Matthew pushed himself through the forest, sounds of chaos up ahead. He stopped just at the lair of the Pale maw.
The monstrosity was gone, but not hard to track. The soil paved and crushed in its path, some of the smaller trees pushed aside in its ruinous wake.
A Black hound's corpse was left behind with a single arrow through its head.
It seemed like a lucky shot, but Matthew was overjoyed at the very least.
Two blue glowing gems were beside the creature, they were ephemeral, almost floating above the black soil.
He picked them up and crushed them quickly, a torrent of glowing blue dust streaming into his chest.
Letting out a relieved breath as the comfortable cold energy of the Spirit coin filled his being. He quickly opened his status and drew two stat cards.
The first was an easy pick of the stat card swift, there was a man in long cloaks streaking through the air on the card and it's rank was fair.
The second pick was a little hard, there was Wit, a card with a scholarly man illuminated by a candle and True strike, a lady wielding a wicked dagger.
Increased cognitive function or increased chances of a critical strike.
His blue eyes darted about as he considered different scenarios in his mind. His lip twisted into a scowl as he picked True strike and began running again.
The changes were immediate, he felt like he was flying streaking through the dense forest. He, unfortunately, had to measure his steps to avoid fatigue and twisting his ankle foolishly.
He caught up to the action a minute later. They hadn't baited the Maw into the trap because of its thralls.
They had pulled a bit far away from the Pale maw to avoid its deadly tentacles and engage the enthralled monsters in battle.
There were five thralls, two blue beasts, one centipede monstrosity and three mimics. The mimics however didn't change form.
All the thrall seemed slightly slower and less lethal under the command of the Maw. Gareth and his crew took advantage of this fighting viciously.
The maw slowly approached them, it slow creep both eerily silent and loud from the world being broken and pushed aside by its harrowing form.
In the light, it putrid, decaying body was even more horrible.
The holes in its body sputtered and released a heavy smell of death. Matthew locked eyes with Gareth and their struggling group, he rushed towards the bleak monster.
He wound up his hand and threw the brown leather pouch, retreating as the last of the purple dust spreading over the Maw.
Its form pulsed as the small amount of powder spread over its unearthly form. Its stringy tentacles lashed about aggravated, whipping against trees with sharp sounds.
The infected portion of skin fell to the ground like spoiled soup.
Matthew closed his eyes remembering the Maw swallowing his sister's soul.
It was a mimic, but the resemblance was so uncanny his heart shook, her short dark hair fell limply across her face and her normally tanned skin was pale and dotted with sweat.
Her bright blue eyes glazed over, lips quivering with confusion.
Everything about the mimic reminded him of Noa, it was her in every way that mattered. A lone tear dropped down his face as he looked up at the maw.
His cold blue eyes fixed the pale monstrosity with a glare so intense it would have sent anything that could look back running.
The Pale maw had no sense of fear however, just hunger and a strange but slow drive to consume souls. It felt his soul light up out of nowhere and it crawled towards him.
Slow, so mind numbingly slow.
Its tentacles shot towards him, the air whispered as he dodged them. He no longer held back, his fully enhanced movement speed and balance became an eye-stressing dance of precision.
Ten tentacles streamed at him, it had three others separated from its body. Each one was so fast it was hard to track with the naked eyes. The soft leaves part as he tore through them to dodge.
The soft grass cushioned him as he pushed his body to its limits, feeling his bones groan with effort as the wind rushed in his ears.
Matthew followed them and drew their lines of attacks to avoid traps. He led it backwards towards the trap, making sure to keep it close enough to not warrant a division.
If it divided it's body, it would trigger the trap prematurely
He slipped between strikes with practised efficiency, using the trees and obstacles to prevent it from trapping him.
It was slightly predictable, if Matthew offered it openings then it became even easier.
The problem was his lungs. They burned with a horrible, stinging pain.
His legs screamed to stop moving, it became harder and harder to escape the tentacles
Each one promised a swift death as they sung through the air.
The Pale maw never tired. It's pace unhurried.
His death was a promise, one he could not fight against
He finally reached the trap and rushed towards it, the maw wasn't far behind. The ridge was high and sharp, several shovels were scattered on its base.
The stone ridge was brown and hard, the wind whistled in his ears as he ascended the slope.
One last gambit, after that he could only pray for victory.
The maw followed slowly, its long stringy tentacles preceded its white rolling body of cold, rotten flesh. It rippled up the ridge unperturbed by the weight its body put on it.
Matthew let the tentacle get a bit closer, pushing off the hard brown rock he dodged a streaking tentacle waiting for it to just move a bit.
Then he jumped off the edge.
He gripped the rope harder, his breath ragged as he glanced down the near six metres drop and began to descend quickly.
A lone tentacle stretched over the edge observing him carefully. Approximately ten metres from the trap.
Assuming the tentacle was truly thirty meters long, if that estimation was wrong then the explosion would be killing both of them.
He crept down the rope quickly, pained grunts crawling out his burning throat. He glanced up repeatedly at the extending tentacle.
He was almost there, just a short span left. He looked up briefly and screamed.
The tentacle had closed the distance sharply and was just an inch from his right eye.
He let go of the rope suddenly.
Dropping a few feet, he then caught the rope with a pained groan as his left hand pulsed in agony.
He slipped down a few more feet, before jumping down. He began running as the tentacle drew closer.
A thunderous explosion filled the clearing, he fell and gasped as the wave of force hit him.
He crawled upright as the pain and fatigue clouded his eyes for a second.
"Are you really dead?" Matthew rasped.
The rubble that was once a ridge was quiet.
Matthew crept a bit closer, holding his breath and cradling his arm.
A rock fell, but it was just gravity he thought.
Then the rubble began to shake and rise. He frowned.
"I'm not even surprised."