I'd probably milked my Force Dash skill to death—its combat utility was super useful with that 8-second cooldown per charge. *Why not?* I zipped right, dodging SmileyX's incoming attack with what I thought was perfect timing. But Smiley already knew that move; he'd seen it in action a couple of times. He canceled his dual arc attack mid-swing and, in one fluid, terrifying motion, tossed his mace upward, drew a bomb from his pouch, lit it with a flick, and hurled it right where I was about to land. Cheeky bastard.
I now knew why he'd been observing me since I joined the fray. With that knowledge, he anticipated my dashes and cooked up counters on the fly. But quack man, what was I supposed to do with this info without a solid counter to his plan?
The bomb sped toward collision. I landed first—blood dripped to the floor from my wounds—then dashed backward, barely avoiding the imminent explosion. BOOM! A deafening bang echoed, the blast splashing pebbles and rocks from where I'd stood a second ago, peppering me like shrapnel confetti. The shockwave knocked me sideways, gravel biting into my skin.
Force Dash:
Remaining Charges: 0
I saw Smiley catch his mace mid-fall and sprint toward me, already closing in to cut me down. "Kekeke, now no more super dash for you!" he cackled, eyes gleaming behind his mask.
"Ptew!" I spat out the gritty particles that had invaded my mouth, like when an insect kamikazes down your throat. Recalling that survival dude from my memories: "Mmmm, protein."
He was right—I still had 4 seconds before my next dash. My weapon lay 10-15 meters away. Get weapon now, my thoughts screamed. I raised my right hand, activating Force Pull, but another thought hit: Smiley would cut me down before it reached me, given his speed. I abandoned it and ran away from him heroically instead.
"Wait for me, little Fallen One!" he sang merrily, like a psycho on a playground swing.
In no time, he was behind me. "Gotcha x2!" He laughed maniacally. My Heightened Awareness tagged his attack: Sting Snake headed for my skull. I dropped low—then another attack flashed below: Low Sweep.
His thrust zipped overhead while the mace swept my left leg, pain exploding as it threw my feet skyward. He followed with a flying knee to my back, launching me rolling into jagged rocks. CRASH! The impact rattled my bones, stars bursting in my vision.
"Waaaaah!" The Beholder squealed in joy from above. Its minions to the left cheered, high-fiving tentacles and chest-bumping like rowdy fans. Ouch, and thanks for the support while I'm getting killed.
"I will enjoy killing you, so don't die yet, please?" Smiley said, clanging his weapons together like a dinner bell for doom.
I ended up face-down, breathing dust and grit. Pain consumed my body, but anger slowly burned hotter in my chest. "I did you no wrong," I wheezed, coughing up blood. "Why are you doing this to me?" I pushed myself up, shaking.
"Ooh, yes, suffering! I love suffering!" Smiley crowed, reveling in my misery. He paused, shivering with delight. "Yes, I love seeing you suffer—for what you did to Billabong, and of course, for my personal delight!" He laughed, stalking toward me. "You cockroach! How can you be a Fallen One? You're nothing! You don't deserve it!" His tone shifted to bitter venom.
"I get it now," I rasped, sarcasm my only weapon. "You don't hate me—you're just jealous. You want what I have, huh? Wow, how classy of Smiley with his boring X!"
"Kekeke! Either way, I, Smiley, will claim the title 'Fallen Slayer,' and your power will soon be mine!" He froze mid-thought. "Oops, said too much." He laughed and dashed at me.
My power will be his? Not just money, but my power too? How? Do Fallen Ones grant their killers their abilities? I thought of Heightened Awareness, my coach with its weird attachment, saving me countless times.
I saw the little floating eye in the distance, teary-eyed like an innocent kid in dread. The Beholder's minions to the left cheered, pointing tentacles and wiggling eyes in delight. The little eye locked on me, as if wishing I'd pull off a miracle. Sorry, little guy, but I think this is the end for me, I thought sourly.
Bleeding and pain weakened my left arm, making me stumble and faceplant again. "Quack!" My face throbbed.
Something yanked my hair, adding insult to injury. It pulled upward—Smiley, laughing. "Peek-a-boo!" he cackled.
"I'm going to tear you apart, limb by limb! I am going to enjoy this!" he declared.
My body screamed in pain. I tried fighting back, but exhaustion, blood loss, and agony turned it into a pathetic soft push—not even a push. Blood ran down my face to the floor.
"Aaah, what a sight to behold," Smiley said, his murderous eyes fixated on the blood, drool threatening to escape.
I couldn't fight anymore, the anger in my chest fading. I took a shaky deep breath. "Can I at least see the face of my killer?" I rasped, gently touching his mask, staring into his eyes behind it.
His grin softened to a smile. "No one has ever asked me that before. Always just 'please don't kill me' or 'I have a family' stuff. Sure, why not?"
He mounted his gladius to the ground with a strong thunk, cracking the floor. He dropped me limp, my hand still raised from his mask.
As he reached to remove it, I whispered, "Sorry, Smiley! Not this time."
He paused, laughed. "Yes, yes. Don't worry, I'll make it as painful as possible." Crazy glee dismissed my words.
Then—blood splashed across my face with a heavy thud.