The greater being wedged his giant club out of the floorboards. The wooden planks broke and split, spraying across the floor. Over my boots. Some of them painted red, small chips that could be confused for redwood.

  I don’t move. I’m too surprised.

  My brain short-circuits. I try to put a name to this… thing. But no word, no image, nothing I know quite fits. It has the face of a pig—almost—but even that doesn’t sit right. The tusks curl upward, thick as fingers.

  One is broken.

  The other is smeared in dull crimson.

  Ah.

  I see.

  I don’t move my body, I don’t move my eyes off of that thing. Not once. I don’t do anything. I remain practically still.

  The sweat rolling down my brow goes cold. Something this big should have shaken the walls, should have made the ground tremble. But it didn’t.

  My stomach knots. My skin prickles.

  My body knew before my brain did.

  It shifts the weight of its massive club, rolling it across its palm like a toy. I stare, dumbfounded. It’s bigger than me. Far bigger. If that thing hits me—no, if it even grazes me—I’ll be pulp.

  But I don’t move.

  I can’t.

  I don’t want to.

  My brain stalls. What’s my next move? What’s its next move? I study its face, trying to read something—anything. But there’s nothing there. Just thick, cracked lips curling into something that isn’t quite a grin, isn’t quite a snarl.

  Then, it licks its lips. A slow, deliberate motion.

  My stomach drops.

  I force myself to meet its eyes. Pure white. Vacant. There’s no thought behind them. No question, no curiosity.

  But something speaks to me.

  The posture. The face. The eyes.

  It’s looking at me.

  Not with hesitation.

  Not with caution.

  Not with fear.

  It looks at me with hunger.

  I clench my fists, realization sinking in like ice down my spine.

  I’m the next meal.

  My next breath is caught within my throat. I didn’t even realize I had held my breath in out of fear. Out of instinct. Is this what prey feel like? That sense of dread? Hopelessness?

  I can’t tell it’s intent, but anything that it’s displaying right now doesn’t directly say let’s be friends.

  I watch its next movement, it’s rags it hastily tied onto himself flutter with the next breeze of wind. It exhales quickly. A small snort to add-on.

  I watch, and continue to watch.

  And there, was the slightest movement in its knee.

  My body moved before my mind fully finished processing—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still thinking. Years of footwork training told me to shift my weight, to roll with the momentum, to buy time. But time for what? To think? To act? Or to realize that I was still completely outmatched?

  I barely landed the roll before the wind of death brushed past my back, The beast swung its giant club at me, but missed. Or I dodged—barely.

  Instead, its club smashed into a wooden support beam. It came crashing down…or moreso melted away at the monster’s ferocity. One of the jagged shards snapped off, slicing across its cheek like a hot knife. Blood welled up instantly, dripping down in thick crimson streaks. The beast grunted—a mix of irritation and something darker.

  It touched it subtly, and then retrained their eyes at me.

  “Shit.”

  My eyes trained on them, but look at my peripherals. I could head out, try to outrun the giant thing.

  But out in the open?

  Where there’s no cover? Nothing to hide from?

  My body may be at full strength, pristine in its glory…but there’s no telling how much stamina that thing has. It could go all night with me by the looks of it.

  It’s a huge gamble. One I don’t like taking here.

  And I don’t ever like gambling my chances.

  But I don’t have a choice.

  I twist my foot, a quick first step sends me off rapidly. I almost trip, but regain my balance within the next second. My fingers graze the grass as I bolt.

  I don’t look back, not for a second. I pump my arms forward and continue to run. My legs feel as vitalized as ever as I keep with each stride.

  No footsteps. No breath. But maybe... a weight shifting? A drag against the ground? No. I can’t trust my ears. If I assume wrong, I’m dead. If I as so much take a look behind, it might be behind me.

  I trust my body more than enough, but I need a plan. A solid plan.

  I take a sharp left, keeping the momentum with my body and balancing it. There, the cornfield in sight. If I get lost in that, if I don’t make a peep. If I don’t do anything. It can’t find me.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Whether this only worked in the movies I watched, or the video games I’ve played. There’s only one way to find out.

  I vaulted over the wooden fence—my foot barely cleared it. I hit the ground shoulder first, skidding on my back. My lungs emptied on impact, my vision spun. Get up. Move.

  I do, but barely. Coming to a complete halt. I hold my breath.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  I didn’t hear anything. No sound, nothing but my heartbeat beating in my ears like a drum.

  No breath down my neck. No sudden shift in the air. I turn my head—nothing. That’s one task crossed off the bucket list.

  I exhale slowly, carefully, controlling it so that even the whisper of my breath won’t betray me. Every part of me screams to move, but I force myself to stay still. My body wants to run. My mind demands patience.

  With my vision obscured and nothing but endless stalks of corn surrounding me, I have to stay ahead before that thing figures out where I’ve gone. It won’t take long.

  I take a step forward, slow and deliberate. The grass shifts under my boot, damp earth pressing into the sole. Even my weight feels like it carries sound. I can’t afford to let a single twig snap—not even a single leaf out of place.

  I take another step. My thoughts race. Does this thing have echolocation? Probably not. Maybe I’m overthinking it. That thing looked disgusting, grotesque even, but it still snuck up on me. I don’t know what it’s capable of.

  But…it did sneak up on me.

  I take another step. My fingers barely brush against the stalks beside me as I weave through. The way they tower above me makes it feel like I’m in a cage, not a hiding place.

  If the buildings in the distance are anything like this one… then… No. I don’t have time to think about that now.

  Focus.

  Maneuver past this…beast.

  And find a way out of here.

  Would be simple if I had any idea where, or how I got here still.

  My next few steps are taken with controlled effort, not to alert anything around me. If there were any crows nearby, even they would flutter away at the slightest step.

  I don’t know where I’m going, but all I know is that I just need to move. Move before that thing catches up. The cornfield is large. It would have to rummage through everything to even find me.

  And that’s saying if the thing even has the patience to.

  In a crouched position, I continue to traverse, but something catches me. Something makes me come to a halt. It must be a lingering sense of paranoia…but my body has never lied to me.

  I stop.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  I don’t hear anything.

  I hold my breath, I’m not out of the running yet.

  I take another step.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  I still don’t hear anything.

  I continue to hold my breath. My body is on edge.

  I take one more step.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  I hear the sound of a stalk breaking.

  Three seconds.

  The sound of leaves being crushed, and a twig snap around me.

  Four seconds.

  The air feels thicker. Warmer.

  Something…is breathing.

  And it’s right behind me.

  Do I move? Do I do anything? My leg twitches. Even my body is anticipating the thought to move. To just give the signal.

  Does it know that I know it’s following me? Any moment latter and it could kill me in one blow. I don’t think that’s a possibility, not one I could drag out.

  I grit my teeth. Every choice I’m thinking of seems like a prolonged walk to death itself. What do I do?

  My body doesn’t wait for me to make up my mind, however. My foot is planted heavily, but I leap off of it. Bursting into another dash.

  I can hear it now. The snorts. The heavy thumps on the ground that could shake my body. I don’t know why I didn’t hear it before. But now I know.

  This thing isn’t animalistic.

  It’s not…a hungry-craved beast. No, it’s something more than that.

  Despite appearances. It’s a killer. A natural-born killer.

  A predator. Not one that hunts out of hunger, but for the thrill of the kill.

  I pump my arms forward, bracing myself against the opposing stalks. They don’t hinder me one bit, not while I’m practically running through them.

  I hear it. The footsteps getting louder. Getting closer. It’s gaining on me. I’m going to get outpaced in this instant if I don’t do anything.

  I can’t perform any sharp turns. It will just beat me there regardless. I can’t throw it off. If it can track me as a natural predator, then my sweat and fear alone would be enough.

  I shake my head. I have to try something. Anything, at least.

  I vault over a wooden fence, escaping the cornfield. I perform it cleanly enough and don’t lose any momentum. Behind me however, was a different story.

  The sound of wood snapping made my head turn. The damn thing had ran through the fence. The wood debris sprayed around in front of me.

  It took another step as I ran, gaining more distance in it’s strides. I watched its arm, cocked back with it’s club. Wait, no. It’s not going too—

  Yes it is.

  With a mighty swing, the club was sent forward. With my body the way it is, and at the club’s speed. Any contact with that thing would be fatal. Can I endure it? I don’t know.

  I don’t grit my teeth anymore. I bite down on my tongue, holding back the panic rising in my throat.

  My boots slide across the grass, arms locking together as I brace for impact. The wind howls as the club cuts through the air, barreling toward me like a meteor and that I’m some dinosaur.

  My pulse slams against my ribs.

  My breath stops.

  I close my eyes.

  Pitch black.

  No sound. No impact. Nothing but the whisper of wind curling around me.

  I wait for it. The pain. The force. To be sent flying, to be crushed, to be erased.

  But it never comes.

  Instead, there’s a different sound.

  A sharp, shimmering noise.

  Like jewels clashing, like steel grinding, like a force pushing back.

  Something resists. Something pushes. And I feel it in my hands.

  My eyes snap open. The club—knocked away, sent flying back. I don’t understand. I can’t.

  My fingers tighten instinctively, and that’s when I feel it. The weight. The pressure.

  I look down.

  And my breath catches.

  It’s brown, with black accents, the hilt coarse against my palm. It drags my left arm down, heavier than anything I’ve ever held. I can barely process it, but my mind screams the truth before I can even think—

  It’s a sword.

  A real, honest-to-God sword.

  No. No. My body tells me it’s an épée, but my eyes see something else. Something I don’t know how to use.

  Something I shouldn’t have.

  I don’t know how it got in my hands. I could complain, but now’s not the time. This is better than nothing. I’ve never used a longsword before.

  So now? I really need to make some shit work.

  The club goes flying back, landing at the hobgoblin’s feet. He’s not amused. Not one bit. I take a glance—he’s reaching for it again.

  I look down. The sword is plunged into the grass. I try to lift it. It barely moves. Too heavy. Way too heavy.

  Even with my strength?

  I get it. I trained with an épée, a fraction of this weapon’s weight. But you’re telling me I can barely lift this thing?

  I hear the thudding footsteps. The ground trembles. It’s coming.

  I grit my teeth. Now is not the time for this sword to act like a bootleg Excalibur. I really need this—even if I don’t know how to use it.

  I grip the handle with both hands and pull.

  It budges—just barely. Not enough. Not as much as I need it to.

  I grit my teeth, digging my heels into the dirt. I can feel it loosening. I shift my stance, trying to get better leverage. Almost there. Right there.

  Just a couple more seconds.

  I take a quick glance— my eyes widen.

  I don’t have a couple of seconds.

  One more step. No… not even that. If it swings now, I’m dead. Why isn’t it swinging?

  I see it. It’s taking one more step.

  I don’t have time to analyze.

  My instincts take over. Now or never.

  My body listens. It waits.

  And when the final stomp came—

  The sword moved.

  I ripped it free with everything I had, but the weight—it was pulling me more than I was wielding it.

  The momentum launched me forward—

  And just like that, I ducked under the overhead swing of the club.

  Time slowed.

  The sword skidded through the beast.

  No…not just skidding.

  It was slashing.

  The belly revealed more contents than what I anticipated. Blood, and organs.

  It spewed out, as I dodged…or the momentum of the sword carrying me forward.

  I tumbled and skidded on the ground after. The sword dropped from my grip to the side. I coughed a few times as I pant. My breathing irregular. That was close.

  I felt it. Almost as touched it. I almost had a run-in with death.

  My hand doesn’t shake, but a cool, shivering sensation runs down my spine after the realization.

  I get up, and in no hurried pace to. To even see if the beast is alive, if that…thing is alive.

  But it isn’t.

  By the time I got back up, it had fell, and died. It’s stomach ripped apart open. By me.

  No…

  By this blade.

  I fall back down, and sit on my ass.

  I heard the sound of jewels clashing again, and light flashing to my side. I snapped my head, and the sword that just helped me win this…was gone.

  I sigh. There’s a lot I don’t know right now.

  Could this be a victory? Barely. This was never a battle I could win. Not a battle I could’ve won by myself.

  I survived.

  And for now?

  I’m glad I just did that.