《God of the Feast (A dark litrpg/cultivation, portal fantasy)》


 Book 1 Night to remember

    A good night out drinking never ended with an expertly delivered, two-footed kick to the chest in dark back alley.


    I¡¯d been taking a leak when it happened. Not just hanging out in back alleyways.


    As I lay there in a puddle of piss of my own making, a rat scarpering mere inches past my head, I had the presence of mind to suspect the perpetrator of the assault, was not from around these parts. Which begged the question.


    What the hell was a ninja doing in the heart of Sunderland¡¯s city center on a Friday night?


    I was a fairly big bloke, six-four. And I worked out a few times a week, too. So I could handle my business in most altercations. Tonight, however, was not one of those occasions. Probably due to the fact that I¡¯d been celebrating with passion, after the bank agreed a business loan for my new restaurant.


    I¡¯d barely been able to stand up straight before this little back lane soiree, and now, despite the adrenaline raging through my veins, I was like Bambi on ice.


    Now, as I attempted to get back to my feet, while simultaneously trying to put myself away and fasten my zipper so I could focus more clearly on fighting my remarkably short, black-robed assailant. He decided he wasn¡¯t too enthusiastic about me standing back up. A blunt, heavy object bash me in the back of the skull, and it was goodnight, Clive.


    Upon waking, I found myself in total darkness and from my position and pain in my wrists and feet it didn¡¯t exactly take a genius to work out I was tied to a chair. The next logical leap was to assume I wasn¡¯t in the back lane anymore. Beyond that, I knew nothing at all, which terrified the ever-loving shit out of me.


    All efforts to make sense of the attack, resulted in vague, disjointed memories that swirled around my mind, like rogue eggshell in batter. Unwilling to link into anything meaningful.


    The mere effort of trying to think brought on the urge to spew, which had the domino effect of bringing another very important realization to my attention. I had a sack over my head. I couldn''t understand how I¡¯d missed it. Wherever I was may not even have been dark, after all. Hell, it might not even have been a room.


    I suspected I was still drunk and most likely concussed. The sheer terror wasn¡¯t helping matters either.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake.¡± A scratchy, high pitched voice said in a not particularly comforting tone.


    ¡°Is he now? Good, good.¡± A lower and far more sinister voice replied. I started freaking out, trying to free myself from my restraints.


    ¡°What the fuck do you guys want? I¡¯ve barely got any enemies, and I¡¯m pretty sure none of them are ninjas.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not your enemies, Clive. You are merely in possession of something we require,¡± the second more sinister voice replied, as if speaking to a child.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Okay¡­ okay. If you¡¯ve heard I¡¯ve got money, then you¡¯ve gone and fucked up. The bank¡¯s sorting me out with a loan for a restaurant, but I¡¯ll never see the actual cash,¡± I rambled on desperately.


    ¡°Your money means nothing to us,¡± sinister voice said. ¡°We are here for the power you hold. Give us the recipe!¡±


    ¡°A recipe! You kidnapped me for a fucking recipe?¡± I said disbelievingly. ¡°Come on then, spit it out. Which of my creations are you after? Is it my famous Cheese and Ham souffle? My next-level roast potatoes? The secret for those babies is semolina flour. Parboil. Fully cool. Then salt, pepper and semolina, those tasty little bastards. Honestly, it¡¯s a fucking game changer, lads. In your roasting dish, you want lard, but if you''re one of these vegan types, then the only substitute I¡¯d recommend is coconut oil,¡± I explained. Entirely forgetting my predicament for a brief second as I conjured images of crispy, fluffy, golden potatoes.


    I was snapped back to reality by a deep and forceful grunt. I was pretty sure neither sinister nor screechy voice made the noise. So there was definitely another kidnapper here. I felt my odds drop further.


    ¡°You are obtuse and unpleasant Clive, but no matter. The recipe we require belonged to your master Hakan. While he may have perished on your plane, you are marked by its power. Which if I¡¯m not mistaken, means you have it in your possession,¡± the sinister voice said.


    ¡°You want Hakan¡¯s recipe book?¡± I asked, disbelievingly. Hakan was the one who had trained me to be a chef. I was a bus boy for him from the age of eleven and at sixteen he took me on in the kitchen.


    Fourteen years, I¡¯d worked with him until his disappearance and apparent death a year ago. The pain of that loss was still raw.


    ¡°Where is it?¡± The super deep rumbled dangerously. The bass, even when he spoke quietly hurt my head.


    ¡°Look. I knew Hakan, for sure. But I ain¡¯t got no book of his.¡±


    There was a moment of tense silence, before super deep spoke again. It had me feeling like I¡¯d sat on a speaker at a Slipknot concert.


    ¡°If he does not have the recipe, then dispose of him. Send people to remove everything from his abode, then continue the search.¡±


    ¡°Woah! Wait a damn minute here and let me think. I might be able to help you find it.¡± I snapped, trying to convey confidence I didn''t feel.


    ¡°How will you find it?¡± sinister voice asked.


    ¡°Hakan and me go way back. He was like my abusive step dad or something. I can help. Trust me.¡± I said cringing inside as the words fell from my lips. I didn¡¯t know how the hell I¡¯d find it. All I had, was a desire to live and I''d just had to rely on my sober, less terrified me to find a way out of this.


    ¡°Grashuyk. Take this wretch with you. Should he pose any problems in your quest, you may devour him,¡± Super deep said.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Grashuyk, the artist formerly known as sinister voice, replied. I heard the one with the high pitched voice, let out a peal of delighted laughter. What in the hell had Hakan gotten me into.


    The bag was suddenly whipped from my head, and I wished to high heaven that it hadn¡¯t been. Initially, I was blinded by the well illuminated room. I took a quick moment to reflect on how excellent the head covering had been at blocking out the light. Whatever material they¡¯d used would make some awesome curtains. The supposed blackout ones that currently hung in my apartment were utter dog shit. I might as well have hung a pair of tights over my window, for all the good they did.


    As my vision cleared, my Ninja assailant stood to the side of me. I couldn¡¯t make out his face, but when he spoke, I knew it was the one called Grashuyk.


    ¡°He will make good eating.¡±


    I ignored the terrifying threat to check out who he was talking to. It didn¡¯t compute at first. On the other side of what appeared to be a glowing portal stood¡­ I kid you not, a gigantic fuckoff demon. Deep crimson skin, marbled with pulsating black veins stretched over an insane amount of muscle. Wicked looking protrusions, jutted from all angles. Lining its thick arms and legs and crowning its head.


    Above that crown, it had what looked like a goddamn NPC identifier just floating in the air.


    Buer: Baatazu Demon Paladin of Destruction Level 73


    It was the last thing I saw as I received yet another forcefully delivered blow to the back of the head. This time, a part of me was actually grateful, as the world spun back into darkness.

 Chapter 2 Rise and Shine

    I woke up on the sofa in my apartment. Judging by the amount of light pouring through my useless curtains, I guessed the morning was well advanced.


    Swinging my legs around to the floor, head pounding, I rubbed at it. To find a massive, tender lump on the back.


    The night came flooding back to me. I unsteadily scrabbled up to my feet, swaying slightly from the effects of both a raging hangover and concussion. Looking around the living room frantically, only served to worsen my symptoms.


    If there was anyone else in here with me, I wouldn''t be fighting them immediately as I began a dramatic and vocal emptying of my guts.


    Stinking vomit projected from my mouth¡­ and¡­ my nose. It felt like my stomach itself was trying to leave, too. When I''d finally emptied everything available, my eyes streamed, and my nose felt like I''d inhaled stinging nettles.


    Staggering to the bathroom, keeping a bleary eye out for intruders, the apartment seemed to be empty to my addled senses.


    I splashed water over my face, rinsing my mouth out as I went. Before plonking my ass on the toilet, exhausted.


    My mind vainly searched for answers. I guessed I must have had my drink spiked. It had happened before, though I just fell asleep in the bar that time. I sure as shit didn''t hallucinate about portals and demons.


    "Are you quite finished with this pathetic display, human?" Said the goddamn ninja from my bathroom doorway.


    "Well fuck. Not a hallucination," I groaned.


    Normally, I wouldn''t have groaned. I would have tried to deliver a firm ass whooping. But, in my current state, I had nothing to offer.


    "I have tarried here long enough. Show me to the recipe book.¡±


    "Are you really going to try to eat me if I don''t play ball?"


    "No,"


    "Well, I''m glad to hear that mate, because honestly, cannibalism is kinda fucked up. Especially when I could cook you a banging meal,¡± I said feeling some relief.


    "I will not try to eat you, I will eat you, " he said pulling his face covering to one side. A horrifically wide mouth, full of sharp yellow teeth, was revealed. His nose was wide and flat to his face, with two slits for nostrils and the eyes, oh god the eyes. Slitted with a red iris and a yellow pupil. I panicked. Instinct kicked in and I hurled the nearest thing I had to hand at him as hard as I could.


    The roll of toilet paper bounced harmlessly off his chest. Shit.


    He eyed me dangerously. "I suggest, that is your last attempt at defiance."


    "Yeah. Well, I¡¯m totally knackered at the minute otherwise I¡¯d kick your ass,¡± I sighed feeling an increased wave of nausea and dizziness.


    ¡°You are nowhere near capable of such a thing human.¡±


    ¡°What even are you? Apart from one horrifying looking dude." I replied.


    "Where is the book? My master expects my prompt return. You do not want to keep him waiting."


    "Yep, got it. Or you¡¯ll eat me. Sure, sure. Can I at least get changed first? Then I''ll take you to his old restaurant. If it''s anywhere, I''m sure it''ll be there."This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°No, we go now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m covered in piss and vomit. I¡¯m gonna draw the attention of everyone we pass.¡± I gestured to the state I was in. I was mainly trying to stall, though. I mean, mooching about with a little ninja would probably draw more attention than my disgusting state.


    "Be quick," he snapped.


    "I will," I replied earnestly, holding my hands up in supplication as I rose from my throne.


    He let me pass then followed me to my bedroom.


    "Hey man, a bit of privacy?" I said, trying to close the door on him.


    "Leave the door open. I will wait out here."


    I did as he said, and as soon as I was out of sight, I patted my pocket for my phone. It wasn¡¯t there.


    "Shit," I hissed, realizing I must have lost it last night, or it had been taken.


    The demonic ninja popped his head in. "Did you say something?"


    "Unless your name is, Shit, then no. Now fuck off and give me a minute. It''s perverted enough that you want to eat me."


    He didn''t reply, just melted back out of the room silently.


    I hurriedly tried to think of another option, when the glowing amber light of the PS4 caught my attention. It was still on. In rest mode, I''d set Starfield. Off downloading before I left. Finally, some luck!


    While stripping off my soiled fetid clothing, I used my foot, to operate the controller. Without any use of hands, I managed to navigate to messages, and select, Mal. He was my closest friend and was the most likely to help me out. Demon ninja popped his head in again. ¡°Hurry,¡± he said angrily before moving back out. Taking that as my queue for having at least a couple of seconds before he came back in. I grabbed the controller and started typing the message.


    Help trouble the restaurant 20min bring anyone weapons please


    It was a shit message, and I hoped he both got it in time and understood it. The time on the screen said half ten, so hopefully he¡¯d be up and could act on it. He lived near the seafront where the restaurant was, so there was a chance. I finished getting ready, but my captor was back in shouting again.


    ¡°Go now. You¡¯re taking too long.¡±


    ¡°I need socks, man. And shoes,¡± I said, settling my hoody down.


    ¡°Only shoes, no time for socks.¡± I grabbed a ball of socks anyway, but suspected if I put them on, I¡¯d be leaving without my trainers. I still received an impatient prod in the ribs from his well-used baton as I tied the laces. I felt better already being in comfortable clothes and footwear. Dress clothes and shoes didn¡¯t lend themselves to fighting overly much.


    I stood up from the bed. The room spun and I staggered, but stayed upright. ¡°Alright then. Let¡¯s go. I suppose.¡±


    He prodded me again as I passed him. I wasn¡¯t sure what he was hoping to achieve, except to further piss me off.


    The beach was as you might guess, a twenty-minute walk away. Though I intended to use the car, I could drive around for a bit and potentially come up with a plan to kill him. Maybe the old high speed crash, while I¡¯m wearing my seatbelt and he¡¯s not, trick.


    ¡°Which direction?¡± He asked bringing my machinations to a halt, halfway across the living room.


    ¡°I don¡¯t bloody know. What do you think I am a compass?¡±


    ¡°Give me a general direction.¡±


    I knew I could just about see the sea from my front window, so I pointed. ¡°That way.¡±


    ¡°How far?¡±


    How the fuck should I know? It¡¯s on the coast.¡± I did know. It was around a mile and a half away.


    His response was to inexplicably pull a thick metal ring out of his tight fitting robes. It was at least twice the size of a dinner plate. Closer to a bicycle tire. I was confused by its sudden appearance. There was absolutely no way he could have been carrying this around with him the whole time. I would have noticed.


    He held it up in front of us, in the direction I¡¯d indicated and started doing making creepy little humming noises. A bright blue light appeared in the air a few feet in front of the ring, the same color as the portal I¡¯d seen the previous night. Through it I could see the sea. My heart sank. This was going to be a short trip indeed. He motioned me through, watching me carefully.


    "Is that what you use to go to your world too?¡± I asked, staring at it reluctantly. ¡°It¡¯s pretty neat.¡±


    ¡°Through,¡± he commanded, impatiently. I moved slowly and fake fell over intending to land on the floor, as an extra stalling tactic. The fast little bastard was there in an instant, catching my arm mid fall with a ridiculously strong grip, then he launched me through the portal.


    Thankfully, the other side came out over the sand, so the unceremonious touch down didn¡¯t hurt too much. It was hard to feel too joyous at that stroke of luck as I didn''t feel being thrown through a portal was a win at this point. As I lay there, I also considered that I¡¯d massively underestimated my opponent. He was ridiculously fast and strong.


    ¡°Do you recognise this location?¡± Grashuyk asked, as he landed lightly beside me.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s the beach.¡±


    ¡°And the restaurant we are looking for?¡±


    ¡°Down there,¡± I said, pointing. ¡°Are you going to use your ring thingy again?¡±


    ¡°We shall walk. I require the remaining charge for the return trip to Gulithea.¡±


    I got up and dusted myself off. ¡°Well, Hakan¡¯s old place isn¡¯t far. Been empty since he died, but I just got a loan to reopen it,¡± I told him conversationally.


    ¡°Walk,¡± he replied. Non conversationally.

 Chapter 3 Who Armed The Dog?

    I opted for the trudging option across the beach, much to the Grashuyk¡¯s frustration. On a couple of occasions, he hissed at me to hurry up. I made a half-arsed effort to comply. Though my fake enthusiasm didn¡¯t actually carry me any faster as I dug my feet further into the sand.


    As we went, I desperately hoped to catch the eye of a passerby. There were a few dog walkers, and joggers out and about. Most of them ignored us completely. Absorbed in their own little worlds.


    On the two occasions someone did pay attention to the evil little Ninja and me, I tried to non-verbally communicate that I was in trouble. Each occasion, unsurprisingly, resulted in the same response. They looked away terrified, and quickened their pace. I accept that I most likely looked like an overly enthusiastic crack head in my current state.


    I kept trying, but deep down I knew my only hopes were that either Mal would rock up, or the police would be called to investigate the weirdo on the beach. The latter option was more likely, as I considered the message, I¡¯d toe¡¯d out. In hindsight, it was fucking nonsense.


    I hadn¡¯t discounted attacking Grashuyk solo. The little bastard was going to get a pasting even if I died delivering it. I wasn¡¯t going out of this world like a wet fart.


    Just, now just wasn¡¯t the time. I¡¯d been on the back foot since this demon asshole, drop-kicked me.


    If it were just another bloke, I¡¯d have had a go by now, but having felt how strong and fast he was on top of the fact that he was a fucking demon. Nope, I¡¯d hold on as long as I could before I went that route. I still felt like dogshit stepped in twice.


    Apart from my occasional eyebrow dance at passers-by, I scanned the pebble strewn beach for opportunities. Eyeing up heavy rocks and sturdy looking lengths of driftwood as we came ever closer to the restaurant.


    If we could find this fucking book and he let me go, that¡¯d be great, but I was pretty confident he was going to do me in, once I ceased to be useful.


    As we approached the restaurant situated at the entrance to Roker pier, we ascended half a dozen worn concrete steps from the beach onto the promenade. The building was painted a heavily weathered yet still gaudy bright blue, capped with a red-tiled roof. Two-stories tall with all of the windows and doors currently boarded up. It had a dejected look, but I still felt a swell of pride that I¡¯d been able to raise the funds to buy the place. If anything, it gave me an even greater incentive to live through today. I looked up at the sign above the door. It had said Falritas, but somebody had removed specific letters, so it now read Fa r t s. Classic comedy of the idle adolescent, that I just couldn¡¯t appreciate right now. I was going to call it Clive¡¯s Place. No fancy names. I¡¯d let my food do the talking.


    ¡°In here?¡± Grashuyk asked, breaking me from my thoughts.


    ¡°Yeah. This is the place.¡± For some stupid reason, I almost suggested going around the back to break in as it would be less obvious. I needed a slap. What the fuck is wrong with you Clive! Keep it together man. I scolded myself silently.


    The more people who witnessed this, the more chance there was for me to escape, or for the police to come.


    Grashuyk began ripping off the boards that covered the door with his inhuman strength. I took a couple of careful steps back so I could get a good view of the road that ran along the promenade and the steep bank that sloped down to it.


    My heart skipped a beat as I saw Mal striding down the bank. And he wasn¡¯t alone. Boris his black Labrador strained at the leash by his side.


    Labradors were normally pretty chill from my experience, but not Boris. He was a mean son of a bitch if he didn¡¯t know you.


    To either side, walked Daz and Joel. Two of our good friends who lived close by. They were all a similar height, a shade under six foot, with Mal being lean, Joel being chunkier with heavy shoulders from years laying brick. Daz didn¡¯t do any physical work, nor did he believe in unessescary exercise and it showed.


    Spotting me, he waved. I nodded in the direction of the Ninja in response, who thankfully couldn¡¯t see the men on the bank yet. He¡¯d cleared the doorway and was now faced with a hefty, padlocked chain that secured the doors. I allowed myself a small smile, knowing my friends would be here long before he got through this next obstacle.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Almost the moment I finished my self-satisfied smile the terrifying little git pulled a long, black Katana like blade from his robes.


    For a moment, I thought he somehow knew about my reinforcements. That he was going to kill me and them as they came. I breathed a sigh of relief, as he spun it with a dangerous flourish and brought it down on the door, slicing clean through both chain wood and door locking mechanism with remarkable ease. I couldn¡¯t comprehend how sharp and strong the blade must have been to achieve that, but I was a happy Clive when he slid it back into his robes.


    He kicked the door open and looked at me. ¡°In,¡± he said simply.


    I risked a glance up the hill. From my position I could see that Mal, and the others had broken into a slow jog now. When they came piling in, I needed to make sure that Grashuyk couldn¡¯t pull that damn sword back out. If he managed that, then we were all screwed.


    It was time to man the fuck up and the thought that my friends might get seriously hurt because of me, was all the motivation I needed. Charging the little bastard as he entered the restaurant, he seemed to sense my sudden movement and spun around, hand moving to his robes, but he wasn¡¯t quite fast enough as I barreled into him. He might have been strong, but I had some weight behind me, and we both fell into the restaurant.


    He was striking at me as we fell, but he couldn¡¯t get any power behind his shots, and when I landed on top of him, I unloaded everything I had into his well wrapped face. ¡°Ground and pound time, baby,¡± I panted, feeling a quick victory without the help of my friends might be within my grasp.


    I was mistaken. Somehow, the squirrelly little shit managed to get his feet up against my hips as I rained down furious vengeance. Next thing I knew, I was launched into the air with unbelievable force. It felt like I¡¯d been kicked by a horse sized grasshopper.


    I was so disorientated from the midair somersault I performed, that I had no idea where the floor was. So when I landed, I landed hard. Crashing into the floor on my coccyx and zero finesse.


    From my back I watched as he hopped to his feet, his face covering now hanging open, showing what appeared to be an undamaged face, despite the beating I¡¯d given him. His wide predator¡¯s mouth split further as he grinned at me. Making the slow approach of a superior hunter stalking its prey.


    Enter the cavalry. My three friends and Boris, burst into the restaurant. Grashuyk turned to face them, and I was torn between relief for me and fear for them.


    As one, their faces tuned to horror, as they took in the terrifying visage of his face. I had to admit to being extremely proud as they still charged, acting so quickly that Grashuyk was still unable to pull out his sword.


    Joel and Daz came in first, a few kicks and punches were exchanged, before they were both went spinning off to the sides in their own heaps of pain and injuries.


    Mal was a moment behind, only because he was trying to get Boris off his leash. Realising how stupid that was as our other friends were sent flying, he let go of the leash and charged.


    I regained my feet while I watched all of this and moved slightly slower back to the fight.


    Grashuyk took a step back as he defended Mal¡¯s wild left, right combo, responding with a thunderous palm strike to the chest, which propelled Mal backwards a good eight feet.


    Boris was the first of us to have success, latching on Grashuyk¡¯s arm with a mighty chomp. The demon hissed, unable to extract his arm from the dog¡¯s mouth I saw he was about to gouge Boris¡¯s eyes. Before he could, I had re-arrived and because of his distraction, I managed to land a solid right hand on the fucker. It was like hitting a brick wall, but at least he staggered. I tried to keep the intensity of my attack up, adrenaline and outrage fueling my weakened body. But even with Boris still latched onto his arm, it would have been over quickly again if the others hadn¡¯t rejoined.


    ¡°Keep up the pressure,¡± I panted. ¡°he¡¯s got hidden weapons!¡±


    They didn¡¯t need telling twice, and we proceeded to kick ten pails of shit out of him while Boris continued to rag savagely at his arm.


    When that very same arm tore free in a spray of black blood, we all stopped in shock at the visceral scene.


    Grashuyk didn¡¯t seem to give a shit about the loss of the arm though, as he performed a twisting backflip away from us, then ran deeper into the abandoned restaurant. For a moment, we all just gawked. I was the first to gather my wits.


    ¡°After him, lads, he¡¯s a tricky son of a bitch and this won¡¯t end till we fuck ¡®im up properly,¡± I shouted as I took off in pursuit.


    As we chased him through the kitchen, I saw him pulling something out from his robes. It was clearly difficult for him running and with just one arm, but I still didn¡¯t want to face him with that sword. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was worse that he pulled out the portal ring. Then he was around the next corner, the basement a dead end.


    ¡°Faster!¡± I roared. He¡¯s trying to escape, and it¡¯ll be worse for us if he does!¡± I shouted as we hurtled onward.


    As we turned the corner to short corridor to the basement, I saw he was just at the steps down and we had almost caught him. As he descended, he held the ring in out front of him as he ran. The now familiar blue portal crackling to life in front of him.


    Putting on a greater burst of speed to try and prevent him from going through and bringing that big demon back with him, he surprised me.


    He spun on his heel, turning the ring around to face us.


    The portal moved with the ring¡­


    ...four fucking idiots and a dog ran straight through it.

 Chapter ?

    Chapter 1 Adam


    Patience is a virtue ¨C William Langland.


    Not that Sergeant Pierce cared. Mad grin stretched over his face, he fondled his rifle like a loved one as we bounced down the dust-choked road. ¡°Whaddya think it is, Cap¡¯n? I reckon Egyptians. The Ancient ones, though. Animal heads and all that stuff.¡±


    Used to his constant twitter of bullshit, Captain Brooks didn¡¯t even blink at the question, which left Private Morris to offer a measured reply.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the Middle East, you twat. How¡¯s it gonna be Egyptians?¡± He hawked and spat through the gap in the canvas cover, then flashed a grin of his own. ¡°And it¡¯s obviously gonna be aliens. Only thing that makes any sense.¡±


    ¡°Sense?¡± Pierce laughed. ¡°It¡¯s hotter than Satan¡¯s arsehole after a chicken Phaal. Why would an alien want to come to this shithole?¡±


    Morris tapped his temple like he was privy to some great secret. ¡°Experiments.¡±


    Pierce cracked his neck, then took one hand off his rifle to scratch at his crotch. ¡°Whatever it is, I¡¯m just ready to kill something. Two months of base life with my dick in my hand? I¡¯m losing it.¡±


    This was my first tour, my first real action, and I was regretting joining up purely on the basis of having to deal with these two idiots. I shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench, which was a huge mistake. The movement put me in Pierce¡¯s sights, and his eyes gleamed with mischief.


    ¡°You looking forward to this, Rocky? Don¡¯t forget to use your gun, eh? Fists won¡¯t do shit out here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to remember,¡± I replied as deadpan as I could, hoping my short answer would put an end to it.


    ¡°Dunno why you¡¯re out here anyways. Shoulda stuck with the boxing. By all accounts, you¡¯re as good as your brother, just without the crazy.¡±


    The mention of my brother landed like a sucker-punch. Unexpected and sickening. A small part of me wanted to dive over the truck and pummel him. Granted, he was a mean-looking son-of-a-bitch, heavy shouldered, ham-fisted, with a scar down his jaw that completed the fearsome look. None of that bothered me, but I smothered the whisper of violence all the same and turned away to stare out across the barren desert.


    Pearce laughed like he¡¯d told a joke, and Morris joined in, the pair of them braying like donkeys. I didn¡¯t need this shit, but I expected it. Earl¡¯s shadow followed me everywhere.


    The captain¡¯s radio crackled to life with orders. The words cut through the tense laughter. ¡°ETA to drop-off: one minute. Four more squads en route to assist.


    ¡°Your mission is to facilitate extraction with covering fire only. Do not get pinned down. Repeat, do not get pinned down. A secondary defensive perimeter is being set up one mile out. If things get too hot, retreat and reform there. Over.¡±


    Brooks grunted, then thumbed the radio button with the kind of disgust reserved for a vending machine that swallows your money without giving up the goods. ¡°Casualties so far? Over.¡±


    There was a pause. It was hard to tell over the radio in the back of a noisy truck, but I had the sense that the speaker was building up to delivering bad news.


    ¡°Currently, all thirty scientists at the site were killed outright when the Anomaly opened. Eighteen soldiers are down. Condition unknown. A further eleven have been captured.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think Brooks¡¯ brow could furrow any deeper until that moment.


    ¡°Anomaly?¡± he snapped. ¡°What the hell are we facing?¡±


    ¡°Unclear, Captain. The enemy are using some kind of energy weapon that we will need to study, but¡­ for now, focus on defense and extraction. Over.¡±


    With a grimace, he shoved the radio back into its pouch and scanned the truck. The silence that followed was heavy. ¡°You all heard that bullshit. None of it matters. All that matters is that you stay calm and follow orders.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He jabbed a finger at me and then two others in quick succession. ¡°Henshaw, Morris, Forta¡ªyou¡¯re Alpha team. You go first. Get to cover when we arrive. We¡¯ll cover you from the truck. Pierce, Stanton, Barnes¡ªyou¡¯re Beta. Once they¡¯re in position, you move.¡±


    It was as if I was listening from a great distance. All I could think about was how much I needed to piss and how much of a bad idea joining the army was.


    The truck swerved hard, jolting me from my own thoughts. The moment had come.


    Brooks tore the canvas open and barked out like a neglected bullmastiff, ¡°GO, GO, GO!¡±


    My mind blanked, but my legs moved of their own volition. Thank god they knew what they were doing as they carried me over the edge and set off running at full speed toward the ruins ahead. Sand-colored walls were barely visible against the backdrop of endless desert.


    I hit the first low wall hard, beating Morris and Forta by a few seconds.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope you shoot as well as you run,¡± Morris said, breath ragged, dropping to a knee and raising his rifle.


    ¡°No one¡¯s fired on us,¡± Forta added, mirroring the position Morris took on my other side.


    I clambered up and raised my rifle just in time to welcome the rest of our squad. As they settled against the wall to our right, all I could hear was distant rifle fire and Pierce¡¯s damn voice.


    ¡°Anyone spot any Ancient Egyptians yet?¡±


    Captain Brooks¡¯ gravelly voice followed as he arrived at the wall, dropping into position with the grace of an old predator. ¡°We¡¯re still three hundred yards out from the site.¡± He pointed over to where the sparse ruins increased in height and number. ¡°Alpha team, push to the next section. Sixty yards. Go.¡±


    This time, I waited a beat for Morris and Forta to get moving before I followed, matching their pace.


    Perspective is a funny thing. Exposed, and with the dusty ground seeming to suck at every step like quick sand, that sixty-yard dash felt like one of the longest runs I¡¯d ever done.


    Sweat streamed from under my helmet, stinging my eyes. It was all I could do just to keep them open as I scanned for danger, but a sudden gust of hot wind swept grit up into our faces, and my resolve broke as I blinked to clear them.


    When my vision returned, panic struck. Figures were up ahead.


    On instinct, I dove to my left, screaming, ¡°Get d¡ª!¡± My warning to the others was cut short as I thumped into the rocky ground.


    ¡°Down!¡± I screamed again, before rolling to a pile of rubble for some meagre cover.


    Gunfire from behind us told Forta and Moris what I couldn¡¯t: the enemy was here.


    Kicking at the ground, I scrambled into a better position, lining up my rifle to join the fight. Finger on trigger, I froze for a moment as I looked down the sight.


    Like some high-budget, fantasy horror movie come to life, two hulking, black-armored figures with horned helmets trudged toward us. Both carried shields, one brandished a huge sword, the other a spiked mace.


    Their armor gleamed like crude oil, impossibly dark yet catching the firelight of exploding rounds. They moved with an unflinching, remorseless calm that made my blood run cold.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fucking hurting them!¡± Forta shouted. He was only a few feet ahead of me, but his voice was barely audible through the sounds of chaos.


    For some reason, his words prompted me to action, and I finally fired. My chest tightened in despair as my bullets sparked uselessly off their shields.


    These definitely weren¡¯t cosplayers. This wasn¡¯t an elaborate nightmare. This was real, and something was very wrong.


    The air grew heavier with every step they took, as if the world itself was caving in around them. I forced myself to reload, hands trembling, yet I still risked a glance back to the rest of our team. Relief surged like that first swallow of cold beer after a long, hot day. The captain was waving like a madman, beckoning us back.


    ¡°We¡¯re retreating!¡± I shouted, motioning to Forta and Morris.


    Forta wasted no time in shuffling back toward me, but Morris was still firing wildly. Forta shouted after him, but the words couldn¡¯t reach.


    I sure as shit wasn¡¯t going closer to let him know, so I fired a shot just past his leg and into the ground in front of him


    His head snapped back toward me, eyes wide with shock and anger. Finally, he registered the retreat and scurried back to our position. The moment he reached us, we all set off running, the rest of our squad an oasis in this hellhole.


    With half the distance covered, a heavy thud to my right caused the ground to tremble. Barely keeping my footing, I still managed a glance over my shoulder, and immediately wished I hadn¡¯t.


    Morris didn¡¯t scream. Didn¡¯t even register fear. In a single, sickeningly precise stroke of a giant sword, his head simply left his shoulders to spin off in a twirling spray of crimson.


    My mind reeled, trying to make sense of the impossible. How had that thing covered the distance to us so fast? How was it so big? How¡­


    My instincts screamed, and once again, I dove to the side. Better to move and look an idiot than stay still and end up cut in half.


    It was the right decision. The massive blade thunked into the ground where I¡¯d just been, sending up a plume of dirt rather than my blood.


    A close-up look of the monster didn¡¯t improve my opinion. Its agility was unreal, its armor silent and offered no hindrance to its speed or movement.


    I rolled again, barely dodging the spiked boot that followed up its attack, but not the painful truth that Forta was nothing more than a bloody stain in the sand.


    The mace wielder that crushed him was already heading toward the rest of our squad at speed. And selfish though it may be, my first thought was that it was one less problem for me to deal with.


    My second thought was to move and keep moving. Every step my attacker took shook the earth. Every swing of its sword whistled through the air with merciless precision and a promise of death.


    To stop moving was to die.