🏆 WATTPAD CREATORS PROGRAM 🏆
𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌. 𝘛𝘞𝘖. 𝘖𝘕𝘌. 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯.
Thirteen remembers one thing from the moment he woke up: live on, through whatever means necessary. When he is thrown into a society of people with special abilities and a game w...
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The battlefield was murder personified.
One barreled through the line of enemies aiming to cross the stretch of the forest leading to the fortress. Her hands blazed, the tongues of fire neither scalding nor devouring her skin. Something about her skin made her resistant to burning, making her able to swing her arms without care of dripping liquid fire everywhere.
The air smelled of burnt flesh as her fingers closed around an arm. The red sleeve crumbled under her touch, searing straight into exposed skin in a few seconds. She grinned at the shriek of pain that followed. No way they'd get past her and invade the fortress. Not again. After Thirteen's scathing, less-than-a-thousand-word lecture, she learned to never care what the guy did and just follow orders. But in doing so, even that flimsy twig couldn't stop her from being creative.
Today's counter was an opportunity to push back any advances against them. For once, they were on the offensive, and it must be because Thirteen was confident they could pull off. Back in the command center, the guy must be dancing with his genius as all kids with inflated ego do. One swallowed the snicker arising in her gut. Focus on the melee.
To her left, Six ducked and rolled, hands supporting disc-versions of his barriers. Eight swooped nearby, snapping gusts of wind at lunging enemies and blowing projectile-based abilities out of trajectory. Ten followed in One's heels, roaring and grabbing anyone who went past One's defenses. The distinct snaps of bones or spines behind One were something she didn't want to dwell on. Not now.
Twelve had her back pressed against Seventeen as they drove back the ring of abilities closing on them. Huge splashes of bright red light flashed from the heart of the fray, driving enemies back from Seventeen's half. In Twelve's half, those in the front lines crumpled to their feet, ears bleeding from some unheard frequency assaulting them at full intensity.
Sixteen ran forward, swishing Five's blades. A strike to the stomach by some mechanical arm, and before she even hit the ground, the wound has closed up. Her attacker took a blow to the face, followed by complete decapitation, severing the nose from the face. The girl skipped over the corpse to deal with the immediate one behind them.
Extreme regeneration has its perks, albeit being gruesome.
A flash of purple and yellow ripped through One's periphery. She cursed, swerving to avoid the arc gearing for her. What a flashy power. Troublesome too. She narrowed her eyes at the man throwing daggers of electricity at her, each spike sparking to rival the force crawling on her skin. The nerve. She clapped her hands, sending a fire lance towards the one to her right. The air exploded upon collision, but two sparks later, the dagger was back in its path.
One scrambled back, the footwork exercise she'd done with Five the only skill keeping her alive. She couldn't turn back. Certainly not. She bared her teeth and followed the electric daggers' paths. At some point, even if they have homing capabilities, they'd slam against each other. Here's hoping those forces would cancel out.
