Primo leaned his back against the cool, rough concrete of the gymnasium wall, forcing his breathing to slow down. He couldn't afford to move while his heart was still drumming in his ears.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pushed his focus outward. His Great Ear skill hummed to life, and the wall behind him suddenly became a thin veil. The sounds from inside the gym bled through with startling clarity.
At first, he heard what he expected: the muffled, tremulous sound of someone sobbing and the low, urgent whispers of people huddled together. His heart leaped—survivors.
But as he focused deeper, tuning out the human voices, his blood ran cold.
Underneath the whispers, there were other sounds. Heavy, wet thumps against the polished wooden floor. A dry, rhythmic clicking—like bone hitting bone. And then, a long, drawn-out hiss that sounded far too large to be coming from a common lizard or snake.
They aren't alone in there, Primo realized. They're hiding, but something is in the room with them.
He looked up at the gym's back windows. They were narrow and positioned nearly twenty feet up, designed for ventilation rather than a view. There was no way to see inside from here. If he wanted to know what was happening—and if Wyn was among those voices—he had to get to the front entrance.
He checked his phone. 1:52 PM. The adrenaline of the chase had masked his physical exhaustion, but now that he was stationary, his stomach let out a sharp, demanding growl. He was burning through calories at an incredible rate after all the events today.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a squashed energy bar and a small bag of dried nuts he'd scavenged from his kitchen. He ate quickly but quietly, savoring the sugar and protein as they hit his system. He could feel the energy returning to his limbs, the dull ache in his legs receding.
He gripped his spear and stood up, his eyes narrowing.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Front door. Stay low."
He began to creep along the side of the building, his nose twitching. As he moved closer to the front, a new scent began to cut through the smell of old gym floor wax and sweat. It was a sharp, acidic odor—like ammonia mixed with rotting fruit.
His Great Nose was screaming a warning: whatever was inside that gym, it wasn't just a bigger version of a normal animal. It was something entirely new.
He crept toward the front of the gym. One of the large main doors was slightly ajar, just enough for a person to slip through. Primo silently slid inside.
The sight that welcomed him was a nightmare. In the middle of the polished basketball court was a mutated python. It wasn't the giant beast of movies, but it was horrifyingly thick—its body was the size of a human torso. Its skin looked like cracked, weathered armor, and jagged bone spurs jutted out from its head and the length of its spine. It was currently halfway through swallowing a human body, its jaw distended as it slowly consumed its prey.
Further away, huddled in the bleachers, was a group of six: four boys and two girls.
There, standing at the front with a baseball bat in hand, was Wyn. He was pale and sweating, but he stood protectively in front of the others while the girls sobbed behind the other two boys.
As Primo watched from the shadows of the doorway, he noticed something strange. One of the boys behind Wyn wasn't just shaking; he was staring at the snake with intense focus, his fingers twitching in a rhythmic pattern as if he were trying to manifest something.
He's not just scared, Primo realized, his intuition kicking in. He's waiting for a chance to use a skill.
The python's tail flicked, the bone spurs clicking against the hardwood floor. It was vulnerable while eating, but with a body that thick, one swing of its tail could still snap a man's ribs.
A flicker of orange light sparked between the hands of the boy behind Wyn. Within seconds, it condensed into a ball of flame the size of a baseball. With a roar of grief-fueled rage, the boy hurled it.
The fireball streaked across the gym and slammed into the python's side. It was a spectacular sight—fire created out of thin air—but as the smoke cleared, Primo's heart sank. The fire hadn't even scorched the snake's armored, stone-like skin. It did, however, succeed in making the beast very angry.
The python hissed, a sound like steam escaping a broken pipe. Irritated at the interruption of its meal, it began to thrash its neck, forcing the remainder of the human body down its throat at a terrifying speed. Now, only the legs remained dangling from its mouth.
A fire skill... that's incredible, Primo thought, even as he noted its lack of power. But they're in trouble if they think that's enough to kill it.
The boy who had thrown the fire—Pyro—was trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury. Wyn glanced back at him, then at the two other boys.
"Listen," Wyn whispered urgently, his eyes never leaving the snake. "When it starts moving again, you two take the girls and run around the far side of the court. Get to the exit. We'll distract it."
The two boys nodded, their faces pale. Wyn knew there was no point in telling Pyro to leave. Pyro's eyes were bloodshot, fixed on the python with a murderous stare. The person the snake was consuming wasn't just another student—it was his girlfriend.
Seeing the group preparing for a desperate, likely suicidal stand, an idea flashed through Primo's mind. He realized that his spear and Pyro's small fireballs wouldn't be enough to pierce that armored hide. He needed something more.
Without a word, Primo slipped back out of the gymnasium door. He didn't run away; he ran toward the vocational building a few dozen yards away. He remembered that the school's maintenance and gardening tools were kept there.
Inside the gym, the python let out a final, muffled gulp. The legs disappeared. The beast's golden, slit-pupil eyes turned toward the bleachers, its body uncoiling like a massive, heavy spring.
Wyn stepped forward, raising his bat. "Come on, you overgrown belt!" he yelled, trying to keep the creature's attention on him.
Just as the python arched its back to strike, a loud CLANG echoed from the front entrance.
Primo had returned. He wasn't just carrying his spear anymore. In his other hand, he gripped a heavy, long-handled metal axe he had liberated from the fire safety station, and slung over his shoulder was a gallon jug of floor wax stripper—a highly flammable chemical.
"Wyn! Get back!" Primo shouted, his voice booming through the rafters.