The third rock missed its mark, skimming past the bandit's shoulder and disappearing into the trees. Zach cursed under his breath, his arm already burning from the frantic throws. He took a moment to steady his breathing, trying to ignore the pain that shot through his muscles. The two remaining bandits fanned out.
One of them, a wiry man with wild eyes, snarled. He moved with unnatural speed, almost blurring as he darted toward Zach. A chill ran down Zach's spine as the bandit closed in, his expression twisted with fury.
Zach barely had time to react. The bandit lunged at him, their bodies clashing with a force that nearly knocked Zach off his feet. He felt the air leave his lungs as the bandit's arm wrapped around him, the strength in the wiry frame surprising.
"Who are you? Who sent you?" the bandit screamed, his face twisted in fury. "Why are you getting in our way?!"
Zach's expression remained unreadable, his eyes locking with the bandit's. He didn't answer, his silence only seeming to enrage the man further. He struggled against the bandit's grip, his focus unwavering."
The bandit's face contorted with rage. Panic surged as Zach struggled, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to do something—fast.
He coughed hard, his chest heaving as he expelled a dense clump of stone he had absorbed earlier. The material tumbled out, gritty and raw, and he staggered forward, gasping for air. His throat burned from the effort, each breath feeling like fire in his lungs. That gasp wasn't wasted.
*Air and stone… I can work with this.*
His fingers steadied as he compressed the mix internally. As the bandit lunged again, Zach hurled the crude mixture downward. A crackling boom erupted, filling the air with thick, choking smoke.
The bandits shouted, their shouts muffled in the dense haze. Zach didn't wait to see if it worked. He spun on his heels, almost stumbling, and sprinted into the forest, adrenaline propelling every step. His legs burned, his feet pounding against the uneven ground.
The forest blurred around him as he ran, the trees twisting into dark shapes. He absorbed bits of bark, dirt, even stray fragments of iron-rich stones as he fled.
It wasn't perfect, but it gave him options—options he desperately needed. He stumbled briefly, catching himself on a branch before pushing forward.
Behind him, the bandits were relentless. Their shouts grew louder, closer. One of them was faster—far faster—his rapid footsteps cutting through the underbrush. Zach grunted under his breath, his lungs burning from exertion. He couldn't keep running like this. He needed more time, more distance. But they were gaining.
The world seemed to explode behind him as a knife sliced through the air, catching his shoulder. Pain lanced through his body, and he cried out, nearly losing his footing. He stumbled, the sharp agony blurring his vision for a moment. Zach gritted his teeth, pushing the pain aside. The bandit lunged forward, this time wielding a club. Zach barely ducked in time, the weapon whistling past his head, missing by inches.
With a furious grunt, Zach slammed his fist into the ground. Smoke and a sticky resin erupted, the resin latching onto the bandit's clothes and hardening rapidly.
"What the hell is this?!" the bandit shouted, his eyes widening in panic as he struggled against the sticky substance. He coughed, trying to rip the hardened resin off, but it clung to him like a second skin.
Zach didn't stop. He grabbed a nearby rock, one twice the size of his head.
"You're not getting away!" the bandit snarled, still trying to free himself. Zach's expression hardened, his grip tightening around the rock.
His strength surprised him but he didn't have the time to appreciate it. Zach quickly hurled it into the man's chest.
The impact sent the bandit sprawling.
"You have no idea what're getting involved in!" the bandit gasped, his voice weak as he tried to push Zach off.
Zach ignored him, his focus solely on ending the fight. He pounced, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder as he wrestled the knife away and drove his knee into the bandit's stomach, forcing the air out of him with a guttural gasp. Zach twisted the man's arm awkwardly, struggling to keep his grip as the bandit thrashed beneath him.
Zach's own movements were clumsy, his lack of experience painfully obvious as he fumbled to keep the bandit pinned. He raised the knife, his hand shaking slightly, before bringing the hilt down with more desperation than precision. It struck the bandit's head, the impact enough to daze him. The bandit groaned, his body going limp as he collapsed into the dirt, finally unconscious.
Blood smeared his hands, his heart pounding in his ears, but Zach didn't have time to think about it. He forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he looked around.
Another bandit charged from the left, screaming, his weapon raised.
"You're dead, kid!" the bandit yelled, his face twisted with rage. Zach's eyes widened, his body moving on instinct. He reached out, absorbing more material from the ground.
"Not today," Zach muttered under his breath. His body moved faster than his thoughts, enhanced reflexes propelling him into a counterattack. He threw a handful of soil, the grit catching the bandit in the eyes, disorienting him just long enough for Zach to deliver a swift kick to his knee.
The bandit let out a strangled cry as he collapsed, his knee buckling beneath him.
Two down.
Zach took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving. The third bandit wasn't as careless. He circled Zach cautiously, his blade glinting in the dim light. Zach could feel the exhaustion setting in, his muscles aching, his shoulder throbbing. He needed a moment to think, but the bandit wasn't giving him one.
Zach's chest heaved as he formulated another mixture, his thoughts sluggish. His movements were slower now, his injuries dragging him down. He could feel the blood trickling down his arm, each pulse of pain reminding him of how close he was to the edge.
The bandit lunged, his movements calculated and precise. Zach barely sidestepped, his body screaming in protest. He released another smoke burst, hoping to confuse his attacker. The thick smoke billowed around them, and Zach used the momentary cover to back away, his eyes scanning the ground for something—anything—he could use. Nothing. He had to use what was already in his body.
He thought quickly.
He mixed resin with water from the organic material he had absorbed earlier, creating a crude acidic concoction. The water helped activate certain natural compounds in the resin, causing a chemical reaction that produced a mild acid.
The bandit's silhouette emerged from the smoke, his eyes narrowed, and Zach acted. He hurled the acidic mixture, the liquid sizzling as it splashed across the man's arm. The bandit screamed, dropping his weapon, and Zach didn't hesitate. He slammed a rock into the side of the man's head, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Zach staggered backward, blood dripping from his wounds. His entire body screamed in protest, every muscle burning with exhaustion. He turned to face the final bandit. But the man stood frozen, his face pale, eyes wide with fear.
"You… what are you?" the bandit stammered, his voice trembling.
Zach didn't answer. He didn't need to. Whatever the man saw—bloodied, battered, but still standing—it was enough. The bandit turned and bolted, crashing through the forest as fast as his legs could carry him.
Zach exhaled sharply, his knees threatening to give out. He leaned against a tree, his vision blurring for a moment. His system pulsed again, notifying him of his injuries, his rising level. He ignored it. There wasn't time to bask in survival.
*The kid.*
He forced his legs to move, each step a battle against the pain that radiated through his body. The forest felt endless, each tree blending into the next as he pushed forward. By the time he reached the clearing, his vision was swimming, dark spots dancing in his sight. But the sight before him hit harder than any of the bandits' blows.
The boy knelt in the grass, his tiny frame wracked with sobs. He clung to the lifeless bodies of his parents, his small hands shaking as he tried to nudge them awake. "Please," the boy whimpered. "Please wake up. Don't leave me."
Zach froze. Words choked in his throat. What could he say? What should he say? Nothing would make this better.
He dropped to the ground with a dull thud, his back leaning against a tree. The surrounding grass swayed gently in the breeze, its gentle movement almost serene. The bodies, however, lay still, untouched by the wind. Above, the sky remained a vivid blue, the sun shining warmly, indifferent to the scene below.
Zach pressed a hand to his head, his fingers curling into his hair. He had faced loss before—a lot of his relatives died. But it was death caused by illness. He never had someone taken away from him through murder, nor has he ever comforted someone who experienced that.