Skyborne Raider

I measure and decide to trim it to the final length.

If I somehow fail to cut it off, I'd probably have to leave it here. That would be so stupid—a carcass of a bug with two horns, but one has a hammer attached on top.

Using Harald's combat knife, I start to work. The outer leathery skin is easy enough to cut through, and the wound automatically widens as I glide the sharp blade over it.

After slicing a ring around it, I decide to focus on the hardened part inside.

My right forearm strains, veins bulging, as I continue fiddling under the hot sun.

"Boy." Harald gets up heavily from under the sunshade, supporting himself with a hand on his own thigh. It's clear that he's really hot.

"Use it as an axe, here.."

I place the handle of the knife in his palm.

*Thud, thud, thud*

He starts cutting, and pieces of black matter chip away as the wound deepens.

'Now, finish it yourself,' he says, handing the knife back to me before sitting down next to Astrid. They resume chatting while Mike continues to clean himself.

About a third of the way through, the weight of the hammerhead starts to bend the whole thing to the side. A wild idea sparks.

I can test both the strength of the horn and the hammer’s enchantment.

"Harald?" I hand him the knife back.

"Yeah?" He turns his head slightly, checking on me with one eye.

"Check this out."

I grab the horn just above the cut. Its coarse, leathery surface gives a surprisingly comfortable grip. Tightening my hold on the handle with my right hand, I activate my Focus.

My grip tightens, veins bulging, as my bicep and forearm swell with the strain.

*Crack*

With a loud crack, the horn handle separates from the bug, the hammerhead’s weight multiplying the force.

I raise it up victoriously. The sun reflects off the shiny hammerhead, creating a brilliant glare.

“Epic!" The shine of the hammerhead is matched by the gleam of his teeth as he grins.

"Wanna help me with those wings?” He asks.

The couple now moves out from under the shadow of the wings as he speaks.

“Give it a test?” He turns his head and nods up.

A loud “Huh,” followed by raised eyebrows, and then a nod from me.

He stands up and puts his left leg on the bug, holding the wing cover.

“Why’d you even ask?” I respond cheerfully.

Before my Focus even fades, I reactivate it again. With no sleeves, they can see the transformation in real-time.

I try to be as gentle as possible, having already pushed my arms to their limit.

Then a thought crosses my mind, so I speak up.

“If we die, do we completely heal all our wounds?” I ask suddenly.

The old man seems never to have considered it before. He looks immediately concerned.

I can see from his expression that he’s lost in thought, replaying past events. His eyes dart back and forth as he thinks.

“All the meat we have from the fox now cost me two lives. My wounds were, of course, healed, but...”

He pulls up one leg of his black work trousers, checking his calf.

“Phew. Wow.”

“What?” I ask.

He proceeds to press and feel the bone in his calf and explains.

“I had surgery a long time ago, and there was definitely a scar left.”

“How long ago?” Mike asks.

“When I was a kid, I broke it pretty badly, and it never grew back the same way.”

“There was always this lump.” He presses the flesh in disbelief and massages it with his fingers.

“If you watched me walk for a while, you might notice a slight limp.”

“Strange, I completely forgot about this until now.” He stares into the distance, shaking his head.

“We learn something new every day here,” he states, pulling the wing cover further out and signaling me with his eyes where to swing.

My hammer now has the length of a sledgehammer. I can lean on it like a walking stick.

I feel the weight of it more anyway beside the enchantment, as the center of gravity has shifted.

But despite its size, the horn is light, and my grip is tighter than before.

I swing it over my head with medium force, joining my hands together on top for an extra strong two-handed strike. The handle bends slightly as I strike, so I feel almost no impact on my sore forearms.

*Bong*

The hammerhead flattens the muscular hinge like a pancake.

“How does it feel?” Harald asks curiously.

I lean on my hammer, looking sideways, thinking.

“Uh, to be honest, I feel almost no pressure on my forearms after the blow.”

“Enchantment definitely still works so the weight I feel is still normal, maybe a bit uprised. I can technically now put even more power, to ease the base strain it still has. But it needs some testing.”

I turn my wrist, showing him the most damaged part—the inner side of my forearm. Bruised, covered in scar tissue and scabs, stretch marks radiating from the tips of my fingers to my shoulders.

“I believe that endurance will help me solve this. As the skin gets thicker, the more compressed my muscle mass can be.”

“For now, only some bandages or non-elastic gloves will do.” I explain to the old man.

“Or we could steal or loot,” Mike suggests, raising his eyebrows.

Astrid gives him a strange look.

“Steal from the merchant?” the old man asks, appalled.

"No, I meant... Never mind." Mike realizes there's no way to talk his way out of this argument.

“To be honest, guys, I was coveting some pieces of the armor from that old knight we burned alive.”

“I could imagine wearing his gloves or some lower-half armor. Well, look at my knees.”

“You did what?!” the old man exclaims, frightened and worried.

“Guess you haven’t encountered any humanoid enemies yet.” Mike proceeds to explain everything, including how Pocco got killed, returned, and saved us at the giant, where I died.

I keep replaying that memory. Fear was a factor before, but not now. My veins bulge just from the thought.

I want to annihilate that thing. Pulverize it to dust. But before that, I want it to suffer, if it’s even possible for it to suffer. One day, I’ll torture it so badly.

My hammer is thirsty, and since the giant seemed to be made of some sort of stone or rock, well, what’s the greatest enemy of rock? A brick masonry hammer!

“You alright, Mark?” The old man leans toward me.

I breathe heavily, spitting through clenched teeth.

“Let’s finish what we started and get out of here. Either we dry out during the day or freeze to death at night.”

If they only knew, I can generate heat. But this isn’t the right time or place to reveal my secrets. I bet everyone here has a few.

I think this to justify why I still haven’t told them about the Bonus skill.

My arms grip the hot hammer handle. Its black color doesn’t help, absorbing the heat easily. I take a huge swing from behind my head, and the pancake shatters to pieces.

A giant wing cover finally comes off. I’m curious how Harald holds it so effortlessly. It reminds me of movie props, where characters carry giant boulders that are actually made of lightweight styrofoam.

“Catch!”

He throws it at Mike. Astrid covers herself instinctively. Even I flinch at the flying object, as it’s about the size of a door.

Mike catches it without even looking in Harald’s direction.

Damn, that’s impressive.

It must be super light. He spins it and changes his grip with ease. There are some crevices inside where it can be held like a shield.

“We have two of them! Who wants the other?”

Mike hands his to Astrid and starts showing her how to hold and position it properly.

“I’m good. I’ve chosen my way,” he says to Harald. Then Harald looks at me.

“I think you, as a ranger, should have one,” I reason with the old man.

“But...” He continues.

“My body is a shield. I’ve chosen my path as well.” I answer him calmly and resolutely.

He nods with respect.

“But I have a small request for a while.” I raise the corner of my mouth, letting a small laugh escape. My eyes land on my left knee, and I raise my eyebrows.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He responds with a wide smile.

He grips the second wing and positions it for me to strike.

*Bang and crack*

I smash the second hinge to a pancake and destroy it with my second hit.

He spins the shield around a few times and stores it in his inventory.

“Smash here and here,” he shows me around the bug's body, mostly its legs. There are a few overlapping pieces, like fish scales.

I knock some of them off with a hit, and he picks out the most suitable parts. Handing them to me, he tells me to try them on for size.

“Should I stuff them into my pants? Or...?” I ask, uncertain.

“No, silly you,” he laughs, as does Mike.

“We’ll use some belts from the car.”

“What car?” Mike and Astrid look confused at each other.

“I’ll explain later.”

“I need to focus on where it could be because I am...” He turns around on the spot.

Suddenly, he starts jogging up the nearest dune. Reaching the top, he abruptly stops.

He stands there, staring.

The wooden pick he’s been chewing on falls from his mouth as he gapes.