Battle World: A LitRPG Series by Cassius Lange & Castor

Author:Cassius Lange & Castor
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fairy Tales, Legends & Mythology, Folk Tales, Fiction
Publisher: Autumn Arch Publishing
Published: 2022-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

REALIZATIONS

The cycle had been good to the Numians. The Feather Fields had bloomed with plenty of sackfruit and the harvest had been excellent. No alien contestants had reached them in a long time, so they enjoyed a blissful period of progress. If it hadn’t been for the sporadic Qontor intrusions that would take away the young in their sleep, this might have been the most peace the primitive Numians had ever enjoyed.

They danced in a wide circle around their Masachief. Their long purple legs moved in rhythm with his rattle. The instrument was made from the same material as their skin: the sought-after Numian scales.

They threw their heads back and slung their long, white tongues into the air offering prayer to the ring gods. Their language could hardly be called that, it was a mix of guttural sounds and

different forms and symbols their tongues could create. Their thin long arms swayed in the wind, mimicking the movement of the endless Feathers in the Fields surrounding them.

They had grown tall this year, swaying like an ocean of seven-foot-tall wheat ending in a peacock-like tip that bore the life-giving sackfruit the Numians so depended on. It was a good day of a good week of a good cycle.

The Masachief’s rattle suddenly lost its rhythm. It went from a melodious crackle to a few disenchanted thuds, to the sound of it hitting the soft ground. The thirty or so Numians opened their bulbous eyes to see their chief on his knees, trying to tear off a large piece of green-black goo from his face.

They looked at each other, their faces masks of terror as they knew what was going on. Several of them ran up to their chief to help him, the others grasped at each other in fear.

It couldn’t be, not again. Not now.

The stronger Numians pulled their primitive whips out. They were made from the stem of the feather plant and took up an interesting formation that looked like a mass of cogs. Small circles made from anywhere between two and five of them, all close to each other.

They heard the rustle of approaching monsters from the north, then from the south. Something was coming, something large enough to attack a group of thirty and not afraid to fight to the death.

Before they could spot the incoming horror, a terrifying creature jumped out of the feathers. It landed on one of the Numians that was too slow to join the groups and pinned it to the ground. The monster bore its deadly claws into their brother’s back and purple blood sprayed its disgusting pink face.

Without a moment of hesitation, it shot two long, black strings at one of the groups standing in a circle. The chains coiled around the arms of one, and the throat of another Numian and dragged them both to the ground. It choked their first warrior, but the other survived long enough for the beast to jump on its chest and bring down its claws through their warrior’s face.

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