Within moments, the first pack of 5 werewolves showed up. They must be the scouts ranging ahead of the rest of the pack. Other howls still sounded a few miles back. That was probably Alpha and his main force trying to catch up.

  Alpha had made it clear he reserved the right to personally end my life, but the scout pack seemed intent on running me to ground and maybe softening me up a bit for their boss. When they smelled my blood, they let out a chorus of blood-curdling howls. Those howls resonated with the lingering echoes of my own lycanthropic transformation and I barely bit back the instinct to howl back. That would have been a truly epically stupid way to spring my own trap too soon.

  The Death Stalker made no sound inside the dark ravine. Most monsters would huddle in fear at the hunting howls of a pack of werewolves. Nigel seemed convinced the Death Stalker was a terrifying threat, but I hadn’t encountered many monsters that would willingly go toe to toe with werewolves.

  I scanned the ravine, Wolf Sight easily penetrating the night shadows as the pack slipped into the trees and worked their way farther up its length. They were like ghosts of savage fury, but I caught glimpses of them with Spellseer’s Gaze. As much as I scanned the area though, I spotted no other large monsters.

  The pack made it two-thirds of the way up the ravine before the Death Stalker made its move. The werewolves were padding across a small open patch, almost a glade. The ground there was carpeted with old leaves, surrounding the blasted stump of a tree that rose crookedly several feet above ground. It was about 3 feet in diameter, its old, rotting bark blackened from age and maybe fire. Remnants of some of the tree’s original branches littered the glade, stretching out from the old stump, half-buried by leaves, although the rest of the main trunk was gone.

  It was a strange sight, but nothing remarkable. I’d scanned the glade several times as I studied the ravine from my perch. So I was as shocked as the werewolves when the leaves exploded upward and those long branches shot out to spear into all of the werewolves at the same time.

  The wolves howled and thrashed in the grip of the thick wooden branches, but the wood punched through their torsos and out the other side. Then the tips grew into grasping fingers that wrapped back around the werewolves. The pack raged at the sudden attack, ripping and tearing at the living branches impaling them. Wood splinters sprayed everywhere, but the branches did not snap.

  Then the stump in the middle of the glade began to move. I was too far to hear, but it had to be creaking ominously as it rose out of the ground on gnarled legs of thick roots. The top of the trunk gaped open and a thick, viny neck extended, capped with a grotesque round head. It was like the death mask of an ogre, half rotted and carved of living wood. Black pits of eyes blinked open and a maw lined with spiky wooden teeth hinged wide. That’s when Identify triggered.

  “Death Stalker. Elite level 54 rot elemental. These rare, solitary monsters consume all life that wanders into their lairs. Empowered by lingering suffering, the Death Stalker extends tendrils of their own self to cover everything around them, slowly expanding their lair. It can regenerate over time, as long as even a small part of its core remains.”

  “That is disgusting,” I breathed as I watched the werewolves fight against the horror. Nigel had been right. I was lucky to escape after stepping into the edge of its domain. Just thinking of those spiky branches punching through me made me shiver.

  The werewolves reacted like werewolves do, with rage, claws, and fangs. They tore at the branches impaling them as even more branches rose up from the ground to drive into their writhing bodies. Splotches of black rot began spreading across their hides. It looked like the Death Stalker was sucking out their life forces even faster than they could regenerate.

  Then the leader of the small pack managed to rip free and bound across the clearing, trailing streamers of blood. It dove at the central trunk body of the Death Stalker, shoulder-checking it so hard the trunk staggered.

  The werewolf lunged for the Death Stalker’s wooden mask head, but a dozen spikes erupted from its trunk, impaling the werewolf and knocking it back. It should have turned and fled, but the plucky werewolf rushed back in. A thick green mist began pouring out the back of the trunk. Sparks floated in the mist as it pooled around the trunk, flowing low over the ground.

  “Here comes the flames,” Nigel whispered, quivering with fear and crouching lower on the stone shelf beside me.

  The werewolf leaped over the mist, snarling, powerful jaws snapping. This time the Death Stalker was ready and swatted the werewolf out of the air, down into the mist. The thick, green, sludgelike mist coated the werewolf’s hide and several of the sparks flared, igniting it all.

  Sickly green flames wreathed the pack leader, melting through fur in seconds, but it ignored what had to be searing agony to lunge in again, going for the throat. The Death Stalker’s neck shortened, dragging its head down as its maw opened impossibly wide. Even from where I sat, I could read the werewolf’s surprise as it realized that for once, its jaws were too small.

  The werewolf tried to twist away, but crashed into the Death Stalker’s stump. With a sickening crunch, the wooden maw bit down, shearing through the werewolf’s muzzle.

  That time, it did try to howl, thrashing in the flames as more and more branches sprang out of the trunk to impale it. Instead of a howl, all it managed was a wet, gurgling whine since the front of its face was still gone.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The Death Stalker began devouring it, but started with the legs. The monster seemed to enjoy keeping the werewolf alive and torturing it as long as possible. The other werewolves were sheathed in encircling branches and vines as more and more spikes of wood drove into them too.

  I’d seen a lot of gross stuff over the past week, but that Death Stalker was operating on an entirely different level of pure nastiness. I didn’t like werewolves and would kill them myself in a heartbeat, but torturing them while slowly devouring them alive gave me the creeps.

  I stood as a new resolve flooded through me, and Switchblade popped into the air beside me.

  “What are you doing?” Nigel asked, his tiny voice squeaking with worry.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  I’d set up the trap for this very purpose. I wanted the Death Stalker to kill them, but not like this. The werewolves were tough, but this thing was pure evil and a wave of revulsion filled me as I looked down at it feeding on the still-living werewolves. Some things just had to die.

  I should wait to see if it could also kill more werewolves and at least wound Alpha. And yet, any hesitation in the face of the Death Stalker feeding on any life made me feel dirty. Something way down deep in my soul rose up in fury at the sight of the corrupted Death Stalker. It offended me so deeply, I wasn’t even sure how to describe it.

  Werewolves were vicious, terrifying creatures, but they weren’t worse than other monsters. The Death Stalker was. It was the opposite of life. It was literally rot incarnate, a force that threatened all life at a fundamental level.

  I found I could not let it live.

  “Bad idea,” Nigel said.

  “I have to do this. I’ll be fine.” Jumping on my hover bike, I twisted the throttle to the max.

  Part of me still shouted, “This is not the plan.”

  “Plans change,” I growled. That Death Stalker had to die.

  Thrusters spat streamers of fire as the bike’s soft purr turned into a scream. While I clung tight, the hover bike leaped off the shelf, aimed at the ravine far below.

  In my crazy aerial battle across the collapsing apocalypse landscape of stage 1, I’d mastered the art of the long glide on Switchblade. This time, the distance I had to cover was not far, so I pointed the bike almost straight down.

  My goggles’ targeting interface kicked on and I zeroed it onto the disgusting sight of the Death Stalker munching through its lupine victim. The werewolf was still regenerating between bites, but far slower.

  As I tore out of the sky, I triggered Shattercore Ballista. The bright projectile of energy leaped out of the sky like a lightning bolt and detonated against the trunk, spraying wood and werewolf gore in every direction.

  The entire glade shuddered, and a keening wail rose from the direction of the cliff face at the top of the ravine. I’d hurt the beast with that hit. I hurled down a potion of Impotence to shatter against the blasted remnants of the trunk, then pulled up before splattering myself against the ground.

  “Potion of Impotence. When drunk or ingested after shattering, this potion renders the target magically impotent. Blocks all use of mana for 60 seconds.”

  As I shot over the clearing, still dropping too fast, I tossed out 3 acid grenades and 3 lava grenades, then leaped off of Switchblade and banished my bike. As I hurtled through the air toward the cliff face at the far side of the ravine, I cast Tether Slide.

  The golden ethereal chain shot out and touched a small outcropping on the cliff at the top end of the ravine. I sucked down several G forces as it yanked me off of my current trajectory toward the other cliff. I suppressed a whoop. I wasn’t sure how well the Death Stalker could sense things in the air above it, and I didn’t want my shout to make it too easy for the beast to notice me.

  Behind me, the acid grenades detonated in splashes of corrosive destruction, while the lava grenades blasted fire and superheated lava across the glade. Where the two mixed, the acid burned with white-hot intensity that seemed to double its corrosive effects. I would remember that.

  I twisted in the air to land feet-first on the cliff face at the top of the ravine and triggered one of my few precious scrolls of Ground Walker. My feet gripped the nearly vertical stone wall with total confidence as gravity shifted sideways for me.

  Beneath me, something huge and black and nasty was oozing from a cave. It undulated like a worm coated in hundreds of layers of tar and puss. A noxious stench reached all the way up to me and nearly made me puke. It was like the monster had wrapped itself in a swamp filled with sewage. Thick, black roots extended from the front of the ooze monster, plunging into the ground beneath the nearby trees.

  My target. The heart of the Death Stalker.

  “Hello, beautiful,” I whispered as I dropped several potions of Impotence. They splatted into the ooze but did not detonate until I dropped 10 acid grenades on top of them. I wasn’t sure how well the impotence potions would affect the monster, but they couldn’t hurt.

  When the grenades detonated, they didn’t seem to do all that much damage. The ooze somehow emitted a high-pitched shrieking sound, and black, rot-covered vines whipped around it, grasping blindly for a target.

  Then the vines sagged to the ground. Was that the impotence potion hurting it? How could a rot elemental move around if not by using mana? Was I an idiot for playing a guessing game with this thing?

  Probably. I needed to kill it, but I’d run out of time. By the rising howls, Alpha and the pack had almost reached the ravine. Fine. I’d deal with Alpha first, then return for the Death Stalker.

  I dropped 5 more impotence potions, then an acid grenade to detonate them. Again, the monster writhed in pain as the acid ate into its layers. Even better, its movements slowed further. If the impotence potions really were working, it should be sluggish for the next 60 seconds.

  I chose a new tether point and triggered Tether Slide, shooting back down the ravine to the blackened glade. The werewolves of that scout pack were all dead and the trunk the Death Stalker had been using to eat them a shattered ruin. When I touched down, I braced myself for attack, but nothing happened.

  “Okay, here we go.” I sprinted down the ravine, tossing acid grenades and impotence potions everywhere, along with a few more of my fast-dwindling supply of lava grenades. The entire ravine erupted behind me into an apocalyptic nightmare, the trees and ground shaking under the onslaught. The monster possessed the entire place, but hopefully all of that would keep it distracted long enough so it didn’t target me yet.

  At the base of the ravine, I cut my finger again and flung bits of my blood across the leaves to make sure the werewolves knew where to find me, then I rushed back into the Death Stalker’s domain. Weaving between burning bushes and melting ooze, I set up half of my 20 bear traps, along with half a dozen tripwires tied to acid grenades. I was burning through those acid grenades. If I survived, I’d have to buy some more.

  First, it was time to bring the pain to Alpha.