Every student dreams of having an intelligence Number to match Einstein, Newton, or other geniuses of the past. Their astronomical intelligences allowed them to discover miraculous innovations through rapid thinking and crystal clear recall. Unfortunately, intelligence alone is not the only requirement for genius: Ron “Robot Man” Draxford has the highest recorded intelligence Number with 1371 -- more than 200 higher than the second highest recorded intelligence Number. However, Draxford’s other Numbers were significantly below average, which caused him to suffer a mental break at age twenty-seven, forcing him to be confined to a mental institution until his death four years later.

- Excerpt from “Extreme Numbers: Fact and Fiction”

The higher branches are not quite strong enough to arrest my fall, only slowing me as I descend towards the ground. I manage to catch myself as I hit one of the lowest branches of the tree monster, the rest of its limbs scratching and pulling at me. I'm only about five feet above the ground, and luckily the majority of the flames are above me. This does not make it cool, not by any means, and I struggle to decide my next move. Despite giving into my inner pessimism, none of my earlier plans considered me sitting in the tree while it was on fire around me. Clearly I had been too optimistic

After a few seconds of thought clinging tightly to the trunk, I realize something -- the tree monster can't actually reach me here! Sure, some of its smaller branches are able to whip and scratch my arms and legs, but none of the larger bone-breaking limbs have the flexibility to hit me so close to the trunk. And the flames, as hot as they are, are above me -- it's cooler, and significantly less smoky, here close to the base than it was in my previous position above the fire. I know the flames will eventually get to my position, but hopefully, the tree monster will be dead by that point, and I won't have to worry about getting my skull caved in as I flee the inferno.

My plan formed, I wrap both arms and legs around the trunk with my butt against the lowest limb holding on for all I'm worth. The tree monster is getting more and more agitated, and I close my eyes to shield them against the whipping branches. Suddenly, I start to feel something strange against my body. Something not the texture of bark, something smooth, and...wriggling?

I look down in horror at the branch I'm sitting on. No longer does it have the solid feel of wood beneath me, but now is a much more pliable material, almost fleshy in texture. The branch is significantly more flexible than it was previously, and I see the end of the same branch curling in my direction. The end of the branch, too, has changed, though in a different way. Where previously it looked like a normal limb on a normal tree with smaller and smaller branches splitting off, separating from their neighbors to gain access to the most amount of sunlight, now the ends of the branch curl inward towards each other. The twigs on the end have changed too, having grown thicker and sharper. With clenching muscles, I realize what I'm looking at. The limb I'm sitting on has formed into a mouth, each of the twigs at the end forming into a razor-sharp tooth, chomping up and down, coming closer and closer to me as the base of the limb grows more and more flexible.

In terror, I stare at the opening and closing mouth as it slowly approaches. The branch forming the mouth is becoming more pliable and mouth-like and less wooden by the second. For an instant, I freeze, disturbed beyond thought by the situation I find myself in. Clinging precariously to the trunk of a screaming flaming monster tree, dozens of twigs constantly scratching and attempting to drag me away, and now said monster tree is trying to eat me? With a mouth made from the end of the branch I'm sitting on?!?!?

But I'm only frozen for that instant, and no longer. As horrifying as the scene is...I've seen worse. I've seen true horror -- the staring, broken body of someone who was almost, potentially, a friend. This monster is nothing compared to that.

As fast as I am able, I reach for my back pocket and pull out my trusty spade. With no hesitation, I lift it into the air and stab it into the now fleshy branch beneath me.

The scream coming from the tree rises in pitch as I quickly raise and stab the tree again, two, three, and four more times, a brown ichor splashing from the cuts over my hands. The body of the tree monster is still tough, much tougher than mine, but nowhere near as solid as wood. After the fourth stab, the branch solidifies again into solid wood and my spade sticks less than a centimeter into the branch.

I don't mind though. I've done the damage that I needed to, a large scar running almost halfway into the wood the result of my frantic stabbings. More importantly, I know that the only way the tree monster can attack me is to present an even greater weakness. For the moment, I am safe here.

I spend what feels like an eternity sitting on that branch. Each second the heat grows stronger around me, and the writhing limbs of the tree monster grow more frantic. Several more times, it tries to bend its branches to reach me, both the one I am sitting on and others further above me. Luckily, all the limbs that have a hope of catching me are either within reach of my spade or wreathed in flames. One time, I see it try to bend one of the branches on fire, only for the branch to immediately blacken and crack.

This is a waiting game, one I'm determined to win. I can feel the skin on my cheeks, neck, and forehead burning and blistering, but I'm too afraid to miss a limb moving toward me to cover my head with my shirt.

Only when the fire reaches a point that I don't think I can stand it any longer and I start to see flaming branches drop from above to the ground below me do I leap from my perch and roll to the ground. From there, I crawl with what energy I have left to a safe distance.

And it's lucky I do. Seconds later, the tree monster gives a last screech, louder than any before, and topples directly towards me. It seems to know its death approaches, but it refuses to go without making a final effort to crush the one to bring that death about.

With a crash and a last surge of heat right behind me, I continue to crawl away. Only when I am over 20 yards away from the inferno do I turn to look back at the battleground.

Blood oozes from hundreds of small cuts on my face, neck, and arms. My lips are cracked and parched, and I can feel the blisters forming on my face from the heat. One of my fingernails was completely torn off in my mad clinging to the trunk, and the blood drips from my hand to the forest floor.

But my spade is covered in the ichor of the tree monster, and my enemy lies dead, wreathed in flames before me. With a rush, I feel myself grow stronger as the Numbers on my left arm reform. I am victorious.

S: 82

D: 31

W: 37 (+1)

I: 28

C: 25

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