In the Lands of Stone, the many tribes scattered across the endless expanse had to keep themselves sane amidst all the dangers.
Apart from the Warriors protecting them, they also spread stories.
Stories of powerful Warriors who roamed the Lands and protected the weak. Stories of cunning heroes who outwitted monsters. Stories of hope in a place where hope was often the first thing to die.
One particularly liked story was about The Spider Warrior, Anansi.
Anansi was not the strongest Warrior to ever walk the Lands of Stone. He was not the fastest, nor the most brutal, nor the most blessed with Mana. In the tales, he was often described as small. Thin. Unremarkable to look upon.
But Anansi was clever.
So clever that even the Primal Beasts feared him.
The stories said that Anansi had once tricked a great serpent into swallowing its own tail, binding it in an eternal circle until it starved. He had convinced a moving mountain to walk into the sea by telling it that the greatest treasures lay beneath the waves. He had stolen fire from the sky itself by weaving a web so fine that the distant stars became tangled in it.
Some said Anansi still walked the Lands of Stone, wearing different faces, testing the wit of those he encountered. Those who passed his tests received gifts of knowledge. Those who failed became threads in his endless web, their stories woven into his own.
Now, Anansi had many stories about him.
But many Tribesmen liked to tell how Anansi lived to teach their children. The foremost lesson they told was this:
The small should never fight against those big with strength and might. If you use wit, even the biggest giants will fall and bask the Lands of Stone in their blood.
Damian knew this lesson very well.
He had considered himself a tiny, small thing for years. He had to in order to survive. When you had no Mana, when your foundation was shattered, when every Warrior could crush you with a casual blow, you learned to think and plan.
You learned that the direct path was often the path to death.
So he turned and whispered to Uncle Adam.
"I'll do something crazy to give you and the others a chance to end things quickly."
Uncle Adam frowned, his blood-covered face creasing with concern.
"What crazy thing?"
His voice was barely audible.
"You have to be careful... you have just been exposed to Mana again. You are still weak."
Yet Damian only seriously whispered back.
"You'll know the crazy thing as soon as you see it. Act fast."
His eyes flickered toward The Butcher.
"Oh. Out of time."
The moment their whispers were about to end, The Butcher charged out with maddened rage.
"You would whisper among yourselves?!"
His roar shook the air itself.
"You would mock me?!"
The serrated blade in his hand sang with fury.
"I will show you that even if there were ten of you, none of you would be able to do a thing!"
BOOM!
The sand and stone beneath him buzzed with the force of his charge. This monster truly came over as if he was trying to be a trampling beast, his body a weapon as much as the blade he carried.
Uncle Adam met him first.
The old soldier's spear thrust forward with the precision of a man who had killed more enemies than he could count. The stone tip aimed for The Butcher's throat, a killing blow that would have ended any ordinary Warrior.
But The Butcher was not ordinary.
He twisted his body, letting the spear pass by his neck close enough to draw a thin line of blood, and his blade came around in a devastating arc.
CLANG!
Uncle Adam barely managed to block with the shaft of his spear. The impact drove him back three steps, his feet carving furrows in the blood-soaked earth.
"Pathetic!"
The Butcher's voice dripped with contempt.
"Is this the best you have?!"
Chieftain Ayala came from the left, his stone sword swinging toward The Butcher's exposed side. The two other Warriors circled from behind, their weapons raised for coordinated strikes.
For a moment, it seemed like they might overwhelm him through sheer numbers.
Then The Butcher moved.
He ducked under Ayala's swing and drove his elbow into the Chieftain's wounded side. Ayala gasped, blood spraying from between his teeth as the partially healed wound tore open again. The Butcher continued the motion, spinning to catch one of the other Warriors with a backhand blow that sent him tumbling across the ground.
A backhand!
"You think numbers matter?!"
His serrated blade blocked the remaining Warrior's axe and then pushed through the defense, opening a gash across the man's chest.
"Numbers are for the weak and puny, you stains of shit...you bums!"
The tendrils of Mana over The Butcher's body burned brighter than any of his opponents. His muscles swelled with power that exceeded all of them combined. Where they struck him, his reinforced skin turned aside all but the deepest cuts. Where he struck them, bones cracked and flesh parted.
Uncle Adam thrust again and again, his spear a blur of motion.
The Butcher caught the shaft in his free hand and yanked, pulling Uncle Adam off balance.
His blade came down.
Uncle Adam twisted aside, but not fast enough. The serrated edge carved a furrow across his back, and the old soldier stumbled.
"Age has made you slow!"
Chieftain Ayala rose and charged again, his stone sword aimed at The Butcher's spine.
Without even looking, The Butcher kicked backward. His heel caught Ayala in the chest and sent him flying into one of his own Warriors. Both men went down in a tangle of limbs.
"Is this all?!"
The Butcher laughed with rage, and the sound was worse than his roars.
Damian watched from the side.
His eyes tracked every movement. Every pattern. Every opening that appeared and disappeared in the chaos of combat.
He was calculating and planning but man...
The Butcher was too strong. Too fast. Too reinforced with Mana for any of them to defeat in a straight fight. Even together, they were being pushed back. Even with numbers, they were losing.
But The Butcher had one weakness.
His rage.
His absolute certainty that a Lesser Thing could never pose a threat.
Damian had already killed multiple of his Warriors today. Had already evaded his killing blow. Had already risen from the dead before his eyes.
The Butcher wanted to crush him personally to prove that a creature without Mana could never defy someone with power.
Well, hopefully.
So after a few seconds of watching, Damian shot forward.
He rushed toward The Butcher with the stone axe raised, his thin body cutting through the chaos of battle.
Instantly, The Butcher's attention snapped to him.
His eyes blazed with savagery.
"I've been waiting for you, Lesser Thing!"
The Butcher erupted from his engagement with Uncle Adam, abandoning the old soldier to charge directly at Damian. His feet cracked the earth. His blade sang through the air. His entire being was focused on ending the creature that had humiliated him.
The charge was heavy, but Damian kept his wits about him.
He raised his axe as if ready for a big showdown. As if he intended to meet The Butcher's charge head-on. As if he had suddenly gained the strength to contest a peak Flesh Awakening Warrior in direct combat!
But truthfully, he was not ready for any showdown.
He simply had a plan.
The Butcher's blade came down, and...Damian did not evade.
...!
The Butcher's eyes opened wide.
His blade cut into Damian's right shoulder with the full force of a peak Flesh Awakening Warrior behind it. Bone cracked. Muscle tore. The serrated edge carved through flesh and lung, descending until it lodged deep in Damian's ribcage.
The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced.
Worse than the first wound. Worse than having his chest torn open. This was a blade still inside him, grinding against bone with every heartbeat.
Damian's face contorted in agony.
But he did not scream.
He roared.
"NOW!"
And as he roared, his free hand brought the stone axe down on The Butcher's wrist.
The blade bit deep into flesh and bone, and Damian used his weight to push The Butcher's serrated blade even deeper into his own body.
Locking the weapon in place and locking the hand that held it.
He grabbed The Butcher's arm with his left hand and held on with everything he had!