NOVEL FROG CHAPTER 85: Skeletons & Slimes
The wasteland was never a friendly place, and today was no exception. The Portal Crushers pressed on, the tension in the air thick with nervous energy as they navigated through it. The landscape was littered with remnants of battle—broken bones, discarded bits of armor, and the eerie stillness that always seemed to accompany the aftermath of a fight with the undead.
From the shadows, skeletons emerged, their bones rattling as they charged at the group. John was the first to react, his sword flashing in the dim light as he impaled the nearest skeleton, shattering it into a pile of bones.
"Portal Crushers, let’s go!" John shouted, rallying the team in Atlas’s absence.
Alexander, always eager for action, was right behind him. He swung his great sword with a grunt, cleaving a skeleton in two. "That’s another home run!" he quipped, imagining the roar of a crowd at Wrigley Field.
Wang Bo grinned, his staff twirled with energy as he pummeled another skeleton into dust. "Eternal Emperor Wang Bo strikes again!"
Isabella, moving with a dancer's grace, ducked under a skeleton’s swinging sword and drove her sword into its spine, sending it crumbling to the ground. "Looks like I still got it," she muttered to herself, a satisfied smile on her face.
Even Stu, hot-headed as ever, charged into the fray with a roar, smashing skeletons left and right with reckless abandon. "Come on, you boney bastards!" he shouted, the thrill of battle fueling his rage.
The fight was fierce, but the Portal Crushers were relentless. One by one, the skeletons fell, their brittle bones no match for the team’s coordinated attacks. The air was filled with the sound of clashing weapons, the crunch of bones, and the occasional victorious shout from the team.
But the fight wasn’t without its costs. Wilfredo, who had been too slow to dodge, took a nasty cut to his leg from a skeleton’s blade. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let the pain slow him down as he swung his mace with all his might, crushing the skull of his attacker.
CRACK!
Lark, who was assisting the group by collecting the remains, winced as she narrowly avoided a skeleton’s sword. The blade grazed her arm, drawing blood. She quickly retreated, putting the bones she had collected into the backpacks. ‘Phew, that was close,‘ she thought.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last skeleton fell, its bones scattering across the ground. The Portal Crushers stood victorious, their chests heaving as they caught their breath.
"Nice work, everyone," John said, his voice filled with pride. "That’s how we do it."
The team let out a collective cheer, the adrenaline still pumping through their veins. But as the excitement began to fade, the reality of their injuries set in.
Barbara, who had been tending to Wilfredo’s wound, shook her head. "We really need to get more medical supplies," she said, her tone serious. "Or else the MediPod bills are going to get higher and higher."
John, wiping sweat from his brow, nodded in agreement. "She’s right. We can’t keep relying on the MediPod for every injury. We need to start stockpiling supplies for minor injuries, or we’ll be in trouble when things get worse."
Isabella, wiping blood from her knife, looked around at the team. "We’ll manage," she said, her voice steady. "We always do."
"Yeehaw! Another victory for the Portal Crushers!" Alexander shouted, trying to keep the mood light, despite the tension in the air.
The team chuckled, the sound of laughter easing the tension. But they all knew that Barbara was right. They couldn’t keep pushing their luck. They had to keep getting better. The next battle could be their last if they weren’t careful.
"Alright, let’s regroup and keep the momentum going. We’re not out of the woods yet," John commanded.
‘‘‘
Meanwhile, Atlas was off on his own, navigating the eerie silence of the eastern wastelands. He had volunteered to take on the slimes alone, knowing their gelatinous forms required precision and speed to defeat—something he excelled at with his dual swords. Clubs were no good. The creatures oozed out from crevices and cracks in the ground, their translucent bodies shimmering in the dim light.
‘‘BOING!‘‘
‘‘BOING!‘‘
‘‘BOING!‘‘
Slimes bounced around everywhere.
Atlas knew the key to defeating the slimes: their core. Hidden within their gelatinous forms, the core was the heart of each slime, and until it was destroyed, the slimes would continue to split into smaller versions of themselves.
The first slime lunged at him, its body stretching out like a whip. Atlas sidestepped with ease, bringing his sword down in a swift arc. The blade sliced clean through, but instead of dissolving, the slime split into two smaller versions, both of them advancing on him.
"Not this time," Atlas muttered, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the faint glow of the cores within the mini-slimes. With a series of rapid strikes, he targeted the cores, his blades cutting through the gelatinous bodies with precision. One by one, the slimes dissolved into harmless puddles as their cores were destroyed.
He moved through the area like a whirlwind, his swords flashing as he dispatched slime after slime. Each time, he aimed for the core, his strikes precise and deadly. Within minutes, the area was clear, and Atlas was left standing amidst the dissolving remains.
He glanced around, satisfied. "All clear. Time to head back." There were times when he questioned whether he was indeed OP. Today wasn’t one of those times.
‘‘‘
Back with the Portal Crushers, Snedlie watched the group of fighters collecting the remains of the skeletons. He smiled to himself, stretching his sore muscles, his mind racing with excitement. The thrill of pocketing a few coins here and there had started as a game, a way to stave off the reality of their new world. But it had quickly become more than that. He liked the power he felt when he got away with it, the rush of adrenaline that came with each successful theft.
But it wasn’t just the thrill. He was sick to death of those Ultra Manly Buff Bars—sick of the gritty texture, the synthetic taste, the endless monotony of the same meal day in and day out. ‘I’ll be damned if I have to eat Tacos with extra onion flavor again.‘
Snedlie wanted more—more variety, more comfort, more than what the wasteland offered. ‘If I use the loot I saved up from the last two days, I can buy something decent from the vending machines. Maybe some booze and cigarettes. No way could they figure out I didn’t have it in my pockets from home. Yeah, it’s only fair to do my own thing, it’s just bending the rules a bit.‘
‘What idiots,‘ he thought as he watched Wilfredo get a nasty cut from one of the skeletons. ‘They’re risking their lives for what? They eat the same shitty bars as me and sleep on the same dirty floor. They don’t get any extra benefits. Nope, being a gatherer is a way better gig. Look at those big dumb muscle heads. The dummies are all too busy fighting and surviving to notice a few missing coins.‘
To Snedlie, it was all just a game—a dangerous one, but a game nonetheless. Little did he know that John was already on his trail, piecing together the puzzle one discrepancy at a time.
‘‘‘
"How's the collecting going?" John asked Lark.
"It's tiring, but we're all happy to do our part," Lark replied, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Despite the exhaustion, there was a glint of determination in her eyes.
John nodded in approval. "Good to hear." He jumped into the next fight with the rest of the Portal Crushers, moving with the ease of someone who had fought side by side with these people countless times. After the battle, John decided to help the porters collect and pack bones. This continued for a while, the group working like a well-oiled machine.
“Full up here,” Lark called out after packing a particularly tiring load.
"Great. Let's, uh, gather these up," John said. They gathered everything, loading up the packs. Wang Bo was assigned to escort Lark back to the camp, but before they took off, John called out, "Hey Lark, actually, pass the pack and the coins to Snedlie. I've got to chat with you about something."
"Sure," Lark said, handing the gear over to Snedlie, who was visibly annoyed. He grumbled under his breath, knowing full well that John had taken a shine to Lark. It wasn’t lost on him—or anyone else—that she was a pretty brunette with a petite frame.
As Snedlie and Wang Bo headed back to the camp, Snedlie’s irritation only grew. He muttered curses under his breath but dutifully handed over the coins and gear to Noi when they arrived.
"Oh good," Noi said with a smile. "We were running low on rib cages."
The day dragged on, the endless cycle of hunting, collecting, and hauling continuing as the sun dipped lower in the sky. By the time nightfall approached, the team was exhausted, but they made the journey back to camp without complaint, dispatching any stray skeletons that crossed their path with ease.
‘Wow, John keeps talking to me and not sending me back on runs. I wonder if he's interested,‘ Lark mused to herself as she followed the group. ‘He's a good-looking guy and the boss right after Atlas, so maybe I should take the time to get a little closer.‘
***
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