Enteng ignored his screaming joints and lowered his body to dodge three spears that missed his body by an inch. He took a deep breath with his deathly unshaken gaze, planted his feet, and mustered his strength to hurl his spear and rip through one monster from afar. He didn’t get to take a break.
Four monsters closed in. He didn’t bother to turn and check what’s behind his back.
He dodged another spear, moved from a swing, answered one’s failed attack with a kick in the balls, following it with a decapitation at the next, and turning with the ball of his feet to veer away from a downward smash and cut through the side of one monster’s neck.
He let out a low whistle and jumped back.
Two monsters fell. He let his eyes scramble onto the group of seven more monsters crowding over a taller, more-jacked-than-Benok monster with a single-edged two-handed stone sword. Bingo. There were two more at the side who had three or four spears left, so he had to take them out or have the fight be closer to force them in.
They were watching. His family. Uncle. Enang. That guy who got beat up, and George. They were watching. He couldn’t turn and see their faces. He hoped that they were since he was being cool, but if they had already made an escape, then that was good too.
He’s about to see his family.
He might as well look cool.
He traced a line to roll through a blow that should’ve batted his head away like a ball, and he came across a club. He picked it up, dodged another blow from the second monster, and bashed his skull open.
This was fun.
He’s free to do whatever he wishes.
Somehow, he realized that Tabu was smiling.
Enteng noticed that one of the two monsters shot his spear towards him. Line. It appeared again, but everything seemed to slow down this time.
He grinned and caught the spear that was flying by his side. He was reeled back for a bit due to it being thrown at a stronger force, but he was able to keep his feet on the ground and readjust his grip on its other end to whip and slash through the throat of the fourth of the initial monsters that took him on.
He felt lighter.
He breathed and tapped his feet on the ground like a boxer to re-establish his form. He whistled. He pushed himself down and used his screaming joints as a spring to shoot his spear through one of the spear throwers from afar. That’s right. He was old. He felt like he had the energy to do this, but his body wouldn’t last. But if this was Tabu’s parting gift, then he should at least take her offer.
He was brought back to that mountain shaded by her wings. The tempest blew. He looked over to the horizon beyond her countless swirling eyes and stretched his hand to reach it. He was brought back to reality to see a line, which he traced to dodge and catch another spear that was going his way.
Eight more monsters to take care of.
He smiled. No spears would be coming up his front, and the fight would be too close for the other spearman to throw more. He widened his grin and threw Enang’s machete to sink deep into one of his newly unsuspecting victims.
Six of them turned to look at their fallen comrade, narrowing their brows as to how this thin sheet of metal was able to slide into his chest.
“Look alive, Bitches!”
All of them looked, indeed, and one saw the tip of Enteng’s spear sink deep through his right eye before his body limped and felt nothing.
Enteng snatched his second victim’s club and bashed through the skull of his third. It was then when they fully realized the threat this man could bring.
One retaliates with a downward swing. Line. Enteng yanked the body of their fallen comrade towards him and used him as a shield. It wasn’t put to the test. The attacking monster held back upon seeing his friend move. He had hope, probably. But it gave Enteng enough time to pull the spear out of his second victim and sink it into the fourth’s throat.
The fourth monster gurgled. Another one attacked in anger, giving all of his power to pulverize this old man’s head, but there was another line. Enteng readjusted his grip and retreated. The monster’s club ripped through the wooden shaft of his stone spear, but that was a part of his plan.
He grabbed the other end of his spear like a dagger, ducked to get through another swing that came from a monster that flanked him, lunged, pushed him down, and drove the sharp stick into his left eye. The fifth one didn’t even get to scream.
He rolled to the side to dodge another strike gunning for his head, got onto his knees, breathed, and ran towards the big boss. Two were on his back, roaring to follow his lead. They would catch up to him soon. The other spear thrower took out his club and was about to join the fray.
This was it.
This was his limit.
He narrowed his brows and ignored his burning body that screamed through his creaking and strained bones. This was where he felt how old he was. His body was heavy. The adrenaline passed, but he didn’t dare to slow down. He would be able to reach the big boss that did not dare to move even before the clubs of those at his back and at his side could reach him.
He needed to take him down so that the others would be safe.
He took a sharp breath through his gritting teeth. He wouldn’t die screaming. He clenched both of his fists, leaned forward, and picked up the pace.
His heart roared with energy.
But there was no line.
His eyes were fast enough to recognize it.
There was no line.
The big bad stepped forward without much of a reaction, without the slightest wrinkle of a desire for revenge, and whipped his stone sword towards Enteng.
This was the end.
He was happy about it. He got to be cool. And he’d die cool.
But he raised his left arm at the last second to soften the blow, to have his leather jacket cushion its edge not to let it cut through, only having the attack bruise his muscles, crack his bones, and rock his brain with a single swing.
He blacked out and woke up rolling into the floor.
It was like his house.
But he didn’t scream.
They’re about to end it.
Everything was a blur, and it’s just perfect.
He couldn’t stand. He groaned and faced the skies. He could hear his own breathing. Every joint that pinned his body and allowed it to move burned with pain. This was the cost of it. Just one swing would end it. Hurry. After all that he had done. Please. He didn’t want to wait anymore for him to see his family.
“Somebody once told me—”
The speakers roared from Uncle’s house.
“All you had to do was to play a single song,” Uncle screamed from afar. “You pressed play on the whole album, dammit!”
“I have fucking fat sweaty fingers. Shut the fuck up!”
A silhouette of a tall man speared through one of his remaining enemies. Another caught up to his lead and took on the remaining two. They missed a swing at his frail shadow, and that little thin-limbed man hit back with a well-aimed strike that slashed through one’s throat and ended with another one’s eye.
These two monsters fell immediately.
“Stealth kill, Motherfucker.!” The man howled like a drunk dog.
The remaining enemy leader stepped back and readied his sword with both hands. “Who—”
“I am the Monster Clapper,” he proclaimed. “anointed by the God of the fucking sun himself, Apolaki, as this world’s truest gamer. I am level five. I have knife proficiency skills, a plus two on stealth, a plus three on charisma. I am stacked with so many buffs—”
“You,” he pointed his knife towards the enemy leader. “You shall call me motherfucking Uncle, and I have a plus five on intimidation right now, which tells me that I can tell you to suck my fucking dick.”
And there was Enteng’s savior, glimmering under the moon with his cape made up of stained bedsheets, his boxer shorts that failed to capture the line of his asscheeks, his knife proudly resting on his right hand, and a charged mosquito-killing racket on his left.
On top of his head, stuck on his thick headband, was George standing with pride like a glorious knight that rode into battle with his mighty questionable steed as All Star played in the background.
Enteng was dizzy. He had been hit by a devastating blow. This was the first time he laughed at the thought of what the fuck was happening.