Chapter 7: Terror Crab Invasion — A Brutal Battle
The gathering place of the Fishfolk was an Inland Sea Pit — a landlocked body of water roughly the size of four or five basketball courts. The Fishfolk lounged in twos and threes in the shallows near the shore, letting the waves wash over them and rock their bodies gently, as comfortable as babies in a cradle, as comfortable as babes in a cradle.
Hiss—
Out in the distant water, dark shapes stirred. With each wave, those shadows rose and fell, impossible to make out clearly.
All that could be seen was a large mass of darkness drawing steadily toward the shore.
Only when they drew close did their full forms emerge, rising and falling with the surf.
A Shallows Terror Crab's jagged legs crunched onto the sand, trailing dripping seawater, with nearly thirty Red-Mantled Tide Crabs following close behind.
In the dark night wind, the Terror Crab had made landfall.
The Fishfolk were completely at ease, with no defenses in place. They were the natural inhabitants of this fish tank, and had never developed any instinct to defend against outside threats.
And so the Terror Crab led its horde of Red-Mantled Tide Crabs swaggering right up the beach.
Only one of the Fishfolk was close to the shoreline. At that moment, it heard a soft rustling sound from not far behind and instinctively turned to look.
In an instant, the calm in its eyes vanished entirely, replaced by sheer panic.
The next second, the Terror Crab's massive body disappeared from where it stood — and in the blink of an eye, it was right in front of the Fishfolk.
Hiss—
A wet, tearing sound rang out as the Terror Crab's Crab Claw drove straight through the Fishfolk's body.
Bright red blood sprayed in all directions.
"Wuwuwu wali ula—"
Caught between panic and agony, the Fishfolk let out a shriek that echoed across the entire Fishfolk Habitat.
Bang!
It swung a backhand punch at the Terror Crab, but the blow only produced a dull thud, knocking loose a few Barnacles and clumps of seaweed without dealing any real damage.
The Terror Crab casually flung the Fishfolk to the ground, and the pack of Red-Mantled Tide Crabs swarmed over to devour it.
The Fishfolk struggled to swing its fists, managing to break off one Red-Mantled Tide Crab's claw before going completely still. Its blood soaked into the sand.
Only then did a few Fishfolk rise to investigate. Seeing the Terror Crab kill one of their own, even these creatures so accustomed to peace were instantly galvanized — cries and howls filled the entire sea pit.
The death of their companion ignited the Fishfolk's fury.
They roared ceaselessly at the crab horde.
Wavecrest pushed to the front and came face to face with these terrifying creatures, his expression taut. He had never seen anything like them before.
Wavecrest's fish-eyes locked onto the enormous black Terror Crab at the head of the group, and a chill rose unbidden in his heart.
He understood at once — this creature would not be easy to deal with.
Watching his companions' furious cries and the oncoming tide of crabs, with the wind howling and the waves crashing against the shore, Wavecrest felt the same fury rise within him. His blood roared, and the wild nature of the Fishfolk surged to a boil.
He raised his fists and leapt into the water first, cutting through it like a sleek shadow as he charged straight at the crab horde.
Splash, splash.
The other Fishfolk, seeing this, wasted not a moment — one after another they followed, diving into the sea after Wavecrest.
The crabs stood there in a momentary daze, most of them still at the back, tearing apart the body of the poor dead Fishfolk.
Only the Terror Crab at the front swiveled its gaze, its two raised little eyes tracking the dark shapes swimming toward it.
Whoosh—
A lithe figure burst from the water. Wavecrest clenched his fist, the Brute Force talent surging through his strike, water droplets scattering around him like glittering pearls in the air.
With a roar, he launched himself at the Terror Crab.
Bang!
A lightning-fast blow landed with a brief, dull crack.
Wavecrest hit the ground. One arm had been torn clean off at the shoulder, blood gushing freely, and his face had gone pale.
The Terror Crab turned. Its Crab Claw now bore several vivid cracks.
With Wavecrest and the Terror Crab's battle ignited, the other Fishfolk surged onto the shore as well. One after another they broke from the water, and the wet sand near the shoreline darkened to a deep, sodden color.
The melee between Fishfolk and crab horde erupted in an instant.
The fighting was brutal.
Neither side possessed any real combat technique — they fought purely on raw instinct and the savagery they were born with.
Severed limbs, broken Crab Claws, and sprays of blood flew up and fell at the center of the battlefield in a continuous, grisly rain.
Though there were only nine Fishfolk, every one of them was Superior Quality, so against thirty Red-Mantled Tide Crabs they held a clear advantage — indeed, were it not for the one Tide Crab with the Spines Talent, the Fishfolk would have had an overwhelming edge.
Of course, the advantage could not truly be called the Fishfolk's, for on Wavecrest's side there was still the Terror Crab leading the enemy.
The loss of his arm brought searing, violent pain — every scale on Wavecrest's body trembled and shook — yet not a shred of fear or the urge to retreat surfaced within him. Some primal racial instinct rang inside him like a great bronze bell, tolling again and again without end.
From that relentless tolling, Wavecrest heard only one message — kill.
Fishfolk were a carnivorous race, born with an aggressive nature.
Gradually he could no longer hear the wind, could no longer hear the crashing waves — only the scorching rush of blood hammering at his battle instincts.
He opened his mouth, baring several rows of dense, razor-sharp white teeth packed together like the teeth of a saw.
He lunged forward. This time, Wavecrest had learned to dodge — as the massive Crab Claws came crashing down one after another, he waited for the instant the Terror Crab's movement stiffened, then drove his fist into the cracked wound on the Terror Crab's Crab Claw.
Crack.
The already-fractured shell of the Crab Claw shattered, exposing the snow-white soft flesh within.
The Terror Crab recoiled in pain, stumbling back several steps. Wavecrest pressed forward without pause, seized the injured Crab Claw, and sank his teeth in, tearing away a large chunk of white crab meat and swallowing it.
A sensation of pleasure and physical recovery flooded through Wavecrest's body all at once.
Keep going!
The Terror Crab retreated several steps and fell back into the water. The sea was its domain — but it was Fishfolk territory too.
Wavecrest showed no hesitation. He leapt and plunged into the ocean after it. In the water, the sea was the Fishfolk's ally — strength that could not be fully unleashed on land came easily beneath the waves.
Two dark shapes grappled endlessly beneath the surface. Above, the sea churned with waves, bubbles rising and roiling without cease.
No one could say how long the fight lasted.
When the two emerged onto the shore again, both were utterly transformed.
The Terror Crab had lost five of its legs. Its back shell was riddled with dense cracks, blue blood seeping out from every fissure.
Wavecrest's body was covered in wounds — one arm severed, his body laced with countless gashes, one eye gouged blind, and a gaping bloody hole in his left side.
Both of them moved noticeably slower now. It was clear that after such an intense battle, they were both spent arrows at the end of their flight.
The remaining Red-Mantled Tide Crabs numbered only a dozen or so. The one with the Spines Talent had lost a Crab Claw, and now faced five equally battered Fishfolk in a tense standoff.
The ground was heaped with the bodies of fallen Fishfolk and Red-Mantled Tide Crabs alike — a grim and horrifying sight.
The Terror Crab's raised little eyes swayed, and it let out a sound whose meaning none could understand. Then all the Red-Mantled Tide Crabs began to swiftly retreat.
Suddenly, the Terror Crab turned and scuttled away on its remaining legs, leading the Red-Mantled Tide Crabs in full retreat.
The soft scraping of crab legs on sand faded rapidly, and then they plunged into the water and vanished as a cluster of dark shapes, gone in an instant.
The Fishfolk finally let out a collective breath of relief, raising a victorious roar.
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Edited by Fat Goose