The Laughing Swordsman

Apollo could feel his flesh decay and a strong numb feeling spread from his wound.

His bokken flashed, decimating the creature that bit him.

However, that did not stop the decay. The only consolation was that it slowed.

Apollo's eyes widened.

He continued swinging his bokken, however, it was getting harder to move his leg.

Part of it was because of the numbness spreading from his wound, but it was mostly because his leg was disappearing altogether.

Apollo laughed like that one guy in a group who found a joke way too funny.

His chest was bitten.

It was getting harder to breathe.

His shoulder was bitten.

It was getting harder to move his arm.

His neck was bitten.

It was getting harder to stay conscious.

However, the thought of defeat didn't even cross his mind.

Apollo's body rapidly heated up. The decay slowed to a stop.

Then, his wounds healed at a rate visible to the naked eye.

There was an ominous smile growing on Apollo's face.

His bokken thrashed.

A line of creatures burst apart.

Apollo continued wildly whipping his bokken around.

With each swing, three or four creatures would explode into a mass of flesh and blood.

The creatures were not afraid. If anything, they became more aggressive.

Apollo did not bother dodging their attacks. He would rather kill one more creature over saving his flesh.

The creatures were taller than him. Despite that, Apollo was like a wolf in a flock of sheep.

His presence towered over them as he charged forward unimpeded.

It was a stampede caused by a single person.

However, such reckless actions cost him.

His body was riddled with decaying wounds.

Half of his face was missing while some of his bones were visible.

Apollo looked like a rotting corpse or mutated zombie.

Yet, his cackles rang out as loudly as ever.

One of the creatures chomped down on his ribcage. Although his bones held on strong, his muscles were twisted.

In the next moment, the creature exploded.

Apollo's bokken continued to thrash around like an untamed beast. The blood of the creatures fell like rain, giving Apollo a shower.

His wet hair stuck to his face, but could not cover the hysteria in his eyes.

The creatures had chosen the wrong target.

...Yet, it was like they did not care about their lives.

The creatures continued throwing themselves at Apollo. Some would die before they got to look at Apollo, while others would get an attack off before perishing.

The creatures themselves were just as insane.

Duplicating themselves took tremendous amounts of energy. As such, they desperately needed food afterward.

However, there were no more shadow monkeys to eat.

The creatures did not care if they were going to die from charging at Apollo.

Because they were already on the verge of starving to death.

If they backed off now, they would simply expire later.

Apollo laughed hoarsely while the creatures roared desperately.

It was a war.

A war where only one side could remain.

Apollo's body was like a pile of magma.

His skin shone with a bright red, while rivers of sweat cascaded down his body.

The flesh on Apollo's wounds wriggled, fighting back against the decay.

He looked like an unkillable machine.

The ground was covered in chunks of flesh while the soil became muddy from the blood.

Apollo never stopped butchering. Every crazed creature that lunged at him died miserably.

Apollo's breaths became ragged.

As all things do, the fight was ending.

There were only a dozen creatures left.

As for Apollo, he looked even more grotesque than the creatures.

Nearly half of his body was missing. There were long tendrils of decayed flesh hanging from his wounds

Yet, he stood tall.

The wind blew past him, causing the tendrils to listlessly follow the gust.

The creatures continued roaring.

Countless of their brethren were slain. Yet, the last few had no intention of running.

They charged at Apollo from every angle.

As for Apollo, he waited for them with a derisive smile.

Once they lunged, Apollo's bokken twirled.

The creatures burst as though they were balloons.

It was over.

Apollo looked up into the sky and basked in the afterglow of his slaughter.

"Haha...ha."

His body continued working overtime to heal his injuries. However, that came at a cost.

Tremendous amounts of energy had been expended to keep Apollo standing.

His stomach twisted like a black hole, demanding sustenance.

Apollo's vision blurred.

He leaped towards the penumbra tree, consuming its fruits faster than a vacuum.

By the time he was finished, his wounds had healed considerably.

However, it was not enough.

Apollo grit his teeth. He took out the pouch with the food pellets and directly swallowed five of them.

Since they were designed to last one week each, he had consumed nearly two months of food.

The moment the pellets touched his stomach, the gnawing hunger was abated.

The heat from his body caused the branch under him to sizzle.

Apollo's wounds rapidly healed. Patches of dead flesh fell from his body like a snake shedding its skin.

Other than the rips in his bandages, he was as good as new.

Apollo took a deep breath while closing his eyes.

A faint glow emitted from the cracks.

He did not feel drowsy, unlike the times before. The previous battle had simply shot him full of adrenaline. It was almost like he had overdosed on caffeine.

Apollo's eyes slowly parted.

The black mist was thicker. The twisted trees appeared to be swaying, yet were still.

It was silent.

There were no monsters, but dread hung in the air.

Apollo stretched.

He had entered the second layer. Now, he should be able to pick up the eagle berries.

He tried to retrace his steps. After all, Layla found an eagle berry bush earlier.

Apollo wanted to see if there was anything left for him to collect.

Apollo was constantly scanning the surrounding area with his blind spot. He did not know what creatures existed in the third layer, but he did not think they were good.

Suddenly, Apollo froze.

An old man was chortling.