(Dylan)

  Dylan and the others returned to the railing to see what W’itney pointed at. A clear circle formed where something dispersed the clouds in that area. The gigantic horned arc beetle appeared. With its elytra opened, the underwings unfurled, fluttering as it pushed back the smoke.

  “It can fly?!” Dylan shouted, staring wide-eyed at the smoldering overgrown beetle.

  A piercing, high-pitched scream laden with grief and rage escaped the beetle. Even at this distance, the kaiju was intimidatingly large.

  “Oh, it’s mad…” Dylan said, unable to look away as it hovered off the ground before taking to the sky. “It’s big mad.”

  “D—Do you think it knows we killed its babies?” W’itney asked, unable to still their trembling hands.

  The arc beetle was approaching at terrifying speeds, and its flight path was clear. It was heading straight for them.

  “It was too close… We should’ve been further away when it discovered the nest.” Runemist paused, lamenting their botched plan. She quickly snapped out of it, turning to the first mate. “Can we go any faster?”

  First Mate Echo regretfully shook his skull. “This is all she’s got.”

  She glanced back at the beetle. It was quickly gaining on them. Dylan’s instincts screamed at him to do something—anything—but he clenched his fists, forcing himself to be still. Both Runemist and Eury had told him, in no uncertain words, to stay put, no matter what. All he could do was watch, so he did.

  He watched as the smoke trailed off the beetle far longer than it should’ve, revealing the kaiju hadn’t escaped the explosions. As it approached, he could make out fires still burning along part of its exoskeleton. Cracks along the shell now interrupted the previously flawless black, purple, and green iridescence.

  A sudden pressure jump assaulted Dylan’s eardrums. His hands shot up, ineffectively covering his ears as he braced himself. He knew what was coming next. Just like before, the arc energy bounced between the two horns as it charged up its arc cannon. The Everafter needed to turn hard—now. It didn’t. The pressure plummeted, and the world went silent as the arc beetle fired.

  The blast struck the ship from below, tossing everyone into the air. Dylan landed hard on his hip against the railing, grateful it kept him from going overboard. He sucked in through his teeth, bearing through the pain in his side. Leaning against the railing was the perfect position to spot debris and draconi skeletons as they fell from the ship.

  “Goddamnit!” Dylan cursed, knowing they’d have to leave them behind if any of them were to survive. His eyes darted to those still aboard. He spotted the first mate and yelled, “How are we still flying?”

  “The Everafter’s got a thick stern, captain, and we’ve insulated her engine from arc energy. Nothing but a direct hit to the engine will stop her this time!” The first mate gripped the railing as he spoke, then quickly got to his feet.

  “What good is that if there’s no one left on the fucking ship?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m sorry, captain, but I don’t think everyone’s going to make it back,” the first mate called to Dylan as he rushed to his side. “We’ve left all the munitions at the crash site. There’s nothing else we can do but ride it out.”

  Dylan suddenly got a terrible idea as the first mate dragged him by the arm toward the bridge. They ran into the engineer along the way.

  “Do you have any bombs left?” Dylan asked.

  “No, sir,” the engineer said regretfully. “I was told to dispose of them all.”

  “Every last one? You didn’t keep anything?” Dylan searched the lamprian’s eye sockets for hope.

  “Well…” Engineer Echo’s skull shifted to the first mate, reluctant to speak in front of him.

  The first mate sighed. “Spit it out! Disobeying a direct order is the least of my worries right now!”

  “There’s still the prototype I’d been working on…”

  “The sticky grenade?” Dylan asked.

  “Yes, sir.” The engineer nodded. “The sticky grenade.”

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s in my workshop. Why?”

  That was when Dylan stopped talking and started running.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he thought as he hauled ass toward the stairs. He’d rather Runemist and Eury be alive and pissed with him. The thought that he could’ve done something, but didn’t even try, was unbearable.

  He jumped the last remaining steps and landed with too much momentum. The wall helped, steadying him as he bounced off it.

  He straightened out, picking up speed as he tore down the hall. Another set of stairs, followed by a handful of turns, and he could finally see the workshop’s door ahead.

  The pressure spiked, stopping him mere feet from the threshold as he stumbled and covered his ears again. A sharp ringing filled his head as the pressure eased just before another blast rocked the ship, throwing him up against the wall behind him. Dazed and on his side, his hand came away from his ears slick with blood.

  He ignored his injuries and vertigo to push himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall for support. He staggered forward, taking an unsure, wobbly step. His hand windmilled out, catching and gripping the doorknob for dear life.

  ‘Made it,’ he thought with a grin. He swung the door open and saw a jungle canopy where the floor should’ve been. Vertigo hit him hard as he flailed, arching his back to fall backwards into the hallway again.

  “Fuck!” he cried out in frustration as he sat on his ass, staring at the missing floor.

  Two screaming figures briefly came into view through the makeshift window. They fell in opposite directions, but only one of them had a violet tail.

  “Nooo!” he screamed until his voice broke. They both disappeared out of sight as the Everafter continued racing forward. Tears welled, obscuring his vision, but not enough to miss the flash of emerald green scales as P’reslen flew after the fallen.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Dylan swallowed, choking back the tears as he wondered who they’d lost and which of them P’reslen would save. Dylan didn’t envy P’reslen’s impossible choice.

  Overwhelmed with anger, grief, and helplessness, his emotions clashed in his mind like fighters in an arena. The idea came to him between hating, mourning, and wallowing in self-pity.

  “He doesn’t have to choose…” Dylan realized out loud, his hoarse voice sounding like someone else’s. He leaned forward, drying his eyes with his palm. They were pretty high up, high enough for his next terrible plan.

  He crawled to the doorframe, using it to steady himself and get back on his feet.

  “Don’t think about it, Dylan,” he said to himself. “It’s just like skydiving…” Except he’d never been skydiving and wasn’t wearing a parachute or his cloak.

  He took two steps back into the hallway, hoping there was still enough time. Then bounded forward, diving off the remaining floorboards, headfirst.

  It surprised him that the hat remained on his head as he fell. Just like when he’d fallen into the gashole before, his mind distracted him by counting.

  ‘One, oh good, not over a lake…

  ‘Two, nothing to break my fall…

  ‘Three, just my neck…

  ‘Four, anything past three is fatal…

  ‘Five, hat hasn’t flown off yet…

  ‘Six, pretty good hat, honestly…

  ‘Seven, really long time to be falling…

  ‘Eight, shit, should’ve thought of a plan…

  ‘Nine, hurry the fu—’

  Dylan died instantly when he hit the ground.

  

  Death 8 – Curiosity of the Void

  Void remained as still and silent as ever, even as it sensed the growing fractures in Dylan’s soul—each reset leaving deeper scars, each trauma more profound.

  The marks were undeniable, yet Void continued to tighten its grip, forcing Time to pull harder with every reset. Unlike the other Celestials, Void had never chosen a favorite; it didn’t have a legacy. But with each struggle over one man’s soul, its interest—and silence—only deepened.

  [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

  “Detonating now,” Athrax said, snapping two cybernetic fingers.

  [Time orb]: Twenty-seven Resets remain.

  Dylan didn’t have time to waste. He pushed past Wedge, W’itney, Hay’len and Runemist as the stone sparked with electricity. Athrax was expecting a distant explosion as a rumble roared, but instead got Dylan, who swatted the echo detonator out of his hand and over the edge of the ship.

  “What—” was all Athrax barked before the echo detonator exploded mid-air, showering shrapnel in all directions. The exploding detonator wasn’t close enough for the shards to penetrate Athrax’s fur coat or cybernetic skin. But Dylan hadn’t been so lucky; shards ripped up along his arm. While mostly superficial, some dug deep enough to bleed freely.

  Athrax turned to Dylan, furrowing his brows. “How did you know?” he asked, as the erupting explosion bloomed in the distance.

  Dylan didn’t know if there was enough time to act, let alone answer questions, so he didn’t. Instead, he turned to First Mate Echo and said, “Get up there”—he pointed to the bridge—“and turn this ship hard to port at every pressure spike.”

  The first mate started to argue. “But sir, the arc beetle will gain on us if we turn into the shots—”

  “That’s an order,” Dylan shouted abruptly, ending the debate.

  The first mate took off up the stairs toward the bridge. He paused to lean over the railing and yelled, “What are you going to do, sir!?”

  “Something incredibly stupid!” Dylan yelled back.

  Everyone, except Wedge, Eury, and Runemist, watched the fiery explosion erupt into a ring. Three sets of eyes followed him as he ran across the deck and disappeared down the stairs.

  He flew down the stairs, skipping the last three with a leap as before, and landed hard on the deck below. This time his footing slipped, and he crashed—not bounced—into the wall.

  ‘That was dumb,’ he thought, doing his best to ignore the sharp pain in his knee as he pushed himself down the hall toward the next set of stairs.

  This time, he’d get to the workshop before it explodes. The second set of stairs gave him no problems, neither did the hallways on his way to the engineer’s workshop. And this time, when he threw open the door, the floor was intact.

  Dylan rushed in, tripping over a cable haphazardly strewn across the floor, and smashed his face into the center table as he tried to catch himself. Warm, wet, and metallic, the taste of blood trickled into his mouth from his broken nose. He wiped away his tears with one hand, grabbing the grenade off the table with the other.

  He bounded down the hallway again, really hoping there wasn’t some hidden officer’s deathwash machine.

  The pressure spike hit him just after climbing the closest set of stairs. He clenched his teeth, forcing his hands to his sides to avoid accidentally sticking the fucking grenade to his head by reflexively covering his ears.

  He didn’t know if it’d be enough to set it off, but wasn’t willing to waste a reset to find out.

  The Everafter veered hard to port as the first mate obeyed his order. The deck shifted under his feet, throwing him off balance and into the nearby wall. He waited there a moment, sitting on his ass, before grinning when nothing happened.

  “Good,” he said, carefully getting back to his feet. “This might just work.”

  The deathwash machine was only two hallways away. Despite the adrenaline, his body was slowing down, the lack of food and his overall exertion taking its toll. He risked a detour and ran down another hallway.

  “Ostello!” he yelled, running down the passenger hallway. “Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me!” he repeated loudly. Dylan came skidding to a stop just past Ostello’s cabin. He scrambled back to throw the door open.

  A wave of putrid stench assaulted his broken nose. His stomach threatened to heave as he choked it back down.

  “Oh god.” Dylan covered his bloody nose with the crook of his elbow. “Quinten, what have you done?” he asked, coughing.

  Dylan heard the cabin door behind him open. He spun around to see Ostello shirtless, leaning heavily on the doorknob. The intense elf swayed unsteadily on his feet. His eyes wouldn’t open. Half-awake and barely standing, Ostello threw himself forward, blindly reaching for the husky man.

  Dylan felt elven fingertips graze his chest just before Ostello landed on the floor with a heavy thud. But it was enough. Immediately, he felt the surge of energy rush through his body.

  “Thanks buddy!” he yelled back over his shoulder at the unconscious elf as he took off with renewed vigor and a raging hard on.

  The deathwash machine was now in sight, and he saw the orange fabric swirling through the porthole as he approached. He threw the door open, interrupting the wash cycle to grab his cloak; he’d need it for the next step of his plan.

  He flung it over his shoulders, fastening it as he ran toward the stairs that led to the upper deck. It was cold, soaked, and he hoped that wouldn’t affect the enchantment.

  He took to the stairs, bounding up them two at a time, not stopping once he got to the top. The heels of his boots pounded the deck as he sprinted toward the stern of the ship where everyone gathered.

  “Get out of the way!” he yelled, waving his arms.

  Dylan’s eyes met Wedge’s. The big guy had gotten in Dylan’s way the last time he tried something half as stupid. But this time, Wedge gave him a small nod, an unspoken agreement between them—the big guy wouldn’t get in his way again.

  They all parted just in time for the bleeding, shirtless, aroused man to hop up and leap off the railing. He sailed overboard, holding an egg-shaped explosive in one hand and audacity in the other. His rust orange cape and crimson feather followed in his wake as the gliding enchantment kicked in and sent him on a path to meet the kaiju head on.

  ‘How long did he say the fuse was?’ Dylan wondered, having doubts about his plan. He frowned into the wind, remembering how terrible his aim was.

  ‘What’s the plan, Dylan?’ he asked himself. ‘Land on the beetle? Do a flyby? Shit, it’s coming up fast…’

  A high pressure burst caught him off guard, knocking him out for a second from being far too close.

  “Argh,” he cried out, jerked awake by the arc cannon’s near blast. The arc shot passed by with enough ambient energy that his body threatened to rip itself apart as it spasmed. He craned his neck around to see if it hit the ship.

  The Everafter turned, just as he’d instructed, and he watched the attack sail harmlessly into the sky. By the time he turned back, Dylan barely had enough time to throw his hands out before he smacked into the beetle.

  He just missed the horn, deflecting off the side of its face with both hands out, one of which held the sticky grenade. The impact was enough for Dylan to break his hand and drop the grenade. It was also enough to trigger the egg-shaped device, releasing the binding agent.

  Dylan bounced off the beetle’s head and almost escaped the sticky substance, but a small portion attached to his wrist. His momentum was enough to rip him away before the second effect went off. He cried out as his arm caught, ripping it out of socket.

  ‘Fuck, my arm—’ he thought just before the first explosions went off and the concussive blast knocked him out again.

  The final blast went off and sent his body wheeling. His gliding enchantment kept turning on and off as he tumbled through the air.