Chapter 280 - The Sharpest Lizard That Ever Sharped II
Boris yawned as he slowly crawled through the seaside city. The afternoon had just turned to evening; the sun was starting to set, and the streets were flooded with traffic. Having finally escaped their employers, workers of all shapes and sizes were out and about, with some heading back home to their families and others in search of a meal to wrap up a long day's work.
As far as the ikarett was concerned, he fell cleanly into the second group. Head held high with pride, he joined a pod of tired-looking construction workers as they vacated the castle grounds and lumbered through the streets. It was difficult to say which among them was most drained. One of the particularly exhausted-looking orcapeds was dragging his tentacles like a zombie, while the elf standing behind him had his back at a ninety-degree angle. Boris trailed behind the group and opened his mouth wide, an action driven by the recency of his latest nap. With the length of the yawn, he was confident that he had demonstrated himself the hardest worker, but much to the lizard’s chagrin, it soon spread contagiously through the crowd; his cowalkers began opening their mouths and expressed their extensive fatigue.
Frustrated and defeated, he parted with the group on Fourth Street and made his way back to his second home. On some days, Marcelle would accompany him to the shop, but she had refrained for the past week. Apparently, the castle had upgraded its feed. She needed to be present as soon as mealtime began so that she could consume her portion before it was stolen. The local turberi and weird centaurs were ravenous and would break out of their stalls just to get their hooves and flippers on anything left unattended and unconsumed. Though it was certainly an inconvenient development—the manatee's ability to fly would have made it easier for them to cut the line—the lizard was far from discouraged. He crawled under the other guests instead, weaving between their legs as he made his way indoors. Though some of the newer faces were surprised or annoyed, the regulars paid him no mind. Some even went out of their way to greet him, and while he wasn't quite a fan of all the petting they would do before he assumed his station, he did at least blink in each of their directions.
Perhaps because they had just launched a new dish, the shop was operating beyond its maximum capacity. There were a few people spread throughout, examining the goods placed on the shelves, but most hung around the bar, where the new pet was earning his keep. His presence was one that the lizard enjoyed. The new fuzzy thing knew that he sat at the bottom of the pecking order; while the mean chicken-lady mostly ignored him, the big cat-man always fed his reptilian overlord on demand. Boris didn't quite understand the siren's mentality. But he didn't bother correcting it. It wasn’t his duty to guide her on the right path.
A bubble appeared around him as he navigated his way to the bar. The magical sphere removed the sand and grime that had accumulated all over his body and banished it to the void. He briefly glanced at the spell's caster, who was pretending to nap on the counter while leaving all her work to his mistress, and lightly flicked his tongue in appreciation before continuing towards his goal.
His dinner was ready by the time he entered the big cat’s space. Delicious potato skins, large seeds, and fresh bones aplenty were piled up onto his plate, ready to be savoured and consumed. He dug in immediately, albeit without all the zeal he would have liked. For whatever reason, the otherwise submissive newcomer threw a fit whenever he ate the plates and forks. He didn’t quite see why; no one else could tolerate their flavour, and his mistress had always given him as many as he wanted. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was a quirk of the strange newcomer’s personality to be emotionally attached to individual pieces of food.
Whatever the case, he was able to eat his fill, even without any metals or ceramics. More or less satisfied, he scuttled out of the kitchen and retreated to the counter, where he positioned himself beside his mistress’ documents with his eyes closed and his face resting on the cold marble. It was his new favourite spot. His old flame, a bed by one of the infirmary’s windows, was no longer an option courtesy of the evil chicken. She didn’t chase him out per se, but there was always something bubbling while she was around, and he wasn’t a fan of the smell.
Though certainly comfortable enough to travel through time, the lizard did not doze off. In the evening, his duty was not to sleep, but rather to be petted; he actively lowered his spines whenever any hands approached, moving them to one side so that it was easier to access his flank. It was not just his mistress and her friends that scratched and patted him, but random customers as well—evidence that he was doing his part.
And so the evening passed. The shop closed at the usual time without incident, and the commute home was as vanilla as ever. Everyone went their separate ways upon arrival; Lia headed up to her room, Sylvia fell asleep on the dinner table, and Boris took up his usual spot. His mistress was the only one not to stay. She headed back into the night, presumably to join the strange long-nosed people in their evening training. He would sometimes accompany her as either an observer or head-bonker, but only if he was summoned or expressly brought along. He had little investment in the strange grey-skinned people or their ivory tusks.
Snuggling up to the fireplace, Boris closed his eyes and prepared to greet the next day. Only to realise that he couldn’t. His stomach was making strange noises, and while the ikarett was not particularly hungry, he did find himself with an abnormal amount of energy. His legs jittered, his teeth chattered, and his tail wildly swished about.
He noticed that something was off as he skittered out the window and into the open. His body was glowing, lightly illuminating his surroundings in a distinct, pale light. Not minding it one bit, he followed in his mistress’ footsteps and entered the erdbrechers’ domain. He picked up speed as he scuttled, moving faster and faster until the environment became a blur. Before he knew it, he was no longer among the firelit houses, but deep in the Vel’khanese forest.
He blinked a few times as he came to a stop before slowly turning around. For whatever reason, the jungle behind him was untrodden. There was no trace of his prints anywhere to be seen, nor even his lingering scent. His eyes flashed with a curious glint as he walked around and lightly flicked his tongue at each strange plant in turn.
He didn’t quite understand why they were shaped, coloured, and scented so strangely. One particularly purple flower was so big that he could walk right into it. In retrospect, he realised that it was a little rude, but the flower was kind enough to offer him a lick nonetheless. Returning the greeting with a light head bump, he backed out of its giant bud and resumed his investigation.
It took a grand total of five minutes for the ikarett to determine that he was totally lost. He recognized none of the plants; loosely classifying them as trees, shrubs, grasses, and flowers was about the extent of his ability. Still, he was not discouraged. He continued wandering haphazardly around the strange environment until he happened upon a distant campfire.
He scuttled towards the flame without a moment’s delay and waltzed right into the clearing as if he had always belonged. He didn’t look at the shadowy figures until he was basking by the raging heat lamp, at which point he determined that he recognized none of their races.
One was a large man with red skin and giant muscles, one was a safe with a face drawn on its door, and the last was a tiny person that vaguely reminded him of Sylvia when she shrunk. They were roughly the same size, but the cloaked figure had a pair of butterfly-like wings growing from her back. Her tail wasn’t quite missing, but it was fleshy rather than fuzzy and grew from her front instead of her back. She also seemed to be sick; bits of dust sprayed off her wings whenever she flapped them, obscuring her otherwise naked figure in a cloud of pink particulates.
Perhaps because they were already arguing amongst themselves, they didn’t notice him until he was already halfway to falling asleep.
“Wait, what the hell is that thing?” The first of the three to question his existence was the talking safe. The illustration on its door twisted in an exaggerated display of shock when it found him, going so far as to grow a pair of illustrated hands.
The large red man scratched his head. “Good question.” He lightly tapped the lizard’s chassis. “But it feels like it’s made of solid steel or something. No idea how we didn’t notice it crawling over.”
“Maybe it was always here?” asked the fairy. Unlike the safe, who spoke in a squeaky high pitch, the pixie’s voice was deep and masculine.
“That’s impossible. Someone would’ve seen it,” said the red man. “Anyway, it doesn’t seem hostile, but I’ll move it a bit away just in case.”
He reached under the metal lizard and attempted to lift him, but Boris, unwilling to move from the fire, magnified the weight of his otherwise fifty-pound body by a factor of a thousand and sank deeper into his seat. It was the heaviest he could get, and thankfully, it seemed to do the trick.
“The hell is wrong with this thing!?” The man put his back into the effort and leveraged every bit of strength his bulging muscles could produce. “It won’t fucking budge!” His face turned even redder as he continued to strain himself to no avail. He tried for a minute, pushing, pulling, and prying from all different angles, but Boris remained exactly where he was. “Fuck!”
“You know, the more I look at it, the more familiar it seems,” said the pixie. “You think we might’ve seen it somewhere?”
“Nah, no wa—” The talking safe was about to dismiss the claim when her chalky hands shot to her equally chalky mouth.
“What?” asked the fairy. “You recognize it?”
“That’s the lizard that lives in the MACC,” said the box. “Shit! They must be onto us.”
“Aw, fuck,” grumbled the red man. “I told you we shouldn’t have tried to cheat. The hell are we supposed to do now?”
“Your brain not working or something, musclehead?” said the safe. “Didn’t you hear what happened to Piper’s party? We’ve gotta skip town. We’re in deep shit the moment this thing makes its report.”
“We could just make it so it never gets to talk.” The red man pushed himself to his knees and grabbed the disproportionate battleaxe by the fire. “Whaddya say?”
“I say you’re an idiot,” cried the walking rectangle. “That thing’s probably a familiar! Its master heard every damn word that just came out of your mouth! God! This is why I can’t stand muscleheads!”
Wide-eyed, the buff red man turned to the tiny pixie, who confirmed the claim with a nod and a grimace. “I don’t know how long it’s been here, but the fact that it’s revealed itself means their agents are close. Get packing. We need to make a run for it.”
“Aye.”
Boris watched in confusion as the group went from relaxing by the campfire to suddenly packing everything up. It was a scramble. They grabbed most of the lighter things and ran off into the night. For a moment, it looked like they would simply disappear into the jungle and leave him by the flame, but a massive web spread across the sky just before they vanished. Silky strings fired from the matrix and latched onto each of the party’s members, all of whom spun around and returned to the campsite with a series of jerky, unnatural motions.
Boris ignored them at first. The soothing fire numbed his mind and continued pushing him towards the void of sleep, but he was soon torn from his reverie when the red man suddenly leapt through the air with a feral scream. He brought his axe upon the lizard with madness in his eyes and foam bubbling from his mouth. The phenomenon held Boris’ attention for a whole tenth of a second. He zoned out again right after, even as the weapon met his skin. In fact, it was the assailant’s axe that was broken; a large crack ran down its length, starting from the point where it had impacted his spine.
The living weapon found the whole ordeal surprisingly enjoyable. He wasn’t oblivious to the man’s intentions, of course, but neither was he particularly concerned, even as the other two pelted him with their spells. His durability only dropped a total of seven points over the course of a minute-long assault, all of which were recovered before more numbers were claimed; their desperate attempts came off as more of a light massage than an expression of violence. Still, they continued to pelt him, puppeteered by the silken strands attached to the sky.
It was on those same strands that the other assailants descended. A dozen spiders fell out of the net, their sticky tethers barely keeping them from hitting the ground. They were not made of flesh and blood, but rivets and plates. The metal used in their construction was unfamiliar, their forms were strange, and they were less than half his size. But Boris could tell. They were the same. Living weapons, just like him.
The metal arachnids didn’t hesitate to show their cards. Six of them went to the man’s side. One attached to his head and injected its legs straight through his skull, while the others quickly transformed. They turned first to individual blades and cut the threads that bound him before becoming a single entity. Morphing their parts accordingly, they perfectly slotted together and formed an exaggerated version of the weapon that the man had broken. The giant axe’s artificial glow cut through the darkness and dyed the forest in a piercing dapper red.
Both his party members were met with much the same treatment. One spider jabbed a claw through the pixie’s head, while another breached the safe and crawled inside. Their staves were replaced by large metal rods, each tipped with a collection of glowering, arachnid eyes.
Each took up a stance, but they did not attack immediately. Their lips moved in sync instead while their weapons projected their voices.
“This is a divine missive. The goddess of war demands the return of the Thirsting Blade. Fail to comply, and you will be eliminated.”
Boris tilted his head and pointed a foot at his face. He was genuinely confused, but the spiders only seemed to see it as a taunt. Their legs twitching uncontrollably, even in weapon form, the metal arachnids skreed with rage.
“Do not lie! We can sense it. You are carrying it at this very moment. Return it immediately, or we will take action!”
Their voices came not only from the twelve that had taken over the party standing in front of him but all around. Hundreds of them were in the sky, all slowly falling from the massive web. And it was at that moment that Boris made a decision. He curled into something that vaguely resembled a ball as he turned his back to the attackers and rolled away.
He wasn’t very quick at first, rotating his body only once every few seconds, but he soon picked up the pace and accelerated to over twenty times his scuttling speed. He blasted right through the trees in his path, crushing their trunks without any thought or effort as he set his mind on escape. Frankly, the lizard wasn’t sure where he was going. The web seemed to grow in every direction, so he focused on getting as far away from as many of the spiders as he could.
He recalled, halfway through his escape, that he could return to his mistress’ side through the use of his Soul Link skill, but it failed when he tried it. Something was blocking him from teleporting, communicating even. Nothing about the skill was working; all his commands were outright ignored.
It was a solid predicament, but the lizard shrugged it off and continued to roll, not because he was desperate to escape, but because he found the sensation oddly amusing. There was something inherently fun about ploughing through everything in his path, be it a plant, a spider, or an unsuspecting bear.
When he eventually arrived at the edge of the web, after spinning around for an indiscriminate amount of time, he discovered that it was not as robust a barrier as he had otherwise imagined. The silk that made up its base was certainly thick, but there were tree-sized gaps between the massive, intertwined strands. Even with a much larger spider in his path, he had no trouble breaking right through.
The world distorted as he crossed beyond the boundary and slid to a stop. Gone was the foreign plant life, replaced by trees and shrubs that he often saw in great excess. So too vanished the webs and spiders; the forest behind him was pristine and without any traces of intrusion.
He pondered the problem for a few moments, only to dismiss it with a shrug and scuttle away. Just in time to miss the spider that escaped the invisible rift.
Chapter 280 - The Sharpest Lizard That Ever Sharped II
Boris yawned as he slowly crawled through the seaside city. The afternoon had just turned to evening; the sun was starting to set, and the streets were flooded with traffic. Having finally escaped their employers, workers of all shapes and sizes were out and about, with some heading back home to their families and others in search of a meal to wrap up a long day's work.
As far as the ikarett was concerned, he fell cleanly into the second group. Head held high with pride, he joined a pod of tired-looking construction workers as they vacated the castle grounds and lumbered through the streets. It was difficult to say which among them was most drained. One of the particularly exhausted-looking orcapeds was dragging his tentacles like a zombie, while the elf standing behind him had his back at a ninety-degree angle. Boris trailed behind the group and opened his mouth wide, an action driven by the recency of his latest nap. With the length of the yawn, he was confident that he had demonstrated himself the hardest worker, but much to the lizard’s chagrin, it soon spread contagiously through the crowd; his cowalkers began opening their mouths and expressed their extensive fatigue.
Frustrated and defeated, he parted with the group on Fourth Street and made his way back to his second home. On some days, Marcelle would accompany him to the shop, but she had refrained for the past week. Apparently, the castle had upgraded its feed. She needed to be present as soon as mealtime began so that she could consume her portion before it was stolen. The local turberi and weird centaurs were ravenous and would break out of their stalls just to get their hooves and flippers on anything left unattended and unconsumed. Though it was certainly an inconvenient development—the manatee's ability to fly would have made it easier for them to cut the line—the lizard was far from discouraged. He crawled under the other guests instead, weaving between their legs as he made his way indoors. Though some of the newer faces were surprised or annoyed, the regulars paid him no mind. Some even went out of their way to greet him, and while he wasn't quite a fan of all the petting they would do before he assumed his station, he did at least blink in each of their directions.
Perhaps because they had just launched a new dish, the shop was operating beyond its maximum capacity. There were a few people spread throughout, examining the goods placed on the shelves, but most hung around the bar, where the new pet was earning his keep. His presence was one that the lizard enjoyed. The new fuzzy thing knew that he sat at the bottom of the pecking order; while the mean chicken-lady mostly ignored him, the big cat-man always fed his reptilian overlord on demand. Boris didn't quite understand the siren's mentality. But he didn't bother correcting it. It wasn’t his duty to guide her on the right path.
A bubble appeared around him as he navigated his way to the bar. The magical sphere removed the sand and grime that had accumulated all over his body and banished it to the void. He briefly glanced at the spell's caster, who was pretending to nap on the counter while leaving all her work to his mistress, and lightly flicked his tongue in appreciation before continuing towards his goal.
His dinner was ready by the time he entered the big cat’s space. Delicious potato skins, large seeds, and fresh bones aplenty were piled up onto his plate, ready to be savoured and consumed. He dug in immediately, albeit without all the zeal he would have liked. For whatever reason, the otherwise submissive newcomer threw a fit whenever he ate the plates and forks. He didn’t quite see why; no one else could tolerate their flavour, and his mistress had always given him as many as he wanted. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was a quirk of the strange newcomer’s personality to be emotionally attached to individual pieces of food.
Whatever the case, he was able to eat his fill, even without any metals or ceramics. More or less satisfied, he scuttled out of the kitchen and retreated to the counter, where he positioned himself beside his mistress’ documents with his eyes closed and his face resting on the cold marble. It was his new favourite spot. His old flame, a bed by one of the infirmary’s windows, was no longer an option courtesy of the evil chicken. She didn’t chase him out per se, but there was always something bubbling while she was around, and he wasn’t a fan of the smell.
Though certainly comfortable enough to travel through time, the lizard did not doze off. In the evening, his duty was not to sleep, but rather to be petted; he actively lowered his spines whenever any hands approached, moving them to one side so that it was easier to access his flank. It was not just his mistress and her friends that scratched and patted him, but random customers as well—evidence that he was doing his part.
And so the evening passed. The shop closed at the usual time without incident, and the commute home was as vanilla as ever. Everyone went their separate ways upon arrival; Lia headed up to her room, Sylvia fell asleep on the dinner table, and Boris took up his usual spot. His mistress was the only one not to stay. She headed back into the night, presumably to join the strange long-nosed people in their evening training. He would sometimes accompany her as either an observer or head-bonker, but only if he was summoned or expressly brought along. He had little investment in the strange grey-skinned people or their ivory tusks.
Snuggling up to the fireplace, Boris closed his eyes and prepared to greet the next day. Only to realise that he couldn’t. His stomach was making strange noises, and while the ikarett was not particularly hungry, he did find himself with an abnormal amount of energy. His legs jittered, his teeth chattered, and his tail wildly swished about.
He noticed that something was off as he skittered out the window and into the open. His body was glowing, lightly illuminating his surroundings in a distinct, pale light. Not minding it one bit, he followed in his mistress’ footsteps and entered the erdbrechers’ domain. He picked up speed as he scuttled, moving faster and faster until the environment became a blur. Before he knew it, he was no longer among the firelit houses, but deep in the Vel’khanese forest.
He blinked a few times as he came to a stop before slowly turning around. For whatever reason, the jungle behind him was untrodden. There was no trace of his prints anywhere to be seen, nor even his lingering scent. His eyes flashed with a curious glint as he walked around and lightly flicked his tongue at each strange plant in turn.
He didn’t quite understand why they were shaped, coloured, and scented so strangely. One particularly purple flower was so big that he could walk right into it. In retrospect, he realised that it was a little rude, but the flower was kind enough to offer him a lick nonetheless. Returning the greeting with a light head bump, he backed out of its giant bud and resumed his investigation.
It took a grand total of five minutes for the ikarett to determine that he was totally lost. He recognized none of the plants; loosely classifying them as trees, shrubs, grasses, and flowers was about the extent of his ability. Still, he was not discouraged. He continued wandering haphazardly around the strange environment until he happened upon a distant campfire.
He scuttled towards the flame without a moment’s delay and waltzed right into the clearing as if he had always belonged. He didn’t look at the shadowy figures until he was basking by the raging heat lamp, at which point he determined that he recognized none of their races.
One was a large man with red skin and giant muscles, one was a safe with a face drawn on its door, and the last was a tiny person that vaguely reminded him of Sylvia when she shrunk. They were roughly the same size, but the cloaked figure had a pair of butterfly-like wings growing from her back. Her tail wasn’t quite missing, but it was fleshy rather than fuzzy and grew from her front instead of her back. She also seemed to be sick; bits of dust sprayed off her wings whenever she flapped them, obscuring her otherwise naked figure in a cloud of pink particulates.
Perhaps because they were already arguing amongst themselves, they didn’t notice him until he was already halfway to falling asleep.
“Wait, what the hell is that thing?” The first of the three to question his existence was the talking safe. The illustration on its door twisted in an exaggerated display of shock when it found him, going so far as to grow a pair of illustrated hands.
The large red man scratched his head. “Good question.” He lightly tapped the lizard’s chassis. “But it feels like it’s made of solid steel or something. No idea how we didn’t notice it crawling over.”
“Maybe it was always here?” asked the fairy. Unlike the safe, who spoke in a squeaky high pitch, the pixie’s voice was deep and masculine.
“That’s impossible. Someone would’ve seen it,” said the red man. “Anyway, it doesn’t seem hostile, but I’ll move it a bit away just in case.”
He reached under the metal lizard and attempted to lift him, but Boris, unwilling to move from the fire, magnified the weight of his otherwise fifty-pound body by a factor of a thousand and sank deeper into his seat. It was the heaviest he could get, and thankfully, it seemed to do the trick.
“The hell is wrong with this thing!?” The man put his back into the effort and leveraged every bit of strength his bulging muscles could produce. “It won’t fucking budge!” His face turned even redder as he continued to strain himself to no avail. He tried for a minute, pushing, pulling, and prying from all different angles, but Boris remained exactly where he was. “Fuck!”
“You know, the more I look at it, the more familiar it seems,” said the pixie. “You think we might’ve seen it somewhere?”
“Nah, no wa—” The talking safe was about to dismiss the claim when her chalky hands shot to her equally chalky mouth.
“What?” asked the fairy. “You recognize it?”
“That’s the lizard that lives in the MACC,” said the box. “Shit! They must be onto us.”
“Aw, fuck,” grumbled the red man. “I told you we shouldn’t have tried to cheat. The hell are we supposed to do now?”
“Your brain not working or something, musclehead?” said the safe. “Didn’t you hear what happened to Piper’s party? We’ve gotta skip town. We’re in deep shit the moment this thing makes its report.”
“We could just make it so it never gets to talk.” The red man pushed himself to his knees and grabbed the disproportionate battleaxe by the fire. “Whaddya say?”
“I say you’re an idiot,” cried the walking rectangle. “That thing’s probably a familiar! Its master heard every damn word that just came out of your mouth! God! This is why I can’t stand muscleheads!”
Wide-eyed, the buff red man turned to the tiny pixie, who confirmed the claim with a nod and a grimace. “I don’t know how long it’s been here, but the fact that it’s revealed itself means their agents are close. Get packing. We need to make a run for it.”
“Aye.”
Boris watched in confusion as the group went from relaxing by the campfire to suddenly packing everything up. It was a scramble. They grabbed most of the lighter things and ran off into the night. For a moment, it looked like they would simply disappear into the jungle and leave him by the flame, but a massive web spread across the sky just before they vanished. Silky strings fired from the matrix and latched onto each of the party’s members, all of whom spun around and returned to the campsite with a series of jerky, unnatural motions.
Boris ignored them at first. The soothing fire numbed his mind and continued pushing him towards the void of sleep, but he was soon torn from his reverie when the red man suddenly leapt through the air with a feral scream. He brought his axe upon the lizard with madness in his eyes and foam bubbling from his mouth. The phenomenon held Boris’ attention for a whole tenth of a second. He zoned out again right after, even as the weapon met his skin. In fact, it was the assailant’s axe that was broken; a large crack ran down its length, starting from the point where it had impacted his spine.
The living weapon found the whole ordeal surprisingly enjoyable. He wasn’t oblivious to the man’s intentions, of course, but neither was he particularly concerned, even as the other two pelted him with their spells. His durability only dropped a total of seven points over the course of a minute-long assault, all of which were recovered before more numbers were claimed; their desperate attempts came off as more of a light massage than an expression of violence. Still, they continued to pelt him, puppeteered by the silken strands attached to the sky.
It was on those same strands that the other assailants descended. A dozen spiders fell out of the net, their sticky tethers barely keeping them from hitting the ground. They were not made of flesh and blood, but rivets and plates. The metal used in their construction was unfamiliar, their forms were strange, and they were less than half his size. But Boris could tell. They were the same. Living weapons, just like him.
The metal arachnids didn’t hesitate to show their cards. Six of them went to the man’s side. One attached to his head and injected its legs straight through his skull, while the others quickly transformed. They turned first to individual blades and cut the threads that bound him before becoming a single entity. Morphing their parts accordingly, they perfectly slotted together and formed an exaggerated version of the weapon that the man had broken. The giant axe’s artificial glow cut through the darkness and dyed the forest in a piercing dapper red.
Both his party members were met with much the same treatment. One spider jabbed a claw through the pixie’s head, while another breached the safe and crawled inside. Their staves were replaced by large metal rods, each tipped with a collection of glowering, arachnid eyes.
Each took up a stance, but they did not attack immediately. Their lips moved in sync instead while their weapons projected their voices.
“This is a divine missive. The goddess of war demands the return of the Thirsting Blade. Fail to comply, and you will be eliminated.”
Boris tilted his head and pointed a foot at his face. He was genuinely confused, but the spiders only seemed to see it as a taunt. Their legs twitching uncontrollably, even in weapon form, the metal arachnids skreed with rage.
“Do not lie! We can sense it. You are carrying it at this very moment. Return it immediately, or we will take action!”
Their voices came not only from the twelve that had taken over the party standing in front of him but all around. Hundreds of them were in the sky, all slowly falling from the massive web. And it was at that moment that Boris made a decision. He curled into something that vaguely resembled a ball as he turned his back to the attackers and rolled away.
He wasn’t very quick at first, rotating his body only once every few seconds, but he soon picked up the pace and accelerated to over twenty times his scuttling speed. He blasted right through the trees in his path, crushing their trunks without any thought or effort as he set his mind on escape. Frankly, the lizard wasn’t sure where he was going. The web seemed to grow in every direction, so he focused on getting as far away from as many of the spiders as he could.
He recalled, halfway through his escape, that he could return to his mistress’ side through the use of his Soul Link skill, but it failed when he tried it. Something was blocking him from teleporting, communicating even. Nothing about the skill was working; all his commands were outright ignored.
It was a solid predicament, but the lizard shrugged it off and continued to roll, not because he was desperate to escape, but because he found the sensation oddly amusing. There was something inherently fun about ploughing through everything in his path, be it a plant, a spider, or an unsuspecting bear.
When he eventually arrived at the edge of the web, after spinning around for an indiscriminate amount of time, he discovered that it was not as robust a barrier as he had otherwise imagined. The silk that made up its base was certainly thick, but there were tree-sized gaps between the massive, intertwined strands. Even with a much larger spider in his path, he had no trouble breaking right through.
The world distorted as he crossed beyond the boundary and slid to a stop. Gone was the foreign plant life, replaced by trees and shrubs that he often saw in great excess. So too vanished the webs and spiders; the forest behind him was pristine and without any traces of intrusion.
He pondered the problem for a few moments, only to dismiss it with a shrug and scuttle away. Just in time to miss the spider that escaped the invisible rift.
