The Swine Herd

  Elmore reached beside him grabbing his shotgun. The familiar weight of it in his hand was reassuring, but there was nothing reassuring about the herd of hogs that lay behind them. He could feel the heat of the Beast, his truck, still coursing through him, its pulsing energy in sync with his own heartbeat. He fumbled for shells, sliding a shell into the shotgun's chamber, and stuffed extras in his mouth and vest pocket for easy access. No time for wasted time now.

  He glanced back at Brent, who was still crouched in the bed of the truck, gripping the rebar tightly. The man’s eyes had gone feral, locked onto the hogs swarming the bridge.

  “ were Drawin ‘em away!” Elmore shouted through the open window muffled around the slugs. Without hesitation, he slammed the gas. The truck roared once again, surging forward blasting a cloud of red smoke, heading away from the bridge. The hogs, seeing their prey in motion, followed in a mindless stampede.

  They raced down the road for a few miles, the thunderous hooves of the herd vibrating through the steel frame of the truck. Elmore stole a glance at the rearview mirror—hundreds of beasts were still chasing them, the titan hog at the rear lumbering forward, its tusks gleaming red and brown in the fading sunlight.

  Elmore sucked in a breath through his teeth. "All right," he muttered. "Let’s do this."

  In one swift motion, he yanked the wheel hard to the left, bringing the Beast into a sharp turn, the tires screeching as they spun around. The truck fishtailed, but Elmore regained control, now facing the oncoming horde. Without hesitation, he floored it. The Beast roared louder than ever, and they charged straight into the mass of hogs once again.

  Brent stood tall in the truck bed, his body almost entirely transformed. His claws dug into the rebar as he swung it with brutal efficiency, cleaving through the first wave of charging hogs like they were made of paper. Each hit was a grotesque spectacle of shattered bones and pulverized flesh, the rebar singing through the air like a warhammer.

  Elmore fired his shotgun through the open window, the boom of the shots cutting through the cacophony of the stampede. His aim was shaky, and the truck’s wild swerving didn’t help, but he was hitting more than he expected—close-range buckshot tore into the nearest hogs when he missed the big one, their bodies crumpling under the force.

  This wasn’t instinct. It wasn’t skill. It was survival. And they were winging it, making it up as they went along.

  Occasionally, a hog would get a good angle to sink its tusks into the side of the Beast. The metallic squeal was sharp, but the truck kept barreling forward, leaving the hogs behind, its tusks still embedded in the truck’s frame, ripped clean off in the chaos.

  Pass after pass, they tore through the herd. The gore splattered across the windshield made it nearly impossible to see, but Elmore pressed on hanging half out the window just to see, getting equally bloody. Brent’s swings never slowed, each hit sending shockwaves through the steel rebar. The titan hog still loomed in the distance, but Elmore knew they’d have to deal with the smaller ones first.

  The Beast roared as they made another round, but this time, Elmore could feel it faltering. It wasn’t the fuel—he still had plenty of gas. It was something else. Whatever had given the truck this new life, this almost sentient drive to fight, was running low. The red glow from the headlights dimmed, the smoke from the exhaust less vibrant. The truck’s engine still rumbled, but its power was fading.

  Elmore clenched his jaw, his knuckles white on the wheel. He pushed the truck as hard as he could for one last pass, plowing through another wave of hogs. Brent swung wildly from the back, smashing into whatever came close. But the Beast had reached its limit.

  The truck slowed, and Elmore knew it was time.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  He slammed on the brakes, bringing the Beast to a hard stop. The engine sputtered, still alive but barely. Elmore jumped out, his shotgun in hand, and shouted at Brent, “were on foot now!”

  Brent leaped from the bed of the truck, still clutching the rebar, his body bristling with tension. Elmore glanced back at the truck, feeling a strange sense of connection to it—almost as if it were alive, it felt frustrated that it couldn’t keep going but satisfied it had done its job.

  Elmore gave the truck a quick pat on the hood, like a dog that had finally run itself to exhaustion. He could almost feel the Beast hum in response, annoyed but content.

  “C’mon, big guy,” Elmore muttered, wiping the blood from his nose and gripping the shotgun tighter. He turned to face the remaining hogs, eyes narrowing as the titan hog in the distance lumbered closer.

  Fast Feet Fighting

  Elmore adjusted the strap on his back, securing his shotgun in place, and reached for his axe. The weight of it felt solid in his grip, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in his mind. His eyes flicked to Brent, who had begun to glow again, a faint radiance pulsing around his body. It wasn't the same as before—this time, Brent’s transformation deepened. His hair thickened and spread further down his body, muscles swelling with the first few breaths. His claws, already sharp, grew darker and longer, curling slightly with a wicked gleam,

  Brent let out a low, guttural growl. “Skill grew,” he said, almost in disbelief. “That thing... the big one. It could kill me in one hit.” His eyes narrowed, the beast within him recognizing the challenge ahead. “That was the requirement—to face something that could end me instantly without fear.” after a beat “ knowing that i'm now slightly scared”

  Elmore gave a short nod, gripping his axe tighter. No more words were necessary. The two of them surged forward, charging into the mass of smaller hogs that remained. These weren’t the 15,000-pound monstrosity, but the feral, vicious 60-400 pound beasts that swarmed like a living tide. Alone, each one was manageable, but in a horde, they were lethal.

  The battlefield became a blur of blood and bone.

  Elmore swung his axe with brutal precision, every strike sinking deep into bone and brain. His muscles moved on their own, almost detached from his body, as his weapon cleaved through the charging bodies. Blood sprayed across his face, staining the air with the metallic scent of iron. Each hit resonated through his arms, the shock of impact driving him forward as he hacked through the wave of tusks and gnashing teeth. The hits to his leathers sliding off and none strong enough to stop him.

  Brent was a whirlwind of claws and fury. His increased speed was terrifying, his body blurring as he moved through the horde, rebar swinging in arcs too fast for Elmore to follow. Where Brent struck, smaller hogs were obliterated, their bodies almost cavitating under the force. But while Brent was faster, Elmore was stronger. He could see Brent struggling to finish off the larger hogs as quickly as Elmore did, relying more on agility than raw power needing multiple hits for some.

  Together, they danced a bloody ballet, circling and cutting through the swarm. They had thinned the herd down to its last hundred or so, the constant wave of bodies slowing as the numbers dwindled. The stench of death filled the air, thick and suffocating, but Elmore was too focused to care. He could feel exhaustion creeping in, but strangely, it was less than what he knew it should be. The adrenaline pumping through him kept his limbs moving, kept his mind sharp.

  Brent, panting but steady, moved alongside Elmore, both of them drenched in blood but unharmed. They hadn’t taken a single hard hit from the smaller hogs, their combined effort too much for the creatures. The last few hogs fell under the weight of their strikes, leaving them standing in the midst of a battlefield.

  The ground was soaked in blood, littered with broken bones and the shredded remains of meat and guts. The chaos of the swarm had ended, but the true danger still loomed.

  The titan hog hadn’t moved.

  It stood in the distance, watching them. Its massive, bloodstained tusks gleamed in the fading light, human bodies hanging from them ripped and torn faces locked in silent screams, and for the first time, Elmore realized just how massive it was up close. Its height dwarfed anything else in the area, casting a shadow over the battlefield.

  Elmore’s breath caught in his throat as the titan inhaled, The ground trembled as the titan’s hooves sank into the blood?slick earth. and the air rushed into its maw with a hungry rumble. Starting from its flanks, the soil and gore began to writhe: pools of scarlet seeped up from where its smaller brood who lay shattered, the earth itself bleeding. Chunks of pulverized meat surfaced like horrific seeds only to plant themselves into the monstrosities coarse bristles who caught the sludge. Thick tendrils of mud and blood snaked through its hair, each strand laced with shattered bone splinters and tangled ropes of intestine. As the hog shifted, the filth swung in pendulous arcs—dripping, slithering, alive with a sickening cadence that looked almost like laughter.

  just before a screen glitched in and out of sight—like a broken image on an old TV screen hazy and undefined until the last instant before it vanished—but Elmore saw it clearly.

  A name had hovered above the hog’s massive frame, fractaling and bending light in the air.

  But then it was gone.

  Elmore blinked, his mind reeling from what he’d just witnessed.

  “Did you see that?” he breathed, glancing at Brent, whose eyes were fixed on the spot where the titan now stood.

  Brent nodded slowly, his glowing form running out of that extra radiating energy. "Yeah. I just couldn't read it we may be fucked."

  The battlefield was silent now, save for the faint hum of energy that still crackled in the air, as if the Beast—both the truck and the titan—were waiting for something.

  {MudBlood SwineLord ??}