Ozzy sailed across the swamp like an 80s action movie rag doll, caring little for gravity. In strict contrast with an 80s action movie rag doll however he did care very much about what were probably several broken bones.

  The tentacle had smashed into his side right as he’d readied his gun for another volley of pain. He had just caught it out of the corner of his eye before it folded him like clean laundry and sent him spinning off into the swamp semi-conscious.

  When he came to he was a moment from getting very wet. His face was millimeters above the murky green water of the swamp and it hit him like a scandalized woman. Stinging pain was all he could really register as his torso and legs followed the example of his face, and then, he was airborne again. The stupid monster had launched him hard enough he’d skipped. Had any of his old friends seen this he doubted he’d have lived it down.

  Redirecting the first tentacle had been nothing short of an expertly planned maneuver on Emil’s part. He’d have given himself a pat on the back and the rest of the month off had he not heard the meaty thwack and crunch of what was probably the worst injury Ozzy had ever had, details though right?

  Despite his earlier presumptions his friends “gun” as he called it had been less help than he’d have preferred against the massive monster. Sure it had injured it plenty, but in actuality it did little more than a summoned bow would have. It was disappointing for sure, but fair. What he’d have given for a tier one team of hunters right about now.

  The root sucker's second attempt on the dinghy came from the right ,opposite the first. Casting his third wall Emil drained a sizable chunk out of his already rapidly dwindling mana pool. At this rate he’d be switching to his sword in half a minute. It wasn’t something he thought would end favorably for him. Even with all of the damage the monster had taken, it was still kicking and bucking a plenty.

  Right before he entered the water proper Ozzy heard the crack and boom of a second lighting ball. It comforted him to know Emil was still fighting and not mincemeat, though he’d give him a piece of his mind for not warning him about the tentacle if he survived the- THUNK.

  Like a boxer Emil weaved under a third tentacle, sending another ball of lighting at the root sucker. He’d discovered it was the best spell he had available to deal with it and he was happily spamming them at the monster. There was just one small problem, he was all but out of mana.

  Emil threw two final balls of lighting at the root sucker. They hit with the same thunderous impact as each one had before. The root suckers beak and flesh had been burnt and blackened and it dipped below the water once more, releasing a torrent of bubbles and gas as for the second time it flipped underwater.

  Ready for this final part of the battle Emil unsheathed his sword from his dimensional bag. He was seriously wishing he had a second mana potion right now and knew that if it came down to any serious fighting he’d be lunch. While he would say he knew his way around a sword there was no real finesse to the way he used one. Not like the hunters who used them as their main weapons at least. They were like over sized machetes to him, and the heavy curved sword he pulled out was a chopper.

  Those familiar with blades would certainly recognize his the blade. It was known on earth as a Grosse Messer. Grosse meaning large and messer meaning, well, that it made a mess of things. His was a two handed monster, it extended out a good forty five inches, hugely heavy for a normal person but perfect for Emil’s enhanced strength.

  The blade was wide and curved upwards towards the end, giving it plenty of slicing power. The spine of the blade was six millimeters thick, just about a quarter of an inch. It gave the sword some serious heft, which was important when you were chopping through monster hide tougher than chainmail. Most important however when it came to his sword, it was magically enchanted to use his life force to enhance its strikes.

  It was well known that what hunters did was dangerous. Hell, most of the time people wouldn’t start hunting until halfway through their first threshold, which was probably the smart thing to do. It had after all been Emil’s plan to build up to that point and live comfortably. A plan which had lasted him about as long as it’d taken him to sign a hunter contract. Even after all of these years he still found himself underpowered and stuck. Love had caught him by surprise, and bashed his younger self's hopes and dreams out of his life and replaced them with the dreams of family and a warm hearth.

  This sword had been his wife’s attempt at evening out the playing field for him. In those most dire of moments when he found himself without mana, when every strike would count and he would be at his most vulnerable, the sword would use the last resource he had to put down the monsters that stood in his way.

  With a hum the runes on the sword light up, flashing white before settling on a crimson red. Emil felt the drain immediately as the sword turned his life force into fuel, he’d given just enough to power the blade for a dozen or so seconds.

  Emil took a deep breath as his muscles tensed. “Fast and brutal” he told himself, and he leapt off the dinghy.

  Rousing from unconsciousness for the fifth time that day Ozzy found himself in something of a predicament. While he was out of the water, which was a blessing in and of itself, he seemed to have a rather pointy bit of cypress tree protruding from his abdomen. Reaching up he could pat the pointy stump, he could even feel a knot on the branch press into his stomach as his movement shifted him on the branch. Weird.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  With adrenaline doing its job and keeping the pain at back of the line he supposed he should really get back to the fight, shifting again he felt right about where the limits of his adrenalines pain mitigation sat. He was not going anywhere, not really like he’d get far either though. Not to mention the little branch was probably the only thing keeping his insides from becoming swamp chum.

  Off in the distance Ozzy could see Emil duking it out with the root sucker. He slashed and chopped at the monster, ducking under wayward tentacles and hastily thrown strikes as he tore into the beast. It was the fantastical scene one would expect visiting a magical world, though the realities of combat would douse any flames of excitement or verve.

  A movie or book could only tell or show you so much. Even sludging through the deepest depths of details and specifics there was a barrier personal experience belied. Emil was covered in gore. Blood caked his features, whether his own or belonging to the monster it was impossible to tell. It was in his hair, in his eyes, in his ears, in his nose, his mouth, he was carnage. Emil was a monster, drug from the depths of B horror movie hell to terrorize the root sucker. That was what the entertainment on earth missed. The desperation, the smells, adrenaline shakes, the crap your pants severity of a life and death situation. Ozzy found they formed a cocktail of experience that was impossible to recreate outside of true danger.

  Despite Emil’s terrible presence the root sucker fought on. Where the savage warrior needed to hack through its natural fortitude it only had to strike once and the fight would end. It had after all taken care of one of its foes already. It was oh so close to getting away, then it could feast on them and potentially even the rest of the fishing barge.

  The final strike landed when the root sucker struck from below. Having already dodged a plethora of strike from the sides and even above Emil was unprepared when a stray tentacle rose up from the water beneath him and slammed down, crushing and pinning him against the ravaged monster. The crunch was audible even from where Ozzy hung, and he winced as he watched the monster grind down on his friend.

  Well aware they were already probably well and screwed Ozzy summoned his revolver. His hand shuddered and dropped almost instantly, the gun much heavier then he remembered it being earlier. Using everything he raised the gun up, resting the gun and sight across his face to take the weight off of his arm. He was well aware the recoil would further bash his face in but with his other arm mangled and unresponsive it was the best he could do.

  Like magic the sight magnified, adhering to his wishes as he dragged the shaking crosshairs over the monster. It had Emil in its grip now, holding him up in the air as the broken warrior struggled and screamed. Ozzy pulled slowly on the trigger willing his injured arm to stillness as he fired the revolver. Yet despite all of the effort he put into the action, his shot went wide and the revolver slammed into his face.

  In what was rapidly becoming a rather unfortunate pattern Ozzy had been knocked unconscious. Again. Contrasting the ways he’d woken up prior however was a very ugly rat clawing at his side to wake him up.

  “Oi! Get up you lazy bastard!” Frank yelled at him.

  Ozzy yelled in pain and reached up to strangle the little punk when the hole in his abdomen made itself known.

  “Gahh! Any chance you’re here to help and not claw me!” He gasped.

  “That’s exactly what I’m here for. Use both of these!” Frank shouted as he leapt off of the branch sitting in the middle of Ozzy’s guts.

  “What-” Ozzy didn’t even get to ask the question on the tip of his tongue as two objects materialized on the branch, one of them falling off and hitting him on the chin. A potions and a shard.

  Making a split second decision Ozzy grabbed the shard, willing the potion to stay balanced on his chin as he heard the telltale *BEEP BEEP* of his watch. With a thought he willed himself to absorb the shard and snatched up the potion with his now free hand. He tossed the potion into his mouth with the cork popped, sucking down all of the magical goodness.

  Throughout Ozzy’s entire life he’d abstained from drugs. Sure he’d grabbed the odd cigarette and drink but he’d never done lines or anything crazy like that. The surges of power he felt from the shard and potion where what he imagined people chased using those kinds of substances. Lines of white hot power flooded through his system, one gathering in his chest and the other traveling to every single injury he’d sustained throughout the course of the fight. His body began rapidly regenerated its wounds and slowly but surely he found himself pushed off of the branch and into the water.

  Ozzy was quickly becoming a superconductor, the mana circulating through his system building up so quickly that he began to glow. Green light danced across the trees and water as he turned into a beacon, bright enough even that the root sucker who was busy dangling Emil over a grunting catfish maw turned to look.

  Deep down in his soul Ozzy had felt the magical shift and settling of a new power. While he hadn’t had the time to check his watches overview of the power he had an intrinsic understanding about the kind of firepower he was about to bring to bear. Pulling on the metaphysical strings of power in his soul Ozzy yanked the power into the physical realm manifesting it for the first time as he summoned a true monster.

  Sitting in his arms was terror. A weapon that on earth had been made to take down the biggest and toughest of animals, here however, it would kill anything that walked, crawled, or swam. It was a large double barrel firearm, and Ozzy knew instinctively that he could conjure either rifle or shotgun style rounds to load into the weapon. Though there was a massive difference between the mana costs for the different rounds. While shotgun shells he could conjure for it were only marginally more expensive than the rounds he used for his revolver the rifle rounds would well and truly clean him out. Even in his current mana empowered state he knew he only had enough juice for two of them.

  Breaking the barrel of the gun Ozzy conjured two massive bullets, instantly the glow surrounding him and the explosive feeling of rushing mana vanished from his system. The bullets were comically large, and that was coming from someone who’d owned and consistently used very large and “comical” rounds back on earth. No, this gun was on another level entirely. It was honestly up for debate whether or not the gun would just blow up on him when he shot it, regardless of its magical origins. If it had been made on earth there would be no way in heaven or hell you could get him to shoot it, not that he really had a choice right now.

  Each round dropped into their respective breech with a hollow and satisfying thunk and Ozzy locked the barrel back into place with a click. Shouldering the weapon he gazed through an aperture sight centering the front post inside of the dull iron ring directly over the root sucker. Emil was held dangling over its maw where it slowly crushed the fight out of him, not far enough that Ozzy felt comfortable shooting that way, though considering the circumstances he doubted Emil would mind.

  BOOM