A Waste of Time-Chapter 38: Hollow Gaze

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The birdsong rang like a chorus of war drums as Daemon stepped onto the black-and-white path. The endless stretch of tiles wound ahead under his bare feet—no cloak, no shirt, just his skin kissed by the strange wind that always blew here.
On his right: a forest so dense and lush it swallowed the sky. Birds in every color filled the canopy—flocks swirling like a living tide, wings flaring, beaks pecking, chicks squeaking in hidden nests. Branches bent under their weight.
Daemon sniffed the air.
Smells sweet. Sweet means calm.
He forced his eyes forward, but curiosity wormed through his mind. "One peek won’t kill me."
He turned left—and almost choked.
A wasteland. Red cracks webbed through black stone, lava seeping like blood from an open wound. Creatures crawled and leapt between rivers of molten rock—scaled beasts with horned spines and eyes like burning coals. Some spread wings and hovered over lava lakes. One dipped its claws to snatch a shrieking, fiery thing from the magma.
Roar.
Daemon flinched. A winged monster, scales glinting with lava glow, locked eyes with him. Its jaw unhinged—row upon row of jagged teeth glistened with heat.
"Roll. NOW." He didn’t wait. He hurled his arm, the Dice glued to his palm spinning out in a streak of light.
Ding!
The creature lunged. Wings slammed the air. The path vanished beneath Daemon’s feet—his vision bent, flipped, spun—
He dropped back onto Asura’s Iron Throne, breath ragged. The camp’s familiar scent—ash, smoke, pine—settled his hammering heart. He was still naked except for sweat and dust.
A rustle. Wolves circled Grunt and Runa. The two Orcs hunched over Spider legs and Gargoyle fangs, their tusks gleaming with saliva as they worked.
Ding!
[Skeleton Wave]
Targets Eliminated: 0/10,000
Daemon’s eyes bulged. "Ten thousand?!" The ground trembled. He heard it—thousands of bone feet stamping in cadence.
Grunt noticed first. The big Orc grinned, hefting twin Axes with fresh Spider Shell blades. Crimson carapace plates covered his chest and thighs.
"Lord Asura," Grunt said, voice rumbling like a forge. "We fight now?"
Runa stepped up. Her Bow, made from the Spider Queen’s leg, gleamed in the sun. A fresh quiver of Gargoyle fang Arrows hung from her hip. "Your weapons, my Lord." She gestured to six Spears propped by the Throne—Spider legs reforged with wooden spines and obsidian teeth.
Daemon’s six arms snapped out. He grabbed the Spears, twirled them, felt their weight.
"Perfect. Good work." He flexed, muscles rippling under the noon sun.
Grunt’s knuckles popped as he smashed a fist into his palm. "I want their skulls."
"Soon," Daemon said. "Runa—more Arrows, more Spears. Grunt—barricade the path, then dig trenches. If they reach the camp, you hide and strike when I say."
He activated Rush—his bare feet tearing grooves into the forest floor as he dashed forward. Wolves slipped into the trees alongside him, tongues lolling, tails up.
Carefree mutts,
he thought.
They better bite when it counts.
Ahead, the Skeletal horde marched like a flood. In the middle—banners of cracked bone fluttered behind a Throne of Bone. On it sat the Skeleton King, eight meters tall, purple Armor draped over cracked ribs. A black Sword rested across its lap. Golden-armored giants flanked it—an honor guard of grinning skulls.
The King lifted its Sword, jaws opening in a silent roar. Green flames flickered in its sockets.
[Cursed]
Undead Terror: Attack-Speed/Movement-Speed/Health-Recovery/Stamina-Recovery/Mana-Recovery/Damage (-3%)
"Oh, so you buff your rotting freaks?" Daemon bared his teeth. Six middle fingers rose high. "Come try me!"
The Wolves howled in unison. The forest trembled with growls and roars that made his skin prickle. Eagles wheeled overhead, their shadows circling the battlefield.
Daemon skidded to a halt where the road widened.
Perfect.
He lunged at a pine, snapped it at the base with a grunt. He shoved the trunk into the clearing. Another tree fell. Another. He stacked them crosswise, narrowing the road into a choke point.
Behind the bone militia—rusty Clubs, cracked Shields, mismatched Armor. Archers huddled further back—quivers bristling. If they took position, he’d be pincushioned before he reached the King.
"Alright, lads," he muttered to the Wolves. "I’ll break the door. You hunt the crows."
He planted the Spears in the dirt. His six arms flexed. He could hear the bones clattering now—closer, closer.
He bounced on his toes.
One against ten thousand.
A savage grin split his face. "Let’s make it interesting."
The first Skeleton stumbled forward—its rusted helmet tiny in Daemon’s ten-meter shadow. Instead of thrusting, Daemon swung the massive Spear sideways like a scythe, sweeping a dozen Skeletons off their feet in a shower of bone shards. He pivoted, smashed another group with a backhand swing—skulls popping like rotten fruit under a giant’s wrath.
The Wolves burst from the underbrush—fur and fangs and furious speed. Bones crunched, jaws snapped.
Daemon spun, six arms weaving Spears in a whirling dance of death. Bone Militia fell by the dozens, brittle bodies toppling into heaps. Arrows hissed from behind the horde, but most pinged off the barricade or stuck harmlessly in the treelines on both sides or in fallen logs and the ground of the battlefield.
Daemon was always on the move and never dared to give the Archers a stationary target.
He saw the Archers draw closer, searching for a clear shot.
Not yet,
he thought.
Get closer, idiots.
One Skeleton lunged with a Sword—Daemon caught it in his bare hand and crushed it like an egg. He laughed—a sound raw and wild. "NEXT!"
The road choked with corpses—snapped ribs, cracked skulls, splintered Clubs. The Wolves lunged and dragged stragglers back into the trees.
Behind the front ranks, the King sat unmoving—watching. Its Sword flickered with dark power. One bony finger pointed forward—an order.
Daemon spat on the ground. "Send your best, you dusty bastard."
He felt the sun overhead—high noon. Sweat rolled down his chest. His Spears dripped black ichor and shards of bone. The forest trembled with howls.
He braced as the next wave charged. Ten thousand? So what.
One step closer to my throne.
Daemon’s grin widened as he raised Six Spears high, six arms flexed for carnage.
"COME ON!"
The Bones answered.
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