The giant cat’s sharp claws dug through Charlemagne’s feathers, penetrating his Ironskin-reinforced defenses with ease. The curved edges caught beneath his skin, giving the feline better leverage to engage its powerful mouth. The rooster, whose Meditation skill had activated as soon as combat began, managed to roll forward with the attack, narrowly avoiding having his head crushed in the vice-like grip of the enemy’s jaws. Then the cat’s momentum brought its body crashing into Charlemagne, and the pair went rolling end over end in the black, sooty earth.

  The rooster was back on his feet in a flash, as the damage had finally caused his Zenrage skill to activate. He felt oddly calm as he sized up his opponent. It was a type of cat known as a serval. It had big ears and long, strong hind legs. As far as its abilities went, the cat’s top speed using four legs seemed to be only a bit higher than his ground speed, but it was massive compared to Charlemagne. That meant its claws and jaws would have plenty of power behind them, but its attacks would be marginally faster at best. It likely did not have any significant defensive skills, where he had not only his new mana shield but also his Ironskin skill. If he had been fresh, there would have been no contest, at least against a normal serval. But this one was clearly a Champion, and Charlemagne was battered, weary, and low on mana. He was going to have to come up with a new strategy to win.

  The rooster’s back burned where the great cat had clawed it, and Charlemagne’s Mana Core was hard at work keeping whatever had gotten into the wounds at bay. But they weren’t healing, which was a problem, a big problem. Holding back his own attacks for when he was certain he could get away without taking more damage, Charlemagne dodged several tentative pounce attempts and claw swipes, using both Zenrage and Meditation to guide his movements. The serval seemed to be determined to finish Charlemagne off as quickly as possible, chaining its attacks with little thought for defense. A tug from Meditation caused Charlemagne to look closer at the big cat’s fur, and he noted with some surprise that its skin was beginning to peel near the areas that had gotten the most soot on them as the pair of animals rolled along the ground.

  Reaching deep into the recesses of his memory, Charlemagne thought back to one of the many things Francois had commented on during their short time together.

  “The radiation, mon ami, she is lethal. Most creatures would die if they went into the blackened area. You are a special bird, non? You don’t just survive there, you go in there and fight a bunch of monsters!”

  The memory planted the seed of an idea in Charlemagne’s mind, but the rooster paid it little heed as he continued to fight for his life, taking two more claw attacks on his wing that he simply couldn’t dodge entirely. One of the attacks managed to get through his feathers, spreading the intense burning sensation further through his body. At this point, between the exhaustion and blood loss, Charlemagne’s stamina was rapidly depleting. The serval, while panting with effort, wasn’t nearly as drained as he was. He was rapidly running out of time.

  Trying desperately to marshal his remaining energy reserves, Charlemagne reached deep into his Mana Core, asking more of it than ever before. The skill responded sluggishly, as radiation had once again started choking the pathways. Moving the enormous amount of radiation through his mana channels was tricky, but his recently gained levels in the advanced skill helped him tremendously. As his body sped up, he found an opportunity to counterattack, finally landing a Strike against the serval’s shoulder after it had overextended.

  *Clang*

  Charlemagne’s claw bounced off the cat’s hardened skin, leaving no appreciable damage. Meditation nudged him again, pointing out that the spots where the skin was peeling had gotten worse. The rooster wondered if a mana blast would be able to get through the cat’s defenses as he circulated what felt like the dregs of his mana. No, there was not enough mana left to attack with, the rooster decided. Perhaps it was time to run away.

  The devolved rooster’s predator instincts flared up, angry at the idea of giving ground to a rival. Surely there was something he hadn’t tried yet. His Meditation skill continued to pull at his attention, showing him the patches of skin that had been affected by the radiation.

  The idea slowly began to sprout inside Charlemagne’s mind as he made connection after connection.

  Charlemagne had lots of radiation inside him. The radiation could hurt the cat, but only if it was outside. He had a way to get the radiation from inside him to the outside.

  Dodging almost on autopilot now, Charlemagne used the last of his mana to attract as much of the radiation choking his system as he could. There was so much of it that only a little mana was needed to help shepherd a huge dose of the harmful rays. Keeping his mouth closed, he allowed the energies to build up in his throat. When the attack was ready, he opened his mouth and belched forth a weak, almost invisible wave of mana, which caught the cat completely off guard.

  Leaping back well after the wave had already passed over it, the serval hissed, breaking its silence for the first time.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I’ve been playing with you up until now, but something in this area is making me itch like crazy. I’m going to have to kill you now. Will you still taste like chicken, I wonder? Only one way to find out! Hahahahah….Urk!”

  The cat seized up in the middle of its tirade, white foam dripping from the corners of its mouth. Then it collapsed face first into the soot, its skin rapidly peeling away to reveal angry red sores. Charlemagne waited for a few moments, unsure if he needed to finish it off and hoping that the squiggles would give him a firm answer. Then a soft sigh wheezed out of the cat’s open mouth, and the System rewarded him for his victory.

  Charlemagne lifted his head to the sky and crowed in proud defiance.

  Grimfalk was seated on his sofa as usual, and was happily watching his Champion, Ricardo, lay waste to a small human settlement on the outskirts of Barcelona. Then the picture on the screen froze and he was about to complain to Longclaw when a green telephone appeared. Someone was calling.

  Fumbling with the remote for a few moments, the deity finally managed to answer the call. Fellissa, the number two deity, appeared on the screen. Grimfalk couldn’t help but notice that the room she was in had been completely trashed: several cat beds had been totally shredded, their celestial cotton stuffing strewn around the room. Even the carpet had been torn up in several places. The theropod deity gulped, a greeting dying in his throat as he realized just how mad the other deity was.

  “You’re dead, you hear me? Dead!” Fellissa screamed.

  “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it,” Grimfalk denied reflexively.

  “Oh I know it wasn’t you, you useless tub of lard,” the feline snarled. “It was that ridiculous Champion of yours. He killed Princess Chunkbutt!”

  Grimfalk, not trusting himself to speak, merely blinked a few times in surprise.

  “See, you can’t deny it!” Fellissa yelled. “How did you do it? What powers did you give him? If you don’t tell me right now, I swear I will hunt you down and…”

  “The rules of GOD prevent unsanctioned fights between members, which includes ‘hunting down’, ‘jumping’, ‘sparring’, ‘mobbing’, and ‘going round the outside’, whatever that means,” Longclaw announced casually, not bothering to look up from her phone.

  “What will you give me if I tell?” Grimfalk asked, seeing a possible business deal to be made.

  “I’ll give you your guts for garters if you don’t, that’s what!” Fellissa threatened, before disappearing from the screen. The action unpaused, revealing a victorious Ricardo feasting on a large spread of tapas he had liberated from the villagers.

  Grimfalk looked at the remote still in his hand. He hadn’t hung up on the angry cat deity. At least, he didn’t think that he had.

  “I have an app on my phone that lets me control the screen now,” Longclaw said after a moment, dispelling her companion’s confusion.

  “Why would you do that?” Grimfalk almost yelled. “Do you know who that was? Do you know what she could do to me? To you?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes,” Longclaw retorted. “That was Fellissa Catus, the number two deity, and she can do nothing to us so long as we play by the rules. Which we are. So since she can’t do anything but rage impotently, she better think twice before she calls here and insults you in your own home.”

  “Well, I appreciate the…” Grimfalk began but stopped speaking when another call came in. He answered it. Fellissa appeared on the screen, her sharp features even more distorted by feral rage than the last time.

  “Now listen here, you…you…cretin! I don’t know who you think you…”

  The call dropped again. Grimfalk looked over at Longclaw, who smirked.

  “Next time she calls, I bet she’ll be a little more reasonable. If not, I can do this all day.”

  Five minutes later, a third call came in. Fellissa appeared to have calmed down significantly, although she was still clearly simmering.

  “Grimfalk, I’d like to propose a trade,” she said without preamble. “One that I believe will be mutually beneficial.”

  “I’m listening,” the theropod deity answered, laying his arms on his stomach as he leaned back further into the sofa’s deep cushions.

  “I have acquired a number of boon tokens from the System. I will trade one of them to you in exchange for your Champion’s full status page as of the time he fought Princess Chunkbutt. Charlemackeral or whatever his name is.”

  “It’s Charlemagne,” Grimfalk corrected, “And I’ll accept as long as the token is ‘intermediate’ grade or better.”

  “As your companion no doubt recalls, right now only the ‘lesser’ grade is available, so that’s what I can offer,” the feline deity corrected.

  “Then we need two,” Longclaw added without missing a beat.

  “One and I don’t hunt down all your Champions for sport,” Fellissa counter-offered.

  “Two, and you’re welcome to send any number of Champions you want at Charlemagne for revenge,” Grimfalk shot back.

  “All right, but you can’t use either of them to enhance Charlemagus…er Charleman…oh Charlewhatever.”

  Grimfalk jumped up from the sofa, his eyes flashing.

  “Deal!” he agreed.

  After the negotiations had concluded and Fellissa had received the data she had bargained for, the cat deity pulled up Charlemagne’s status page onto an enormous wall-sized screen that was built into her recreation room, reading it first with interest, then with confusion, and finally with anger. What was going on here? How could a simple rooster have gotten so overpowered?

  The feline sighed, putting her plans for revenge on hold, at least until she could figure out how to handle a flying, mana-breathing, radiation-proof, fast-healing, killing machine.