The Hammer of War, Chapter 44

Name: Amir Azad
Title: War-Summoner
War Points: 0

STR – 40
DEX – 31
VIT – 149

My eyes tracked upward—just past her shoulder, not her face. Just high enough to catch her attention by proxy. That was not what I was doing. No, I was performing rudimentary calculations in my head. If I wanted to distract her, I would’ve tried something that wasn’t meant to fool first graders. 

Halia glanced up. A twitch of the neck, the briefest shift of her weight. Her gaze snapped back down, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“Nice try, human. I’m going to enjoy—”

“You talk too much,” I said.

I flicked my wrist. The [Squiggoth] appeared above her and dropped.

It didn’t fall gracefully. The thing was nearly fifty tons of green hide, muscle, armor, and uneven tusks. A mountain in motion. It slammed down from five feet above her, as if the air had given up holding it. Halia barely had time to register the shadow.

Impact.

Snow blasted out in every direction. A gust of air swept through the trees, throwing branches backward with brittle cracks. The ground jumped. Loose powder lifted and hung suspended, a white haze blanketing the clearing.

The [Squiggoth] let out a low, rumbling groan, legs splayed out slightly from the drop. Its massive sides rose and fell as it adjusted, tusks scraping against a tree trunk already leaning from the shockwave. Steam rolled from its nostrils.

No scream. No cry of pain.

Just silence.

I stepped forward, brushing snow off my coat sleeve.

The [Squiggoth] shifted its bulk slightly and then stilled. Beneath it, something twitched—half a limb, black leather folded and snapped at unnatural angles. One of Halia’s wings jutted from under its flank, crumpled like wet paper.

A faint hum of magic sizzled out from under the beast’s belly, brief and failing. Her bow—if it had survived—wasn’t making a sound now.

I crouched, eyes scanning the treeline.

No movement.

The flanker—whoever it was—hadn’t reacted. Maybe they didn’t expect that. Maybe they were stunned. Or maybe they were already running. Most likely, they saw me summon this thing and retreated to reassess the situation; at least, that’s what my [Tempestus Scions Training] told me. Either way, no one was coming.

The [Squiggoth] rumbled again, thick hide rippling as it shifted weight to its haunches. It settled into a crouch, hooves buried deep in churned snow and cracked roots. The air vibrated with its breath—a low, steady huff.

I walked past the behemoth. Frost clung to my coat, crunching as I moved. Snowflakes drifted through the air, catching the light.

A shape lay twisted in the shallow crater, half-covered in broken branches and loose powder. Halia Stolas. Her body bent at a sharp angle, torso rotated farther than a spine should allow. One wing had folded in on itself, the other stuck out at an odd angle, torn along the membrane. Her leathers were torn open at the seams. Blood soaked through in dark patches.

I stopped at the edge of the crater. Her hand twitched. Fingers scraped at the ice. Broken nails, skin pale and cracked.

This really hadn’t been a trap? It hadn’t been an elaborate trick or illusion? Was she faking this? Was it a clone? How odd. I expected more. I expected a lot more than whatever this was. Still, I kept myself open to the idea. The last thing I was gonna do is underestimate my enemy.

I crouched, just outside arm’s reach in the event she tried something slick. Her chest rose and fell—barely. Jaw crooked. Cheek bruised deep. 

“Are you somehow still alive under there?” I asked.

No answer. Not that I expected one. It was clear that this annoying woman was definitely still alive. 

I stood and tapped the [Squiggoth] on the shoulder. “Hey. Walk over there.”

It snorted, then turned. Each step sent small tremors across the ground. It grumbled, tail swinging wide, and lumbered toward a nearby tree. Once there, it opened its jaws and bit through the trunk in one clean motion. Bark cracked. Wood splintered. The whole tree tipped and vanished down the beast’s throat. 

“Woah.” I blinked. Shook my head. Then turned back to the crater.

Halia still lay where I’d left her. Her eyes fluttered, just enough to follow movement. Breath steamed against the snow. Slow. Uneven.

Her head lolled. Hair matted with blood. She twitched once as I approached, barely able to move.

The crater wasn’t deep. Just enough to trap her body in a bed of broken ice and disturbed earth. Both her arms were broken and mangled. Her spine had clearly been snapped as her torso bent at an unnatural angle. Her legs had taken the worst of it. Both femurs shattered. Joints blown out. Flesh split where bone pressed from within. The ribs were concave, sunken under her weight. If she was human, she would’ve already died from blood loss, organ failure, sepsis, shock, and about a hundred different things. Jeez, even her skull was cracked and splattered. 

Still, she breathed.

I crouched again, resting one knee in the snow. She turned her head with effort, jaw misaligned, teeth red.

“Tough,” I said. “I figured you devils were tough, but this is honestly amazing.”

She didn’t reply.

I leaned slightly closer. “But this ends here. You lost. However, you haven’t personally offended me. So I’ll offer you one thing: a quick death.”

Her mouth twisted. Not enough for words. Enough for spit.

Oh no you don’t-

She spat.

The glob hit my boot, trailing red and spit. It landed on my chest. 

This little bitch.

I reached forward and placed my hand on her bloody forehead. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Soul Siphon,” I said.

The air tightened. Her body stilled.

A sliver of red light lifted from her chest like smoke drawn into a vacuum. It spiraled upward, twisted once, then vanished into me. A slight tingle ran across my ribs. Then it was gone.

A window blinked into view.

+2 STR
+3 DEX
+2 VIT

STR – 42
DEX – 33
VIT – 151

Oh, that was a very good bunch of stats right there. And, just like that, I felt myself become stronger than I was a few minutes ago, even if only by a little bit. No War Points, unfortunately, but that was to be expected as Halia was way too weak to be acknowledged by the System. 

I dismissed the prompt, then turned to look at the body to see if something was gonna happen to it. Given all the blood and broken bones, I didn’t think I was gonna see anything unusual. Still, one couldn’t be too careful if life and death were on the line. Nothing happened. No shift. No stir. Nothing. The soulless corpse was just a corpse. And it would remain that way until the carrion came and ate her flesh. 

I turned toward the woods.

Stillness hung over the trees, broken occasionally by the crunch of snow or snapping of branches. My [Squiggoth] had decided to wage war on the forest itself. The beast lumbered from trunk to trunk, massive jaws snapping shut with heavy cracks. It chewed methodically, branches splintering and bark shredding between thick teeth.

I frowned. Usually, my units waited patiently. This one, however, seemed eager—almost stubborn—as it feasted on pine and maple alike. With a mental command, I sent it back into my [Inventory]. The air popped as it vanished, silence settling back in its place.

I paused a moment, scanning the distant shadows beneath the trees. Halia's ally was still out there somewhere, watching. Waiting. Snow drifted lazily, landing soft on my shoulders. My breath hung in clouds around my face, fading slowly as the cold seeped back in.

With a grunt, I adjusted my coat, turned north, and walked on.

Days passed, blurring together into a rhythm of boots and snow, wind and silence. The forest gradually faded into rocky terrain—low hills coated in thin snow, scraggly bushes clinging stubbornly to cracks in the stone. Wildlife scattered at my approach; bears ambled away, wolves melted back into shadows, deer vanished into thickets.

Two weeks later, I reached the northern edge of Quebec. A harsh landscape stretched out before me: jagged cliffs plunging down to a dark, restless sea. Ice crusted the rocky shores, waves breaking against them in sprays of white. Beyond lay the Hudson Strait—a vast expanse of water dark as iron, topped with restless ice.

I took a running leap from the cliff and hit the frigid water hard.

The cold surged around me, pressing tight against my skin. I pushed forward, arms cutting smoothly through the sea. Hours passed, day sinking into night, the stars wheeling slowly overhead. Ice floes drifted past, jagged edges scraping against me, then sliding away into darkness.

I swam steadily, tirelessly. And, oddly enough, I actually found it somewhat calming as sharks and other marine predators couldn’t threaten me at this point. That I wasn’t attacked by vampire mermaids or devil mermaids while I was in the water was a bit of a godsend, though. The pod of whales I swam by certainly was a welcome surprise. 

On the second day, I crawled onto the rocky shore of Inuit territory, Baffin Island, fingers gripping icy stone. I rose, dripping, water streaming from me in freezing rivulets. Steam curled from my skin, melting frost into mist. Snow crunched beneath bare feet as I moved inland, toward distant peaks.

The land here was bleak—an endless expanse of white broken by the occasional shadow of stone or frozen lake. I knew there were natives here, somewhere, but I wasn’t about to get anywhere near them in case another devil showed up. I crossed hills, valleys, climbed crags sharp enough to tear through leather gloves. The cold wind howled sharply, carrying flecks of ice and snow. I wondered how many people have died in these parts of hypothermia, while I, without winter clothes, wasn’t even feeling chilly. 

At Cape Dyer, I stood atop a cliff, watching dark waves roll beneath a pale sky. Greenland lay somewhere beyond the horizon. Without hesitating, I dove once more into the frigid sea, plunging deep beneath the waves. My limbs pulled steadily through the water, strength inexhaustible, driven by the relentless beat of heart and breath.

Days slipped past in a blur of darkness and muted light. The sea became a companion, harsh and unforgiving. Occasionally, shapes moved in the deep—a pod of whales gliding silently below, a shark circling cautiously at a distance. None approached too close.

Finally, after five days, the rocky shores of Greenland loomed ahead, ice cliffs rising sharp and white beneath a steel-gray sky.

I crawled onto land, standing slowly. Steam rose thickly from my skin, ice cracking and falling from my shoulders. I shook water from my hair and took a deep breath, tasting cold air that smelled sharply of salt and distant glaciers. And then…

+2 VIT

Huh… well, that’s nice. 

STR – 42
DEX – 33
VIT – 153

At this point, my VIT stat was already firmly within supernatural territory, because no one in the history of the entire world could’ve survived the frigid waters that I swam through with no protective gear–that and the fact that I could regenerate from mortal injuries. 

In Greenland, I was little more than a stranger in a strange place. I didn’t speak the local language and nobody knew me. Still, I maintained protocol and kept myself away from any settlement. So, I walked right through its rocky, cold, and barren center, whereupon I passed by strange goat-like animals that I didn’t know the name of, weird-looking white foxes, and the occasional polar bear, all of which got the fuck away from me the moment they saw me. As I walked, I had to really think about where I needed to go to find some kind of peace, even if only for a little while. I’d swim to Iceland next and, from there, the whole of Europe kind of just opens up. I’d also eventually need a new passport and possibly an entirely new identity if I wanted to settle anywhere for extended periods. I could probably find some access to a black market if I looked hard enough. 

Annoying. But ultimately necessary. 

Someday, I was going back to Maine to explain everything to my parents, show them that I wasn’t dead, that I had disappeared for a noble cause. 

Someday…