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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/DrDoritosMD on 2024-12-26 21:00:39+00:00.
Blurb:
When a fantasy kingdom needs heroes, they skip the high schoolers and summon hardened Delta Force operators.
Lieutenant Cole Mercer and his team are no strangers to sacrifice. After all, what are four men compared to millions of lives saved from a nuclear disaster? But as they make their last stand against insurgents, they’re unexpectedly pulled into another world—one on the brink of a demonic incursion.
Thrust into Tenria's realm of magic and steam engines, Cole discovers a power beyond anything he'd imagined: magic—a way to finally win without sacrifice, a power fantasy made real by ancient mana and perfected by modern science.
But his new world might not be so different from the old one, and the stakes remain the same: there are people who depend on him more than ever; people he might not be able to save. Cole and his team are but men, facing unimaginable odds. Even so, they may yet prove history's truth: that, at their core, the greatest heroes are always just human.
Chapter 8: Mind Blowing
The creature’s glove clamped down on Cole’s forearm, crushing it with the force of what was damn near an industrial press. His strengthening magic was the only thing keeping his arm intact, but that was a stopgap at best against this kind of force.
He poured more mana into his arm, trying to reinforce the strengthening effect. The pain was tough to think through – white-hot pulses shooting up into his shoulder and down into fingers, which were starting to go numb.
He spawned a barrier around the trapped limb in the same moment, trying to reinforce whatever structural integrity he had left. But even with both magical defenses, the relentless bastard’s grip yet threatened to pulverize everything underneath.
With his arm holding together – barely – he tried to bring up his AK. If he could just spray into this thing’s face, the pressure might let up long enough to break free. The barrel started to rise, but the monster’s other hand shot out faster than he could track, grabbing the handguard and yanking. His entire upper body lurched forward.
In the same instant, it cocked its leg back. Shit. Cole diverted some mana into his stomach and chest, spawning a barrier just as its boot landed on him.
For a split second the pressure built like a garrote, rising almost instantly before the sling gave out with a sharp snap.
His shoulder exploded in agony as the joint absorbed the full force of his body going one way while his arm stayed anchored. Something tore deep inside – felt like he was literally getting disarmed as if this were a fucking Mortal Kombat fatality.
The rifle went flying somewhere behind the false knight, but he could hardly register that through the pain racing across the entirety of his left arm and torso.
Then metal scraped as the creature’s sword cleared its sheath.
He reached for his coat pocket, snapping his Glock 21 up. First instinct was to end this whole problem, so he spammed the trigger. Two rapid shots caught the monster square in the face before a barrier flashed into existence.
The next string of .45 ACP splashed against the blue shield, sending it flickering but otherwise serving no greater use than throwing rocks at bulletproof glass. Cole stopped firing. He could probably break through the barrier with sheer firepower alone, but he had a more efficient idea.
There was no way in hell he’d be able to pop some bullets in its skull, but their sword arms always came out vulnerable – had to, if they wanted to actually hit anything.
Right on cue, the barrier dissipated, leaving the head and torso protected but the sword arm open. It probably realized its own weakness and swung from the right, but all that did was give away the perfect opening.
Yeah, fuck the barrier. Cole shifted aim to the arm. The .45 punched through the armor, dull violet spraying from the impacts. Each round hit with the kind of stopping power that’d usually fold someone, but this bastard barely seemed to care. Still, after five or six rounds the sword dropped – probably more from mechanical damage than actual pain.
Alas, the satisfaction of hearing metal hitting the floor was short-fucking-lived. The creature’s face contorted into something horribly wrong. Its jaw stretched wider than bone structure should allow, the teeth looking… almost human, but not quite. More uncanny valley bullshit.
Somehow, the grey skin and inhuman features were but honorable mentions compared to the unsettling nature of the teeth. They seemed almost designed, as if someone had taken a human mouth and repurposed it for pure hunting – an evolutionary mockery.
It screeched, crying out with guttural bass and a pitched whine simultaneously.
Cole kept shooting, but the creature didn’t give a single shit about its mangled arm. With its sword gone, it instead pivoted and swung the wounded limb like a club.
The strike came in faster than Cole could track, catching his wrist before he could avoid it. The impact felt like getting hit with a steel pipe; his hand went numb instantly. And the worst of it all? His Glock was sent flying somewhere into the chaos behind him.
So now, that was his sidearm gone too – with half a damn mag still in it. No rifle, no pistol, shoulder about to snap, and his left arm was still caught in a hydraulic press of a grip.
Wait, it seemed looser now. Cole glanced down at it. He couldn’t see much, but the position of the grip was definitely lower than it’d been earlier; the bastard must’ve lost some surface area when it kicked him.
All the other realizations he’d had today paled against the saving grace before him.
Cole poured more mana into his trapped arm, expanding the existing barrier. The monster’s grip stayed just as tight, but now he had a bit more control over the surface it was actually holding onto. He continued until there was a small gap between his arm and the magical surface.
The theory was simple; it’d be like pulling out an arm from a loose winter coat sleeve. The execution? Well, he wouldn’t be surprised if he popped a vessel trying to squeeze out enough magic power to enlarge his makeshift sleeve. Fighting against that ugly bastard’s strength was an idiotic idea, but an idea nonetheless. It was worth a shot, at least. Better than letting this thing pulverize his arm – or his face, given the messed up baseball bat of an arm that now beelined toward him.
He channeled strengthening into his legs and core. If he couldn’t make the sleeve big enough, then pure mechanical leverage would have to do. The creature, at this point, still looked none the wiser. Perfect.
Cole twisted and yanked with everything he had, streamlining his hand and arm for as smooth an exit as possible. His arm slipped free like it was greased, or like the barrier was frictionless. The sudden release of pressure made him stumble backward, but he quickly regained composure.
The monster was left clutching an empty barrier that just vanished. The look of confusion on its warped face was almost worth the throbbing agony still pulsing through his shoulder. But it wasn’t enough.
Cole followed through with his advantage, channeling strengthening into his right leg as he drove his foot into the creature’s chest. The enhanced kick connected solidly, sending his opponent staggering back a few steps – not much, but even a few feet of breathing room was a luxury he wouldn’t take for granted.
Though… breathing room meant jack shit when he was still basically unarmed and his left arm felt like it’d been through a trash compactor. The hell was he gonna do now?
The grotesque skinwalker between him and his guns looked just as pissed before – maybe more, given the trick he’d just pulled. Nasty customer, and the one that got knocked down earlier was already forcing itself up.
Miles looked to be faring a bit better than him, but the man had his own shitstorm to deal with. Getting help from him now would be impossible. Ethan? He wouldn’t make it in time, and he had his own mission to do anyway.
Damnit. He had to end this quick before things got exponentially worse.
His knife was still on his belt, and he had grenades. Actually, maybe the knife could work if he amped up his strength with magic – more force behind each strike, better chance of punching through.
But shit, that was just theory. Was he really gonna bet his life on untested knife fighting techniques? Absolutely fucking not, especially not against armor that looked like it was designed to repel blades and claws alike. Especially not when he hadn’t actually gotten the chance to recover his energy outside of a mana drink. Hell, his head was already starting to pound again; any more and he’d probably keel over in a seizure.
Even if he could pull it off, these things ate 5.45 like it was airsoft. Multiple far-fetched stabs through armor just to maybe hit something vital, all while its buddies closed in on him? Might as well try fighting a family of bears with a box cutter.
The grenades weren’t much better. These bastards had already shrugged off explosions that would’ve turned humans into confetti. Standard frag basically just pissed them off.
Though… if he was gonna have to get close anyway…
He almost dismissed the ludicrous idea, but fuck if it wasn’t actually the most promising – and, quite honestly, most badass – th...
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