Jack sat in his tree, ignoring the slight drizzle as the progression of short green creatures with large ears and pointed teeth passed beneath him. Goblins, maybe? They were all packed up and headed east, which was just peachy for him. One less thing that might try to kill him. It did raise the question of just what the hell they were running away from, though. You didn’t bring the children and strap all your worldly possessions to your back without a good reason.

Still…one less obstacle between him and his family.

As he watched, one goblin’s burden of high-stacked hides started to shift precariously sideways, and the little guy stopped to reset the load. In the process, he glanced up and spotted Jack in the tree. The goblin blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised, then turned to look at a different goblin in leather armour and carrying a bow who was leaning against a tree. The scout shook his head slightly, so the pack goblin shrugged and finished balancing his load before rejoining the march.

The goblin bowman glanced up at Jack, so he gave the scout a small wave, eliciting a scowl of annoyance from the creature who had long ago grown bored with its role as “watcher of the crazy human in the tree.” Jack grinned at the reaction. He had a strong suspicion that the guy’s assignment was doubling as some sort of punishment, and he knew just how the fella was feeling—it was a position Jack had found himself in on more than one occasion during his army days.

Under most conditions the goblins would probably have attacked him, but they hadn’t even noticed Jack was there until half their progression had passed. When they did spot him, it caused a moment of confusion as the goblins tried to work out how to handle the situation, but when Jack didn’t make any aggressive moves, they seemed to decide he wasn’t worth the trouble. Especially considering that the branch he was perched on was wide enough that if he lay down, they had no chance of hitting him with an arrow. Since then, they’d settled into a lazy truce, with Jack staying in his tree and watching the goblins march past while they watched him to make sure he didn’t get any ideas.

Jack’s stomach rumbled, and he was reminded of how long it had been since he’d had a meal. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t attack, given how intent they were on getting east, so he’d probably be fine to eat something. Should eat something, in fact, since he couldn’t do anything else at the moment. He’d have to dig into his rations, though, which seemed like a fine prospect until he looked in his bag and realized what he had left.

“Goddamn it,” Jack muttered.

Resigned to his fate, he pulled out the ration and stared at it unhappily. Unwrapping a portion of the bar, he took out his knife and dragged it across the hunk of chocolate, eventually managing to scrape off a piece and put it in his mouth. It tasted like a starchy boiled potato, lacked any of chocolate’s sweetness, was hard as hell to chew, and would probably give him the runs later.

In short, it tasted exactly how it was supposed to.

“75 years,” he muttered. “75 years and D-rations still taste like a goat’s anus.”

“Oh, they couldn’t be that bad,” Nochd said, appearing on the branch beside Jack. He was dressed up like Robin Hood and apparently invisible to the goblins, based on their lack of reaction to his appearance.

“Yeah? You ever tried one?” Jack asked.

“I’ve tried chocolate. Wonderful stuff.”

Jack wordlessly carved off a hunk of the D-ration and held it out to the colourfully dressed god, who happily popped it into his mouth. Jack then returned to his observation of the goblins below, only returning his attention to Nochd when the sounds of gagging and spitting subsided.

“Still like chocolate?” Jack asked.

“That is not chocolate!” Nochd sputtered as he spat out more of the gritty substance. “Until this moment, I would have told you that the foulest concoctions in existence could only be achieved on a magic-based planet. I stand corrected.”

Jack chuckled. “Now you’re talkin’ like a G-I. We’ll make a soldier out of you yet.”

“I’m a god, not a soldier.”

“I get that, but ‘We’ll make a soldier out of you yet’ is what the higher-ups would say whenever they forced us to do something awful during training.” He waved the bar of military chocolate at Nochd. “Eating this qualifies.” Looking down at the goblin procession, Jack frowned. “I’d best be careful. Likely to kill one of them little guys if I accidentally drop this on their head.”

Jack crumpled the wrapper closed and shoved the rest of the bar into the bottom of his pack. God-willing, he’d never be forced to eat the stuff again, but he had been moving too quickly to forage, in hopes of getting past whatever threat was lurking in the woods. He’d seen no sign of it so far, but he had heard some unsettling sounds off in the distance. As for tracks, well, you didn’t need great tracking skills to notice the giant depressions he’d stumbled across. Couldn’t make hide nor hair of them, though. Whatever it was, it seemed to have big hind feet and little front ones, kinda like a small T-Rex that walked on all fours, although he had a feeling it was probably weirder than that.

The last of the goblins passed under the tree, prompting the goblin scout who’d been watching Jack to join the end of the procession, casting one final glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the trees.

“Shall we, then?” Nochd asked, gesturing at the forest floor.

“I’d rather not get killed, thanks,” Jack said. He raised an eyebrow at Nochd. “Is that your angle? Get me bleeding on the forest floor so I’ll take your offer?”

The god swooned—literally swooned—and leaned against the tree. “Jack…after all we’ve been through. Could you really think me so crass?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “It would have worked.”

“Only if I were an idiot,” Jack said, not taking his eyes off the forest. Sure enough, the goblin rearguard soon materialized from the bushes. Except something was wrong. Jack had expected them to be moving carefully, possibly even trying to clean up loose ends with a few well-placed arrows in Jack’s direction. Instead, they were in full flight, running for all they were worth.

“That ain’t good,” Jack muttered. He peered in the direction they’d come from, trying to see what had them so panicked.

A massive creature suddenly exploded through the trees in a cacophony of noise, leaping between tree trunks like a rabbit through a hedge. Which was a goddamned accurate analogy considering what Jack was looking at.

“What in the hell is that?” he said, eyes wide.

“I believe you have an Ability for that, don’t you?” Nochd noted.

Jack began to respond with annoyance, then realized he should be kicking himself instead. This was a messed-up planet, but survival hinged on using any edge he could get, and he’d been neglecting his Abilities far to much.

Before the giant Satan-rabbit could disappear through the trees, Jack used Threat Assessment on its retreating form.

Threat Assessment: Level 154 Feaster Bunny

The Feaster Bunny. Quiet. Tranquil. Until it’s not. Give this rascally rabbit a chance and it will get big, it will get smart, and it will tear through your lines like a hot knife through butter.

There’s a time to fight and a time to retreat, soldier. That’s why your job on this mission is to get the hell out of there. You can’t win this one.

“Good enough for me,” Jack said, tossing the page aside. Grabbing coil of rope he’d prepared earlier, he dropped off the side of the branch and descended in a Dülfersitz rappel, stopping halfway down when he heard screaming off in the distance.

“Aw, hell,” he muttered. There had been kids in that procession.

“What are you thinking?” Nochd asked, dangling beside him in a little harness like he was staging a Broadway show. He looked like an idiot. “You know, you’ll probably end up dead if you intervene.”

“Yeah, well those kids’ll end up dead if I don’t,” Jack snapped back.

He descended rapidly to the forest floor, ignoring the friction from the rope burning his hand. As soon as he hit the ground, he sprinted towards the screams, leaving the rope dangling from the tree as his mind raced.

How the hell am I gonna deal with something like that?

He concocted a new idea with every footstep, but every one of them required some sort of trap. What he needed was something immediate that would distract the thing and let those little green fellers escape. Him too, ideally. Killing it was a pipe dream, though; he knew that.

Two disparate thoughts sprang into Jack’s mind, combining into an idea. Not the worst idea he’d ever had, but it sure wasn’t going to be fun.

“Aw, hell,” he said, pulling off his rucksack and unslinging his water bottle. The sounds of combat weren’t far off, so he had to work fast.

Digging deep into the bottom of the pack, Jack grabbed the small paper envelope the Chian’dir had given him, crushing the contents between his thumbs while still inside the envelope. He then paused just long enough to pour the now-pulverized powder into his half-full water bottle before resuming his sprint towards the sounds of battle, shaking the water bottle for all he was worth. When he did make it to the place where the goblins were fighting the feaster bunny though, it took everything he had to resist the urge to spin around and run the other way.

The thing was a damn sight. Maybe there was a time when it had been brown like a regular forest bunny, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Rather than the muted colours of a scrub-dwelling herbivore, the thing had developed a rough, striped pattern that would hide its body better amongst the trees. Which made sense. You couldn’t very well hide in the ground cover when you were three metres tall on all fours. Hell, the damn thing was probably the height of a two-storey building on its hind legs—legs with paws that were nothing like a bunny’s, either. Those things were more like a jungle cat’s. Wide, but with long, lizard-like talons that didn’t look retractable. Of course, the talons were only part of the offensive weaponry, considering the mouth of sharp, hand-length teeth to go with incisors that could pierce an elephant’s spine. The thing was a damn killing machine.

The scene in front of Jack was a horror show. The glade was covered in blood and slain goblins. The tribe had formed a circle with the civilians in the middle and spears facing outwards, but the weapons did little to deter the creature. Any time the group tried to make a move away from the feaster bunny, the beast would leap high in the air to the opposite side of the formation, wreaking destruction when it landed until the goblins were able to reform their defenses. It didn’t take a trained eye to tell that the inevitable outcome of the situation would be the death of every goblin in the tribe.

Unless some fool idiot got in the way, that is.

“Hey, hasenpfeffer!” Jack shouted, catching the feaster bunny’s attention. He knew he was banking a lot on his Combat Assessment being correct about the thing’s intelligence—if it wasn’t, his whole plan was already in the crapper—but he had to start trusting his Abilities sometime. “Yeah, you! Get yer cottontail ass over here. I’ve got something I want to say to you.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jack pulled the cork on the water bottle and filled his mouth with as much liquid as he could manage. Good thing, too, since the rabbit immediately leapt towards him, kicking up mulch and breaking old logs as its enormous bulk landed. The rabbit squared on him right away, sending the stench of rancid meat wafting over him as it leaned forward to glare at him with a look of savage glee.

Jack spat the water in a spray that drenched the feaster bunny’s eyes and nose.

The rabbit wailed, a high-pitched squeal emanating from its mouth as it rolled on the ground and scratched at its face, trying to get Jack’s jury-rigged pepper spray out of its sensitive eyes and nose.

“God damn!” Jack shouted, his mouth on fire from the dried Chian’dir seasoning worms that he’d crumbled into his water. He’d managed to avoid getting any into his eyes, but holy hell were they watering fiercely anyways.

The goblins stared in dumbfounded awe at the scene. Some even looked like they were considering an attack on the feaster bunny, foolish as that would be.

“Move it, you damn idiots!” Jack shouted hoarsely, punctuating his words by waving his hands in the direction the goblins were headed before the attack.

The feaster bunny’s head whipped around at the sound of Jack’s voice, no longer distracted by the shock of Jack’s attack. Its eyes and nose may have been out of commission, but its hearing was still damn good, and it leapt towards the source of the sound, only to discover that Jack had already anticipated the possibility and vacated the space.

The sight of the feaster bunny resuming its attacks was enough for the goblins. From their viewpoint, the creature was now distracted by a completely insane human who could breathe acid, and nobody needed to tell them twice that it was time to leave. It was a sentiment Jack agreed with, and he began sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction, hopefully leading the feaster bunny away from the goblin tribe and giving them time to escape. Unfortunately, his own escape was made through a fog of tears that no amount of blinking would clear away. He didn’t dare attempt to wipe off his eyes, however. The spray may have gotten on his clothing, and he couldn’t risk exacerbating the problem—he’d known those dried worms were hot, but he hadn’t asked how many the Chian’dir had put in the pouch. Apparently the answer was “a lot,” because his mouth felt like it was filled with live coals. There was no time to address the searing pain, though, as the sounds of the feaster bunny crashing through the forest behind him were growing louder with every step.

Knowing that the overgrown rabbit was tracking him via sound, Jack briefly considered stopping to see if it would run past, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He had no idea how much the feaster bunny was still suffering from the effects of his improvised attack, so any attempts at trickery could quickly end in disaster. Still…outrunning the beast wasn’t going to work, so he couldn’t discard the idea entirely.

Leaping over a log and angling down a gully, Jack looked back to see the red-eyed goliath not far behind him. It was moving in a weird hop-sprint fashion that wasn’t as fluid as when it first pursued the goblins, but Jack chalked that up to the thing trying to avoid leaping head-first into a tree. It was a good thing, too—that caution was the only reason the creature hadn’t caught Jack already, despite him moving as fast as his Well-Aged-enhanced body could manage.

Crud, Jack thought. He’d hoped to get away when the feaster bunny was dealing with the effects of his improvised pepper spray, but he now knew it wouldn’t be enough. The gigantic rabbit was only metres behind him, and in a couple of moments it would be over. Jack didn’t slow down, though. If war taught him anything, it was that you kept going until you were well and truly dead and didn’t stop a moment before.

The tree where Jack had observed the goblins came into view, and he angled towards where his rope still dangled from the high limb. Before he could overthink what he was doing, Jack leapt off a log and grabbed onto the hanging line, letting his momentum carry him as he pulled his legs up just high enough for the feaster bunny to pass beneath him, the anachronistically soft hair brushing against Jack’s back for an instant before the creature was gone, disappearing into the trees.

For a moment, Jack swung there, waiting to see if his silence would be sufficient to grant a reprieve. He already knew he was done if it wasn’t enough, and for a moment, it seemed like he might have gotten lucky again.

Those hopes were dashed when he heard the feaster bunny stop, followed by a rustling noise as it made its way back towards Jack’s tree.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Jack huffed as he dropped to the ground.

He knew that barring a miracle, this was the end. Just an old man versus an apex predator. Still…despite his burning mouth and looming death, Jack was way too stubborn to go down easy.

Jack uncorked his water bottle, holding the canteen firmly in one hand. His other hand made its way to his belt as he pulled out Sextus’ club, gripping it loosely in preparation for what was to come. Maybe he was going to die, but he was damn well going to fight to the bitter end, and when he fell, the last thing he would do was douse himself in the peppered water. If his final act was making that oversized rabbit choke to death on his bony old corpse, it was a better death than the thing deserved.

The feaster bunny exploded from the trees, not even attempting a modicum of stealth. Jack had anticipated the ambush, however, and he dove to the side, rolling as he narrowly avoided the attack while simultaneously dismissing all of the pages that suddenly started appearing at the most inopportune time possible. How many damn times did he have to tell that Tome that he didn’t want to see any more updates?

The rabbit slid to a halt and spun to face with a malicious snarl, but Jack darted behind the huge tree just before the bunny hurled itself at him. Claws raked the bark, shredding it in huge chunks that sprayed Jack’s back. Jack then spun around the trunk so that he was again on the side with the rope, placing the rabbit on the opposite side of the tree from him. He could barely see the feaster bunny from that position, but what he could see was enough to convey the creature’s anger over its prey’s stubborn refusal to be caught.

Once again, the feaster bunny charged at Jack. That forced him to guess whether the creature would round the tree to the left or the right, so he instead went with Plan C, gripping the club in his teeth and leaping straight up so he could grab the dangling rope with one hand. That turned out to be a prescient decision, as the feaster bunny went with its own version of Plan C by reaching its paws around either side of the tree and slamming them together in the space Jack had just vacated.

One more bullet dodged, Jack thought as he planted his feet on the tree and pushed off, dropping to the ground just as a paw swiped through the air where he’d been hanging a moment ago…only to be batted with the other paw and sent flying across the clearing.

Jack crashed through the undergrowth, the wind knocked out of him as he skidded painfully to a halt. He knew he had to move pronto, but as he tried to climb to his feet he was again assaulted by a Tome notification. This one was different, though, refusing to be ignored as it smacked him in the head repeatedly before sending a burst of information directly into his brain.

Luck +1

You truly are one lucky bastard, old man.

“How the hell am I lucky?” Jack asked incredulously as the gigantic rabbit leapt through the air, signalling his doom.