Josh Aratat could still hear David Stormborn's voice echoing in his mind: "There is no antidote in the Kingly System. But if you can bring me a manticore stinger, I can make one for you…"
The words haunted him.
Shammah, his loyal general, lay poisoned—his body pierced by the stingers of multiple manticores before Josh, along with Lola and Ralia Amia, had finally brought the beasts down. Time was no longer a luxury. If Shammah were to survive, Josh needed to find another manticore, sever its tail from the base, and bring it back to David Stormborn, the avatar of the Kingly System interphase.
He didn't have time for second thoughts.
Then he saw it—a lone manticore, distracted in the chaos, its attention caught in the ongoing clash between the remaining beasts and his battling generals. Without hesitation, Josh lunged forward, tightening his grip on the rod in his hand. With all his might, he swung it toward the base of the creature's tail.
The blow missed by a couple of inches, he struck rapidly the second time and it connected—but it was not enough.
The third time was the charm, Just as he allowed a flicker of triumph to cross his face, the manticore twisted unnaturally, as though it had eyes in the back of its skull. Its claw came out of nowhere, raking across Josh's cheek before he could fully dodge. Even with the kingly awareness skill, and his battle-hardened instincts he still wasn't quick enough.
Pain seared through him.
He staggered back, clutching the wound. The poison was already working its way in—he could feel it, cold and crawling, seeping into his blood through the torn flesh of his face.
From the shadows, Lola saw everything.
Her eyes narrowed, fury lighting up her features. She didn't wait for explanation. With a fluid motion, she spun her whip overhead, the air crackling with electric tension. Then she lashed it forward. The whip curled with surgical precision around the third segment of the manticore's scorpion tail.
A heartbeat later, thunder roared through the air.
The manticore exploded into a burst of embers—its body shattered, smoldering fragments scattering like burning petals across the field.
Lola exhaled, pleased.
But she didn't understand.
Josh had never meant to totally annihilate the creature—only to harvest its tail intact without it bursting into flames. That stinger had been his only hope for crafting the antidote.
Still, he smiled at her. A tired, grateful smile. "Thank you," he said simply.
Then, without explaining, he turned away and began to scan the battlefield once more. There had to be another manticore. He needed one—alive, intact, and ripe for the taking.
But something was wrong.
His vision blurred. His limbs felt heavier. The poison was spreading faster than he'd expected. His strength was draining with every step.
If he collapsed now, in the heart of battle, there was no telling what would happen—or how the tide would turn.
And so, with gritted teeth and burning determination, Josh kept moving.
Because failure was not an option.
Miko and Conrad Stan were locked in a deadly dance, surrounded on all sides by six snarling manticores. Their instructions had been clear—strike the third digit of the stingers. But from where they stood, backs to each other and blades flashing, that angle was nearly impossible.
One of the creatures lunged.
Conrad raised his glaive just in time, the metal clanging against the beast's claw with a burst of sparks. He twisted mid-air with practiced precision, using one foot to parry a second strike while grabbing Miko by the arm. With a grunt, he propelled them both upward, leaping free of the tightening circle.
It was a breath of space—just a moment—but Josh Aratat saw it.
From where he stood, barely upright, he recognized the opening. The manticores were momentarily distracted. He could dash in, sever a tail or two, and also kill them the process, lightening the load on Conrad so he could end this madness. Shammah's life also depended on the antidote that would be made if this move was successful.
He tried to run.
But his legs trembled beneath him. The poison was relentless, spreading through his veins like ice. Each step felt heavier than the last. His vision was dimming at the edges, colours dulling into a fog.
From behind, Lola's voice pierced through the chaos.
"Have you been poisoned?"
She didn't need an answer. She could see it in the way his movements faltered, in the pale gleam of sweat on his skin.
Josh didn't waste words. "Forget the third digit. Coil your whip around the base of their tails."
There was something urgent in his tone—raw, commanding.
Lola hesitated, confused. Why the base? That wasn't how they'd been killing these manticores so far. But one look at him—his ashen face, the tremble in his stance—and she nodded.
Without another word, she surged forward.
Her whip uncoiled like a serpent, slicing through the air with a shrill whistle. It dipped low, skimmed the bloodied ground, and then snapped up—wrapping itself around the thick base of not one, but three manticore tails.
She yanked.
With a brutal, almost effortless pull, the tails came loose. Ripped clean off.
The battlefield paused for a heartbeat. Even the manticores around that witnessed this, recoiled in surprise. No one had expected that. The manticores whose tails were yanked fell and died but didn't turn to embers like those whose 3rd digit were cut through.
Josh swayed where he stood, one hand clutched to his side. His voice cracked through the smoke and screams.
"Bring the stingers to me—now!"
Lola didn't think twice. With a flick, she reeled the tails toward herself and dashed across the blood-soaked earth like a gust of wind. She reached him just as his knees buckled, catching his arm and pressing the stingers into his outstretched hands.
Josh collected it and relaxed a bit.
"David Stormborn…" Josh whispered.
There was no flash of light. No thunder. No grand arrival.
But the stingers vanished from his grip—taken, accepted.
Somewhere beyond the veil, the Kingly System avatar had answered.
Lola blinked, still trying to piece together what had just happened. But there was no time for questions. Around them, the battle still raged.
With grim resolve, she turned back to the fray, slashing her whip at any manticore that dared come close to Josh or Shammah. Shammah lay still, unconscious, breathing shallow. Josh, meanwhile, was barely upright, his lips pressed into a determined line, holding on for just a little longer.
The real fight wasn't over.
But the antidote was coming.