16 Results in the "Original" fandom
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Chapter
3. First Blood First Door
The grizzly barrels forward like a runaway truck. I shuffle right, betting on a clean sidestep, but its paw shoots out faster than thought. A wall of fur and bone clips my chest. The hit lifts me clear off my feet. I slam into the earth so hard the world blurs white. Mud fills my mouth. Ribs scream. Health below 50%. Mud fills my mouth. I spit it out and drag in a shaky breath. Every inch of me hurts, but the screen swears I’m only halfway gone. That feels like a sick joke. I scramble up… -
Chapter
14. The Trail
Flies first. That’s what I hear. Not birds, not wind. Flies making circles in the air somewhere behind me, back where the cabin sits rotting with bodies that don’t matter anymore because they’re already gone and I can’t fix gone. The mud smells like iron and wet leaves. My hands are still crusted dark, knuckles split open from hitting things I don’t fully remember hitting. The rampage burned out somewhere in the night. Left me hollow. I’m sitting against a tree I don’t remember choosing,… -
Chapter
4. Loot to Shards
Darkness bites the light the moment the arch seals shut behind me. For three breaths I see nothing. I keep the sword point forward and count, same way I used to steady nerves in a blind hallway breach. One, two, three. A faint green glow seeps from thin veins of moss that stripe the tunnel walls. Enough to stop me from tripping. The floor slopes down in long slabs patterned like reptile scales. Water drips steady somewhere ahead, a slow tin-roof rhythm. I angle the blade low and start walking. Every… -
Chapter
15. Thrown Through
The boot prints changed before the trees thinned. Same tread, sharper edges. Water still pooled in the heels, gleaming wet. I crouched and touched one. Moisture clung to my fingertip. Minutes ahead, not hours. I wiped my hand on my pants and listened. Birds and insects filled the air, the canopy creaking overhead. Everything sounded right, and that was what bothered me. The prints ran too straight, cutting through puddles and roots instead of skirting them. Someone wanted a trail. I slowed.… -
Chapter
5. Marshscale Showdown
I press Y. Stone doors grind apart and a wall of swamp-warm air rolls over me. The room inside could swallow a basketball court. Black water fills it to thigh height, the surface covered in patches of green scum that glow faint like dying coals. Broken pillars lean at odd angles, some half sunk, some snapped clean. A rank smell of rot hangs in the mist. Difficulty modulation active – target flagged. The ripples start before I even step off the threshold. Slow at first, then faster, as if a… - Previous 1 2 3 4 Next