The threads writhed in my hand and wrapped around each other. Hardening, elongating.

  If my dagger didn’t inflict wounds that were large enough. And if my blade couldn’t be used without breaking. Then I’d make a weapon that was long enough. Something that wouldn’t break.

  The threads formed a needle as long as my arms. It shone with a faint blue hue and cut through the air with the eerie silence of something that should not be. With the creation of the needle, something in the room shifted. The air grew stuffy, almost frozen solid by my murderous intent. I could feel it, the monster could feel it.

  The entrails still whipped wildly around the monster, keeping me at bay. But it only had so many, they couldn’t possibly block all paths of approach. I masked my steps on the tarp floor by stepping on parts that were covered with sand. My hair whipped behind me. A piece of guts flew my way and I had to duck to not be sent flying. The tarp crackled.

  The jig was up.

  I layered another use of Burst on the first, kicking off against the floor with a plastic crackle. My eyes watered from the scattered clouds of dust lingering in the air. I couldn’t close my eyes, not now, not when my prey was right there.

  The many legs beneath the monster’s stocky body scrambled to escape, but it didn’t dare to do so with its full speed. Not when it was blinded. The fear of charging headfirst into the unknown seemed to be universal, translating even to monsters infected by the Outsider’s corruption.

  Whatever the case, it didn’t escape my wrath. I caught up after dodging another barrage of lashes by the skin of my teeth.

  I lunged with the needle pointing forward, aiming for the monster’s midsection. The tip was so thin that I felt like I was piercing air even when my eyes told me the hardened mass of threads penetrated deep into the monster’s gut.

  The monster writhed, and screamed. Whatever humanity it showed me mere moments ago washed away to be replaced by the blinding pain of being impaled.

  The whips retracted in an attempt to trap me and the monster turned its torso in to wrench the needle from my grip.

  “Soften,” I whispered, and the threads did. All parts except for the handle.

  When the monster turned, the coiled threads ripped out of the wound like a worm, wet and slippery with blood. I dropped to the floor and watched the weaponized entrails slap against the monster’s gut like a pair of serpentine baseball bats. Not willing to endure another lash of the whips I braced both feet against the monster’s thighs and pushed. I rocketed away on the tarp, slipping and sliding through blood and sand and gore. Without my coat, the scattered pieces of scorpion shell littering the floor would cut my flesh to ribbons.

  The monster retreated, clutching at the new wound with a pair of hands, with the others still trying to clean its eyes free from sand and blood. I dug my fingers into the floor and stopped my slide when the distance felt sufficient.

  The blinded monster slammed into a bearing pole that looked more like a thin pillar of metal. It bent and lowered a large tapestry of tent over the monster’s body like a net.

  Whimpering turned to screaming as it tried to rid itself of the obstruction.

  “Harden,” I muttered and climbed back to my feet.

  My hair stuck to the back of my head, slick and warm. I struggled to gain traction on the floor for a bit before I managed to dash forward. The monster still flailed, trying to regain its composure. Entrails stretched out from under the canopy, whirling wildly in hopes of keeping me away.

  I changed my grip on the needle, holding it at its midsection. It was as much a part of me as my limbs, although untrained and unruly, it did as I envisioned. The threads moved, changing the center of its weight to fit my tastes. It grew thinner and longer, and almost weightless in my hand. My head ached with the dullness of overusing magic. I had to end the fight soon.

  My fingers wrapped around the weapon as it warped into a javelin. I loosened my shoulder, pulled it back, and jerked forward. My arm whipped through the air like a pendulum. The wind roared and parted. I let go of the javelin, and the world went quiet. Its approach was silent, ghostly. No matter how the monster tried, it couldn’t avoid what it couldn’t see or hear.

  The blue hue pierced through the canopy and into the monster. It screeched and tensed up at the feeling of getting impaled again. And—just for a moment—the entrails slowed.

  I used that moment to Burst forward, roaring, “Soften!”

  It was too late for the monster to react. My empowered physique and various enhancements made distances like these seem like nothing. The spear had pierced through its collar, but softened before it could exit fully. Pieces of it hung out on both sides.

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  I sent a quick jab at the monster's face before grabbing both ends of the thread and clinging to the monster’s broad back. My knuckles flared with pain. Punching someone square in the face was never a great idea. Bones were hard.

  The monster screamed and tried to shake me off. I cradled the coiled threads like reins and tried clambered up to the monster's shoulder blades. Two pairs of hands clawed at me, but didn’t quite get a good grip. Human arms weren’t meant to bend back like that, especially not when you had multiple sets that blocked each other.

  Fingernails dug into my legs and made me wince. I ground my teeth and endured.

  “The only way I’m getting off is with you dead!” I snarled. “Harden!”

  My legs screamed as I braced them against the monster and pushed.

  I learned a lot about all sorts of things in the Layered empire. But most of all, I learned about my blessing. It was versatile. I could use it to trap, to create things, to shape others, I could make the veil explode. And, as the hag taught me. With enough force, I could cut.

  Blood pumped through me with enough force that it felt like my veins would burst.

  The limp threads were bent into a horseshoe shape when they went rigid. I’d coiled both ends around my hands in loops that dug into my skin as I strained. The form of the threads had been much thinner after turning it into a javelin. To make cutting easier. But they were better at cutting me too. Blood gushed from my palms as the threads bit into flesh.

  The spider-like monster screamed and flailed both entrails and arms in a mad attempt to get me off. But I was a man of my words—kind of. And I would not be getting off until this fucker had breathed its last breath.

  The only thing it did manage, was to rip a piece of the tent off its body, giving me a good view of the creature as I broke it.

  Little by little, the horse-shoe shape dug through its body, starting from the furthest collar bone and moving up toward the neck.

  And little by little, the monster’s crazed resistance lessened as I laboured my way through its flesh.

  I sawed, and I sawed. Sundering flesh as snapping bones wherever my dull thread passed. The wound was a ghastly one. It wasn’t clean like the cut of a blade, but crude and forced. It looked more like the monster was being ripped apart by two horses running in opposite directions.

  Blood sprayed like rain as I tore through the first aortic artery, then the second. A welcome surprise. I’d thought the entire thing’s biology had been changed around, just to make it harder to kill. But blood—that was a universal truth. Whenever something bled, it hurt. Blood meant progress.

  Snap

  Another universal truth was things tended to die without a head.

  I fell off the body from the lack of resistance, still madly clutching the hardened horse-shoe with both hands. It dug deep enough into both of my hands that I could see hints of white peek through my mangled skin.

  I ground my teeth and willed the thread away as I stood back up.

  The monster’s lower body lay still on the ground a meter or so away. The many legs were a tangled mess of limbs, limp and crooked, squished beneath the weight of its hefty waist.

  The upper half of the monster’s chest and its head lay by my feet. Its eyes were bloodshot, and half closed. The face forever contorted into a mask of agony and horror. It had been young, and powerful. The top dog in its area. Until it met me. I was the harbinger after all, and I brought it doom.

  My knees buckled, and I collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.

  I heaved for breath and massaged my head with trembling, bloody hands.

  I expected the veil to send me a message in crimson runes, but nothing of the sort came. I wanted to ask Sera about it, but that would be impossible without a reflection of some kind. My magic reserves were emptied. I had been running on fumes when I bisected the spider-like monster. I couldn’t spare even the small amount needed to hear her.

  I focused on regaining my breath and tried not to think of the dull ache in my head and the fiery burn in my hands. Hopefully Daryl and Julia kept enough of their humanity when they escaped to send help for me. Otherwise I’d have to regain my composure fast. There was no telling what else lived in the compound. But I sure hoped I’d seen the last of the powerful scourge creatures.

  Now that I knew the scorpions hid under the sand, they wouldn’t pose a problem unless they came with an army. I could just use Jackpot to scare them away, albeit at the costly price of a few bullets.

  Or I could run.

  Even without Burst running through my veins, I was pretty quick. The only problem was pushing through the sandstorm with them at my heels. I heaved a sigh and climbed to my feet.

  No need to fret. I’d just have to deal with the problems when they presented themselves. I walked over to one of the upturned cupboards in the tent. With the amount of bunks there had to be clothes or something laying around.

  As expected, the cupboard was filled with once neatly folded clothes and baled up underwear.

  I grabbed white tee and tore it into long ribbons and tied them around my hands. It was far from a perfect solution to my hand problem, but it would at the very least keep the sand out of the wound. It would have to do until I could have the medic look me over, whoever that was.

  I coughed and felt the pain in my ribs flare back up. “No rest for the wicked.”

  I clutched my dagger and jerked the tent’s door flap open, ready to fight back whatever might be waiting for me on the opposite side. To my relief, there was only the sound of the wind and the monotone colour of sand.

  Winds still ripped at the tents. It was loud, but not quite like before. The winds were calming down. I shielded my eyes with my empty hand and peered at the compound's perimeter.

  Minutes ago I’d been encapsulated by a thick layer of swirling sand. Now I could see hints of the scorching sun peek through once more.

  “The monster must have been the cause,” I muttered and glanced back at the tent.

  It had been a formidable opponent. It was a shame it didn’t drop me an accolade. I spat a glob of blood onto the ground, and watched as the sand greedily devoured it.

  With the veil spreading, everything would change. There was no telling if things would work like they did in the Forgotten lands. The veil had existed there for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. Their legends had had ample time to fester and spread. Not like here; where the spread was just beginning.