The Carnage Fiend was staring at Ace, and the damn thing prepared to spring at him.

  Before it could move, however, a rock slammed into the back of its head. It roared in pain and stumbled, nearly taking out three oaks in the process. With a snarl of anger, it pivoted on one heel to find Marcus armed with yet another rock and ready to throw it.

  “C’mon, you oversized rotten log!” Marcus shouted. “Over here!”

  The man cast a quick glance at Ace, and the sergeant nodded in thanks. He let out a sigh of relief—at least he had a moment or two to catch his breath before he launched back into the fray.

  With another furious scream, the Carnage Fiend raised both hands over its head and clasped them together, ready to slam them into his new enemy’s body and flatten him to a pancake.

  The blow came down hard, and Marcus scrambled to get out from underneath the blow.

  “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” Marcus said as he ran out of reach.

  Phew.

  That had been close.

  “Fucking hell,” Victor sucked in air between his teeth and grimaced as smoke spiraled from his skin. “What the ever-living fuck did that thing hit me with?!”

  “Poison,” Ace snapped, not in the mood to babysit the man’s feelings. “This is why we needed a plan.”

  “I had one,” Victor replied.

  The man’s eyes narrowed in either anger or pain. Ace couldn’t tell, and he sure as hell didn’t care.

  “You went rogue,” the sergeant corrected, his attention shifting back to the looming beast that had once more shifted its attention back to Ace. “I don’t give a shit if you’re not in the party. You’re still part of the team, and we need to work together.”

  In answer, Victor just scoffed.

  At the other end of the clearing, Marcus pressed himself against a tree trunk, his eyes squeezed shut and with his brow furrowed in terrified concentration. A faint purple aura surrounded him as he finally managed to channel whatever skill he had been trying to use. Pulses shot through the air from him like ripples on a lake’s surface, but they were weak. The faint shimmers on the air faded to nothing about five feet from Marcus’s body, long before they reached the beast.

  "I can't make it strong enough!" he shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

  Behind her boulder, Rachel's eyes suddenly widened as her magic finally stabilized. Blue light emanated from her hands as she scanned the creature, and a glowing analytical screen appeared beside her head. It flickered in and out of existence as she tried to manhandle it into submission.

  "I'm getting something!” Rachel said excitedly. “Its skill composition is—wait...what the hell?!"

  As Rachel's analytical field expanded, it intersected with Marcus's pulsing aura. On contact, the energies swirled together, creating a strange violet pattern that spiraled toward the Carnage Fiend. When it reached the creature, the combined energy seemed to seep into its bark.

  The monster froze mid-attack with its clawed limbs raised over its head. Its amber eyes tracked the energy pattern with what looked strangely like recognition—or fear. Its bark plates rattled against each other as it took a stumbling step backward.

  "What the hell just happened?" Ace called out.

  "I don't know," Rachel replied, staring at her hands in shock. "But I think we found something it doesn't like."

  It was a start, and he could work with that.

  "Do it again!" Ace shouted, the authority in his voice cutting through the chaos. "Rachel, Marcus—whatever the fuck that was, do it again!"

  "I don't know how—" Rachel began.

  Marcus cut her off. "It was an accident! I can't control the—"

  "Figure it out!" Ace barked.

  He pulled Victor farther out of range and into the trees before setting the man against a nearby tree trunk. Victor winced in pain and held his arm tighter as more steam rolled off of his skin.

  “Tara will be here in a minute,” Ace told the former merc. “Stay put.”

  “So you can get all the EXP?” Victor winced again and tried to stand. “I don’t think so.”

  With an annoyed glare, Ace just pushed once on Victor’s good shoulder. The man dropped back to the ground and let out a string of curses as the steam on his skin momentarily thickened from the sudden movement.

  Ace didn’t have time for this. The window of opportunity was closing fast. The creature's initial shock was wearing off, its massive form reorienting as bark plates shifted back into attack configuration.

  Their momentary advantage slipped away like blood through fingers.

  “Stay. Put.” Ace ordered, his voice dangerously low.

  Victor glared up at him, teeth gritted and jaw tight, but he didn’t try to stand again.

  Good.

  Back in the clearing, the Carnage Fiend's body contracted, its wooden joints pulling inward as if gathering potential energy. Ace’s instincts screamed at him to get out of the way before his conscious mind could process why.

  "Get down!” He shouted as loud as he could. “Everybody, find cover!"

  Ace threw himself to the forest floor just as the creature slammed its trunk-like fists into the ground with cataclysmic force. The dirt itself rippled as a shockwave shot outward, followed by wooden spikes erupting from the soil in a deadly pattern. Earth and splinters fountained upward, the clearing transformed into a kill box of organic shrapnel.

  Oh, fuck.

  That was not what Ace had been expecting.

  Ace pushed himself out of the way of a spike and tucked into a roll, but even his enhanced reflexes couldn't completely save him from the attack. Wooden fragments tore through his clothing, but thankfully most glanced off his toughened skin.

  Two, however, speared him right in the side.

  He barely restrained an agonized yell of pain. His back arched, and the tendons in his neck tightened until they threatened to snap entirely. His breath came in shaky gasps, and he grabbed the first spike with one hand.

  After bracing himself for a world of hurt, he pulled on it.

  The barb snapped. It broke off at the base, where the spine met the dirt, and he ripped it out of his side. Despite the pain, despite the agony, despite the urge to scream bloody fucking murder, he braced himself again and repeated the motion.

  Ace let out a gasp as the pain faded. Blood dripped from the open wounds as the creature roared in the distance, and he sucked in greedy breaths as his skin slowly knit itself back together. Each breath didn’t have the normal surge of relief it would’ve in his old life, and yet again, he figured the undead didn’t exactly need air.

  In seconds, the pain had faded completely. He brushed his fingers across the skin where the wounds had been, and it was perfect. No scar. Nothing at all to indicate that he had just been stabbed by a tree.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Amazing.

  A sickening crack splintered through the air, and a pained cry followed. His head whipped up just as Tara slumped against a jagged boulder. She crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from her hairline, and her body went limp.

  "Tara!" he shouted.

  She didn’t reply.

  The tactical part of his brain coldly assessed two simultaneous problems: immediate threat still active, and a team member down with potential spinal injury. In Afghanistan, the math would have been clear—neutralize the threat, then attend to casualties. But in this world, a healer was more important.

  Nearby Victor staggered to his feet, his usually perfect appearance marred by toxic corruption. Green lines mapped his circulatory system beneath his pale skin, the poison spreading with each moment. His face contorted with equal parts pain and fury.

  "I've got this," he snarled, his palm outstretched toward the creature.

  Dark energy coalesced around his hand, but it stuttered and flickered like a dying light.

  "Fall back, you idiot!" Ace shouted.

  Victor's answering laugh held no humor. "Everyone, concentrate fire on its left side! Ace, flank right! Rachel, target the—"

  "That's not working!" Ace cut him off. "Stop giving contradictory orders!"

  "I outrank you here, Blackwell!" Victor spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to maintain his skill.

  “You mean in your party of one?” Ace snapped back.

  Victor’s nose crinkled as he sneered, but he evidently had no comeback.

  “Help Tara,” Ace ordered, his eyes narrowing as he dared Victor to disobey. “Get her back on her feet, and then she’ll do the same for you.”

  The man hesitated, his gaze shifting briefly toward the beast.

  “Now!” Ace barked.

  “Fine,” Victor snapped. “Fine, damn it!”

  The man jogged over toward Tara, limping the whole way as he held his burning arm.

  “Over here, you overgrown weed!” Olivia shouted from afar.

  Across the clearing, Olivia had found her rhythm. Her body flowed through combat stances with a dancer's precision, each movement calculated and refined. As the Carnage Fiend swung at her, she accessed her magic, leaving three crimson afterimages in her wake while she slipped to safety.

  Fascinating—in a rush of light, three of her twirled in near-perfect rhythm across the clearing.

  The creature, confused by the multiple targets, struck at all of them. Its massive limb passed harmlessly through the illusory forms, throwing it off balance.

  Olivia's lips twisted into a smile, her eyes gleaming with something more than satisfaction. As she pivoted away from another attack, her movements became more fluid, more passionate.

  "A perfect trompe l'oeil," she said softly.

  Ace didn’t know what that meant, but that didn’t matter right now.

  The creature recovered from its confusion, its bark plates realigning as it scanned the battlefield, evidently bored with Olivia already. Its glowing eyes locked onto Rachel just as she tried to establish her magic yet again. The Fiend charged directly toward her, abandoning all other targets.

  Ace pushed himself to his feet and raced back into the fray. “Marcus! Intercept! I’m coming!”

  Marcus, who had been scrambling away from the shockwave's aftermath, froze at Ace's words. His gaze darted between the charging monster and Rachel's exposed position.

  Something shifted in his expression—from terror to determination. The man shook out his hands and jumped in place for a moment, hyping himself up as he decided what to do.

  "Not today, you overgrown splinter!" he ultimately yelled, throwing himself between Rachel and the oncoming threat. His hands came up, a weak purple aura forming around them. "Mind Leech!"

  A tendril of psychic energy stretched between Marcus and the Fiend, forming a momentary connection. The creature's charge faltered, but Marcus screamed from the mental backlash. The Mind Leech connection had worked, but it almost seemed like whatever Marcus had meant to do to it happened in reverse—as though the monster's alien consciousness flooded into Marcus rather than the other way around.

  The psychic rebound sent Marcus flying backward, his body tumbling across the clearing like a discarded toy. He lay motionless, blood trickling from his nose.

  The brief interruption had bought Rachel precious seconds to scramble for new cover, but the team was falling apart. Victor was poisoned and borderline delirious. Marcus was down. Tara was injured. Olivia was dancing with death and seemingly enjoying it.

  And the Carnage Fiend was learning.

  Each attack now came with greater precision, adjusting to their evasion patterns. Where before it had swung wildly, now it almost seemed to anticipate their movements. The monstrous tree was adapting, becoming deadlier with each passing minute.

  But so was Ace.

  His time as a soldier hadn't just taught him how to kill. It had taught him how to read an opponent's body language and predict an attack before it came. Even with this otherworldly physiology, certain principles remained constant as far as he could see. The creature had tells—a slight rotational shift of its trunk before a major swing, a subtle redistribution of weight before it charged.

  And Ace could work with that.

  "Left swing incoming!" Ace called out as he spotted the familiar twisting motion. "Rachel, down!"

  Rachel dropped instantly, and the massive limb passed through the space where her head had been moments before.

  "Marcus, charge and feint right!" Ace shouted, noting the creature's weight shift to its back appendages.

  Marcus, who had just struggled to his knees, threw himself rightward as the monster thundered past him.

  It was working—and the beast was getting tired. It huffed with each movement, now, its chest heaving more with each attack.

  For nearly a minute, Ace called out each blow before it came, giving his teammates precious seconds to prepare. It wasn't a solution—just a desperate holding pattern. His enhanced strength was fading. The others looked equally exhausted, their movements growing sluggish.

  That was when Ace saw it—the thing’s heart.

  A steady yellow glow pulsed faintly from the beast’s chest, faster as the minutes wore on, evidently struggling to keep up with the constant movement their team’s diversion demanded of the beast.

  It was the perfect opportunity. Ace's mind shifted from defense to offense, his military training overriding his vampiric instinct. They needed structure. They needed roles. They needed to stop reacting and start acting.

  Three seconds of assessment was all it took. Victor's poisoned state made him a liability, but his aggression could be weaponized. Tara was still out cold, so she couldn’t join the fight. Rachel's analytical abilities were wasted in pure panic. Marcus's mind powers needed focus. And Olivia... well, her disturbing grace had kept her alive this long, so that was something.

  Ace drew a deep breath, his lungs expanding with unnecessary air—a human reflex he couldn't shake. The familiarity centered him, and for the first time since the battle began, he felt like a sergeant again instead of prey.

  "I'll draw its attention," Ace called out, his voice carrying the weight of command that had once directed Marines through many an ambush. "Rachel, analyze weak points. Marcus, launch another mental assault when I give the signal. Olivia..." He hesitated, watching her dance between the monster's strikes with disturbing grace. "Just keep doing... whatever that is."

  Each of them nodded, shouting various forms of agreement as Ace settled into his stance. Out of instinct, he almost reached for the rifle that wasn’t at his side. Briefly, he closed his eyes and made himself focus inward.

  That was when he heard them—the shadows.

  The Shadow Realm whispered at the edges of his consciousness, but translating that whisper into something tangible was another matter entirely.

  Even though he had his crimson sword, it was a close-range weapon when he needed something that could kill from afar. He wouldn’t be able to get close enough to use his sword before the damned monster poisoned him with a twig or spike or whatever other deadly medleys it had swimming around in that enchanted pile of yard trimmings.

  Duskblade Manifestation was the only thing he could use right now. If he could summon daggers, then he could throw them.

  "Come on," he growled, extending his hand and willing the Duskblade to form. Nothing materialized but wisps of shadow that dissipated between his fingers like smoke. The System had given him these abilities, but he sure would’ve appreciated a fucking instruction manual.

  The ground trembled, the thunder getting closer, and his eyes opened just as the Carnage Fiend lurched forward. Evidently, it had sensed his momentary vulnerability. Ace dodged a sweeping branch by mere inches, the razor-sharp bark shredding his sleeve and drawing a thin line of blood across his forearm.

  "Any day now," he muttered, focusing his full attention on the palm of his hand. Though he had no idea what he was doing, he tried imagining the weight of a hilt in his palm, like the axes he used to throw for fun in his downtime on the base.

  This time, the shadows around his hand darkened, coalesced, only to scatter again as his concentration wavered. His training had taught him to field strip an M4 blindfolded, but manifesting a blade from another dimension was apparently above his pay grade.

  No.

  No, he could do this.

  A flare of warning flashed in the back of his mind, and he ducked on impulse. A branch swiped past him, and the creature's attack forced him into a clumsy roll. He came up on one knee, jaw clenched, his frustration boiling into rage. The others needed him to be more than just another boot stumbling through the dark. They needed a leader with functioning weapons.

  He ducked behind a rock for cover, cursing under his breath as he tried and failed to summon the damned dagger.

  “C’mon,” he muttered through gritted teeth as another branch swiped past him, missing the tip of his head by inches. “C’mon!”

  In a flash of memory, he recalled his team under siege in that airplane hangar. The patter of bullets. The shouts of warning. The screams echoing in the distance as a massacre took place somewhere out of sight.

  He thought of his squad, and in that moment, he had a renewed sense of purpose. Of focus. Of drive.

  Something shifted in his awareness—not a physical sensation, but rather a mental one, like remembering the combination to a lock he had once forgotten. The shadows around his outstretched hand twisted violently, condensing into something solid that fell perfectly into his grip.

  A Duskblade.

  Ace grinned in victory.

  Finally.

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