Bart

  Keith was a crack shot with his fireball. He kept the mosquito swarm away from us as we pushed through the dense cypress forest toward our destination. Along the way, we ran into porcupines, rats, snakes, and those hairy lizard things again. While I crushed one with my bare hand, its eyeballs popping like grapes, I examined its full details.

  They were relatively weak, but their bites pierced, and they came in swarms. If I could kill about a hundred of these critters, I could level up quickly. Unfortunately, only about 20 were nearby, and with all of us fighting, we would end up dividing the experience points.

  Keith leveled up again. Steve and I needed a few more points.

  Keith also leveled up his Cure and Fireball abilities, which was a lifesaver.

  We were about a mile from our destination. Keith had one magazine left for the S&W. I had a few rounds in my Glock and one spare mag. Steve was down to his last two mags.

  Keith’s fireballs would work great while he had magic points. I could use my hatchet and machete. Steve had nothing but bullets. I told him to shoot only if Keith and I couldn’t handle something. It sucked for him to miss out on EXP, but ammo mattered more than leveling.

  We finally got a breather, so we drank some much-needed water and choked down another protein bar. Just enough time to restore a sliver of health and some stamina.

  Nothing came at us for another half a mile. That was never a good sign. In every game I’d ever played, that meant one thing: boss fight incoming. And even though this wasn’t a game, it sure felt like one.

  A massive walking tree lumbered into a clearing ahead. It looked like a tangle of branches from willows, pines, and cypress woven into a single towering body. The part that froze my blood was the humanoid face screaming in absolute misery and pain embedded in the tree’s center mass.

  It shouldn’t have been alive.

  It hadn’t seen us yet, so I took the time to examine it.

  Wow! This thing was leagues above anything we’d fought. A lot stronger than anything we had fought so far. We were faced with the boss battle I was afraid of.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I was pretty sure it would be resistant to common bullets. Several times as a kid, I used trees for target practice. They absorb rounds like sponges. If we had explosive tips, maybe…but we didn’t.

  If we could avoid its entangle and spell attacks, we had a chance. A slim one.

  We would have to go in blitzkrieg style, attack hard and fast. Once the plan was discussed, we re-loaded the magazines to max, I handed Keith my dad’s Case knife, and then...

  Hesitation. Doubt. Questions filled my mind: Should we try to avoid this thing? Sneak around? Would it chase us? Could we win? If we ran, what waited for us next?

  I pushed the doubts down. “The tree’s weakness should be fire,” I said, “and it’s slow, which works well for us. I think we should aim for the face…hopefully it’s a weak point. Remember one shot at a time, one hack at a time, one fireball at a time. Steve, make every shot count. Keith and I will take this thing on up close.”

  “Keith, head over to its right flank and stand by. I’ll start shooting it in the face to draw it my way. Steve, when it gets close enough, aim for the eyes and inside its mouth and joints. Again, shoot sparingly and accurately. Don’t spray and pray. Keith, when it gets past you, start pelting it with every fireball you can, aiming for the joints, roots, trying to hit its face. Hopefully, it turns back towards you, and I will jump in and start hacking off everything I can. Then when you’re out of magic, bring the knife. I don’t know if y’all got this or not, but key tactic: Aim for the face. We good?”

  It was a crap plan. I could only hope we could knock some health off with the ranged attacks, so I didn’t have to hit it 500 times with the machete.

  Keith slipped through the trees and bushes like a fox. His stalking ability was second to none. Apparently, hunting in these parts was great training. Five minutes later, he gave us a thumbs up, a smile, crossed his eyes, and then shot us the bird. Classic.

  “Hey!” I shouted.

  The tree turned toward me with a wail that sounded like a dying coon dog. I held up a “wait” gesture until it closed to thirty yards.

  “FIRE!”

  Bark exploded with every shot, splinters raining across the clearing. Steve’s aim was perfect. Rounds straight to the face. But the Whispering Willow’s armor was adaptive. It shifted plates of bark to shield its eyes and mouth. It was predicting the impact of bullets. Nothing penetrated. Not a single bullet seemed to find flesh beneath the woody armor. The damn thing was impervious.

  Change of plans. “Hold your fire!” I yelled. I had to chip away at its defenses. “Only shoot at it if it grabs me!”

  I charged.

  Roots jutted up from the ground like skeletal fingers; reaching and grasping for anything to grab. I jumped, rolled, hacked—repeat. The air grew cold around me, and a whisper slid across my skin like icy breath.

  “Don’t hurt meeeeeeee!”

  I froze.

  Am I the villain? Is this thing suffering? Are we trespassing? Should I even—

  My pulse boomed in my ears. From what seemed like a faraway place, I heard an echoing “B-aaa-aaa-rrrr---tttt! BBBB-aaa-rrrrrrrrr-ttt.”

  A fireball detonated overhead, snapping me back to my senses. A root wrapped around my torso and lifted me toward the creature’s gaping mouth.

  “Damn! Keith! It caught me with ‘Whisper’!”

  Keith pelted it with fireball after fireball, dodging roots and branches. The tree tore off its own limbs and threw them at him. I wrenched my right arm free and hacked at the root holding me. Three hard chops, and it dropped me.

  Red. I saw red blood beneath the bark.

  “Keith! I’m going to chop…you hit it…exactly where…I chop! I think…that’s the only way…to get past…the armor.” I said between chops and dodges.

  I struck. He fired. Burning shrapnel peppered me, but the willow shrieked. We were hurting it.

  “AGAIN!”

  “I’m runnin’ out of mana!”

  “Did you just say mana?! Nerd!”

  “Hey…you said no name-callin’!” Steve shouted.

  I chopped again. Keith fired again. The willow retaliated, sending every root at Keith at once. He couldn’t dodge them all. They lifted him like a rag doll.

  “It’s…sucking…my…mana…A…hole,” he said, struggling to breathe.

  “Steve! Aim where I chop!”

  I sprinted for the face. Something about it tugged at my memory. I had the feeling that I knew who was trapped under the bark.

  I climbed the trunk, reaching as high as I could. I hacked at an angle to take a wedge out just below its mouth. Both shooters shot into the opening. Blood poured out. I hacked again. And again. My stamina bar was nearly empty.

  Blood covered the area I was clinging to. The flesh beneath the bark looked like ground beef. I drove my machete in to the hilt.

  “SHOOT IT HERE!!” I roared. “Throw me a gun!”

  Steve strode forward, firing nonstop, not missing. Luck was awesome. When he emptied the rifle, he dropped it and swung the second one around. Before raising it, he tossed me the Glock. I caught it, shoved the barrel into the wound, and emptied the mag. Blood geysered out. The willow dropped Keith and reached for me.

  The tree started twitching, parts of its body growing rigid. We were close.

  Keith shook his head, staggered, then hurled two more fireballs into the wound.

  Steve fired a few more rounds, then tossed me the S&W as I dropped the Glock. I caught it and unloaded all thirteen shots into the gaping, watermelon-sized hole.

  “AAAAAAHHHHHH!!” I screamed, firing like a man possessed.