Shadow Slave

Swamps had a natural inclination to produce methane, which often remained trapped beneath the surface, forming voluminous bubbles of putrid gas. And those were only the swamps of the waking world, which were much safer than the marshes of the Dream Realm… well, at least they had been before the Dark Times.

In times of war, humanity had unleashed all kinds of weaponized horrors upon itself. So, today, there was no telling what kind of buried plagues could be released into the world if someone went around digging in the swamps of Europe or the Northern Quadrant.

The Dream Realm might have actually been safer, in that regard.

None of it mattered to Rain, though. What mattered for her was that methane was highly flammable.

And so, when the Huntsman shattered the liquor bottle, it ignited.

«Crap…»

Diving behind the tree, Rain pressed her body into the ground and covered her ears. In the next moment, she was momentarily blinded by a violent flash.

Then, she was assaulted by unbearable heat.

And then, the entire world shuddered.

«Ah?»

Rain was tossed into the air as the tree she had been hiding behind was obliterated.

That… was not supposed to happen. Marsh gas could ignite and burn, but not explode, and especially not so fiercely — at least not under an open sky.

Perhaps the flames somehow reached a huge pocket of trapped methane, or perhaps it had something to do with the pockets of gas sticking to the surface of the ice. Perhaps the entire swamp was anomalous, and the gas she had set aflame itself was unnatural.

In any case, the result of tossing the liquor bottle surpassed Rain's expectations.

By a lot.

let out a suffocated groan. Rolling in a mess of limbs, Rain fell into shallow water

«That… hurt.»

was hurt and

time for such frivolous things as pain and

Rain pushed air into her lungs,

been a plain of pure white snow once.

It was

air was full of smoke. The snow had melted, and the shards of ice were swiftly disappearing in the scorching heat. Everywhere Rain looked, darkness was intertwined with a fiery glow, and shadows undulated

icy swamp water and sweat at the same time, which was a terrible combination. The ash she had smeared on herself to mask her scent had been washed

cut on her side was pulsing with pain. That wound would have

«Ah…»

let out

her sword hissed as it left the

both hands, Rain took a step forward and left the shallow water behind,

stood, and close to no flames where the twisted tree — nor a smoldering stump —

lumbering figure emerged from, stepping onto the island in the clangor

a little haggard. The moss covering his armor had turned to ash, and one of the deer antlers crowning his helmet was broken. There were cinders glowing in the cracks of his breastplate, and

the dreadful battleaxe was still held firmly in his iron fist… even if its long shaft

demon towered above her like a grim reaper. The darkness nestled

but notice that the Huntsman was hunching slightly, as if suffering

into a dark smile against her

pity. There's nowhere for me to retreat until the flames die… would you mind waiting patiently for

answering, the Huntsman raised his harrowing

Rain's dark eyes glistened.

then, I'll just have to kill you

later, she

course, the Huntsman was