Having cut down two volleys of tentacles, Alistair sprinted towards the Feracule. If he were to engage it in a battle of attrition, that would only create more opportunities for him to make a mistake and give it the upper hand; it would be best to kill it quickly, before it realized what threat he posed.

Besides, he wanted to get back to the others quickly. He had no doubt that Loid and Jacqueline could handle themselves, but the fewer chances they gave Roy to play more tricks, the better.

As Alistair approached it, the Feracule did not send out a third volley of attacks. Instead it paused, becoming perfectly still for a split-second, and then suddenly erupted into movement, its numerous tentacles whipping and thrashing about in a whirlwind of motion. The bladed ends of some of the outermost tentacles cut deep gashes into the ground and trees around it, forcing Alistair to stop in his tracks.

Its whirling and thrashing continued for several seconds, the area of destruction shrinking along with the tentacles, until finally they all came to a perfect stop in unison. Revealing itself at the center of the mass of tentacles, held up by a half-dozen of them embedded into the ground, was a large, lumpy mass of flesh, its surface featureless except for a single eye and, below that, a circular beak like that of an octopus.

Emerging from nearly every inch of the surface of the creature’s body were numerous tentacles, nearly a hundred in total, each shortened to just a few feet and straightened out like spines, save for the few that were holding the beast up—or that lay wounded on the ground, stretched out lifelessly from the main body.

The Feracule paused, remaining completely still for a moment as if adjusting to its new shape. Then it resumed the rush of motion all at once, extending all of its tentacles in unison, blotting out the stars behind it as its limbs curved towards Alistair in unison.

Undaunted, Alistair dug his feet into the mud and launched forward.

One on hand, this was incredibly bad—the Feracule was launching an all-out attack, and with the sheer number of limbs it had at its disposal, it could very likely entrap him in a position where he couldn’t avoid taking a hit even with the perfect foresight provided by Recess. Not only that, but keeping track of nearly a hundred limbs would massively increase the length of time Alistair must spend in Recess. This fight could take hours—no, days, even.

On the other hand, the Feracule’s all-out assault had left its central core relatively unguarded. If he could somehow get past the attacking tentacles, he would only have to cut through a few limbs at the base to reach the main body and kill it.

In order to accomplish that, the first thing he needed to do was to somehow separate himself from the majority of the tentacles.

He slid on his heels as the mass of tentacles rushed forward, swiftly pivoting and leaping to the left. He could hear nearly a dozen nails and fists slam into the mud just behind him. A few extra tentacles avoided plunging into the ground, racing through the air just behind him; ahead, several more corrected their course, curving to place themselves between him and the road’s edge.

Unfortunately for the Feracule, this adjustment had come too late. The tentacles stretched out in front of him, but they had no time to turn and face him before he charged forward­, his sword flashing in front of him as he diced each obstacle, spurts of blood caking his arms as he pushed through without pause.

Having traveled for nearly half a day, Alistair’s group had left the forested region, stopping at its edge to turn in for the night. The area here was less flat, the road itself being in a small recess with mounds of dirt and stacked roots on either side, but the bloodred willows still dominated the sides of the path.

That was to say, while it was more dangerous than doing so in the forested flatlands, it was still possible for a Human to step off the path here.

Alistair leapt up towards the small ridge along one side of the road, stamping his foot atop a willow root. He kicked off of it and onto the raised land, immediately turning right, closing in more on the Feracule.

A few tentacles followed him up and between the trees, and the Feracule had seemingly had the sense to keep at least a few tentacles in store, shooting several from its side into the forest as well. The smooth limbs wound deftly between the branches and leaves, pursuing Alistair like a pack of rabid aerial snakes.

Alistair ducked past low-hanging branches, hoping to get the tentacles tangled, but they hardly slowed in their pursuit, curving around the branches almost effortlessly. With a grunt, Alistair pivoted to another strategy.

With two tentacles right behind him, he ran close to a tree, entering Recess between each step to land perfectly calculated steps on the jagged roots beneath his feet. Staying close to the trunk, he swiftly rounded it. A bladed tentacle shot for his head from the front, seemingly hoping to catch him off-guard; he easily parried it, finishing a full circle around the tree.

Now in front of him were the smooth lengths of the two tentacles aiming for his back; he bisected them both with a single downward swing of his blade. As they fell, the bladed tentacle from just before shot at him for another attack, having rounded the tree from the other side. He ducked below it, the blade whizzing just an inch from his ear and its blade slamming into the bark of the tree.

The bloodred wood almost seemed to wail as it was pierced, the brittle bark of its teardrop-shaped tumors easily giving way. Out came a spray of the tree’s sap, coating the blade and the end of the tentacle attached to it in red. The wiry limb began to writhe as it ejected from the tree, the bloody sap burning away at its flesh. A mere moment later, it fell limply to the ground, the Feracule abandoning it.

With those three dealt with, Alistair carefully observed his surroundings, noting each of the other tentacles slithering into the forest. He’d created a favorable situation—if all the tentacles rushed him at once, he would exit the forest and kill the main body; if it sent only a few in at a time, he could use the environment to easily pick them off with little risk of being overwhelmed.

The Feracule chose neither option, instead making a peculiar move: it retracted all of its tentacles from the forest.

Once all its active limbs had returned, it raised a few of them and swung them in violent arcs, dismembering the limp flesh of each of its wounded tentacles. Then, it began to creep forward, using several of its tentacles like the skittering legs of an insect.

It assembled a small force of a dozen tentacles and extended them each a few meters forward before beginning to swing them wildly. While the tentacles usually held themselves up stiffly in the air, almost as if they were floating, now they flung about freely, lashing out like monstrous whips.

Clouds of dirt and bloodred sap erupted up from the roadside ridge as the whips crashed against it, tearing apart the mounds of dirt and the roots that held them together. As the Feracule advanced, its whips gradually eroding as they were caked in more and more sap, it began to mow down the branches and soon even the trunks of the trees before it, clearing a destructive path straight towards Alistair.

~ ⁂ ~

The Feracule advanced forward, a walking whirlwind of destruction. The bloodred trees in its wake stood not a chance, being swiftly reduced to splinters and sprays of acidic sap at the hands of its thrashing tentacles, their blades chipped and their flailing lengths charred, large patches of their skin having been melted away.

As the trees between it and Alistair were cleared, the monster retracted its damaged tentacles back to its body, letting them go limp. It then shot out several tentacles in unison, each shooting forward in straight lines, spread out like a shotgun blast. Alistair threw himself to the side to escape the wide area of attack, and the tentacles retracted back as quickly as they’d come, denying him the opportunity to pick them off.

Another spray of blades and fists followed immediately after, forcing Alistair to leap away again. He grimaced at the beast. Something had changed about its demeanor and behavior—it was as though the creature had acknowledged him as a worthy opponent and was giving the battle its all.

That was one irritating aspect of fighting intelligent monsters—they could have mid-fight epiphanies just like a Human might. It made predicting their behavior a pain.

Alistair sprinted off to the side, narrowly evading two more sprays of tentacles before sliding behind a willow tree. The Feracule ceased its attacks—as had been repeated a few times now, it would extend its wounded tentacles again and destroy Alistair’s new cover.

Except, that didn’t happen this time.

The Feracule slammed a dozen additional tentacles down into the ground around it, then a dozen more. All of them bent down in unison, the rest of its body shaking as it built up pressure like a spring. The release unleashed a shockwave that shook the surrounding forest, and the Feracule rocketed high into the air, its body only a silhouette against the stars.

It didn’t take long for the attacks to begin raining down. One after another, tentacles crashed down in a continuous chain of straight shots. Alistair muttered a curse, lurching out of cover and breaking into a sprint again, blades and fists pounding the ground just inches behind his feet.

Then, in a sudden change of strategy, Alistair slid across the dirt, whirling his body around to bisect the tentacle that’d just struck down behind him. As the next blade shot down he parried it off the edge of his sword, an eruption of sparks briefly lighting up the dark before the tentacle slammed uselessly into the ground. With his next movement Alistair slashed through it while ducking into a crouch, the next attack flying over his head. He hopped to the side and flicked his sword upwards, cutting through the next attack with ease.

Yet another tentacle shot down from the sky, but it screeched to a halt midair before retracting back. A moment later came the beast’s revised attack, another shotgun spray of blades and fists.

Alistair narrowed his “eyes”, studying the oncoming limbs in stopped time. Taking a deep “breath”, he readied himself for his next move.

If the monster was giving this its all, it was only fair that he do the same.

Alistair threw his body into the air, rotating and twisting his arms and legs at almost unnatural angles. A loud thud rang out the next moment as the tentacles crashed against the ground—shooting around his arms, between his legs, above his head.

In what could only be described as a miracle for anyone but Alistair, all of the tentacles had missed.

Alistair then moved quickly, sheathing his sword and clenching two of the tentacles in his hands, trapping another between his shins. From here, what would the Feracule’s next move be? Would it pull him right up to its core, or would it pull itself down to him?

It was smart enough to know those were terrible ideas, so it did neither. Tentacles shot out from the still-falling Feracule in all directions, forming a ring of wires to hold it up, blades embedding into the dirt and hands grasping willow branches.

Alistair grit his teeth, forcing a toothy grin. This outcome was also fine by him.

Yanking down on the tentacles around him, he flung his body upwards. Twisting his body upright, he kicked off of the tentacles and began to run up the thin footholds. After a few steps he leapt up and grabbed a tentacle in both hands, throwing his body upwards again.

Alistair: “Sorry, ya damn beast, but ya were in checkmate from the start!”

Declaring so, he began to climb up the monster’s outstretched limbs.