Ability Stealer

Mella's iron spears had injured or disarmed the villagers defending the village earlier, so the ambush archers and Bar-jui were the only one to worry about.

The sudden assault forced Andrew and Mella to take cover behind the rubble of a nearby house. Andrew clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Those damn archers. They're still in this fight," he muttered.

Mella nodded, peeking out cautiously before conjuring another iron spear. 

Andrew glanced at her, then back toward Bar-jui, who was trying to escape the village, his injuries slowing him but not stopping him.

"We'll deal with them. Keep him in your sights. Don't let him get away."

Andrew's chest heaved as he charged forward, ignoring the sting of arrows whizzing through the air.

Some struck him, each one exploding on impact, but he didn't falter. Each blast sent ripples of pain through his body, yet he kept moving.

Behind him, Mella watched.

"If he's going to be a bull," she muttered, "then so will I."

She surged forward, matching his relentless pace.

The arrows pierced her armor, detonating in sharp bursts, but she didn't stop. The smell of smoke and scorched fabric clung to them both as they barreled toward their enemy, unstoppable forces of will.

Bar-jui stared in disbelief. His confidence faltered for a split second, and then—a dark, round object arced through the air. It sailed above Andrew and Mella, landing a few feet behind Bar-jui. The explosion came not in flames but in a dense, choking smokescreen that enveloped the entrance of the village, where the arrows were coming from.

Qein's voice cut through the haze. "You don't have to worry about the archers anymore."

Bar-jui's gaze snapped to Qein as well, his expression twisting into fury. He pointed a clawed finger, shouting, "You!"

Qein's face remained expressionless. His voice was calm, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Yes."

Bar-jui moved to lunge, but something stopped him. His muscles seized, his veins from neck to chest bulging, dark purple and throbbing. The poison was finally taking its toll. His body shuddered, and he stumbled. A strangled roar tore from his throat, filled with pain and rage.

Andrew saw the opening and seized it. Water surged from his hands, spiraling and compressing until it formed a massive cannon of force. The torrent blasted forward, its size dwarfing anything he'd fired before. The impact hit Bar-jui square in the face, sending the massive figure hurtling backward.

"Now!" Andrew roared.

Mella responded instantly, summoning a spear of iron as wide as a man and as sharp as a razor.

"Die!" she yelled, thrusting it with all her might.

The spear hurtled through the air like a missile, striking Bar-jui with a deafening crash. But even as his face bled, his body battered and broken, Bar-jui gripped the spear's massive head, his hands slick with his own blood. He pushed against it, snarling like a cornered beast.

Andrew didn't let up. Smaller water cannons blasted from his palms, pummeling Bar-jui relentlessly. Each shot wore him down, but the larger attacks were too draining to sustain. He needed to conserve his energy.

"Stay down!" Andrew shouted, his voice commanding as he surged forward. He grabbed Bar-jui by the shoulder and slammed him to the ground. Bar-jui gasped, his strength failing him.

Andrew's face was inches from Bar-jui's, his voice low and menacing. "Talk. You're done. Where are the eggs?"

Bar-jui's lips twisted into a bloody smile. "I figured I couldn't…" He coughed, blood splattering the ground. "…but I knew what would."

Andrew froze. A chill crawled up his spine as his system chimed a cold, mechanical notification:

[You have failed]

[Return to home?]

"What?" Andrew was baffled, confused. "What did you do?"

Qein's voice was sharp and urgent. "We need to move. Now! He's calling them."

Andrew's mind raced. "You… You made the eggs hatch?"

Bar-jui's smile grew wider, even as his body betrayed him. He glanced at Qein, a cruel glint in his eyes. "He doesn't even know how the eggs work, does he? If he knew, he would have told you... That's too bad."

A deep rumble rolled through the ground. Andrew's heart sank as he turned, his eyes scanning the horizon. A mist was advancing, thick and ominous.

Mella staggered, her energy nearly spent. She pulled a discarded iron spear from the ground, its surface slick with dirt and blood. She held it above Bar-jui, her voice trembling but firm. "Tell them to stop!"

Bar-jui's mouth opened in fear, and for a moment, it seemed he might comply. But then he laughed, the sound wet and gurgling. "You think I'm scared? You can't scare me. You can't do anything to me!"

"We have to move!" Qein's shout came with a pointed urgency.

Andrew looked up just in time to see it—a massive creature descending from the sky. It was a gorilla, its fur spiked and gleaming with frost. Its white coat shimmered with patches of ice as it plummeted straight toward Mella.

"Shit!" Andrew panicked, kicking Mella out of the way.

He jumped back as the creature landed, the ground trembling beneath its weight. A wave of cold radiated from it, its breath visible in the frosty air.

More were coming. Andrew's eyes darted to the mist far away. He thought that the mist was being created by the ice gorillias.

Then a thought accord to him. Perhaps the mist was created as a distraction for some of the Ice gorillas to catch them off guard.

The ice gorillas were descending, their forms cutting through the air like falling stars.

"We stick together!" Andrew shouted to Mella, slashing through the first wave of creatures with bursts of water.

He glanced at Qein, watching him lob sticky bombs that slowed the monsters but failed to stop them entirely. They were overwhelming in their sheer numbers.

Bar-jui's laughter echoed through the battlefield, weak but defiant. He struggled to his feet, his body a grotesque mixture of swelling purple veins and jagged wounds.

"My fate is grander than anything you can imagine..." He coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips. "I'll never die. Never, ever die..."

The swelling had spread, his skin purpling further. His chest was a swollen mass of veins, each one pulsating.

The ground shook again, the gorillas closing in. Andrew knew they were running out of time. He exchanged a look with Mella. Her exhaustion was written across her face, but her grip on the iron spear never wavered.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Always," she replied, raising her weapon.