CHAPTER 24: WHY?
John rose, palm brushing the slick stone as thunder rolled above. The storm's rhythm matched his pulse—heavy, relentless. He glanced at Adam, pale but steady, and gave a short nod.
"Stay sharp. If it stirs—which I doubt—buy me a few seconds."
Adam's knuckles whitened against the wall. "Seconds… right, easy enough."
John stepped into the archway. Rain hammered his shoulders, the scent of crushed blossoms thick in the air. The beast sprawled across the field, chest rising like a mountain in sleep. Every instinct screamed to stay hidden, but he pressed forward, crouched low, eyes fixed on the charred tree beyond.
"Don't die," Adam hissed. "… and good luck."
John smirked without looking back. "I won't."
Mud sucked at his boots, dragging him down as if the earth itself wanted to hold him back. The flowers nearest the beast were crushed flat, their scent thick and cloying. He slid past one massive forelimb, its hide scarred and ridged, dark lines crisscrossing like old burns.
The beast exhaled. Warm air rushed over him, a low rumble vibrating through his bones. John dropped instantly, pressing himself into the mud until the sound passed. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head. The beast hadn't moved.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself upright. The tree loomed ahead—twisted, half‑charred, its bark split and blackened from repeated strikes. Smoke curled faintly from its trunk even under the rain. He searched, circling, until his eyes caught an opening in the bark. Curiosity pulled him closer. Inside, faint light glowed—a rod was buried deep within.
A grin crept across his face. "Bingo."
He reached for it, but stopped short just inches away. His hand hovered, hesitation gnawing at him. "Is this even safe?"
He frowned, thinking of everything that could go wrong. Finally, he sighed. "Fuck it. Worst case scenario, I die… nothing new there."
His fingers closed around the rod. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Relief washed through him. He pulled—once, twice, again. The rod held fast.
He took a deep breath and said, "Okay… one last push. I mean—pull."
He braced both feet against the trunk, muscles straining. A sharp crack split the air. The tree shuddered. John froze, then grinned wide. He pulled harder, the sound intensifying as the ancient wood began to give way.
The cracks spread like veins, racing toward the canopy. Rain hissed against splintering bark. John gritted his teeth, oblivious, his focus locked only on pulling out the rod.
Then the tree shuddered. A deep, hollow snap rolled through the storm. John froze, breath sharp in his throat, but his hands refused to let go. He pulled again, and the sound intensified—wood tearing, splitting, unraveling.
Above him, the trunk began to split wide. The canopy lurched, branches groaning as the weight shifted.
The rod tore free in his hands; its surface strangely smooth, like polished metal. John staggered back, breathless, a grin breaking across his face. Victory surged through him—he had it.
But then the sound hit him. A deep, rolling crack that wasn't thunder. His grin faltered as his eyes lifted. The fissures he had ignored were racing upward, splitting the trunk wide. The canopy lurched, branches groaning, the entire tree tilting under its own weight.
Smoke hissed from the cracks, the creaking voice of splintering wood spreading through the air. The massive form began to collapse, and John's chest tightened as he realized where it was falling—straight toward the beast.
He stared in disbelief, the rod clutched tight in his hands, and muttered, "Why?"
***
Meanwhile, a little while back—after John had left—Adam was still crouched in the collapsed ruin, trying to steady his nerves.
He pressed his back against the damp stone, whispering to himself.
"Okay Adam, you got this," he muttered, forcing a shaky breath. He slapped his cheeks lightly, hyping himself up. "Come on, man. Just keep it together."
He stepped out into the rain, eyes darting across the stormy field, every muscle tense. His voice was low, almost pleading. "That thing didn't wake even when lightning hit next to it. You've got nothing to worry about."
For a while, nothing happened. The beast lay still, the storm raged, and Adam's heartbeat began to settle. His shoulders loosened, and he almost believed his own words.
Then the sound came. Cracking. Creaking. A voice of splintering wood spreading through the storm.
Adam's head snapped toward the charred tree, and his stomach dropped as he saw it leaning, tilting, coming closer—falling straight toward the beast.
He exhaled sharply, defeat heavy in his chest. "Sigh… we are doomed."
The impact was thunderous. The ground convulsed, throwing John backward into the mud. The rod slipped from his grip, skidding beside him with a dull metallic thud. The beast's massive frame rolled under the blow, earth and flowers erupting outward in a violent wave.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then one of the beast's eyes snapped open. And slowly—far too slowly—the creature's head lifted. A deep growl rumbled from its chest, low and resonant, shaking the ground beneath them. One claw dug into the soil, halting its roll, while the other shoved against the fallen trunk, splintering wood like brittle twigs.
From the ruins, Adam swore loudly. "Oh—fuck that."
The beast's gaze swept the field, unfocused at first, then sharpening with fury. Its nostrils flared, inhaling deeply. With a roar, it pushed itself upright, the fallen tree cracking further beneath its weight. Flowers flattened under its claws as it rose to its full height, towering and enraged. Its head turned—straight toward John.
John's breath hitched. He scrambled backward, hands sinking into the mud, panic surging. His eyes turned to the rod.
But before he could move—
"HEY!" Adam's voice ripped through the storm, raw and desperate.
The beast froze mid‑step. Its head snapped toward the ruins, eyes locking onto Adam's small, trembling figure standing exposed in the rain. Adam's face went pale the instant he realized what he'd done.
"…shit."
The beast roared, the sound splitting the storm. It turned fully, claws gouging deep trenches into the mud as it began to advance—slow at first, deliberate, each step sending tremors through the ground.
Adam's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't meant to shout, hadn't meant to make himself the target, and now regret burned through him.
"Shit… shit, shit," he whispered, feet stumbling backward.
From the mud, John's voice cut through the chaos. "Run, Adam! Run!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet. His gaze flicked between Adam and the rod lying just out of reach.
That broke Adam's paralysis. He bolted from the ruins, sprinting across the slick earth, heart hammering. His legs felt heavy, but panic drove him faster than he thought possible.
Behind him, the beast's pace quickened, its massive body surging forward, crushing flowers and stone alike. Each thunderous step closed the distance, its roar tearing through the storm as rain streamed off its armored hide.
John forced himself upright, chest heaving, his back still stinging. He staggered, then spun and reached for the fallen rod. His fingers clenched around the smooth metal, and he turned toward the beast.
"Alright… let's do this."
Meanwhile, the monster barreled after Adam, its fury shaking the ground. Then a shout cut through the storm.
"OVER HERE!"
The beast hesitated, its head snapping toward the sound. It searched, nostrils flaring, but found nothing. Snarling, it turned back to chase Adam—only to realize he was gone. Confusion flickered in its eyes as it scanned the field, rage building.
The voice came again, sharper, closer. The beast whipped its head toward the direction of a tree. There—John sat waiting, rain dripping from his hair, rod gleaming faintly in his grip.
The creature opened its mouth, a roar swelling in its throat. John smirked.
"Come on now… say ah."
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the rod straight into the beast's gaping maw. For a moment, nothing happened. The monster didn't even flinch—it kept charging, jaws wide, hunger burning in its eyes.
John's grin vanished. "Oh sh—"
He leapt from the tree an instant before the beast's jaws snapped shut, tearing a massive chunk from the trunk. The tree groaned and toppled, crashing into the mud. John hit the ground hard, rolled, and staggered back to his feet.
The beast's eyes locked onto him now, fury blazing. John's breath hitched as he broke into a run—straight toward the same direction Adam had fled.
The beast's charge was relentless, mud and stone exploding beneath its claws as it bore down on John. His lungs burned, his legs screamed, but he kept running—knowing he couldn't outrun it forever. The shadow of its jaws loomed closer, the storm roaring with its fury.
John stumbled, crashing into the mud. He rolled onto his back, chest heaving, eyes wide as the beast towered over him. Its mouth opened, rows of jagged teeth glistening in the rain. For a heartbeat, he thought this was it—the end.
Then the sky split.
Clouds churned violently above, folding into themselves, black and heavy. The air thickened, charged, every hair on John's body rising. A blinding bolt tore downward, attracted by the rod inside the beast.
The explosion was deafening. Lightning coursed through the monster's body, arcs of white fire ripping across its hide. The shockwave blasted outward, hurling John through the mud. His ears rang, his vision blurred, his body numb.
The beast convulsed, thrashing as the storm poured its wrath into it. Sparks danced across its massive frame, smoke rising from its wounds. Its roar twisted into a strangled scream, echoing across the shattered field.
John forced himself upright, mud streaking his face, chest heaving with every ragged breath. He staggered forward, sword trembling in his grip, and a laugh ripped out of him—raw, loud, half‑mad, half‑triumphant.
"YES!" he bellowed, voice cracking but alive. "All this time I thought lady luck hated me… but look at this! She was here when it really mattered!"
He turned his gaze towards the beast, blood spilling from his mouth.
"I've had enough of you." John's voice was hoarse, but steady, cutting through the storm. He stared at the beast's massive form, its eye blazing with fury, and a bitter grin tugged at his lips as he stared at it.
"You know," he rasped, spitting blood into the mud, "you've been a real pain in the ass…" He tightened his grip on the sword, every muscle screaming, every breath burning.
His eyes hardened, the storm light flashing across his face as he whispered, "But it is time to go."
With that, he surged forward, the beast reeled, its massive head lowering, its eye blazing with fury. John didn't hesitate as he drove the blade straight into that eye. Lightning still crackled through its body as steel pierced deep, the storm itself screaming with him.
The monster convulsed one final time, and John's bracelet chimed faintly—sharp against the chaos, as if marking the moment.
He staggered back, head going dizzy, rain streaming down his face. His sword slipped free, his knees buckled, and as the adrenaline drained from his veins, the thought hit him with crushing weight: I can't anymore.
He collapsed into the mud, the storm raging above, the beast finally still.