The Monstrous Hero-Chapter 34 - 33: Survival

It was easy to believe that surviving half an hour against creatures so small wouldn’t be hard.

The mind loved its deceptions.

It dulled the sharpness of fear, made danger seem harmless if it wore the right disguise. A rat instead of a wolf. A sparrow instead of a vulture. A child instead of a soldier. The pink things circling him looked like toys sprung from a nightmare carnival—round, plush, their stubby arms clapping as they giggled in that sugared, cloudlike world.

And for the briefest instant, Liu Xian’s mind betrayed him. He thought to himself... I can take them.

Maybe it wasn’t bravery. Maybe it was stupidity. Or maybe it was the kind of numbness that came from being thrown again and again into situations where fear stopped being fear and just became a constant hum at the back of your head. Whatever it was, ten minutes later Liu Xian was on his knees, blood gushing hot and wet down his side, his right arm gone—ripped clean from the socket like a toy limb torn off by a cruel child.

"Ahhhhhh!"

The scream tore out of his throat before he could choke it down. He hadn’t meant to be so loud—he’d sworn to himself he would be strong, or at least pretend to be, anything to harden his mind enough to endure this hell he’d been thrown into. But the pain... gods, the pain.

It was maddening.

His body jerked forward as if trying to fold in on itself, trying to shield the wound that couldn’t be shielded. His sword slipped from his hand, clattering against the soft, cottony ground that was quickly darkening with his blood.

The creatures giggled as they watched him writhe in pain, a chorus of sugary, high-pitched laughter that grated against his ears, bubbling like children at recess. Their smiles stretched wide again, teeth glinting like rows of needles behind their candy-colored faces.

Get up. Move. Don’t sit here!

The thought hammered in his skull louder than the blood roaring in his ears.

Liu Xian forced his body sideways, one-armed and clumsy, every nerve ending shrieking as fire and lightning spread out from his shoulder. His palm slapped wet into the cotton-candy ground, streaking it red. He rolled, chest scraping, and grabbed his sword with his only hand just as the first of the pink creatures lunged.

It wasn’t supposed to be that fast. Nothing that small should move like that. Its mouth stretched wide, lined with jagged glass-teeth, saliva dripping like syrupy strings. Its stubby arms swung forward, claws extending, ready to carve.

Liu swung clumsily, the blade arcing through the creature’s face. Flesh—or whatever fake material passed for flesh—split open. The top half of its skull slid back, eyes rolling, until the whole body flopped apart into two halves. White fluff spilled like a burst pillow.

For one frozen second, he thought it would stay down.

It didn’t.

The halves twitched. Then the giggling started again.

"Another cut, another cut!" one of the others squealed.

And then they all came.

Dozens of pink bodies bouncing, claws outstretched, their sugary scent cloying in the air until it made him want to vomit. The world narrowed to a blur of cotton clouds, high-pitched laughter, and jagged flashes of teeth.

"Fuck—fuck—FUCK!" Liu Xian roared, voice cracking as he swung his blade in a wide arc.

The sword bit into three at once, cleaving them apart. Stuffing exploded, floating like snow. His body lurched forward, more reaching for him, pain digging into his thigh as claws raked through skin and muscle, splitting him open with a wet rip.

"AHHHHHH!"

The scream tore out before he could swallow it. His leg buckled. He slammed his shoulder into the ground to keep upright, but the agony jolted up into his neck, stealing his breath.

The pack didn’t pause. They surged closer, stubby little arms snapping open like knives, teeth clattering as they shrieked, "PlAy MoRe! PlAy MoRe!"

One leapt and latched onto his wrist, biting deep.

Liu Xian howled. Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision as his left hand—his only hand—jerked as the thing tore deeper, teeth grinding on bone.

"Let—GO!"

He slammed the sword against its skull once. Twice. The third time, the steel crunched through. Its head split like fruit. The body dangled for a moment before dropping, still twitching, fluff spilling in a wave.

He staggered back, panting, spitting out blood and saliva. The ground beneath him was already soaked, turning pink where his blood mixed with the cottony terrain.

The timer burned at the edge of his vision.

17:52

Seventeen more minutes. Fuck me.

Another one lunged. He barely raised the sword before it clawed his side, ripping open flesh. Hot pain flared across his ribs, a wet tearing sound following. His scream broke, cracked into a sob.

He didn’t have room to think. No room to breathe. Just slash—move—bleed—curse—Slash again.

He spun clumsily, blade dragging wide. Another creature split. Another took its place. He tripped, catching himself on his knee. Blood gushed freely from his missing arm, soaking the cotton terrain until it squished beneath his boots. The smell of iron mixed with the sickly-sweet perfume of the creatures, coating his throat until bile rose.

"FUCK! FUCK! GET AWAY!"

His words were half-roar, half-beg.

The creatures just laughed.

One dug claws into his calf. Another latched onto his back, teeth sinking into the muscle between his shoulder blades. He felt every needlepoint tooth scrape against nerves, tearing deeper. He choked on his own scream, stumbling forward.

He dropped to his knees. The sword nearly slipped from his grip.

No. No, no, no—if I drop it, I’m dead. If I stop swinging, I’m dead.

His chest heaved. Tears burned down his bloodstreaked cheeks, mixing into the gore on his face. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

The timer ticked again.

16:34

Fuck!!!

He stumbled, swung again, carving two apart. Their fluff exploded against his chest, sticking to the wetness of his blood until it looked like he was stitched together from gore and cotton.

"Why... why the fuck won’t you DIE?!" he screamed, voice ragged and hoarse.

The pack’s chorus answered him.

"PlAy—PlAy—PlAy—PlAy—"

Their chant was unbearable, drilling into his skull, drowning out thought. His sobs turned into snarls, curses tangled with screams as he slashed blindly.

His body was failing.

His vision was tunneling.

Every time he blinked, darkness stayed longer. Snot and spit dripped with the blood down his chin. He was nothing but an animal now—an animal cornered, tearing with its last strength.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His sword dragged down one, splitting it from skull to belly. He ripped it free, spun, cut another.

And another.

And another.

And another!

Every swing jolted agony through his missing arm, but he couldn’t stop.

Blood sprayed. His, theirs. Fluff rained down like mock snow.

The cotton-candy terrain beneath him was soaked scarlet.

The timer ticked.

15:11

Fifteen minutes left. Fifteen minutes of hell.

And Liu Xian wasn’t sure if his body—or his mind—could survive it.