Chapter 6: Chapter Six: Forest Hinoki pt.1
Chapter Six: A needle in a… forest?
Quin pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a slow, frustrated sigh. Leaves crunched underfoot- brown, gold, and brittle red -but they all blurred together after the first fifteen minutes.
He'd been walking aimlessly for thirty minutes.
The forest wasn't helpful. Every direction looked the same. No trails, no signage, no conveniently placed ruins or monoliths or crashed airships. Just more damn trees.
And it was here, his brain started working… Quin stopped in place and tilted his head back. The five servitor skulls still hovered lazily around him, wires twitching now and then like they were just as bored.
"…You guys float, right?"
One of the skulls tilted toward him, lens flickering dimly.
"Then go. Check above the trees. I don't care what you see… roads, houses, smoke, an outhouse, just anything that suggests I'm not in the middle of a nightmare infested forest."
Which he totally was.
But yet, the skulls complied. One by one they rose, cutting sharp lines through the tree canopy like ghostly drones, spreading out above the treetops. The needle-skull lingered, hovering uncomfortably close to Quin's neck before finally trailing after the others.
He sighed again, pressing his palms to his face. "If they come back saying 'more trees,' I'm finding a cliff and ending it again."
From high above the canopy, the servitor skulls hovered with a bzzt, their mechanical lenses whirring as they took in the world.
Below them stretched an endless sprawl of orange and yellow- a typical forest during the peak of autumn, where every tree blazed in warm tones.
And beyond the patchwork of reds and golds loomed a deeper, darker treeline… pine forests, old and thick, climbing toward the feet of distant mountains.
The mountains themselves were immense- jagged things that tore at the horizon like jagged teeth. Their faces were painted in shadow and snow, steep cliffs and cruel ridges marked by time and wind.
And there, barely visible- on the far side of the farthest mountain -rose a pillar of smoke. Thick. Constant. Artificial.
The skulls locked onto it at once.
A sign. Civilization… or at least the remnants of one.
One by one, the servitor skulls drifted back down through the canopy, trailing faint static and a hint of ozone as they descended to Quin's side. Leaves scattered in their wake, and the forest returned to silence- save for the soft hum of machinery.
The one with the oversized needle dipped slightly lower than the rest, as if volunteering to speak on behalf of the sensor skulls.
Quin raised an eyebrow. "So?"
A flat, synthetic voice crackled from one of the sensor skulls- not quite human, but just intelligible enough to understand.
"Visual scan complete. One smoke column detected. Coordinates marked. Estimated distance: eight to ten kilometers, mountainous terrain. Forest composition transitions to coniferous at two kilometers north-northwest."
A sensor skull emitted a mechanical chirp, rotating once in midair to face the general direction.
He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a low whistle. "Well… guess that's better than nothing."
The skulls resumed their orbit, silent once more- awaiting the next command.
Quin gave a long, sideways glance at the odd collection around him- the stoic imps with their animal masks and grotesque weapons, the blue slimes still damp from their emergence, and the five hovering skulls that looked like a horror film's interpretation of office interns… then again, anything from that verse could be a horror-fans dream monster.
Pets? No.
Companions? That sounded too… friendly.
Subjects? Yeah. That worked.
He clapped his hands together, trying to look a little more authoritative than he felt. "Alright, subjects. New directive- protect me. We're heading for the smoke, and I'd rather not get disemboweled on the way there."
The imps tilted their heads in eerie unison, but both stepped forward like loyal foot soldiers. Without a word, the slimes- copying a rather famous slime -slithered up onto the imps' backs and promptly plopped themselves down like living travel packs. One even let out a faint bubbling noise of satisfaction.
The Spokesperson, still projected beside him, flickered once, then twice, before glitching into a pixelated thumbs-up.
"Employee protocol accepted. Escorting operational. Thank you for your sacrifice."
And with that, the hologram fizzled into static and collapsed back into the system interface, leaving only the gentle beeping of the skulls and the soft squelch of slime on stone… which if you were wondering, he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies.
Quin sighed, adjusted the synthetic coat across his shoulders, and took the first step toward the rising column of smoke on the distant mountain.
His entourage- subjects in all their strange, unsettling glory -followed.
...
The walk, as it turned out, was mind-numbingly dull.
Leaves crunched underfoot. Pine needles poked through Quin's boots. His skulls hovered above like mildly threatening balloons. The slimes jiggled with every imp step. It was like being the lead in the world's weirdest parade, or your typical line at a game release… each with their own caveats.
That is, until one of the servo-skulls let out a sharp ping, its red eye blinking like a warning beacon.
He looked up, instinctively hiding behind his units. "What is it, Lassie? Timmy fall down a well?"
Then the forest snapped to life.
From the underbrush ahead, black-furred beasts erupted with a frenzy of snarls and white bone masks. Three Beowulfs- bipedal grimm with those iconic bony extrusions, charged through the trees like battering rams.
Before Quin could even call out, they slammed into the two stone imps like angry trucks. The impact sent one imp skidding backward, bark and soil flying, but it didn't fall completely. Instead, it hissed- a strange, grinding sound like stone scraping metal -and swung its twin-pronged hatchet in an attempt to hack it to pieces.
But then came the real chaos: the slimes.
All five slimes launched themselves like eager cannonballs, splattering against the incoming Grimm. Splat— one latched onto a Beowulf's leg, bubbling angrily. Blort— another slapped across a chest, leaving a wet smear of crackling blue. The slimes didn't burn like acid, not quite. Their corrosive makeup didn't work against these godforsaken creatures.
But they did do something.
The Beowulfs staggered slightly. Their movements slowed. Their claws dragged just a touch too long before each strike. It was like their balance was off, reaction times dulled. A faint, translucent shimmer danced along their limbs, like heat haze clinging to their bodies. A debuff.
Quin grinned, adrenaline punching through the fog of monotony.
"Alright," he said, eyes flicking toward the rest of the forest. "So… Imps, you two better get to wo-"
He didn't even get to finish the sentence.
The pronged hatchet imp clacked forward like an angry wind-up toy, leaping at the nearest Beowulf. Its forked blades sank into the creature's black hide with a wet crack… releasing a hiss, as black mist seeped from the wound..
The creature howled- not in pain, but rage -only for the second imp to bring its oversized greatsword down with a jagged thud. The blade buried itself into the Beowulf's skull, and in an instant, the Grimm dissolved into a swirling mass of mist, vanishing entirely.
"...That was it?"
Neet.
Another Beowulf charged, jaws about to clench down on the stone in front of it- only to find itself suddenly under the enthusiastic weight of two blue slimes. They latched on with squelching pops, leaving patches of shimmering goo behind. The corrosive sludge didn't melt through the Grimm's mask, but it definitely slowed it. Its movements dulled as well, like it was suddenly wading through syrup.
Then came the imp, dragging its greatsword again. Crunch. Another direct hit. Another plume of mist. Gone.
The final Beowulf stood just a moment too long in hesitation.
A low whir filled the air- then whip! -the needle-beaked servitor skull zipped in like a striking vulture, jabbing its long injector directly into the grimm's side. There was no gore, just a sickly hiss and a rapid shudder as more of that smoky essence spilled from the puncture.
The grimm collapsed, half-dissolved before it hit the ground… he shuddered at the thought of allowing that needle to enter his body.
Silence returned just as abruptly as the fight had started.
Quin lowered the rock he hadn't even realized he picked up. "Right," he muttered. "That was… wildly underwhelming."
The imps returned to formation like nothing had happened. The slimes gurgled with satisfaction. One servitor skull tilted slightly toward him, like it expected praise.
However, that'd have to wait as when the last wisps of black mist finally hissed off the torn remains of the Beowulfs, a soft chime echoed in his ear.
---
[ SYSTEM NOTICE ]
Combat Complete!
+1 Strength (Direct Exposure to Live Combat)
"Violence makes you strong. Or traumatized. We track both."
---
Quin blinked as the screen faded.
He flexed his fingers.
"…Huh. Didn't even swing a sword."
Still, the faint tightness in his shoulders, the tension in his legs- it had done something. Adrenaline counted, apparently. Or maybe watching monsters die on his behalf gave him the illusion of control.
He gave a small nod. "Not bad. Keep this up and I'll be swole by summer."
One of the stone imps tilted its cat-mask at him, unimpressed.
"Yeah yeah, you did the work, I get it… good job you two"
Then, he paused.
And exhaled. Long. Slow. Filled with a kind of hollow dread… having come to a horrific realization.
"Am I… Am I an escort mission?"
Yes.
Yes, you are.
Quin's gaze drifted down to his hip where the Mordred plushie was clipped. It stared blankly ahead with stitched, apathetic eyes, utterly unmoved by the massacre that was laid before it… a common occurrence, surely.
"At least I'm not the only one who did nothing..," he muttered.
He gave his coat a dust-off, more for pride than actual dirt, then turned back toward the rising smoke in the distance, like a flare beckoning him onward.
"Let's hurry," Quin said with the sort of misguided arrogance only a man completely uninvolved in the prior fight could muster. "I'd rather not waste more time fighting mobs."
The stone imps didn't comment, but their silence was deafening. One slime slipped off and had to be scooped back up by its host with a resigned plop. The servitor skulls resumed their watchful orbit, cables twitching with clinical indifference.
He led the way like a man in charge. Not that anyone believed it, but he didn't need to know that.
1761 Words
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If you'd like longer fight scenes, do let me know!! just figured that a 3v13 would go pretty quickly.
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