Rick stood before the swarm, their blood-red eyes gleaming like dying stars. Two hundred and twenty monsters. Each one radiated killing intent thick enough to choke the air. Yet Rick smiled — calm, almost amused.
"I never thought I'd need to use that again," he murmured.
Inside his head, the Quill's voice thundered, sharp and frantic.
Are you insane? it roared. You can't use that technique! You're running on fumes. My energy is nearly gone, and your own reserves are pathetic. Do you even remember the backlash from the last time? You nearly collapsed, Rick! It's a miracle you're still breathing. That attack spares no one — not even you. If I hadn't created an energy dome last time, one of those lightning bolts would've vaporized you. Even if by some miracle you manage to pull it off, you'll be defenseless afterward. The lightning will strike you too. Please, rethink this!
Rick chuckled darkly. "You whine too much for a cursed object, Quill. And weren't you the one screaming that we're going to die? If that's true, then I'd rather die like a hero… or at least drag a few corpses with me."
Fool! the Quill barked. I meant dying by your enemy's hand — that's honorable. Dying by your own skill's backlash? That's just stupidity.
"Then I guess I'm a fool," Rick said, his grin widening. "Tell me something, Quill. Do all Quills talk like you, or are you just special?"
All Quills have consciousness, the artifact replied with pride, but not all are intelligent. Some only know how to hunt and kill. The smarter ones — like me — understand far more. Not every Quill reveals itself to its host either.
"Host, huh?" Rick muttered.
Yes, host.
Rick snorted. "Why bother telling me all this now? We're about to die anyway."
Oh, right, the Quill said dryly. I almost forgot about the two hundred monsters staring at us.
Rick rolled his shoulders. "Quill, give me back my body. Let me see what I can do."
Fine, the Quill grumbled. But remember — if you die, that's the end for me too. No one wants a cursed object.
Rick laughed heartily as control returned to him. "I'm already dead, what are you worried about?" He raised his head, eyes blazing with reckless determination. "But even if I die, I'll take a few of these bastards with me!"
He stretched both hands toward the sky. The heavens responded. Clouds twisted violently, merging into a colossal vortex. The air trembled, thick with ozone and divine wrath.
"That's the same trick he used on the abomination!" one of the monsters shrieked.
"STOP HIM!" another bellowed.
The ground quaked as they charged.
Far away, a different cry rose.
"OUR LORD IS IN TROUBLE!" someone screamed.
It was Rick's followers — survivors, fighters, zealots who had formed his cult in the aftermath of chaos.
"IT'S TIME TO SHOW OUR WORTH!" shouted their leader. "SURVIVORS AND HUMANS, GET READY — WE'RE GOING TO HELP THE LORD!"
HYAAA!!! they roared, voices uniting into one war cry that shook the ruins.
Thunder answered their call.
Boom.
The sky cracked open.
"You're mad," the Quill said, its tone trembling between fury and awe. It's bad enough you're trying an impossible skill, but now you're fusing it with Thunder Clap? You don't have the energy for this. You'll kill yourself!
Rick's eyes flared blue with lightning. "Let me worry about the energy."
He screamed — a raw, unyielding shout — and the heavens obeyed.
Lightning tore through the sky like divine blades. Bolts rained down, slashing through the battlefield. Each strike vaporized monsters, sending shockwaves through the earth. Buildings shattered. Roads split. Fire and light became one.
Rick wasn't spared from the chaos. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony. Controlling the lightning was a nightmare; summoning it was one thing, but bending it to his will was another entirely. He gritted his teeth. So far, none of the bolts had touched him directly — if they did, he'd be fried to ash.
"Quill!" he roared. "I need your energy!"
The Quill hesitated for a moment before responding with a disgruntled growl. Fine, take it — but don't blame me if you explode!
A warm surge of power poured into Rick's veins. But even as it filled him, he knew it wouldn't last. He wasn't using it for the technique anyway. Instead, he funneled the energy into one of his altered cells.
A sharp pop echoed within his body.
Pain — searing, merciless — shot through every nerve. One cell detonated, unleashing unimaginable power.
Then another popped.
And another.
Each explosion triggered the next — a chain reaction. His energy skyrocketed, but so did the agony. It felt like being torn apart from the inside out.
Yet, amidst that chaos, something unexpected happened.
The nanobots within his blood — dormant since the day he was experimented on — suddenly reactivated.
They rushed through his body like metallic fireflies, repairing his shredded tissues, strengthening his failing organs. Each time a cell exploded, the nanobots rebuilt it stronger — turning normal cells into altered ones.
A miracle. A curse. Both at once.
Rick didn't have time to marvel. He pushed harder, detonating more and more cells, trading pain for power. Lightning fell like rain. The battlefield was a sea of thunder and smoke. The monsters screamed as their numbers dwindled — from two hundred and twenty to one hundred… then to eighty-five.
Rick was burning alive. Blood streamed from every pore. His muscles trembled, his heartbeat erratic.
"I guess… I was fated to die after all," he muttered, smiling weakly as blood trickled down his face.
Almost every cell in his body had been detonated and rebuilt — his strength was monstrous, but fleeting. Even the nanobots were slowing down, overwhelmed by the destruction.
Then, a voice thundered through the battlefield — not from his mind, but from beyond.
PROTECT THE LORD.
PROTECT HIS EXCELLENCY.
Gunfire erupted.
Precise, deadly shots cracked through the chaos. Each bullet found a target, piercing monster skulls with surgical accuracy. Heads exploded like melons. The number of beasts plummeted from eighty-five to sixty-seven in seconds.
"Kill every last one of them!" roared the monsters' leader.
"SURVIVORS!" bellowed the king of Rick's cult. "TAKE THE FRONT LINES! PROTECT THE OTHERS WHILE THEY FIRE FROM BEHIND!"
Steel clashed, thunder boomed, and chaos reigned.
By any sane calculation, the monsters should have won. They were stronger, faster, relentless. But the sheer number of Rick's followers was staggering — two thousand nine hundred and ninety warriors, all armed, all burning with fanatic devotion.
When faced with such numbers, even the monsters hesitated.
After all, even ants bite.
But these weren't ants. These were dragons in ants' clothing. Humans who had trained, evolved, and hardened in just one month — molded by faith, desperation, and the will of their so-called Lord.
Rick watched them fight. His cult — his believers. Their unity was terrifying.
"Take His Excellency back!" the king shouted. "Protect him at all costs!"
Rick stumbled, his body trembling from overexertion. The thunderstorm above was fading, the lightning dispersing into dying sparks. Yet even as pain consumed him, a smile crept across his blood-soaked face.
Looks like I really do have a cult, he thought.
A strong one at that.