Cool

Harry felt it before he saw it—a deep, guttural vibration that seemed to come from the earth itself. His blood turned to ice.

"Shoot…"

The ground exploded.

A massive tendril shot upward, its spiked surface glinting in the dim light. The underground creature(s) had joined the fray.

At first, it lashed out wildly, snatching at the nearest moving targets—the Jonkeys. But the agile creatures dodged easily, their movements fluid and precise. The tentacle slammed back into the ground, only to emerge seconds later in another spot, searching for prey.

Then it froze, as if sensing something.

The sunlight was gone.

Harry's heart sank as the realization hit him. The thing wasn't afraid of the dark.

It wasn't afraid of anything.

With a guttural roar, the creature fully emerged from the ground. More tendrils followed the first, their spiked lengths writhing and snapping at the air. A grotesque, bulbous mass rose from the earth, its surface glistening and pulsing as though alive.

It didn't care about the Jonkeys or the Grimlings anymore. Its attention was on the group.

"Move! MOVE!" Jess's voice rang out again, but this time there was a hint of urgency—maybe even fear—in her tone.

Harry didn't need to be told twice.

The group, already in chaos, descended further into madness. People screamed and shoved, their survival instincts overriding any semblance of order.

Harry dodged another projectile, his mind racing. 'This is bad. Really bad.'

The Grimlings dove and screeched, the Jonkeys roared and hurled stones, and the tentacle monster lashed out with terrifying speed.

It was a nightmare.

And the fortress was still a hundred meters away.

Harry gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move faster despite the burning in his muscles. His chest heaved, his lungs screaming for air.

They had to make it.

They didn't have a choice.

Up ahead, someone tripped, their scream cut short as a Grimling snatched them up. Another person was struck by a Jonkey's projectile, crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud.

Harry's vision blurred, his surroundings a chaotic blur of movement and sound.

'Don't think about it. Just keep running.'

The fortress walls loomed closer, but they still felt impossibly far.

More tendrils burst from the ground, each one a twisted mass of spikes and muscle. They lashed out in every direction, striking indiscriminately.

Harry's mind screamed at him to stop, to hide, to do anything but run straight toward the chaos. But he pushed forward, his eyes locked on the fortress.

"Harry!" Tim's voice shouted from somewhere behind him.

Harry didn't look back.

"Just keep running!" he shouted, his voice hoarse.

The darkness pressed in, and the monsters closed the gap.

Fifty meters.

Thirty.

Ten.

Five.

One.

...

The fortress walls were impossibly high, smooth, and unbroken.

There was no gate, no ladder, no visible way inside.

Around him, people were falling apart. 

Some clawed at the walls, futilely trying to climb the slick surface, only to slide back down. Others broke into sobs, collapsing to their knees in despair. A few, too panicked to think, bolted along the base of the walls, shouting for an entrance that didn't exist. 

Jess and Darrow, breathing hard but still composed, stood nearby, their sharp eyes scanning the chaos and the approaching monsters. 

Harry planted his hands on his knees, forcing his breath to steady as he looked back toward the darkness. 

The Grimlings were diving in closer now, their shrieks cutting through the air like jagged glass. The Jonkeys weren't far behind, their hulking forms charging forward as they hurled stones with deadly precision. Tendrils writhed and slammed into the earth, leaving craters in their wake. 

It was hopeless. 

And then he saw her. 

A small figure stumbled in the darkness, her thin legs trembling as she tripped and fell. She couldn't have been older than eleven. She let out a cry, her voice piercing and frantic. 

"Lily!" 

The shout came from near the wall—a boy, no older than sixteen, his face pale and streaked with tears. He reached out, his voice cracking. "Lily, get up! Run!" 

The girl tried, scrambling to her knees, but her movements were sluggish, her sobs wracking her small frame. 

"Move," Harry whispered under his breath, his nails digging into his palms.

"Move, kid." 

But she didn't. 

His mind screamed at him to stay where he was.

To wait.

To think of the group. His own life.

But his body had already made the decision for him. 

"Damn it, boy!" Jess's voice cut through the chaos, but she was too far to stop him. 

Harry bolted. 

His legs burned, his lungs felt like they were on fire, but he didn't stop. He weaved through the chaos, dodging projectiles and snapping tendrils, his eyes locked on the girl. 

"Lily!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Get down!" 

The girl turned, her tear-streaked face frozen in fear as Harry reached her. Without slowing, he scooped her up in his arms, nearly losing his balance in the process. 

"I've got you, kid," he muttered, forcing a grin even as the Jonkeys' projectiles whizzed past him. "But we've gotta work on your running skills later." 

The girl clung to him, her small hands trembling as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

"Harry!" Tim's voice called from the wall, panic clear in his tone. 

Harry glanced back at the writhing mass of tendrils closing in on him. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it!" he shouted, sprinting toward the fortress. 

As he ran, an idea—horrible, desperate, and undeniably Harry—struck him. 

"Hold on tight," he whispered to the girl, shifting her weight slightly. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock—a stupid, small, insignificant rock. 

Then, with all his might, he hurled it at the closest tendril. 

The rock bounced off with a harmless thud, but the tendril recoiled slightly, momentarily distracted. 

Harry grinned. "See? Brains and brawn!" 

It lasted exactly two seconds before the tendril snapped toward him, angrier than before. 

"Great. Real smart, Harry," he muttered as he sprinted the last few meters to the wall, thrusting the girl into her brother's waiting arms. 

"Catch!" Harry barked, not waiting for a response. 

Before he could catch his breath, the clearing erupted in fire. 

Light burst forth from the top of the walls, illuminating the battlefield as fireballs streaked toward the monsters. Arrows followed, glowing with enchantments—flames, ice, lightning—each finding their mark with deadly precision. 

"Oq Uz!"

"Oldir!"

Voices shouted from above, their language unfamiliar but commanding. Figures stood silhouetted against the firelight, their forms moving with practiced coordination. 

Hope flared in Harry's chest.

They were saved. 

And then his luck ran out. 

A tendril shot forward, faster than he could react, slamming into the ground beside him and throwing him off balance. He stumbled, barely dodging a second strike, but it was clear now—he was the target. 

"Darn you!" he shouted, his voice cracking as he tried to evade. 

The tendril lashed out again, and this time it struck true, hitting Harry square in the chest. The force sent him flying, the air ripped from his lungs as he hit the ground hard. 

"Cough-!"

Pain exploded through his body, and he coughed violently, tasting blood. 

His vision blurred as he struggled to push himself up, his limbs shaking. The Grimlings were swarming now, their claws glinting as they dove toward him. The tendril loomed above, ready to strike. 

"W-well," Harry muttered, his voice weak but laced with dry humor. "This s-sucks." 

And then, through the haze of pain and impending death, he saw it. 

A figure descended from the clouds like a shadow, falling impossibly fast. The tendril lashed out, but the figure dodged effortlessly, its movements fluid and precise. 

Harry's vision wavered, but he caught a glimpse of familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, flashing in the firelight, a presence that seemed impossibly calm amidst the chaos. 

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the figure standing over him, its weapon poised and unwavering. 

"...Cool."