For a moment, Nic had seized hold of an invincible momentum. The swordlights crashed against his armor, which was barely a millimeter thick, and came to to an absolute halt against Gwungo’s adaptive layers of crystalline scale; the little slime seemed to be able to feed off almost any kind of energy, once he’d absorbed enough to ‘learn’ its nature.

His one weakness was being unable to stop pure physical force. Her actual blade could still break through to harm Nic-

But the wonderful thing was, she didn’t know it yet.

With each step Nic took forward, the swordswoman was forced back, a grimace frozen across her face as she desperately tried to break through his guard with swordlights. Sparks flew in all directions as he advanced through the rain of attacks.

With his left hand, he drew a flashlob canister out of his bag. It bounced against the floor and went off with a screaming, piercingly loud burst of blazing white light. For an instant the world was blotted out in fury and sound.

His sword swept for her skull.

Nic had no mercy for the Invaders. The bargain they’d made with the System would protect them even if they ‘died’ here. Where the Natives fought to survive, where the monsters risked everything for a new life, the Invaders were already rich and powerful, paying exorbitant fees to come and make a sport out of hunting their ‘lessers’ on this new world.

He’d cut them down without a second thought.

But as his blade carved through the air she stepped aside, sensing it somehow. Her blade twisted into the way to deflect as he followed through by the backswing around into an advancing thrust, aimed at her lungs. For a moment they locked blades and danced as the aftershocks of the flashlob faded.

He went for her legs. A slippery segment of mud under her feet suddenly heaved up and tripped her, letting him rush forward. His blade slashed against hers, once, as he stepped past her; Nic was already turning, aiming to pierce up through her kidney and spine with a final lancing strike-

She caught the sword in her hand.

Her flesh was resilient enough to hold on to the swirling edge of stormwinds, and with a snarl of pain, she cut away the red rope belt hanging from her waist.

“You really are…” She snarled. “The fucking worst.”

Her body began to change. Her shoulders cracked and stretched out, swelling to massive size. Her arm bulged with sudden, lumpy muscle. The prim and proper shape of the swordswoman distorted, growing huge and warped as a new face blossomed on the side of her cheek, ripping open a mouth, blinking open eyes…

It pushed forward like a massive tumor growing from the side of her origin face, splitting into a new head.

In less than a second, the woman had completely transformed.

Nic let the wind-blade collapse, releasing him to step back and assess the situation anew.

Tharsa & Talqua Stoneclaw. E-Class // Sapient. A rare specimen of bicephaly among half-blooded ogres, these two conjoined twins share a powerful cultivation talent and redoubled regeneration, making them sacred among their tribe; they underwent a ritual at the age of twelve, binding the ‘subordinate’ will to strengthen the dominant persona.

Two heads. Two cultivations.

Nic could feel the energy in the air twisting, being pulled two different directions as each will tried to drag in as much as possible. It was like two converging stormwinds striking at one another, forming a hurricane as they each tried to twist things in their own directions.

“Ahhh. Sister, you couldn’t handle this little twerp? You had to let me out? Oh sister, that must be so embarrassing for you…” The new head crooned out in a voice like harsh, grating stone, her mouth full of crooked and broken teeth. A single rune sat on her forehead, marked out in red clay.

“Talqua, you only know how to do one thing, so do it. Crush him.” Her voice resonated with hypnotic command. The rune on her sister’s head flared, making the lesser head’s eyes blink and roll stupidly.

“Y-yes…”

Nic had the sinking sense he was truly fucked. Competing with the swordswoman Tharsa had been enough to bring him to a standstill…

Now she had twice the size, and the air of danger from her sister Talqua was even worse.

With a single step, the giant ogreblood closed the distance between them. Like a comet descending from the heavens, Talqua’s hand crashed down, the open palm filled with the weight of a mountain.

Nic flung himself aside.

As he did, the first sister’s blade snapped out. A cutting crescent blow slammed into his hastily raised guard, and sheer, brute strength enabled the wild slash to break through his wind-blade. It slammed into his chest and sent him flying.

Nic rolled miserably, spitting out blood from his bruised lungs as he came to his feet. His right arm was dangling by a thread, the wound across his ribs only slowing sealing over.

As the two-headed ogre advanced again, Nic grabbed the resonant greatsword with his left hand, flickered, and vanished.

He reappeared on a rotten tree trunk sticking out of the walls nearby, past the lodge of the valley where the fight had taken place. There was nothing but empty air below…

“You can’t run forever!” The new head called out gleefully. The old one was stubborn and silent as ever.

He just needed time…

Time for his arm to regrow…

Time to think of a plan…

The ogre duo wouldn’t give it to him. They ripped a massive boulder from the earth, and Nic was forced to teleport again, straining his aura reserves to escape as it smashed into the wall where he’d been. He appeared on a lower ledge, hiding himself amidst the grasses that grew there.

A tiny frog hopped away, ribbiting…

Nic could only breathe out once he was sure that tiny movement hadn’t drawn the duo’s attention. He was really, truly out of steam. Killing the locust-demon had been the right call- but he’d used so many of his tricks in an all-out opening move that he had nothing left to finish off the second fighter.

One blast of Primordial Mist. One perfectly placed blade…

He was seeking one good blow to end this fight.

Nic still had his Warform held in reserve, but he refused to use it here. That was because there was still the old slave guarding the way in and out of the killing grounds, in addition to four more Invaders hidden somewhere within…

If he used his Warform, he’d be committing to leaving then and there, before his strength ran out and left him stranded. Since it was his last trick, it absolutely had to be reserved for making his escape.

Which left him with one option…

He waited in the grass, holding his half-severed arm in place to help the tendons and meat regrow. All around him, the cavern echoed with crashing, splintering explosions of stone against stone as the ogre duo hurled boulders at anything that moved…

But they had to give up eventually. There was no sense wasting their strength, and Nic was far more patient than they were. He wasn’t coming out until they gave him a window of opportunity.

In truth, if you measured pure skill with their weapons? Nic was behind.

In pure strength, again, Nic didn’t quite match up.

But Nic’s ability wasn’t in pure technical mastery of the sword or any other weapon. It wasn’t in his strength, or even his speed. It was simply that…

Regardless of how badly outmatched he was…

He’d find a way to claw himself towards victory, fighting until his body gave out and then beyond. If lying in the mud for a few hours was what winning this fight took…

Then he’d lie in the mud.

Slowly, the rain of hurled boulders ceased, the ogres panting in exhaustion as sweat dripped down their faces. They’d torn huge gouges into the greenery of the valley below them, but not seen even a hint of Nic’s telltale pink skin…

With a grunt of frustration, they turned their attention elsewhere. There was still a huge amount of spiritstone left behind, and with her raw hands, Talqua began to rip chunks of the precious ore out of the earth. Tharsa took watch, gazing out with her cloudy gray eyes…

Even if they couldn’t kill him, they could still steal away with the prize.

Nic smiled.

“Gwungo, I need you to take on the color of whatever I’m near. Can you do that?” Nic whispered.

“Yes yes, Maker-Mine. Oh very much-”

“And be quiet.” He hastily added.

With obedient silence, Gwungo changed colors to match the fungal grass and graying stone around Nic. Moving slowly, careful not to draw the eyes…

Nic began to climb.

With time being kept by the steady, thumping rhythm of blows as Talqua cut the spiritstone free from the earth, Nic spent nearly an hour moving upwards, his hands wrapped in sticky aura. He slowly reached the very heights of the cavern and began to move upside down, scurrying through the fields of inverted stalactites that hung like moss-covered teeth over the valley below…

Until he was positioned directly above his enemies.

Nic drew out a canister of ink and began to draw around the nearest stalactite, ringing its base in runes. He’d need a distraction…

And a few prayers.

When all was ready, he braced himself, eyeing the drop below. When he was human…

That drop would’ve reduced him to a falling scream and splatter of gore. But now his body was lighter, stronger, more resilient…

Vertigo pulled at the contents of his stomach, but he resisted.

With a whispered word, Nic activated the runes he’d drawn. A simple splintering crack echoed down through the valley, and the ogres’ eyes turned up to see a shadow descending. A half-ton slab of rock was aimed for their heart- plummeting through the air with such immense, unspeakable speed that it was already almost there.

With a scream of horror the pair threw themselves out of the way.

The stalactite stabbed into the earth with a thunderous clap of breaking stone, making a huge portion of the valley shelf collapse into falling rubble. It exploded into a thousand pieces as the force of impact radiated out, breaking the stone tooth into flying, wickedly fast pieces of jagged debris. Dozens of tiny flint blades stabbed into the pair-

Into their arms, their legs, their face, the meat of their torso. They were impaled and clawed at, covered in stone dust…

And like a shadow, in the wake of the stalactite’s thunder, Nic fell towards them from above.

Somehow they knew.

Their senses were sharp, and Nic had expected that.

As Tharsa’s blade rose to meet him in the air, aiming to cut his body in two, Nic pulled the barrel of gunpowder he’d gotten from Old Ben out of his bag. Pushing aura into his teleportation ring, he flickered aside and out of the way-

The sword struck the barrel and cleaved it apart. A rain of black powder fell over the pair, making them choke and cough.

Nic landed. The impact splintered his right leg until fragments of bone shot up through his knee, but his arms were intact, unharmed. He drew the bow from his bag, an arrow already prepared with an incendiary talisman wrapped around the shaft.

One shot.

One word.

The gunpowder ignited with a brutal, roaring flame. No longer packed tight, it was less an explosion and more a simple, percussive whisper of air turning to superheated fire. Red-blue flame tongues shot into the air with glee.

The ogres screamed in unison. Grasping for her bag, Tharsa pulled out a clay talisman and crushed it in her hand. Blue light gathered around their body…

With time for a single shot, Nic made a choice.

He fired and shot the magic bag off their hip, tearing it away.

The arrow thudded into the wall, bag hanging by a thread, as the two vanished, carried away to safety by their teleportation talisman.

Nic let out a half-sigh, half-laugh of relief.