Chapter 1: From the Forge

“I am a product of the flames which burnt me, the anvil which forged me, and the will that made me grow formidable instead of breaking.”
- Jeff Mach

It wasn’t easy growing up in the Wasteland with ghoul parents.

I mean, it’s not easy surviving in the Wasteland at all, but somehow my parents did it while caring for a child. I’ll never understand why two ghouls would free a hippogriff boy from a stasis pod and care for him as their own, but I’ll always be eternally grateful that they did.

They found me in Silverhoof, a quiet mountain town that, before the war, was filled with honest hardworking creatures: ponies, pegasi, griffs… The kind of place that wasn’t in a rush, where locals were kind, and where busy city creatures would travel vast distances by train or sky carriage and camp on the side of a lake for a weekend.

As the war dragged on, the town got quieter and the skies grew darker until one of the Ministry Mares decided it was a good secluded spot to locate some ultra-secret project that would help turn the tide of the war. Tourists were replaced with soldiers, and the citizens of Silverhoof felt like their home no longer belonged to them.

It wasn’t long after that when everything went to hell. Equestria was riddled by a barrage of megaspell bombs, mostly focusing on the eastern front and the capitol region, but several others hit locations all across the land, and Silverhoof was among the locations hit. That was nearly two hundred years ago. Now, what was once a prosperous tourist town is just another settlement in the Wasteland.

I don’t remember the life I had before my parents discovered me, and while I’ve tried to press for details about how and where they found me, they’ve always avoided my questions and kept it a secret. But, I suppose in this post-apocalyptic world where mere survival can be a challenge, mysteries about one’s past seem… trivial, at best.

I shifted the heft of the axe over my back, my wings helping to align the handle as I reached over and grabbed it with my talon, swinging it low and cleanly swiping the legs out from under the feral ghoul. The feral fell, it’s severed legs sent skidding towards a murky pool a few feet away. Its rotted face snapped up at me as I turned and brought the heavy shoe of my rear hoof down on top of it, crushing its skull.

I felt a tug on the barding near my hind leg, as another feral tried and failed to bite through my armor into my hide. Shifting my weight, I gave my best applebucking kick, hitting it square in the chest, and knocking it back a few feet. I whirled around low as I rotated the combat axe and brought the broad blade up through its lower jaw. It sliced straight through and out the top of the feral's head, splitting its already-contorted face in half.

Unfortunately, I didn’t quite get the leverage I wanted in that strike, and the creature crashed into me-- its flayed face attempting to envelop mine. I held the handle of my axe with both claws, pushing back against the poor thing.

I was momentarily distracted by staring through the split face, eyeing the inside of a neatly sliced trachea, nasal cavity, and a partially shattered skull. I would’ve found the dissection interesting if the creature wasn’t trying to kill me.

I heaved against the feral, creating enough space for my wing to extend and slice through the chest of the creature with the blades fixed to the ridge support on my wing-- a device of my own creation that had yet to be fully tested. Fortunately, it gave me the opening I needed to heave the axe down on the top of the feral’s head.

I continued to walk along the makeshift fence that had been assembled from scrap wood and sheet metal, I made notes of spots where the fortifications were wearing thin. Materials were low, and we had to strategically patch the weakest parts to keep out critters and ferals.

I looked back towards a partially collapsed barn that had been strategically fortified and strengthened. A rusty metal chimney jutted out the side of the structure, trails of languid smoke rising from it: A sign that my father had the forge lit.

We had called this place home for quite a while now; longer than any other place we’ve stayed. Though, I had become so accustomed to constantly moving and travelling with my dad, I knew it wouldn’t be long before we moved on.

I stepped into the barn and immediately felt a wave of heat envelop me, and sweat began to form on the back of my neck. My father, Carbon Cylinder, was pulling a peytral from the forge with a large pair of metal tongs. He quenched the piece in a barrel full of water, and closed the front of the forge.

“Father, I’m back,” I said as I undid the clasp on my barding and let it fall to the ground with a thump. My ottoman-gray coat was matted under where my armor had sat, but cleaner than the bits of hide that were exposed. I brushed myself off with a claw.

Carbon jumped and whirled around.

“Dammit boy! Stop sneaking in when I’m in the middle of work!” he exclaimed, snapping up a wet washcloth and dabbing at his face. “One of these days you’re going to make me fumble a piece and that’ll be it for me! I’ll be a ghoul bonfire!”

I smiled to myself as I hung my axe and armor on the hooks by the door, kicking the greaves off and sliding them under an antique table that was littered with medical supplies, oil, and flux. “There’s no way an earth pony could possibly be that clumsy!” I said as I turned towards him. “Besides, if you did that, you might turn into a kickass balefire ghoul!”

Carbon’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing ‘kickass’ about a balefire ghoul,” he said darkly, “as soon as they see you, they’ll whip balls of screaming death at you so fast, you’ll be a flailing mass of feathers enveloped in green flame!”

“Green flame?”

“Green flame!” he exclaimed dramatically as he balanced on his rear hooves and waved his forelegs about.

I laughed and sat by the large table in the center of the barn that was covered with smithing tools and half-finished projects that had been strewn about haphazardly. I noticed some new additions that weren’t there this morning.

“Been busy?” I asked.

“Always,” Carbon replied, taking off his heavy leather apron and making his way to the table. “How’d your experiment turn out?” he asked.

I stretched out a wing and looked at the ridge support and blades affixed to the leading edge. “I like the idea,” I said, “but they’re a bit too heavy… not bad for walking, but it makes it hard to fly for any length of time.”

The old ghoul stallion looked at the design with milky eyes as he spoke, “Hmm… I wish we had the materials to make an aluminum or titanium frame. With the right design we might even be able to sell it to the Enclave…”

“You want to sell a weapon to the boogieman?” I taunted.

The Enclave was supposedly the descendants of pegasi who decided to retreat above the clouds when the balefire bombs hit, and are still up there today doing… Celestia knows what. To folks around these parts, they were simply a story to scare young foals. An army of flying death machines ready to swoop down from the clouds and dispense justice to misbehaving young fillies and colts.

Carbon looked at me with his crooked stare, his mouth curling at the edges. “...In a word? Yes.”

“You’ve had the great privilege of living a relatively sheltered life out here,” he said, “but know this: The Grand Pegasus Enclave is very real and very dangerous. But, they are single hoofedly the most advanced group in the Wasteland. If we could establish a trade relationship with them, we wouldn’t have to crawl from place to place scavenging and selling to poor townsfolk and shady mercenaries. We could set ourselves up with good materials and a comfortable home and not have to worry about all this wickedness surrounding us!”

I frowned, considering his words. What could possibly be ‘sheltered’ about constantly fending off ferals, hiding from radstorms, and avoiding raiders? And why does he always seem so obsessed with isolating us and trying to do things by ourselves? Wouldn’t we be better off in a community like Silverhoof, or even Tiny? But, we’ve had these arguments before, and I knew that everything he did, he did to protect us.

I sighed and smiled, “I’m just worried about you. Wouldn’t want some mysterious pegasus death machine taking advantage of you and leaving you full of bullet holes somewhere.”

“Ahh, I’d be fine!" Carbon said with a smile as he wrapped a hoof around me. "They’d never get close enough, cuz my Stormy would rip them to shreds if they tried anything!”

I smiled and gave him the side eye. “You think our melee weapons would hold up against magical energy weapons?”

“Darn tootin’ they would!” he exclaimed, his hoof rising triumphantly. A moment later he slumped slightly. “Well, probably not," he admitted, "but we’d at least take a few of them with us before turning into pink ash.”

The playful grin never left my face as I replied, “Outstanding optimism, father.”

Carbon Cylinder gave me a weird little smile, then trotted to the other side of the table where he started punching holes in a piece of leather barding with a hammer and punch. I took a quick look over the table and started assembling a pile of rivets.

While my dad was more than capable of setting rivets back in the day, and could still get through it just fine, my talons were more adept at grasping and maneuvering the little parts. Besides, I always loved helping my father with his work, and he always appreciated it.

He slid two punched pieces across the table: the start of a crinet, articulated armor that protects a pony’s neck. I set a rivet through the two pieces, placing the rounded edge in a metal form, then hammering the free side with a ball peen hammer until nearly flat. I gave it a test wiggle to make sure it was securely fastened, but had enough play to move freely.

“You know we’re going to have to move on soon, right?” Carbon asked.

“Yeah, I figured,” I said with a sigh, “We’ve had to go farther and farther to find quality materials, and every day it seems like there’s more ferals trying to get in.”

Carbon nodded. “That, and I think Tiny’s at trade saturation. Just about everypony who has any amount of caps to their name in that town is now outfitted with our gear.”

I saw an opportunity to press more than just rivets. “So… why not head back to Silverhoof?”

Carbon’s expression turned sour and he spat at the ground. “There’s nothing left there for me,” he said with a dark tone.

“But it’s a much larger town… There’s bound to be more salvage and a better market--”

“I said no!” he exclaimed as the hammer dropped loudly on the table. He sighed and stared down at his hooves. “Sorry, it’s just… it was Silverhoof raiders that took your mother from us.” He fell to his rump and looked away. “That town’s not safe anymore…”

Raiders were the scourge of the Wasteland: creatures who succumbed to their violent impulses, killing and raping indiscriminately, raiding settlements and forming deranged gangs that could easily drive entire communities away from an area.

“Is anywhere safe?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

“Not really, but the country is safer than the city. ‘The demon you know’ and whatnot…”

I nodded, and we continued working in silence for some time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was the middle of the night, and I could hear the crackle of the forge quietly smoldering in the background. The wind outside had picked up and was occasionally bashing the branches of a nearby tree into the barn. I was in my cot on my back, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling and I felt… cold.

I tried to pull my blanket up over me, but my talons grasped at air as I heard a sickly wet squishy sound like the mashing of a hoof into a bucket full of worms…

A chill flew down my spine. What was that sound?

I couldn’t take my eyes off the shadows on the ceiling as they seemed to morph and chitter about forming demons, raiders, and feral ghouls…

There was another loud squishy sound and a slurp.

With great effort, I slowly lowered my gaze from the ceiling and looked down at my body-- my completely flayed body.

The skin around my stomach had been viciously ripped open, exposing partially eaten muscle and sinew; my entrails stretched out of the open cavity, all over the cot and onto the floor. At the end of one particularly long, bloody piece of intestine was my father, his eyes crazed and yellowed as he mindlessly munched on my insides.

He looked up into my eyes and I screamed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I could swear my father was getting used to hearing me scream in the middle of the night. I came to and found him standing several feet away from the cot with a compassionate and sad expression. A bottle of Wild Pegasus and a half-filled glass sat on the table behind him.

“You had the dream again?” he asked.

I nodded slowly, running a talon over my fully intact stomach. One downside to ghoul parents: you have this illogical fear that one day they may turn feral and eat you in your sleep. I knew that turning feral wasn’t something that just happened overnight, and that there would be warning signs long before he lost it, but still-- sometimes you just can’t shake those primal fears.

I sighed, collapsing back onto the cot and stared up at the shadows on the ceiling, cast from the warm glow of the dying forge. In the waking world, the shadows were just shadows, not demons or monsters.

You know, I don’t think I had these nightmares when I was younger… I think it started when I lost my mom. Before then, I thought of death as something that happens to other creatures, or as mercy for ferals, but after… It became more personal. More real.

“Hey dad?” I asked as I continued to stare at the shadows on the ceiling.

“Mm?” Carbon muttered as he took a seat by the table and continued nursing his whiskey.

“How did you and mom meet?”

Carbon Cylinder raised an eyebrow at the question and paused momentarily, his eyes dropping to the side as he thought. “That was a long time ago and in another life,” he said as he took another sip of the whiskey. “We were scientists and researchers... contracted to a military base in the San Palomino desert. ‘Ministry of Awesome Area Fifteen’ it was called, officially, but we just called it Plume Lake.”

I gave Carbon a confused look as I spoke, “There was a lake in the middle of the desert?”

“Sort of," he said with a chuckle, "it was a dry lake bed: an area that once held water but was fully evaporated leaving a salt flat in its place.”

“Huh,” I muttered as I laid back and closed my eyes, trying to imagine such a place as he continued.

“The locals made a big deal of it. Said the base was part of a government conspiracy and that we were hiding aliens in there.”

“Were you?” I asked.

“Of course!” he said jovially. “Big nasty things! Kinda had a pony body with hooves on their rear legs, talons on their forehooves, and wings and a beak like a gryphon!”

I snorted as he described me. “Dad…”

He gave a hearty laugh. “No, I never saw any aliens. I was a mechanical engineer working on parts for some MoA contraption. Never really knew what it was, since we’d only get blueprints for parts of a machine from an engineer and we’d fabricate mockups for them to experiment with.

“Your mother was a researcher. A botanist. She knew everything there is to know about plants: their uses, structures, what kind of medicines you could make from them. Though, I never really understood what good a botanist was in the middle of a desert. Always figured she’d be more at home in the jungles south of the Badlands…” He gave a long sad sigh. “Anyway, we never really worked together, but we shared a break room and I fell for her the first time I saw her… Literally.”

“Literally?” I asked.

Carbon grinned. “Yup! Tripped all over myself straight into her and got covered in hot coffee! You’d never be able to tell it burned like hell as I stared straight up into her eyes from the floor.”

“So, she was into bumbling earth pony idiots?” I teased.

Carbon gave a snort. “Pfft, no. She thought I was a moron! ...And I was, compared to her. Still am, I guess… She always knew exactly what to do, and where to go…” He topped off his glass and took another pull of whiskey.

“You’re concerned about where we’re going next...”

“Among other things, yeah…” He trailed off, his gaze drifting. After several moments, he broke the silence. “You should try and get back to sleep.”

“So should you,” I countered, gesturing towards the whiskey on the table.

“Ah,” he muttered with a dismissive wave of his hoof, “sleep is for the living.”

I laughed and rolled over, pulling the blanket tight over my shoulders. “Hey dad?”

“Yeah, Stormy?”

“I think you’re every bit as smart as mom.”

I laid there for some time as my thoughts wandered to an earth pony stallion and a pegasus mare sharing coffee in a secret military base. My imagination began to take hold and I started to drift off to sleep as I heard the crackling embers of the dying forge... and a sound that I could only describe as a ghoul trying to weep.

* * * * *

The morning was spent finishing several pieces of armor, packing our saddlebags, and storing leftover materials in preparation for the move. We cleaned out and disassembled the forge into several smaller parts, taking the time to separate the essential pieces from those we could easily find at a new location.

In the early afternoon, we set out towards the town. It was a fairly short hike, and it wasn't long until I saw the fortified wall surrounding the encampment. As we approached, we waved at the guard pony who smiled and returned the wave as we passed. She was wearing hardened leather barding of my father’s design.

The settlement of Tiny was, well, tiny. It wasn't much more than a small clearing containing a multitude of tents and several ramshackle structures that surrounded an old wood and iron outpost. Each side of the outpost proudly displayed the “Equestrian Forest Service” logo, battered and faded by time. Underneath the tower there was an enclosed area that had a makeshift sign that read, “Tiny Market & Town Square”.

We set up behind an unused table, and Carbon began immediately brushing off the display pieces and setting them out. I dropped my saddlebags and started to sort through them when he placed a hoof on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “why don’t you go and talk with the locals some? See if you can find any information on other towns or settlements.”

“Really?” I asked. “You don’t need help here?”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “Naw! I’m a natural at this selling thing!” he said in a charming, albeit raspy, voice. “But you, you’ve always enjoyed talking and getting to know our clients, rather than actually selling them something!”

I gave a small laugh and smiled. He was right. I cared much more about learning where some creature was from, what their home town was like, or what juicy gossip was floating around town rather than trying to sell them on a particular piece of equipment. That was my father’s forte.

I nodded and turned to take a walk through the market, though “market” was a very generous term for the place. It was really more of a smattering of stalls and tables under the lower level awning of the outpost. Many of the tables were vacant, but there were a few ponies selling homemade wares as well as parts and scrap. The stalls contained a general store, a potion shop, and a clothing shop.

I took a quick inventory of how many caps I had and trotted into the general store. While the shopkeeper was... nice, she didn’t want to talk about anything other than her merchandise, and eventually asked me if I was going to buy something or bore her to death with small talk and stupid questions.

Okay then! Good start, Storm Mist. I mentally facehooved. Facetaloned? Being a hippogriff is hard.

I then took a quick browse through the clothing shop, but couldn’t actually find any shopkeeper. A well-kept unicorn mare with a dark blue coat and an alpine mane was also browsing through the shop and I struck up a conversation with her. Found out she was from a place called Ophir, a town several miles to the northwest. She was traveling through the area towards Redwing Ridge where she hoped to find her nephew, and apparently stopped here in Tiny hoping to find a new set of shoes. I smiled and pointed her towards my father’s table. I wasn’t sure if any of the shoes that we had would be of the sort she was looking for, but I figured it was worth a shot.

I visited a shop that was filled with potions, herbs, and various medicines, and bought a couple healing potions, since having an abundance of the things was always a good idea. As I passed the caps to the vendor, I asked if he knew anything about the town of Ophir.

“Oh yes! Great travelers from Ophir,” he said. “Have plenty of caps to spare! Always welcome!”

I tucked the potions into a small pouch I kept on me, and gave the shopkeeper a smile as I turned to leave. Browsing the table vendors didn’t reveal any more useful information, though I did find out that the guard pony was about to have a foal, the mayor was found drunk in a pile of garbage this morning, and that apparently some gang called the “Broncos” were going to rise up from the Wasteland and beat a rival gang known as the “Chiefs”.

I was starting to question the legitimacy of the information I was being given.

In any case, I walked away from the experience with some healing potions, a little bit of information, and a smile upon my face. It wasn’t often I got to see and talk to creatures other than my dad, and I relished the opportunity. The ponies in this town were actually pretty friendly!

I returned to my father's table and told him about my conversations. He laughed when I mentioned the mayor, and smiled warmly when I told him about the guard pony, but his ears perked up when I told him about the unicorn mare searching for her nephew.

“Ah! She came over and said she was looking for shoes!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, I sent her this way. Did you manage to sell her any?”

“Pfft! Of course I did! Told her I would ordinarily love to do some custom work on a fancier set for her, but explained we’ve been low on materials. She understood completely and bought the nicest set we had, even slipped me a tip as I was fitting them for her.”

“That’s great!” I said with a smile, taking a moment to transfer the healing potions from my pouch to the saddlebags. “She mentioned she was from a place called Ophir, a town fairly close to here. The shopkeeper from the medicine shop said folks from there are great customers.”

I could practically see the image of caps cascading from my father’s milky irises, and I knew.

“Looks like we’ve got a destination, boy!”

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, though we did manage to offload a bit of our gear at a discounted rate. The trot back to the compound was uneventful, aside from the occasional feral that we made quick work of.

My father had purchased a brahmin from one of the locals: a mutated two-headed cow-like creature that was dumb as a bag of rocks, but excellent for transporting a large quantity of stuff. Also one of the few sources of milk still in the Wasteland. It walked quietly behind us, both our saddlebags slung over its back.

We spent the evening packing up the rest of our things as Carbon excitedly fantasized about the prospects in Ophir. My thoughts, however, wandered to the blue unicorn who was travelling by herself to find her nephew in a far-away place. Was she from a rich family? Or the daughter of a crime syndicate? Would she be okay on her own? She wasn’t wearing any armor when I met her, and didn’t have any weapons on her… Come to think of it, how had she survived up to this point?

Suddenly, I was very confused and conflicted. Was unicorn magic really so powerful that they could just walk through the Wasteland without a care in the world? I made a mental note to try not to piss off any unicorns I met, and headed to bed. I drifted off quickly, dreaming of superhero unicorns saving the Wasteland from the Chiefs gang.

* * * * *

We woke up fairly early the next morning and got the bags loaded and tied down to the brahmin, and without a second thought or a glance behind us, left the barn behind. A fine mist rolled lazily over the mountains as we trotted up the ridge to the northwest.

After some time, we entered a canyon surrounded by large rocks to either side. As we approached the crest of a hill, I spotted what looked like a caravan up ahead. An orange earth pony stallion in a tattered duster leaned against a covered wagon that was parked in the middle of the road, smoking a cigarette.

“Someone up ahead…” I said, keeping my eyes focused on the pony in the distance.

“Trouble?” Carbon asked, slowing his step slightly.

“I don’t think so… Looks like he’s pulling a big wagon. Probably resting.”

The pony in the distance turned to face our direction, then whistled and made a circular motion with his hoof. He ditched his cigarette and ran to the front of the wagon. It lurched and veered around in a circle until it was rapidly moving towards us, drawn by two stallions.

Okay… not resting then!

“Shit.” We stopped dead in the road and I took a quick look behind us-- even if we turned around and ran, we’d lose the brahmin and everything we packed.

“Stay calm,” Carbon said, “we might be able to reason with them.”

Within a moment they were upon us in a cloud of dust, the earth pony stallion pulling back on the reins as the wagon rolled to a stop. I noticed that the two very dirty and tired-looking ponies pulling the wagon were physically chained to it, with padlocks securing the links. They were both wearing some kind of strange metal collar.

“Well, well, well, what do we got here?” drawled the stallion as he hopped off the wagon.

My father stepped forward. “I’m Carbon Cylinder, and this is my son, Storm Mist. We’re traders travelling from Tiny.”

The stallion raised an eyebrow. “He’s your son?” he asked incredulously, then started laughing hysterically as he stomped a forehoof on the ground. “Aha! That’s a good one! And just what kind of wares do you trade, Ghouly McLiar Pants?”

My eyes narrowed as Carbon responded, “Armor, mostly… We’d be happy to outfit you with a sample if you’ll let us pass and be on our way.” The brahmin shifted its weight nervously.

The orange stallion smiled, revealing a gold tooth with several black ones to complement it. “Ah, well that’d be swell, just swell…” He took out another cigarette and deftly lit it up, blowing smoke in our direction, and I noticed he had a six shooter revolver strapped to his side. “But, can you outfit my whole crew?”

Suddenly, several ponies emerged from the rocks around us, mostly wielding knives and bats; some had collars on their necks similar to the ponies pulling the wagon. I spotted a red unicorn on top of an outcrop ahead of us with a rifle floating by his side. My feathers stood on end: we were surrounded from every direction.

The low chuckle from the gang leader sent a chill down my spine as I gritted my teeth. This couldn’t happen again. I wouldn't let it! But, what could I do?

“Please,” implored my father, “I can give you all the armor and caps we’ve got if you’ll just let us pass…”

The gruff stallion smirked as he spoke, “Now, I do like caps! And armor. But you see,” he took another pull of his cigarette as he trotted towards us and looked me up and down before continuing, “I reckon’ I could get a LOT more caps by slappin’ a collar on Pretty Birb here and selling him to the highest bidder.”

I spat in his face, and a burly pony to my right immediately grabbed my claw and slammed a hoof down hard on my neck. My foreleg exploded in pain as I suddenly got very acquainted with the ground. I swore as my face hit the dirt. “Fuck!”

Carbon started to react, but was swiftly met by a collared pony pointing a machete at his throat. The blade quivered and shook as the mare wore a crazed, determined expression.

The stallion wiped his face and sneered, “You’ve got a lot of spirit there, Pretty Birb! I bet your illegitimate corpse of a dad is real proud of ya!” He wrapped a hoof around my father. “What a boy you got! What’s a slender little griffin go for these days, anyway? Couple thousand caps you think?”

“Please,” my father said slowly, deliberately, as his eyes met mine. Wait a minute… I barely noticed my dad’s hooves moving in time.

“Please don’t hurt my family.”

The gang leader didn’t notice that Carbon had undone the clasp on his holster until too late. With a quick jerk, the revolver came free, and the old ghoul snatched the weapon up in his teeth. He immediately turned towards the beefy stallion who was pinning me down and let loose two shots.

I rolled, snatching the axe from my back and swinging it towards the white mare wielding the machete. I buried it in her chest, collapsing on top of her, and watched as the look of surprise in her lavender eyes quickly faded into a distant, lifeless stare.

I heard three more shots from the revolver and saw several ponies running along the rocks. One of the shots ricocheted above me. Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the canyons and Carbon screamed out in pain. The gun flew out of his mouth and landed a few feet away from me, as he stumbled backwards. A bullet from the sniper had come dangerously close to decapitating him. It had ripped through his cheek and buried itself in his shoulder.

I scrambled to grab the revolver, but just as I brought it to bear, the gang leader piped up. “Uh uh uh! You don’t wanna do that.”

I stared past the iron sights at the gang leader, his hooves wrapped around my bleeding father. The gun shook within my grip, and I struggled to steady it; I had been taught long ago how to use a firearm, but neglected to train the skill. Melee fighting had always worked for me… but at this moment I felt useless as the gang leader pressed a tanto blade into my dad’s throat.

Take the shot.

“You’re a pain in the ass, bird,” he said.

Don’t let this happen again. Take the shot.

“But you’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”

TAKE THE FUCKING SHOT.

“Take him.”

A loud bang filled my ears and my world turned to pain. I watched the gun slip from my grip just before my vision went black.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Tough Hide (Rank 1)
Your hollow bones don’t stop you from being a tough son of a bitch! Damage resistance increased.

Author's Note

Hey!

Thank you so much for checking out my story and giving Invicta a chance!

Huge thanks to Artimae and Fiaura for their editing, Cadet for giving life to my characters with her amazing artwork, and Fiaura, Kkat, and Somber for inspiring me with their works~

It's gonna be a wild ride!

~ Forest Rain