Skyborne Raider

*Bang following a loud spurt*

The old man laughs as Mike starts to swear.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Pffft” He continues spitting all around.

Astrid quickly turns around to see what just happened. I think I hear her gulp, close to vomiting.

She immediately turns away.

“Jesus,” I say out loud as Mike struggles to comprehend the mistake he just made.

The green liquid spurts out, spraying from the eye and covering Mike’s naked body, full frontal. He just stands there, his one eye closed. Pissed.

“Pffft”

He spits multiple times, looking around for something to clean himself with.

Astrid, fed up with his antics, moves closer to the bug and the old man. They examine the carcass, and I see Harald start to give her a lecture on its anatomy and the composition of its shell.

I feel cozy by this.

Mike starts to clean himself with handfuls of sand. The sand absorbs the moisture, taking away almost all the disgusting liquid.

At least he’s not hairy; as I watch him the sand removes at least largest portions of the goo.

I don't interfere and rather mind my own business.

My precious hammer, somewhere behind those disgusting things. Now I know at least that the bags are filled and under pressure.

Phew. I imagine what might happen if those were detonated by my stomp up there. I might even loose my balance and fall to death. Guess the luck was on my side once again.

I move closer to the right eye of the creature to retrieve my hammer. First, I need to destroy the remaining eye cover, but I don’t have anything suitable for the task.

“Harald, do you have something I can use to break that?” I interrupt the old man and Astrid, pointing to the right eye socket.

The heat is becoming unbearable, and I think we need to hurry and move somewhere else, to the shadow.

There isn’t even time for me to write down what I saw while I was at the top.

The old man crouches and pulls out his combat knife from his boot.

“Don’t make the same mistake.” He points at Mike, who’s in the distance, rolling in the sand.

Use the handle.” He flips the knife in his hand with ease, gripping the blade between his two strong fingers, and offers it to me with the handle facing forward.

“Thanks.”

“I have one question. Can I use my gun as a hammer? I’ve seen it in movies,” I ask cautiously.

“You may, but only in an emergency. Use the grip end, not the barrel. Now, hand it over,” he replies, extending his hand.

I quickly open my inventory and pull out the glock and hand it to him, grip first.

He removes the magazine and the bullet in the chamber, then reloads the single bullet back into the magazine.

“Dammit. I’d have removed the magazine but not the leftover bullet. Thanks.” I say while shaking my head.

He winks at me and hands me back the gun.

Then he and the curious girl continue examining the colorful wing covers, moving them up and down.

I notice that they are connected to the rest of the armored body with strong tendons. I might try to cut them with the combat knife I just borrowed. Better hurry up with my hammer rescue mission.

Harald positions the wing cover to create some shade and sits with Astrid underneath.

I move back near the eye socket and try to smash the cover with the gun grip.

*Crack, crack, crack*

It’s still fairly strong, but the cracks around my previous impact make it easier to chip away.

After some heavier blows I put away the gun and use the knife’s metal handle to finish the rest.

After a while, I finally have a hole big enough to see inside and check for my hammer.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I see the hammerhead at the back of the skull.

But where’s the handle? I panic, noticing the chewed-up stub.

It got destroyed indeed. Just as I thought.

My mood shifts quickly as I had at least some hope it might be intact.

What the heck does this bug have inside that annihilated the whole handle? The wood must have been incredibly strong since it didn’t break when I used it extensively.

I decide to save what’s left, but the only way to reach it is by hand.

*Sigh.*

There’s no way I’m getting close to that terrible thing.

I grab the knife and try a delicate maneuver around the disgusting matter.

There’s no other way; maybe I can pull it closer with something longer? But I already know what to use.

“Mike?" I look at him in the distance.

"Can I borrow your sabre?” I ask.

He stops rolling and looks at me. Standing up quickly he walks closer without saying anything.

He crouches and looks inside while holding his scarf with his left hand. I remain silent.

Suddenly, he extends his right arm fully into the bug’s head, touching everything and reaching for my hammer. He groans as he struggles to pull it out.

“Oh my g—”

“Here.” He cuts me off and throws me the hammerhead.

His muscles tense as he throws it, visibly struggling to lift the weight, though he hides it well. I don't expect him to toss it, so I miss, and it falls into the sand. The head strikes the ground hard, sending a burst of sand into the air, which the wind swiftly carries away.

Every time a breeze blows, we all close our eyes and savor it.

“Thank you!” I respond gratefully.

He nods and joins Astrid and Harald, sitting in the shade.

I roll the hammerhead in the sand to clean off whatever stains are on it.

The handle is broken through and through.

When I lift the remains, the leftover pieces of the handle fall out of the hammerhead.

“You can start throwing it,” Harald jokes.

I shake my head and smile.

Holding the heavy piece of squared metal, I look around, thinking.

"Hmm."

A crazy idea sparks in my mind. I gaze at the bug’s horn—not the large one, but the smaller, more flexible one right behind the main horn.

“Harald?” He turns his head to me and raises his eyebrows. I notice that he already has some sunburn on the back of his neck.

He pulls a wooden toothpick from his pocket and starts to chew it.

“Do you think this would work?” I ask, holding the hammerhead near the smaller horn.

He stands up, steadying himself on the bug’s body, and joins me.

“Knife.” He extends his hand without looking at me, focused on the horn.

I hand him the knife immediately.

*Gentle poke*

He starts poking the horn and makes a few moderate stabs to test its durability. It’s strong, but it’s possible to make some dents and cuts.

He tries the same with the large horn for comparison. The outer leather has some significant dents, but a few millimeters deeper, it’s rock-hard.

He extends his hand again, asking for the hammerhead now.

I place it in his hand, and he makes an unexpected drop, just like Mike did.

He probably wasn’t expecting that small hammer to be that heavy.

Am I really that strong? I wonder It wasn't a big deal beside the enchantment for me anyway.

Compared to an average adult, I must be stronger, definitely, but how much? I keep wondering if I could compete with athletes or strongmen now—well, at least with the parts of my body that are enhanced by reallocating mass by the Focus skill.

I watch him as he tries to fit the hammerhead on top of the horn.

He makes some cuts and adjustments, and I can see that the head will probably fit well.

The only problem is getting the thicker part on top to squeeze through the hammerhead, thus locking it in place.

Meanwhile, Astrid leans back against the bug, avoiding more sunburn, ignoring what we’re doing.

Mike, on the other hand, awkwardly checks out what we’re experimenting with.

The old man quickly reacts. “Michael, give us a hand.”

He joins us, and Harald instructs him to pull the hammerhead down.

All three of us hold and press tightly, our hands overlapping as we apply as much pressure as possible.

It almost goes through but gets stuck again.

I shake my head. “Okay, I’ll try now. Stay together.”

Harald nods and moves closer to Mike, so they can be the counterweight to my side.

I slightly release more power and press the head down. Both Mike and Harald struggle to withstand the pressure from my side. I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

God, I’m stronger than two average men combined.

I see they’re struggling to hold on, so I moderate my power.

*Thud*

The hammerhead finally slides in, and the thicker part we were trying to squeeze through pops out, locking it in place.

I nod at them and thank them.

Harald leaves me the knife and tells me to cut the horn to the desired length.

“Just a small reminder: flexible sledgehammers are used on railways. The handle absorbs more impact, which makes your hit a bit weaker, but your arms won’t suffer as much.”