The acrid fog swirled around Jack and Goldeyes like a living wall, its stench suffocating. Jack’s throat ached from the bitter air, his eyes watered as he fought to keep his focus.

  Beyond the fog’s edge, he could make out the muffled shouts of Lyla and the savage growls of Monsoon. But they sounded so far away, their words distorted and twisted by the roiling mist. He was cut off, isolated in a nightmare he hadn’t prepared for.

  Through the thickened air, the monstrous form of Cael burst forward with terrifying speed. His insectoid limbs moved with unnatural fluidity, each motion precise and efficient. The chitinous blades that had replaced his arms sliced the air with a high-pitched whine that set Jack’s nerves alight.

  Jack barely brought his spear up in time, the haft shuddering as it met Cael’s bladed limb in a jarring clash. The force of the impact rattled through Jack’s bones. Goldeyes lunged forward, his fangs aiming for Cael’s twisted legs, but the beast kicked him aside with brutal indifference.

  The attack came again, and then again, a relentless flurry of blindingly fast slashes that forced Jack into a desperate dance of parries and dodges. His feet stumbled over uneven ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. It was all he could do to keep the creature at bay, to stave off the inevitable.

  But desperation wasn't enough. He needed to fight back.

  Jack’s mind scrambled through the techniques he’d learned, searching for something that could save him. Then, a memory surfaced—an advanced counterattack Sun Wukong had demonstrated during one of their sparring sessions. It was a maneuver meant to exploit an opponent’s overreach, turning their own momentum against them.

  He adjusted his grip, his muscles tensing as he prepared to strike. Cael lunged at him again, his right forelimb sweeping down with murderous intent. Jack shifted his weight and twisted his spear, angling the haft to guide the blow past him while simultaneously driving the spear’s tip toward his opponent’s exposed side.

  But his timing was off.

  The movement felt clumsy, his reflexes too slow. The spear grazed Cael’s chitinous shell but did nothing more than leave a shallow scratch. And in the same heartbeat, Cael’s left forelimb lashed out in retaliation, raking across Jack’s side.

  Agony exploded through his ribs. Jack stumbled backward, his hand instinctively pressing against the fresh wound. His fingers came away slick with blood.

  His body screamed at him, the pain hot and throbbing. He hadn’t practiced the counterattack enough, his body’s memory for the move half-formed and useless. Sun Wukong’s lessons had been clear: True mastery required repetition until the body acted without the mind’s interference. And Jack was far from mastery. He hadn’t had the time to practice his techniques in physical form to develop the muscle memory he needed to fully utilize them. Against an opponent as fast as him, or possibly even faster, that made them all but useless.

  A growl of frustration escaped him, mingling with the ragged breaths tearing through his lungs. He was wounded, cut off, and facing a friend turned nightmare.

  But he would not give up.

  Jack’s grip tightened around Aetherspire as he shifted his stance, each breath feeling like fire in his lungs. His mind raced with desperation. If his physical strikes couldn’t break through the chitin, then maybe magic could.

  Cael lunged again, serrated limbs slicing through the air with an unnatural speed that forced Jack to leap back. Each blow that clashed against his spear sent jolts up his arms. There was no rhythm to Cael’s strikes, just a relentless, monstrous fury.

  Jack’s knuckles whitened as he channeled his fire magic through Aetherspire’s shaft. The familiar heat pulsed through the metal and surged outward, spiraling toward the beast Cael had become. Flames erupted in a torrent, bright and scorching, enveloping Cael’s form.

  But when the fire cleared, Cael remained unscathed. The flames had washed over the black chitin like a passing breeze. Jack’s heart sank. Whatever that chitin was, it made him all but immune to fire.

  Another strike came, this one narrowly missing Jack’s throat. He spun Aetherspire to the side, deflecting the blow and desperately calling on his ice magic. A glacial chill coated the spear’s tip, the air around it crystallizing into frost. With a desperate cry, he released the magic, forming a dagger of pure ice that shot toward Cael’s chest.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The ice dagger struck the chitin and shattered instantly, scattering harmless shards over the forest floor. The attack didn’t even slow Cael’s advance.

  Goldeyes, ever the protector, circled around Cael’s twisted form, his paws moving soundlessly over the forest debris. Jack saw his companion’s intent just moments before Goldeyes lunged forward, jaws wide and ready to tear into Cael’s exposed side.

  But Cael’s transformation had granted him more than monstrous strength. His head snapped around with an unnatural speed, rotating a full one-eighty degrees to face Goldeyes even as the rest of his body kept up its constant assault on Jack. From his maw came a sharp, choking hiss, followed by a spray of clear, glistening fluid.

  The acid struck Goldeyes’ shoulder and side with a sickening sizzle. The white wolf let out a soul-rending howl of pain as the corrosive substance ate through fur and flesh alike. Goldeyes stumbled backward, his body wracked with agony as the acid continued to burn.

  "No!" Jack cried, his eyes wide with horror. His body trembled between rage and fear, his instincts battling against the knowledge that the creature before him was still, somehow, his friend. His hands tightened around Aetherspire, but the chill of doubt seeped into his bones. His magic wasn’t enough. His skills weren’t enough. And now Goldeyes was paying the price.

  His mind raced trying to think of a solution. He could try using his Geyser spell but that might just launch Cael into the fog without really hurting him(after all none of his other spells had been able to hurt the transformed goblin). If Cael was immune to the fogs effects, that would leave him free to attack from any side.

  Levitation might let him get above Cael but that would probably just result in him spitting that acid at him and he wasn’t confident in his ability to dodge while in mid-air.

  He thought of using his martial Skills but greater strength and durability wouldn’t help him overcome the goblins speed.

  Then a thought occurred to him. It was reckless, dangerous, and relied on something he hadn’t tested yet. But the idea bloomed like fire in his mind, refusing to be ignored. His body screamed with exhaustion, his nerves frayed by the relentless struggle against Cael’s twisted form. But this? This was a plan. Flawed, desperate, but a plan nonetheless.

  He gripped Aetherspire tightly, his fingers trembling from both fear and adrenaline. The cool metal of the spear anchored him, a familiar presence in a nightmarish reality. Muscles coiled with tension, Jack took a deep, steadying breath, forcing his ragged breathing to fall in line with his rapidly beating heart.

  There was no time to think. Only act.

  Jack sprang forward, his legs pumping with every ounce of strength he could muster. The world around him blurred into a haze of yellow mist and shadows, the acrid stench burning his lungs. But he ignored the pain, his focus a razor’s edge as he charged toward the grotesque figure of his former friend.

  His grip adjusted on Aetherspire as he prepared to throw. Every fiber of his being strained against the panic clawing at his mind. Cael was faster, stronger, and practically immune to everything Jack had thrown at him. But if he could just create a distraction—an opening, however small—maybe, just maybe, he could end this.

  He hurled his spear with all his might. The weapon tore through the miasma like a silver bolt, spinning end over end toward Cael. Its gleaming tip caught what little light seeped through the canopy, a flash of brilliance in the sickly yellow fog.

  Cael’s head snapped toward the incoming projectile, his insectoid reflexes responding with a jerking twitch of his arm. One bladed forelimb lashed out to intercept the spear, the collision ringing with a high-pitched clang as Aetherspire was deflected and sent clattering to the forest floor.

  But it was enough. The confusion—the half-second of split attention—was all Jack needed.

  He opened his mouth and unleashed a Savage Roar ripped from the depths of his soul. It wasn’t just a shout; it was a force, raw and wild, resonating with all the fury and terror of the beast within. His voice tore through the swirling mists, a primal sound that crashed into Cael’s mutated mind like a tidal wave of rage.

  The creature’s limbs twitched, his body momentarily locking up under the sheer weight of the shout. The unnaturally sharp eyes dimmed, his grotesque form shuddering in place, paralyzed by the force of Jack’s will.

  A single second. That was all the Roar bought him.

  Jack didn’t hesitate. His legs propelled him forward in a mad dash, his arms flinging out as he wrapped them around Cael’s twisted midsection. His hands met the slick, armored chitin, and the burning sensation of unnatural cold prickled his skin, but he held on with everything he had.

  Cael’s body felt alien, the segmented plates beneath Jack’s fingers shifting and grinding with disturbing vitality. But his arms locked around the creature’s torso in a crushing grip, his fingers digging into whatever gaps he could find.

  He drove his legs forward, muscles straining under the effort as he lifted Cael off the ground. His mutated friend was surprisingly light, his frame twisted and contorted by whatever foul power had overtaken him. The grotesque transformation may have enhanced Cael’s speed and ferocity, but it had also altered his body’s balance and density.

  Jack’s boots scraped against the earth as he forced himself onward, his momentum carrying them both toward the swirling, acrid fog. His throat burned, his lungs protested with every ragged breath, but he didn’t care.

  With a desperate howl of fury and determination, Jack charged into the yellow haze, his mind clinging to the mad hope that his plan might just work.