Withering World [MCSM Fanfiction]

HABITATION: Chapter 36

Petra

Lukas is in such a rough position, two scavengers playing with him like a doll as he squirms impotently in their grasp. They make him bleed with no remorse, his face crinkling in severe anguish.

Can't say it's any better for me.

I'm done with the screaming; I stand no chance against three undeserving runts.

Right now, all I want is for the burning to stop. Inhaling's not the challenge - it's the manic pig shutting my airways that makes it impossible for me to force any air into my lungs.

For sure, I am dying.

I hope it will be quick.

One last time, I put in all my efforts to resist, but the skeleton and spider pests are too dang strong. They slam my arms and legs down, practically burying them in the earth. "Augh!"

To withstand the weight of three would be a miraculous feat. They're heavy altogether, and I'm not strong enough.

I feel my veins start to power down though I still hack up the guts to spit in the scavenger's face so it flinches in disgust.

"Oh, you've really done it now!"

Tighter and tighter the pig's grip gets. The necklace is digging into my neck and I'm getting lightheaded. My throat could be tearing apart.

I've done everything I could. Do I regret it? No, they deserve every wound I've inflicted on them, if not, more for whatever they did to Jesse back then. We'd have no chance of escaping on foot and never in my life would I ever hand over my priceless sword to some scum.

I'm rapidly losing awareness - white and black flashes in my eyes and every part of the Underneath is fading.

Jesse... I'm sorry.

"I'll sever your head if it's the last thing I do!"

Sorry, Jesse, I just couldn't do it.

"Hahahaha! That pretty sword is mine!"

You told me the world needs me, but clearly, I'm not good enough. I'm not the right fit, and my face will never be seen again.

I've killed myself, I've killed Lukas, and soon you're going down too.

I'm sorry.

----

Before I fall headfirst into the void of everlasting darkness, I hear a yap similar to a dog's call. The yaps instantly convert into yelps and then gut-wrenching screams.

Saved by just a hair's width away from death, the pig releases me, wondering how Lukas escaped from the others.

Lukas... escaped?

A piercing whistle disrupts the air rendered by the scourge of death. There are multiple of them, in fact. As soon the noises stop, the two pinning me down fall the opposite way, setting my arms and legs free and they yell in confusion.

This ray of hope sparks power in me to handle the remaining scavenger by the throat and hurl it off my body, the way it whimpers reassuring me. My hands then draw up to my own aching throat and a new gratitude for each breath I take fills me.

What just happened?

I kip up, regaining my defensive stance, and take out Miss Butter.

There's nothing to defend myself against. All five scavengers are in their own muddle, glued to the floor for whatever reason. When I look closer, I find that the weapon used against them seems as if it came straight out of a historical fantasy tribe in a book.