Morgan followed the markers on his disc for the nearest creature. The arrow led him north, far out of town, past the old mine from earlier. There was an old abandoned industrial building that proclaimed itself Thompson Metal Coffinworks in faded and well-rusted letters. The third floor of the building was a collapsed ruin of concrete and twisted metal that spilled from the roof onto the cracked and overgrown pavement. As he neared, the fetid scent of trolls assailed his nostrils. He stopped dead in his tracks. He sniffed deeply, sampling the air, attempting to dissect its scents.

  In addition to the fetid scent of troll, the coppery scent of blood, the acidic tang of rusted metal, the piss wet dog smell of worgs, the moldy smell of mildew or algae, and some other scent that was musky and thick and gave him thoughts of unwashed animal, revealed themselves to his nose. There were sounds of a struggle echoing from inside the building. One garage door had fallen off its mounting and lay in a careless, rusting pile in the parking lot. A growl from inside was cut off with a snarl and a bark.

  Morgan cautiously neared, thankful he had gotten the small pearl that hid his scent from the shop, 10UT well spent. As he was able to finally see into the old factory, his black and white vision revealed a sprawling open floor surrounded by large blocky machines. In the center of the open area lay the corpses of two large trolls, surrounded by three large worgs. The bodies were missing large bites and chunks of random bits of flesh, limbs, and, most importantly, their heads. Both necks ended in ragged stumps, with large pools of dark fluid around them.

  Sophia cautioned him.

  Morgan thought, drawing his bastard sword and moving into the building.

  The worgs were in some form of argument, the larger one had to keep growling at one of the others that was moving forward and licking at the neck wound. It was ripping at the intestines of the body closest to Morgan, but kept stopping to turn and snap at the smaller worg as it inched forward. Morgan waited, timing his first leaping strike until the large worg was turning to snap at his companion. When it happened next, Morgan shot forward, turning himself into a missile again.

  The sword skewered the larger worg, even as it sensed Morgan coming. It was spinning as Morgan slammed into it, causing him to fly off to the side, unable to keep his grip on the sword. The large worg yelped and whined loudly, collapsing in a wheezing heap. The sword had gone deep, piercing at least one lung. Without pausing, Morgan leaped up, pulling his other sword from his sheath at his hip as he did. Just in time, he entered his defensive stance with the short sword pointing down, flat and vertical in front of him.

  The worg that had been slinking forward was already in motion, streaking toward Morgan. Foul-smelling spittle splattered his cheek, and a foul meat smell rolled over his face as he deflected the massive fangs to the side. Spinning with his deflection, he followed the move with an upward slash, catching the worg in the hind leg, slicing a tendon. This caused the creature to tumble as it was starting its spin to face Morgan.

  Morgan leaped toward the worg, with perfect form, he thrust the short sword deep between its neck and shoulder muscles, causing it to go limp and release a keening whine. He was just congratulating himself on his form and the perfect feeling of the movement when a weight and sharp claws slammed into his right rear side. He instinctively, with his dexterity, dodged and rolled with the force. He felt the claws ripping deep furrows in his hip, back, and shoulder as it slid over his body. He came out of the roll, swinging the sword forward in a kneeling lunge. This surprised the third worg as it was standing, it leapt back, just barely avoiding the sword.

  Morgan glanced around to reset his awareness. Scolding himself for allowing the worg to sneak attack him. The first worg, sword still through its body, retreated, moving slowly out of the door Morgan had entered. The second worg was limping to get opposite from the third and place Morgan in the middle. Morgan decided to attack the limping worg and get himself out of the center of their attack circle.

  His lunge was anticipated, and the worg easily avoided it. Morgan immediately switched direction and leapt at the uninjured worg as hard as he could. Once again, he slammed into the worg as it tried to dodge. He caught the worg just behind the ribs with a glancing blow. He slid off a small gash opening as he passed. The worg yelped and danced backwards. There was a growling bark from outside, and the two worgs facing Morgan glanced at each other, then turned as one and ran away through the door Morgan had entered.

  Morgan, wary of a trap, slowly walked toward the opening. He heard growls, and then a heavy smacking, crunching sound. He glanced outside to see two worgs facing down a large, thick creature wearing a deer hide as a toga. The new creature, an ogre, Sophia informed him, was close to ten feet tall. It slightly resembled the orcs from earlier. It had thick fangs jutting from its extended lower jaw. Its arms and chest were almost comically muscled and covered with thick dark hair. It had a large, primitive-looking halberd with a wicked-looking blade.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Its arm was extended into a fist over a furry puddle with a sword in it. The ogre had apparently punched the wounded worg into the ground, liquifying it. The other two worgs turned and ran, whimpering and yelping like they were being stung. The ogre bent down, sniffing at the puddle, then pulled out some of the rib cage and tossed it into his massive mouth. It sat there crunching bones with a contented smile on its face, making grunting noises of joy.

  Sophia whispered in his ear.

  Morgan decided to sneak out past the ogre while it was distracted. Sophia agreed this was the best plan. He was three steps outside the door when a pebble of concrete skittered under his foot, making a whisper of noise. In an instant, the ogre was on its feet and staring directly at Morgan. Its large nostrils flared once, then it raised its weapon toward Morgan. He tensed his legs, ready to leap away, but the ogre was there in a heartbeat, and Morgan had to abort his leap and deflect the halberd strike with his short sword.

  Even deflected the ogre’s strike made his arm and hand start tingling and going numb as it pushed him back, unbalanced. He swung a feinting strike, attempting to get some space, but the ogre blocked it with the thick wooden handle of the halberd. The swishing sound of Godslayer’s Blade was the only warning Morgan had before his blade sliced through the handle, then the world went white, and he was deafened.

  The weapon the ogre was holding exploded as the handle was sundered. The blast tossed both Morgan and the ogre away like twigs. The ogre flew backwards, and Morgan ended up on the ruined roof. Morgan lay there looking at the sky. His vision swam with spots, the visor of the faceless bastion was cracked, and the helmet hung awkwardly from his head. He could feel his entire body tingling as his body reknit his nerves, muscles, and skin. The front half of his body had been peeled away with great force. As he gained more and more awareness of his surroundings, he was aware of a stinging pain in his upper side.

  Sophia said, her tone worried and frantic.

  A bloody rusty length of rebar had pierced him in his right hip and exited his body on his side just below his left arm. About four feet of the bar jutted up into the air. His body was attempting to heal around the bar, but his every breath caused it to scratch and burn on his left chest cavity. Within minutes, the damage from the blast was healed, but he was still in agony from the rebar.

  Morgan tried to calm down Sophia.

  Morgan asked sarcastically.

  Sophia said.

  Morgan grunted as he moved sideways off the rebar.

  Morgan woke up, the hot morning sun burning into his eyes as they shot open. He was still stuck on the rebar.

  “What the fuck?” he said out loud.

  Morgan asked vehemently.

  Sophia said. Then she quickly added.

  Morgan thought angrily.

  Sophia said sadly.

  Morgan went to look through his spatial artifact, but was unable to access it.

  ” Morgan asked.

  There was a grunting wheeze from below. Twisting his head and straining, causing waves of pain from his hip and shoulder, Morgan could see the twisted, horrible form of the ogre pressed against a chainlink fence at the edge of the parking lot below. It was missing large amounts of flesh from its face and chest. The arm that was holding the halberd was a mushy mess of pulp, and there were deep pits where its eyes should have been.

  Morgan thought. Eyeing the bar and steeling his resolve against the expected pain, he tensed his legs and pushed with all his might until he passed out.