CHAPTER 7 – OUTMATCHED
Looking at the spear rushing toward him, Apolo did the only thing he could think of. As fast as he could, he extended both hands and grabbed the shaft, stopping it just inches away from his neck.
The force behind the spear was terrifying. Even gripping it with both hands, Apolo's entire body was lifted off the ground and hurled backward, crashing into the cave wall. The impact shook the whole mountain.
A deafening BANG echoed across the forest—loud enough that even the adventurers hundreds of meters away froze in shock.
"What the hell?" Derek shouted, instantly sprinting toward the source of the sound. His hand flew to his crossbow.
The others exchanged alarmed looks and followed him, weapons drawn.
Forcing his body out of the cracked mountain wall, the spear still clutched in his trembling hands and blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, Apolo frowned in confusion. His arms ached from the impact.
Rustle… rustle…
From the thick bushes ahead, a group of hefty figures emerged, each holding a weapon. Their silhouettes were massive, distorted by partial transformations.
The leading figure was huge and half-transformed. His arms were unnaturally long and covered with dense hair, like an ape. Every step he took caused the ground to tremble faintly, small pebbles bouncing with each footfall.
Apolo didn't need anyone to tell him—this was the one who threw the spear.
He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his anger down. There were too many of them. Fighting recklessly would get him killed.
He clenched his fists so hard that popping sounds echoed from his knuckles.
"Why did you attack me? Do you know you almost killed me?"
His voice came out low, rough, almost like a suppressed roar.
"You little peasant—you're still alive," the bulky man replied with a strange half-laugh. His half-transformed mouth was wide, filled with razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in the moonlight.
Apolo blinked, confused.
Who wants me dead now?
Sky City survivors want me dead. The village chief wants me dead. But who else…?
Before he could piece it together, the group had already surrounded him in a loose circle. Their eyes tracked his every move like predators sizing up prey.
His heartbeat quickened. He stepped back slightly, feeling the broken cave wall against his spine.
"What did I do to you? Why are you after my life?" he demanded, voice cracking slightly.
The leader simply scowled and pointed at him with a thick, hairy finger.
"You escaped from our chief once. This time, we're here to finish the job."
"Yeah! We want your head!" another man barked, voice thick with hostility. He hefted a crude axe, testing its weight.
Everything clicked for Apolo.
The village chief sent them.
His anger surged. He spun the spear once in his hand, feeling its weight, and said coldly,
"Then you can take my head… if you can take my life."
Truthfully, he didn't want this fight. Ever since his awakening, it felt as if fate itself refused to let him breathe. One danger after another—the chief, the centipedes, and now a group of hybrids coming for his head.
If he had fought the chief back then—even if he lost—at least he wouldn't have suffered through hell with those centipedes. And this… this wouldn't be happening.
Whistle… whistle…
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Apolo looked up and saw a metallic disk spinning toward him like a circular saw. He tilted his head slightly, feeling the wind as it passed, dodging it by a hair.
BANG!
Kicking off the ground and sending leaves and dust swirling upward, Apolo charged straight toward the leader. His grip tightened on the spear.
BOOOOM…
But a massive metal fist slammed into him mid-dash before he closed half the distance. The impact drove the air from his lungs. He was launched over the mountain, tumbling through the air like a broken puppet.
BAAAANG…
He crashed into the ground on the other side, slid several meters through dirt and rocks, and spat out a mouthful of bloody sand. His head throbbed painfully. Stars danced in his vision.
Only now did it hit him—in all seventeen years of his life, he had never learned how to fight. Not really. He had strength, speed, instincts… but no technique. No training.
He was a child swinging a sword he didn't know how to use.
Whoosh…
A shadow blocked the moonlight. Apolo looked up in horror as a massive figure descended toward him, blotting out the stars.
He rolled aside just in time.
BOOOOOM!
The ground exploded. A crater over ten meters wide appeared where the figure landed, dirt and rocks spraying outward like shrapnel.
"A bear…?" Apolo muttered as he saw the hulking creature straighten itself—easily three meters tall, covered in brown fur, with claws the size of daggers.
Around him, more of the men were transforming. Bones cracked. Skin rippled. Fur sprouted. The air filled with the scent of musk and aggression.
Looking up the small mountain, he spotted the spear still embedded at the peak. If I can just reach it—
He bent his knees, preparing to leap for it—
But before he even lifted off the ground, thick plant roots burst from the earth beneath him and wrapped around his legs, binding him tight. They pulsed with unnatural life, tightening like pythons.
Panic flashed in his eyes. He tried to break free, muscles straining, but before he could muster enough strength—
BANG!
A huge baton smashed into his chest with bone-crushing force.
His body shot like a cannonball into the mountain. The entire structure trembled violently, cracks spreading across its face like spiderwebs, as if it were about to split apart.
Dust and debris rained down.
Apolo slumped at the base of the mountain, gasping for air, ribs screaming in protest. Blood dripped from his mouth.
He was outmatched.
And they were just getting started.