The human-shaped missile had an odd flight path. The zombie's limbs flapped around, and its torso rocked and wobbled as it torpedoed towards Tom. With Instincts blaring in his skull, the source of the danger was quite obvious. He saw his vision change and felt his body moving before he even consciously thought about how to get out of its way, his body ducking underneath the body and diving to the side to avoid the flailing limbs as the corpse sailed past.

  Keeping his eyes on the Reclaimer, Tom got to his feet, expecting another zombie delivery package to be thrown at him. But Instincts was quiet, and the Reclaimer had turned its attention away from Tom and back to Dave, who had lept back into the fray with renewed vigour and volume.

  Seeing Adam and Mark about to begin their attacks from the far side, Tom joined the fight himself. Holding his spear low, with his right arm braced against his hip, he charged forward, stepping into range of the monster and thrusting into the shoulder of the Reclaimer’s left middle arm. The spearhead sank deep into the muscle, leaving just the bottom of its spearhead outside of its skin, allowing the flames of the spear to lick around edges of the wound causing them to burn releasing the stench of burning flesh. The flesh began to redden as the fire burned, turning the black marble blood red.

  Good, Tom thought to himself. Its skin is tough, even tougher than the regular zombies were, but I can still cut through it and the flames still work. We might have a chance.

  He pulled back on the spear, preparing to move into another strike. If he could cut into the monster then they could weaken it, and the more damage and pain he caused it, assuming it feels pain he thought to himself, then he could distract it from the work Adam and Mark were doing and maybe give Dave a way to recover. If he felt like working with them. The idea was solid, except that the spear didn’t want to cooperate with him on that. His initial pull hadn’t dislodged it from the muscle, so he tried again, digging in his heels and leaning back, putting more and more weight into his pull until he was almost horizontal, his grip the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground.

  Suddenly, his feet were torn from the ground, and he was tossed around in the air as the Reclaimer swung its arm wildly. Tom couldn’t tell what it was trying to hit or what it was doing. The spear in his hands was bucking and jumping like a bull, trying to get his hands to let go.

  A second later, his bones were rattled as he struck the ground, bouncing hard on his back and rolling over several times with the momentum from the swing, eventually coming to rest face down. The impact had driven the air from his lungs, leaving him winded and gasping like a fish out of water.

  Tom felt like he’d been hit by a brick wall. He lay there for a few moments, dazed, mentally cataloguing the pain. It’s hard to breathe and my ribs hurt. My back feels weird from where I landed on my shoulder, have I dislocated the arm? My knees and ankles hit the ground a few times as I was rolling, so that explains the pain there, probably some bruises on my thighs as well, hopefully nothing broken or I won’t be able to move.

  Eventually, he decided that he must have several broken bones he decided based on how much pain he felt, letting out a groan as he did so. As he lay there, he could still hear the sounds of fighting, The occasional roar of the Reclaimer, shouts from the other three and the shick of their blades as they sliced through flesh.

  The sounds woke him from the daze he’d been in. immediately he thought about getting back into the fight, he had to or else the plan might not work. He slowly raised himself to his knees, feeling the pain change form and move around his body. After getting to his knees, he got to his feet, as he did so, he let out a confused “huh?” The pain was still there, aching, each time he moved, yet the pain seemed to be only on the surface of his body. As he moved, he could feel his bones, his muscles, move perfectly fine. They hurt immensely, but nothing was broken, and the pain disappeared gradually the more he moved.

  The hell? How is nothing broken? He wondered incredulously. The blow should have grievously injured him, if not killed him outright, yet here he was, moving as if he’d done nothing more serious than pulling a muscle at the gym. Not that Tom would ever actually go to a gym or know what a pulled muscle would feel like.

  Looking around, he noticed his spear lying a couple of meters away from him, having been ripped out of both the Reclaimer's skin and Tom’s hands at some point during his wild rodeo ride. The flame, which had been merrily burning away near its tip, had gone out, leaving the spear looking somewhat plain to Tom’s eye.

  As he ran over to it, he used Evaluate to check its condition, which had dropped considerably from 76% to only 18%. It was not unexpected given that A, it had been on fire the whole time he’d been fighting with it, and B, he had done a fair bit of not just stabbing with it, but also using it to deflect and block attacks from the zombies.

  Tom doubted it would survive much more punishment, but he couldn’t not use it. It was the only weapon he had.

  Grabbing the spear, he reached into his chest pool; he’d need to figure out exactly what that was later, and reignited the now torn and frayed fabric wrapped around the spearhead.

  With that done, he turned and charged back into the fray.

  And immediately had to duck as Instincts warned him of another wild arm swing, Evasion helping to guide him out of the way and out of the reach of the Reclaimers arms.

  The target of said wild swing wasn’t Tom, however. Dave had continued to dance around the Reclaimer, its obsidian black claws churning the air like a windmill as they grabbed, snatched and slashed, desperate, as he held its attention.

  Adam and Mark meanwhile were darting in and out as they took turns hacking at the Reclaimers legs, but even from where Tom was standing, he could see that their attacks were little more than mosquito bites to the monster.

  Looking at the arm he had stabbed, he could still see the dark red hole that the fire had left. They needed fire he realised; it was the only thing that would reliably be able to do damage to this thing. He looked at his spear, he could toss it to the others so they could use then, but then he’d have nothing to defend himself with. He looked around for a torch, but couldn’t see any on the ground, not even the one they had entered the room with. The room itself was also much brighter than it had been before, he hadn’t noticed it during the fighting they had been through, but he no longer needed the light from his spears flames to see.

  Ignoring that little revelation, he called out to the others.

  “Does anyone have a torch? We need fire!”

  “Why?” came the confused reply from Adam.

  “Burn the wounds, it stops it from healing” Tom replied.

  “Here” Mark said, pausing long enough to grab a torch that he had shoved into one of deep leg pockets of his cargo pants and throw it to Adam, who almost dropped it in surprise.

  “The hell do I do with this?” He yelled, stopping his assault to catch the unlit torch in confusion. “I can’t light it!”

  Tom swayed backwards to avoid another claw, as the Reclaimer took a step forward, reaching again for Dave who was ignoring the conversation. Seeing that Dave still had its attention, he ran to the right, circling around the reach of its arms to reach Adam, who was now standing behind Mark. Touching his spear to the unlit torch, he spoke loudly enough for Mark to hear as well.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Cut it, then jam the torch into the wound. It’ll burn the area, it’s the only way to stop it from healing over,” he said as the torch quickly caught alight.

  Without waiting to hear Adam’s response, Tom ran back around the Reclaimer until he was standing near to where Dave was still fighting. Tom was amazed that he still hadn’t been hit and that he was still fighting. How much stamina does this guy have? He thought to himself as he watched Daves’ acrobatics and dramatic close calls.

  As if summoning some evil curse by just having that thought, Dave ducked under the latest swipe, but he was clipped in the head by the claw as it swept past, unable to move completely out of the way. The blow did little more than knock him slightly off balance, but that was enough. A second claw caught him full in the body, sending him flying nearly 15 metres, his body rolling as he landed, his sword flung even further by the force of the impact. Tom grimaced as he watched the body roll, unsure if Dave had survived or not.

  Instincts flared again, sharper this time, a visceral warning that rattled his nerves as its alarm rang throughout his head. The Reclaimer's roar pierced the battlefield, sending a wave of unease rippling through Tom. He turned, to see the monster looking at him. Its eerie green gaze threatened to make his stomach upheave again, but he managed to subdue it.

  Gripping his spear tightly, he feinted to the right, drawing the creature’s attention. It’s head following Tom, as it stepped forward, chasing him, claws already stretching out to scythe him down. Instincts was a constant noise in his head, every movement of the reclaimer resonating in his head in time with its alarms.

  Trying to follow the spear movements he’d been shown, he lunged forward underneath an arm and stabbed into the creatures right knee, before twisting the spear and dodging back out of the swing of another arm before it could make contact with him. The flaming fabric around the spearhead left another reddish mark around the spear wound.

  A sudden scream from Instincts made him look left in time to see one of the Reclaimers claws about to crash into him. Guided by Evasion, he fell on to his back, letting the claws pass over his head, before rolling to his feet once more. Another scream and another claw, this time from the right, had Tom diving forward toward the Reclaimer, allowing him to stab it in the leg again.

  Twisting the spear and stepping back, he moved his hands to the midpoint of the spear and assuming the position that the first vision had shown him. The six arms of the Reclaimer were starting to move faster he was its only target now that Dave had been hit. His main goal was simply to distract the thing not kill it, that was Mark and Adam’s job, so it didn’t matter if he didn’t do any damage. With the spear like this, he hoped he’d be able to at least deflect the arms and not get crushed.

  His body moved automatically, ducking, weaving, and rolling each time the Reclaimer's massive arms swept toward him. He didn’t need to think, Instincts and Evasion worked in tandem to guide through the onslaught. Thankfully, the Reclaimer seemed unable to use more than one or two arms at a time, but when each swing passed by another was already aiming for him.

  Every movement was a precarious dance, a ballet of survival where each move was balanced between life and death. He felt his body moving faster and more fluidly than it should have been capable of, or at least, had been capable of previously. One swing came so close that Tom felt the rush of displaced air across his face, but Evasion helped him twist just enough to place his spear in between himself and the onrushing claw to avoid the deadly impact while maintaining his balance somehow.

  He lost count of how long he was there, how many arms he dodged or deflected, how many times Evasion and Instincts activated, turning certain death into a near miss. His vision blurred with the effort, the constant exertion focus draining his body. Every step was a gamble, every swing of the spear a desperate prayer.

  The Reclaimer's roar pierced the battlefield, sending a wave of relief through Tom as the constant windmill of blades stopped, giving him a moment of respite.

  Its leg buckled, sending the Reclaimer crashing down onto one knee, slamming a massive fist into the ground to catch itself before it collapsed entirely.

  Adam and Mark had continued their assault on the Reclaimers legs, turning one of its knees into a red scarred ruin half the size of its twin. It oozed green and purple liquid down its leg onto the ground.

  The Reclaimer howled, an ear-splitting wail that forced Tom to stagger back, dropping his spear to cover his ears.

  Its chest began to glow, the green mist which had been clinging to the former ribs and now bony chest protrusions, shone intensely. Its body began to pulse with not just purple, but now green lines as well, tracing all over its limbs and body.

  As Tom watched, shielding his eyes with his hand, the intensity began to dissipate; as it did so however, he noticed that the marks he had made with his spear began to fade from red to the original black, and slowly reform. The same was happening with the collapsed leg.

  The green liquid bubbled and oozed into place around the damaged flesh, and it began to renew itself. All their hard work from the past few minutes was being undone in mere seconds.

  Mark and Adam renewed their assault, striking harder and faster, trying to hack through the new growth. Tom looked up at the Reclaimers chest, and saw the green mist slowly being absorbed into the rib bones. Fuel for the creature’s renewal.

  He wasn’t sure what happened next, but in the moment that he saw the green mist being absorbed, he was overcome with the feeling of what he needed to do next. It was like an impulse that he couldn’t control, almost as if he was both in control and not in control of his body at the same time. Yet he didn’t feel panic or unsure, he only felt the surety that he needed to do this.

  Dropping the spear, he rushed forward with both his hands reaching out to the Reclaimer, palms up. He reached through the jungle of bones and into the valley formed by the Reclaimers transformation, putting his hands against the grey flesh, sinking them wrist deep into the green mist.

  Within him, something seized the pool that had formed in his chest and bundled it up into two equal sized spheres. They began to rotate, one clockwise, one the opposite. That same force moved the spheres down each of his arms and into his palms.

  The blaze that erupted when each of the spheres was brough out of his hands was immense. He was holding an inferno in each hand, infernos that ripped through the green mist, destroying it as if it was nothing but paper to be caught alight. The fire spread across the Reclaimers chest, feeding on the green mist and forcing its way through its flesh, burning all that stood in its way. The flames ate through the Reclaimers chest layer by layer, destroying flesh, blood, bone until it had formed a tunnel two hands wide through its chest and out its back.

  Yet, it refused to die. The creature roared again, the sound buffeting Tom, yet he held firm, keeping his hands outstretched. The green mist and purple blood flowed from its body into its chest even as Tom’s flames burned it away. Flesh reknit, then was torn asunder; blood boiled away, yet flowed back in to fill the void. Again and again, over and over.

  All three of them were exhausted. Mark and Adam stabbed, cut and burned, trying to stop its flesh from coming back together. Adam even shoved the torch inside the body, wedging it inside the hole in its chest.

  Tom could feel himself slipping. Colour drained from his sight. His vision narrowed. The pool in his chest was nothing but droplets, everything had been used to feed the fires he held in his palms.

  They couldn’t win. This thing was too powerful. There was nothing they could do.

  Instincts made one final weak attempt to warn Tom, and Evasion tried to tug him out of the way of … something, but he had nothing left. His tank was empty. He felt an impact on his side, and felt his chest begin to constrict as one of the claws of the Reclaimer grabbed him and squeezed.

  He felt his feet leave the ground as he was hauled in front of the monsters’ face. The green light in its eyes was a bit dimmer and weaker now, but Tom could still feel its gaze upon him.

  His consciousness continued to slip.

  He felt himself move, and the face he was in front of grew larger as its jaw unhinged itself and opened, and the hand moved Tom closer.

  He closed his eyes, barely able to stave off the siren call of sleep. Waiting for death to take him.

  He next felt a jarring pain in his side that woke him from his stupor momentarily. He was lying on the cave floor. He looked up to see the Reclaimer, frozen. The hand that had been holding him stuck in midair.

  Confused, he looked at its head, which now had a sword sticking through its throat, grasped by none other than Dave, who wore the wide feral grin of a hunter who had conquered his pray.

  As Tom watched, Dave reached down behind the Reclaimer to grasp the handle of another sword, offered to him by Adam, which Dave then stuck into the opposite side of the neck. Grasping each sword with an arm crossed across his chest and with a brutal pull, Dave slid each sword through its neck. Cutting its head clean of its shoulders, then kicking it onto the floor.

  The body stood silently for a moment before toppling backwards to the ground, narrowly missing Mark and Adam, who had to scramble out of the way.

  Tom, unable to stop his eyelids from closing, finally faded into the darkness.