Welcome to the True Man’s World – 1.11

  The magical barrier would hold for only a couple more minutes, at most. Max hoped it would be enough to turn the tables and escape death’s clutches.

  He needed to act quickly. At least his plan was clear in his mind.

  Max swung his sword at one of the teeth still trying to bite him, no matter how futile it seemed. Persistently attacking the barrier would only hasten its destruction, likely exhausting Helena faster and leaving her unable to sustain the spell.

  It’s not that complicated, he thought. He knew what he needed; he just needed enough time to make it happen.

  He struck at one of the monster’s massive fangs over and over. Gigantic as it was, it was within his reach. It was breakable—or it better be.

  Breakable, and soon.

  Max slammed his sword against the fang with force. Cracks began to spread from the impact, as thin as spider silk. He evaded the teeth trying to snap shut around him and the magical barrier protecting him like a bear trap, all the while continuing to strike.

  "Crack, crack," he muttered under his breath. "Just a little more..."

  And then, Max did the stupidest thing of his life. He stepped into the serpent’s mouth.

  Yes, right into the damned mouth. To attack it from within.

  Slashing at its gums, both inside and out, was easy. Far too easy.

  The fang broke free, creating a gap in the wall of teeth that allowed Max to escape. But, of course, that was the least of it.

  Standing inside the serpent’s mouth, dangerously close to its remaining teeth, Max lifted the dislodged fang with his mind. Not for long, though. He jumped, and as he did, he wielded the fang like a weapon.

  He drove it into the serpent’s other eye—not once, but twice, three times, four, until he lost count and the eye was utterly destroyed. He hadn’t blinded the beast entirely—most of the other eye remained—but it was something.

  Max plunged the fang deeper, aiming for the brain—assuming the beast even had one, and if it did, that it was located there. The serpent screamed and thrashed as it fell into the water.

  Max barely noticed. He’d never felt so powerful, so capable, so alive.

  This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. The great white serpent bit into its own fang, shattering it.

  Pain flared in Max’s right arm—sharp, burning. Acid. Some of the creature’s blood must have splashed on him while he was slashing its gums. When the fang broke free, the resulting explosion had sprayed corrosive liquid onto his arm.

  Max submerged his arm in the water up to his wrist.

  I should be thankful it didn’t splash onto my face, he thought, his heart racing.

  Wait. Thanks to the barrier, the acid shouldn’t have harmed me at all.

  The barrier was weakening. It must have vanished in that part of his right arm.

  How much longer would it protect the rest of his body? How much time was left on the countdown? Damned if I know, he thought.

  The serpent, nearly blind, in agony, and soon to be dying, charged at him once more. This would surely be its last attack, one way or another.

  Max could feel it in his bones. But he would make sure he was the one to emerge victorious.

  He had blood to use, plenty of it, and a way to attack without risking himself too much. He didn’t need to wait for the serpent to get close enough to swallow him in one bite. Acid blades wouldn’t kill the great white serpent—not even the ones he had fired into its throat, hoping to damage internal organs—but they could help in other ways.

  Max concentrated on breaking off a piece of its scales, turning them into weapons.

  Its blood, its teeth, its scales. He would use whatever it took to kill this monster. He would use every part of its body if he had to, to end it.

  He was done hearing it, seeing it, listening to its screams. The only thing he wanted to hear now was its death wails.

  The scales became another type of projectile, tearing away more scales and arming him further.

  That was good, but he thought about forming a giant sword or something similar. And just as he thought it, that’s exactly what the scales became—a war trophy.

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  The ability was described as transforming what was taken from an enemy into a weapon. It wasn’t very specific, so it might only be limited by his imagination and the physical properties of the objects.

  In any case, the giant sword made from the great white serpent’s scales was magnificent.

  He shouldn’t have been able to wield such a weapon, let alone swing it. Yet in his hands, it felt light as a feather.

  Let’s do this, he thought.

  The serpent didn’t back down, even now. It would be upon him in a fraction of a second.

  A mere animal would have fled to lick its wounds. Even the wildest beast possesses the basic instinct called survival. But you’re intelligent, aren’t you? You have a reason for being here.

  Max supposed he’d find out soon enough. But not before that enormous head rolled. He drew the sword back, gathering his strength, readying for the final clash.

  ——

  “Gods, what’s happening here?”

  “Who is that boy?”

  “Or what, rather?”

  The town buzzed with raised voices. Helen could hear them clearly, even those furthest from the shore. Some, foolishly, had come closer again, as if they’d lost their fear of the monster.

  Helen burned to add her voice to theirs, to shout: That’s Lord Max, champion of Ares himself, god of war. A savior, a true hero. Like in the legends.

  But in the end, she bit her tongue. Helen wanted to be helpful and obedient. If Max wanted that known, he would have proclaimed it when he tried to bargain for a ship and crew in his fight against the serpent. Surely that would have persuaded them to help him, wouldn’t it?

  For some reason, it was a secret.

  She didn’t need to know why. Helen would simply obey.

  ——

  Torrents of acidic blood rained down every second. It was like a damned waterfall.

  Even so, the great wounded serpent didn’t retreat. How much pain and rage were in those howls? To what extent was it aware that it had been placed here only to die, to serve as a stepping stone for another being?

  Max raised the sword made from serpent scales.

  The monster roared as if to affirm its existence. Max roared as if to crush it.

  He watched the sword slicing through the air in slow motion. This would be his final attack if he missed. Two minutes, at most, he had promised. So if he failed, the barrier would fall immediately, and those enormous teeth would tear him apart before he could blink. This new chance, this miracle, was all riding on a single strike. It was the only thing he could do at this point. The opportunity to regret had long passed. In any case, he should be worrying about Helen, not his own life.

  He had already lived his life—long or short, it didn’t matter. And unlike hers, his had been happy. Comparatively, it had been happy.

  He wasn’t going to let her lose him.

  Max...

  Won.

  What a spectacle. The serpent’s head detached from its neck and flew over ten meters before landing and sinking into the water. Acidic blood bubbled at the impact site, like oxygen bubbles from a poor soul on the brink of drowning.

  The rest of the body followed the head swiftly, displacing a massive amount of water. The boat was carried by the tide to the shore as a result. Max wasn’t.

  He stayed roughly in the same spot, admiring his work. If he had felt powerful before, now he had no words to describe it. He had defeated a monster, like in the legends, straight out of the fantasy stories he loved to read.

  The same went for the orcs, of course, for all those damned bastards. But he hadn’t enjoyed it. At first, a little, but it had been too intense and dark to truly enjoy after that. He wanted to scream, to howl, damn it, like a wolf. He had done it when no one had believed he could.

  No one, well, except Helen. Even she had likely had her doubts. In any case, he wanted to howl like a wolf at the moon.

  And what exactly was stopping him? What was preventing him from proclaiming his victory like some kind of animal? Nothing, no one. Adrenaline coursed through his veins after escaping death’s clutches so many times in such a short span.

  He felt happy, euphoric, of course. That should have been a sign that it wouldn’t last. Before he could even reach the shore and take Helen in his arms, give her a strong hug and deep kisses, grateful to be alive, grateful not to have died with the crushing weight of leaving her alone in the world on his shoulders, something happened.

  The water’s surface rippled, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, Max thought he hadn’t finished off that bitch after all, that even decapitation hadn’t been enough.

  It wasn’t that, but he wasn’t sure the reality was much better. Where the great serpent had been moments before, now stood a man, floating. No, standing on the water as if it were solid ground, barefoot and shirtless, his chest covered in strange tattoos. If they had any meaning, Max didn’t recognize them at all.

  “If you’re the cavalry,” Max said, “tell your boss you’re late, way too late.”

  Of course, Max was just joking. As he observed the newcomer, he had time to reach the shore and position himself in front of Helen. Now he placed her behind him. He didn’t want the newcomer to even look at her, because there was no need to know anything more than his gaze.

  Just seeing that was more than enough to know they were enemies and that would never change, no matter how much they were strangers. And in this, their first encounter, for one reason or another, they were destined to kill each other.

  This is the master, Max thought, the one pulling the strings of that damned creature. I guess I should say “handling the reins.”

  “You’re no ordinary mortal,” the man said. He dipped a hand into the water and drew out a completely transparent trident. How could it not be, since it was made of water? “Who are you? Or better yet, what are you?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  The man chuckled softly. Max hadn’t realized he’d told a damn joke.

  “It should be obvious,” the man finally replied. “This trident, the creature you just killed, the ability to walk on water, and the simple fact that I am who I am. I don’t know what realm you’re from, but you should know me. Look around you. Everyone else does.”

  Max realized it was true. They were shocked and frightened, but not because they didn’t know who the hell this man was—quite the opposite.

  But I’m not from this world, Max thought.

  “Well? Are you going to answer me?”

  “I’m Ronan, champion of Poseidon. Now it’s your turn, stranger.”

  Max smiled, taking a step forward. His entire body hurt like hell, but just like with the fight against those wolves and the orcs, his health points should have been restored again.

  He wasn’t an ordinary human. He had no reason to doubt.

  “I’m Max, champion of Ares.”