Chapter 58. Venocoil.

  Sid rolled with a cough. The woods were spinning—that’s alright at least Fenrir was running that way. He blinked heavily peering into the pines. Watching the shadow leap over a fallen log. He thought he seen that fallen tree pull away. Dragging off that way somewhere over there. He was so nauseous now. Every time that rattle bounced from the trees. That numbing sickness washed him over.

  “Keep after Skeeter, Fenrir.” The brave mustache grumbled. Sid attempt to crawl for a nearby tree. Those horrible rattles hummed through his core. He felt so numb. Body heavy. Like crawling through water. Breathing was even difficult now. He gasped between each shaking rattle.

  It was there. He could feel it. Not the sensation of presence, but physically, he could feel it.

  He was heavier than ever. Felt like boulders were weighing him down. Pinning him to the ground. Muscles in his arms throbbed as he pushed against the mud. He strained pushing to his back. It was a heated battle but he did it. Sitting up he rolled his head.

  Six bright yellow eyes with narrow pupils stare back at him. Massive hood inflated and full. Displaying a mind numbing pattern. Sid’s eye nearly rolled at the sight. A split tongue flicked vividly. A moist pop and a jaw unhinged swaying loosely, showing off a mouth full of fangs.

  This was without a doubt the biggest fucking snake Sid had ever seen—easily a Man-eater. Full of shit. Abram was full of shit. If Sid somehow managed to fight his way out of this he was going smack Abram.

  Sid sighed, he hated the forest and the myths he believed to be nothing more than just that. A myth—well as far as I’m concerned the only thing that separates myth from reality is how the tale was told.

  He tried to lift his numb dead arm over his gut, straining to reach for Redemption—who here has ever been locked in sleep paralysis, you know that feeling when you’re desperately trying to lift an arm, that how Sid’s arms felt right now.

  The huge serpent started coiling. Saliva. Venom. Acid. Whatever it was it beaded at the point of each fang. Sprinkling over that thick plump meal the snake had found.

  Oh boy. How delicious this would be. Just look at all the meat on this sucker. The Venocoil would be satisfied for the season. My oh my what a lucky day. The serpent rattled that massive tail with delight. acidic venom dripping from the many long fangs, splashing on and around Sid. What a appetizing sound that hiss was.

  Smoke hissed and sizzled. Scales weaving a coat that could curl the hair of a seaman, started to burn. Not just that. He started to feel warmth at his side. Gradually evolving into a heated burn. It was sharp almost searing now.

  That venom that drip. It must have been highly acidic. The liquid hurt—or well it did hurt. Sid didn’t notice it so much anymore. Anytime that rattle pulsed and shook his bones. He forgot about it just that much more. Every time he caught a glance of the hood. He never minded the sting of the drip. Whenever he tried for a breath and the coil tightened. He could only focus on another gasp for air.

  The serpent slither right behind him. gently working the large man upright tightening its coils with each flexing. The thick sappy substance drip over his tentacled hood and shoulders. Sid was fading in and out. Those vibrations were mind-blowing, not so much sickening. But more pleasing. Satisfying. He had never been so relaxed. And those colors—gods don’t get him started on those glorious colors. All swirling and dancing and pulsing. He couldn’t feel the acid biting the back of his neck. He couldn’t feel the pricks melting the flesh of his shoulders. That snake had long started the dissolving procedure.

  Sid could only watch the lovely colors. It reminded him of a warm fire. Smelting the metals before being forged into the blade. Sid loved working metals. The feeling of a hot and hard rod in his hands just felt so right. Getting a nice grip on a long shaft—of iron. Then getting to it. Pounding that tool until he sweat—uhh his hammer of course. Oh how he would jerk it up and down too. Sid had some damn mighty stars in Metal-Works—what did you think I was talking about—you thought what? ….get out.

  Sid smiled, a half hooded eye smile even the taunting gem lay in the hem of the eyepatch. That bright exploding pattern also reminded him of how his workshop had burned to nothing. How only moments later, his son Clayton had been killed. All because an unaware stupid token of the game. A monster mind-warped by the greedy god Briareos.

  Oh how that rattle—rattled him. It literally rolled his guts. A sick bubble popped somewhere in that big man. A foul heat crawled up his esophagus, igniting his throat. Sid rolled his head and spewed.

  Honestly he was kind of thankful it was that gross black shit he was always hacking up. He didn’t know what it was—but that shit ran its course in just that single mouthful.

  The Venocoil hissed wildly. Unraveling only just this much—well only just this much, was all the only just this much Sid needed.

  Sid took a quick breath—it was kind of a just been introduced to air, kind of breath—before calling for his blade. “Redemption!”

  His bellowing call carried across the trees. The chilling red hue ripped from inside the jacket. Cutting through the coat. Slicing deep into the Venocoil scales. Shredding and shredding. Seeking for the hand that called.

  The serpent let out an odd, gurgled hiss. Quickly unraveling the man as fast as it possibly could. Fore the chilling blade of Redemption was doing great damage. Tearing through so much of that mighty serpent—he couldn’t see it, but had he, he would have seen that that green bar above the Venocoil was flashing like an ember clinging for life.

  Sid fell to the ground. Venocoil circling its prey. Redemption tore through the side of the serpent, slicing the air until Sid clasp the handle.

  Sid dug the tip into the dirt. Kneeling against the blade. He wheezed with a cough.

  Venocoil lifted. Inflating it’s hood. Rattling that tail. It—it no longer effected him. Sid strained his eye and flexed his eyebrow. Shook his head a few times and looked up at the snake. He wasn’t sure if that bit of the legend was true or not, but if it was, it was happening in real time. That bit of enduring torture—that Primal star helped the rapid evolving in the skill of Tolerance. Those entrancing rattles were as how some you would describe as ‘pointless'. A glance at his coat—the melted scales, they were regrowing? Self mending? Fabricating flaws? Sid didn’t know what was happening—honestly does he ever.

  Sid took a good grip with two hands, his wrists flared, and the red chill waved across the blade of Redemption.

  The hefty man, wrapped in his tentacled cloak, throw a nervous glance at the massive snake, meeting the six bright yellow eyes. Sid’s heart raced. This was it. Was it going to be him or the giant coiler. Which of these two will continue to wander the woods. Which of these two will become the rightful heir to the lost prayer of hope.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  He waited cautiously as the serpent followed his movements. Sid sensed the tightening of muscles. The great snake reared up. Striking.

  Sid spun. Barely quickly enough to avoid the razor fangs. A burly head and hood knocked him to the ground mid-spin. The snake gargled a wet hiss, turned and lunged again. The cold steel of Redemption bit hard—I’m talking about hundreds maybe thousands of pounds of unfiltered raw pressure.

  Sid slammed Redemption into the top of that nasty snout. And he clung for life. The Venocoil draw back. Now lifting him. Sid looked down. Easily twice his height in the air. Only the grip of his sword holding him up. The blade shift, hilt grinding against rough facial scales.

  Flailing about trying to shake the man from its face. It didn’t matter how tight he held on. The blade started to wiggle. However, with each sharp grinding movement. Redemption was cutting deep into the tough cartilage. Every time he tried for a tighter grip. The blade would lift small layers of scale. Never noticing that bar flash above with each digging grind.

  During all the thrashing and odd bar flashing, a sharp pain erupted in Sid’s leg. He didn’t need to look. He knew just from the sensation. It was a fang. He knew it would happen when he lost foot placement. The snake thrashed about so much he whipped right up against the long sharp tooth. Nudging its way comfortably into his padded trousers—no closer. The tooth was wearing him.

  There was a wet release after a hard shake. Sid tumbled in the air. Crashing against a tree, slamming to the ground. He had to ignore the pain in his back—nope couldn’t do it.

  Sid rolled in the dirt before holding his lower back. Chest heaving. Something felt broken.

  He could hear the Venocoil dragging closer. Turning his sights, aching to a high knee stand. He shot a hand out, mustache barking. “Redemption!”

  The great snake never seen it coming. Red smoke flared. Right there in its short snout. The blade ripped free from its face, causing the snake to jerk and thrash. It wouldn’t be enough though—not even close. That bar may have been flashing dramatically—but it was still very much long and green.

  That missing a finger hand caught the sword slashing through the air. Sid pulled his tentacles over his head and readied himself—however he was bit slow, speed was not on his side.

  By the time he found foot placement that damn Venocoil was striking again. Connecting.

  Scales exploded from the coat while many sharp ivory teeth found a cozy spot. Some in his arm. A few in the shoulder. Sid was thankful for that thick skin—not the coat. If Sid wasn’t a heavy boy there was a very good chance some of those fangs could have done some serious damage—not that that bite didn’t hurt because it did.

  He could feel it. He clenched his jaw. Grinding his teeth. His face pinched tight, before letting out a scream. “GAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

  The venom the Venocoil produced was incredible. He was sure his muscles were dissolving. It felt like his bones were melting. Everything from his left shoulder down to his fingertips was on fire. The hottest internal heat he’d ever been graced with. He panicked.

  Wincing with a tight jaw. He glared down at the snake tightening it mouth. Pumping more of that shit into his body. Sid growled at the row of three bright yellow eyes. Thin pupils staring up at him—take one—do it—its right there—grab that fucking eye and take it!

  Sid roared a primal scream and dug his hand right into one of those eyes. Ripping a fistful of chilled goop and scale.

  Before the monster had time to release. Sid punched another.

  -POP-

  Like stepping on a fat green caterpillar. Nasty gunk ruptured from under the pressure of that fist. Bursting like the ripe berries he showed Clayton to pick.

  The Venocoil reared back. Letting the fat man fall. Split tongue tasted the air a few times. Detecting. Finding the man again. The snake reared up. Striking for him. Grabbing that heavy guy it thrashed like Fenrir with the old boot, before losing grip. The snake lost grip just the same too. Just like the boot, Sid flailed through the air.

  Crashing to the ground Sid rolled. He scooted for a tree. Quickly nudging himself up against it, rotating himself out of sight. The toxin in his shoulder was raw now. Same with his leg. He looked for a green bar of his own—he never seen it. He was definitely injured—he was just hoping a bar above his head would let him know the severity of it—like he knows how to read that bar. Why didn’t he have one though? Or does he? How does he see it? Gods maybe he should have gone back for Abram.

  The dragging noise was aggressive. The snake slither from there to there. He could hear it. Same with the rattle. He didn’t notice it before but the birds. There were so many birds laying on the ground. Dark winged crows to vibrant songbirds. Even the chipmunks fell from the branches. That rattle. The Venocoil was hypnotizing everything in this area. This must be a ‘high tier monster’ he thought. That’s what Abram would have called it—possibly.

  Turning to look around the tree he was smacked repeatedly by that split tongue. The tentacles on the hood tried to feel back. “Oh shit!” said the startled mustache. Sid jolted. Trying to scurry around the base of the tree.

  A gurgled hiss took chase. Thick scaled tube of a body curled around the tree. Climbing into the branches. A splitting flicked and tasted. Sensing the man—where is he going.

  Collapsing behind a tree, Sid couldn’t feel his chest. He coughed every other breath. Was it the venom? Or was he just old and out of shape? Either way he had to stop. He couldn’t keep running—damnation. What the fuck is going to do? His sword. Where’s Redemption?

  “REDEMPTION!” He screamed for the weapon. A chilling red fumed from somewhere beyond.

  That somewhere beyond was actually just there. Right there behind the Venocoil. See it? Here it comes.

  The blade of Redemption came ripping through a thick section of the serpent—honestly if the massive coiler wasn’t in the midst of striking for Sid, Redemption probably wouldn’t have hit the snake.

  The blade ripped through the back half of the head. Slicing down a patch of teeth.

  The monster missed its target. Sid spun with a beautiful catch along the handle. Keeping the motion he completed a full rotation with a downward chop—now I know what your thinking, and I know I feel the same way, because just how badass would that have been had he just beheaded the snake like that—but come on, let’s be real this is Sid we’re talking about he completely missed too, yeah I know. How do you miss a snake that size—Sid manages.

  The beast continued to slither the base of a sturdy pine. It than coiled the tree. Hood inflated. Jaw hanging. It released a nasty hiss. Taunting. Challenging. This was it. Only one was leaving.

  Sid thought for a moment. Careful with his movements, not wanting to be make sudden reactions. He knew the snake was studying him as well. Although all he could think of is what Scarlett had said. ‘the threads are charmed, you don’t need to worry about them ripping.’

  Now may be a great time to test that. He bolted for the snake. Same was true for the creature. It tucked it’s hood and dipped with a rapid slither.

  Sid came to a sudden stop and positioned—but not for a swing. The serpent instinctively reacted. It too stopped. Reared up and hissed.

  Sid threw the blade as hard he could. A good, strong, over hand throw. One that reached far behind his left shoulder. The snake had no other option but to catch the blade in the back of its mouth—nice throw. Redemption was pinned deep.

  The snake thrashed for a moment, then again, and again. Smashing into trees trying to free the weapon. Each hiss spit a dark sappy substance. Each thrash caused bursting gush.

  This was Sid’s moment—and honestly like truly heart to heart, he wasn’t sure if he could. He wasn’t sure if he remembered how. He wasn’t sure if he would have time. He thought about it to long. The snake was coming for him.

  “Redemption!” A hand reached out. Wrist wraps smoky red.

  The same smoke rolled from the Venocoils maw. Seeping through the slits of its nostrils. The bar the float above its head flashed wildly. A red glow brightened under the scales—right there under the jaw. Scales and sappy blood burst from the glow. Redemption came ripping from within.

  Sid ran for his blade. Screaming Redemption. Catching the handle he continued to advance for the Venocoil—that bar above head was deep red now and small—like self conscious small. From his experience with the Widowmakers the snake was close to being finished.

  The serpent reared up with a hiss. Lunging for the mass in a tentacled hood—missed—only a mouthful of dirt and a pressuring bite from above. There it was. A forever fading. The long dark.

  Sid jumped just before the snake could strike. Landing with all his weight. He drove the blade into the skull of the coiler. He pressed as deep, as hard as he could. Grinding and twisting. Only when the final nerve contracted and released and the flashing bar dissolve to nothing, did he do the same.

  Exhausted he let go of the sword. Falling from the head of the Venocoil. He slumped to the ground. Sitting against the reptilian face. Looking at the lifeless pupils staring back at him. It made him uneasy—so he reached up and closed them. It was an apologetic notion. He didn’t necessarily want to destroy these creatures. He didn’t want to take the lives of the forest. He just wanted to return home. He just wanted to get by.

  He would be searching for Fenrir and Skeeter in just a moment. He only need to catch his breath first. He had to let the venom settle. He just need to close his eye—just for a moment, he’s very tired.