Wrath of the Extra-Chapter 41: Entrance Exam XX
We continue running. My breath is ragged, and my hope is just about lost. I may have to dump Cossa, along with my teammates.
Yet the devil descends from the heavens, granting me a speck of optimism in the form of shit on a rock.
It takes Nicklas several moments to find one of the Threadback droppings. Then he snatches a small stone.
I watch in awe as he smooshes the turd against the rock—small white powder leaks into the air as a result.
Nicklas hurls the rock with all his might. The form is awful—especially on the run. But all he had to do was hit the broadside of a barn.
The moment is slow and silent. Time crawls.
The turd rock soars through the air parabolically toward the Landeskogs, who run in step not too far from us, trying to evade the Threadbacks.
For a moment, nothing happens. The rock disappears into the pure pandemonium. And with it, my hope.
Just when I thought I was out, he pulled me back in.
There’s a frenzied surge among the horde—a new gear. They start gaining.
But not on us; the swarm following us diverges, swerving to unify with the rest of the Threadbacks.
They’re chasing the Landeskogs instead.
Holy shit. Literally. Wow. I’m going to worship feces.
I watch as Gabriel sluggishly spears through Threadback after Threadback, but it’s never enough. He gets scratched, and they need to keep running, or else they’ll be devoured.
Fat squirrel bodies crash into the bastards. One Landeskog lad falls to the ground, dropping like a kiloton of weight got added on his shield.
He’s devoured in a sea of rodents. A grotesque, soul-tearing scream pierces through the chaos before his protection Artifact activates.
Now the Landeskogs find themselves in our shoes. We’re ecstatic to trade places. Elated.
"It... it worked!" Nicklas erupts.
I can’t help but smile ever so slightly. I always knew keeping Nicklas alive would pay off. Always. Never for a second did I doubt his usefulness. No one fact check that. Benevolence and foresight are two of my greatest features.
Over my shoulder, I watch—and hear—as Maxmillian Stamkos erupts with crackling lightning. Lightning Magic, lightning Imprint, lightning everything.
It looks like a final gambit, a massive attack looking to wipe out the horde. White electricity rapidly pops; it’s a continuous stream, eviscerating row after row of Threadbacks.
But the horde is too big. They replace their numbers instantly.
Then he runs out of Essence, looking deathly pale. He’s drained and stranded. It’s over.
"Shit! Help!" he helplessly yelps. More shit puns. It’s a field day out here.
Seriously, what can they do against this? A few lackeys peel off to help. Gabriel, of course, keeps running, business as usual. I see through you, fucking rodent creature.
Maximillian Stamkos is overrun by F-rank Threadbacks, mostly caused by F-rank Nicklas of Adeca.
My eyes watch joyously as his form disappears in a black furred tsunami.
***
It’s a happy but arduous path back home.
Valeria dropped back a bit, cleaning up any stragglers. Bloodthirst has died down, but she’s still a devil, even with a hole in her limping leg and shoulder. She has a shit-eating grin—another pun for the books.
Nicklas wheezes beside me, still clutching his pack, begging for us to stop moving. He’s convinced that he used all of his athleticism in that single encounter. I tell him he’s got more.
"Shit Sorcerer," Valeria snaps her fingers.
"Purveyor of Poo," I reply.
"Crap Conjurer."
"What’s with the magic theme?"
"It’s more fun to think of it as a Spell," Valeria admits.
"The Brown Alchemist."
"Stool Sage."
"Lord of the Latrine."
"Cut it out," Nicklas lightheartedly cries out amidst our torment.
"You’re supposed to say ’cut the crap,’" I reply.
He whimpers and nothing more.
"Oh man, they better have found booze somewhere," Valeria has a toothy smile. "Cause we’re getting fucking wasted tonight."
"Right, Poop Peddler?" I nudge Nicklas.
"You guys are jerks."
"Got any names, Cossa?" I turn my head, directing my voice to the third-ranked scholarship student and future Swordmaster holstered on my shoulder.
"You’re both disgustingly crude," Cossa sneers, then flails. "Release me."
"Hey Nicklas," Valeria says.
"Uh... yeah?"
"Every time that tightass Cossa flails, stick a finger up his rectum," Valeria barely holds back hysterical laughter. Potty humor at its finest, but I do see the nuance in it.
"That’s a really disgusting... thing to say," Nicklas’s face recoils at the idea. He turns bright red in anger. "I’m not a damn Poomancer!"
"BAHAHAHA!" Valeria explodes once more. We didn’t even make that one up; he just said that himself.
"Why in the Hells would I ally with you people?!" Cossa snaps and flails. I motion toward Nicklas and point at Cossa’s rear, but Nicklas profoundly shakes his head.
"Didn’t you see?" I reply. "Gabriel of Lomberg betrayed you. He was with the Landeskogs the entire time."
...
Which means that, should he survive, the Landeskogs will know where our village is.
I told Cossa it in earnest back at the firewatch tower, trying to appeal to a possible appreciation of transparency and truth.
Gabriel was still there. I slipped up.
I’ll have to warn Leara as soon as possible. In exchange for Cossa, our element of surprise is gone, and our location compromised.
Cossa is silent. Rarely, it seems, does he concede or admit wrongdoing. It’s deplorable.
"Plus, we just demolished the Landeskogs." Valeria’s smile is demonically wide. "Three of us against twenty of them, plus a thousand Corrupted."
An incredible feat, to say the least.
"Not to mention that they torched your camp and destroyed your crew," I add.
"You kidnapped me!" Cossa rages.
"For once, just see the bigger picture," I plead with this absolute moron. "What kind of kidnappers kidnap someone to then later release and befriend them?"
"The sick and twisted kind."
"You mean the shitty kind?" Valeria’s lips thin and her cheeks puff as she holds back explosive laughter.
"Please stop," Nicklas squeaks, hiding behind his hands.
Which, I would like to mention, I have not seen him wash since the poo incident.
Just saying.
