t screw it up, tons and tons of debris would fall upon the hapless giants’ heads.

There was a part of him that hated this kind of plan. More than just about anything, he desperately wanted to test himself against the frost giants. But as strong and durable as he was, he knew he couldn’t stand up against an entire Jotun war party. One or two, maybe. But dozens? He’d be ripped limb from limb. So, pushing his ego aside, Zeke settled down to wait for the proper moment to spring the trap. Patience was definitely not one of Zeke’s virtues, so the wait was torturous. But he endured, practically shaking with the anticipation of it.

Finally, after half an hour, the first of the frost giants came into view. Like Gerd, it wore leather armor and sported a huge crossbow as its primary weapon. At its hips were a pair of long knives that, for a human-sized person, would qualify as swords. However, unlike Gerd, this giant was no runt; a full fifteen feet tall, its long legs covered the ground with enviable ease. It moved with such fluidity and speed that Zeke wondered how it hadn’t caught up with him sooner.

The giant, which was male, drew to a stop in the center of the ravine, and after looking around warily, he knelt to inspect Zeke’s trail. From a distance of a few hundred yards, Zeke couldn’t see the Jotun’s features, but, as it stood, he imagined a wicked smile spreading across the giant’s face.

Just then, another scout appeared at the mouth of the ravine, and the pair exchanged a few words. The second darted back the way he’d come, presumably to inform the warriors that they were still on the trail. As soon as he was gone, the first scout traversed the ravine and came out the other side. Luckily, Zeke had gone quite a ways before doubling back to his current position; otherwise, the scout would’ve followed his trail, and discovered his hiding place on the cliff before he had the chance to spring his trap. As it was, though, Zeke knew it would take the Jotun at least an hour before he saw the ruse for what it was. By then, the damage would be done, and the frost giant war party would have been decimated by a Zeke-powered avalanche of rocks and other mountain debris. He only had to wait for his prey to make their way into position.

Idly, Zeke summoned a few of his runic rocks from his spatial storage. Studying one, he hoped it would be enough. When they had passed the ridge a few days past, Zeke had spent a little time inspecting it, so he felt confident that it would prove just as precarious as his plan needed it to be. However, there was still that lingering doubt needling at the back of his mind. After all, he’d never been much of a planner. To him, battle usually boiled down to him charging the offending monster, his mace held high, and bellowing a warcry. So, as was usually the case when he tried something new, Zeke was nervous.

He had always thought of himself as a confident person, but the truth, and one he’d only just begun to recognize, was that there was a marked difference between confidence and decisiveness. Once he made a choice, Zeke had no problems forging ahead. But that didn’t make him confident. It only meant that he had a propensity for always moving forward.

It was with those thoughts scurrying into the corners of his mind that Zeke found himself kneeling on the precipice and waiting for the Jotuns to come into range. He only had to wait another half hour before, finally, the war party came into view. And the sight took Zeke’s breath away.

There were at least forty of them, each seeming even bigger and more imposing than the next. Even at a distance, Zeke could practically feel the malice emanating from the Jotun warriors. As they drew closer, he came to understand that it wasn’t just his imagination running wild, either. The creatures, sentient though they were, were practically slavering with blood lust. Was that normal? Or was it a symptom of their lost hope? With the extinction of their race on the horizon, Zeke imagined that an already-violent culture might turn even more vicious.

Whatever the case, they had to die. Zeke didn’t really want to kill them. They’d done nothing to him, yet. However, he knew that would change the moment they caught up to him. When he’d first formulated his plan, he had hoped that he could outrun them, that he could lead them on a merry chase through the mountains while Abby and Talia freed Tucker. He knew now how foolish that hope was. These bloodthirsty monsters wouldn’t stop until he was dead. So, even if he hadn’t already decided to go through with his plan, he’d been robbed of his choice by their dogged determination and viciousness.

Zeke’s entire body was rigid and tense as he watched the giants file into the ravine. Trusting their scouts implicitly, they didn’t even bother looking around. They just followed along, expressions of anger, frustration, and hate spreading across their faces. When they reached the appropriate position, Zeke stood, cocked his arm back, and threw one of his rocks. Even as it sailed through the air, he repeated the motion. Once. Twice. Three times, before the first hit the top of the hill.

The first rock exploded with impressive force, and a tree splintered under its influence. The next sent a great cloud of dust and dirt into the air, and a rumble flowed across the ravine. The third explosion came with a great crack, and, suddenly, a great slab of rock and earth broke free of the hill. It slid for a moment, then began to tumble. The giants froze in the center of the ravine, not understanding that their fate had already been sealed.

Zeke ceaselessly bombarded the hill, and piece by piece, it broke apart. By the time the first wave of earth hit the giants, they’d begun to panic. They tried to scatter, but it was too late. Like a tsunami of rock and dirt, the wave hit them, swallowing their enormous forms without so much as a protest. Even so, Zeke continued his barrage of exploding stones. Almost a minute later, when he judged that there was enough debris to bury the Jotuns a half-dozen times over, he stopped. Altogether, he’d thrown almost fifty rocks, and the effect on the hill had been almost as devastating as the decimation of the giants.

He was so caught up in staring at his handiwork that he didn’t even notice the Jotun scout bearing down on him. A crossbow bolt the size of a short spear barreled into his back, launching him off the cliff. For forty feet, he fell, helpless to arrest his own momentum, and when he hit the ground, he found himself tumbling down a steep incline, directly toward the buried Jotuns. Luckily, his armor proved its worth, because the bolt hadn’t run him through. Even so, when Zeke finally came to a stop, he was battered, bruised, and had at least a couple of broken bones. Aside from his ribs, his left arm felt as if it had been shattered, and his right leg was bent the wrong way entirely.

Zeke looked up to see the Jotun scout nimbly descending from the cliff. In his muddled state, all Zeke could think was that the thing was far too big to move so well. That thought kept running through his mind, over and over, until he noticed the scout raising its crossbow once again. Panic flared in Zeke’s thoughts, and he summoned his shield. With his broken arm, he raised the bulwark just in time to intercept the missile, but the reverberations were enough to elicit a cry of agony.

As the giant stalked toward him, Zeke tried to move away. But his legs weren’t working properly. Nor could he think straight. The only thought in his head that had any clarity at all was that he needed to get away, to run. Even at his best, he didn’t know if he could defeat a Jotun. But with one leg, one arm, and a concussion he didn’t even recognize as such, Zeke would stand no chance. And even though his thoughts didn’t dip below the surface of panic and fear, they were driven by the harsh reality of his situation.

Finally, the Jotun drew close enough that Zeke could see its face. With its expression contorted in rage, its eyes were hollow. Lifeless. It had clearly given up all hope. A spark of inspiration bloomed in Zeke’s mind, and he summoned his last runic rock. It was one of his older attempts, so it wasn’t very powerful. But maybe, at such close range…

He threw it with his good arm. Though the throw didn’t have much on it, the rock flew true. More than that, Zeke had activated [Leech Strike], so whatever damage it caused would siphon some vitality his way. He knew it wouldn’t heal him – not completely – but it would cut through the worst of the agony. He hoped. But even as he watched the rock collide with the Jotun’s chest and explode, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

The giant staggered back a step, but he didn’t fall. The explosion just wasn’t strong enough. Without any other option, Zeke dragged himself to a sitting position and summoned his mace. He was going to die. He knew that. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

As he faced down death, a million little regrets flowed through his mind. Some were predictable. He would’ve given anything to have chosen a different skill or two. The [Wave of Lifedraw] he’d passed up would’ve certainly come in handy, especially considering that there were probably still a few Jotuns alive beneath the mound of debris beneath him. They were dying, certainly, but they could’ve fueled the skill and given him a fighting chance.

But mostly, he regretted not being more direct with Abby. He wasn’t sure if he loved her or not, but he thought of her in a way he’d never thought of anyone before. He should’ve told her as much. He should have gone out of his way to make her feel more appreciated, to spend more one-on-one time with her, to see where their relationship might end up. But now, he was going to die, and he would never get to explain the depths of his feelings.

“You do not know what you have done, monster,” the Jotun rumbled as it drew closer. Letting his enormous crossbow fall to its hip, where it was held in place by a strap across the giant’s chest, it drew its long knife. “You have doomed us all.”

Zeke dragged himself to his one good leg, using a boulder for support. He said, “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have taken my friend.”

“Friend? The Dark One?” the giant asked, cocking its head to the side. “The Dark One has no friends. It is a creature of spite, deception, and evil. If you name such a creature a friend, then there was never any hope for you. Die knowing that you will never reach the Halls of Valor.”

Zeke spat blood on the ground, then said, “I’m good with that. Do what you came to do.”

For a moment, the Jotun scout seemed on the verge of saying something else, but he obviously thought better of it. Instead, he raised his knife, stepped forward, and sliced downward. Zeke closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to land and darkness to come.

It never did.

Instead, a roar echoed through the ravine, and a second later, a wave of vitality surged through Zeke’s body. He opened his eyes to see that Pudge had come to his rescue, tackling the Jotun to the ground, where he’d begun to savage the giant. Pudge had grown quite a bit over the previous few months, and though he wasn’t of a size with the giant, he was big enough, strong enough, and more than durable enough to give the Jotun plenty of trouble. That, coupled with the fact that he’d caught the giant by surprise, gave Pudge a leg up on the scout.

Zeke sighed as his agony eased. Even as he stood there, he felt his leg bend back into place, and with a pop, the joint was repaired. The same could be said for his broken bones, which mended in the space of seconds.

When Zeke was healed back to something approaching viability, he rose and stepped forward, his mace in hand. It was just in time, too, because the giant had finally gotten his feet under him. He heaved, sending Pudge rolling away with a whimper. It was further fuel for the inferno that had begun to burn inside Zeke.

He didn’t hate the Jotun before, but the moment it had hurt Zeke’s companion, reason and rationality had fled into the darkness, replaced by a bonfire of rage. He stomped forward, his club already singing through the air. The Jotun tried to dodge, but Zeke’s swing was moving too quickly. The mace connected with the monster’s left shoulder, crumpling it with a sickening crunch.

The giant rumbled in pain, but it didn’t collapse. Instead, it stabbed out with the knife, the blade raking across Zeke’s armor. Where it hit, he could feel a dreadful cold that numbed his skin. He ignored it. Instead, Zeke leapt and swung again, this time in an overhand chop that clipped the giant’s helmeted head. A sharp clang of metal erupted into the air, but Zeke didn’t stop. He refused. So long as the giant remained among the living, he would not cease.

But as determined as he was, Zeke was still just a man. And despite Zeke’s inflated stats, the Jotun was still stronger. He was still more durable. Every attack it landed came with that biting cold, as well. The combined factors pushed Zeke in a way nothing ever had before. It was better than him in almost every way, and the longer the fight went on, the more certain Zeke’s defeat became.

Luckily, he wasn’t alone.

The fight ended rather anticlimactically, though Zeke didn’t mind when Pudge hamstrung the giant and sent it to flop onto the ground. The giant tried to continue the fight, but once it was on the ground, it only took a couple of minutes to end its life. When it was done, Zeke sank to the ground and let out a groan. Pudge, bloody and just as exhausted, came close, nuzzling against Zeke’s chest. He put his hand on the bear’s head, saying, “That didn’t go exactly as we planned, did it? Nice pounce, though. You’re really getting better at that.”

Clearly pleased with the compliment, Pudge thought, Just like the spotted cats.