Headed by a Snake

A nearby bush had rustled without provocation.

Movement!

Bucket pointed his spear towards the bush.

"I found you, Mister Wroe! Come out! It's break time!"

A confused boar piglet emerged from the bush. Seeing the spear, it oinked out in panic.

"(What have I done? I'm so sorry!)"

Bucket lowered his weapon in apology.

"I'm sorry, Mister Pig. I was looking for my friend, Mister--"

SPLASH!

Unfortunately for Bucket, a ball of water struck him on the side of the head and knocked him off balance. In his moment caught unaware, he dropped the log. Bucket yelled out in frustration, looking all around him.

"Bawwww! You made me drop it, Mister Wroe! Where are you?!"

"Over here."

Hearing the voice, Bucket looked up. Tarquin Wroe was lying in a hammock hanging from a thick tree branch. The tall blue-haired adult waved one hand while concentrating on a small, black rectangular stone in his other hand. He called it an Allagan Tomestone.

It had games on it that Bucket liked to play sometimes.

But if Mister Wroe was above him... It meant that he didn't see him drop the log. It was a chance! Bucket picked up the log.

A slimy tentacled monster emerged from the water, five times Bucket's size.

Bucket dropped the log. Mister Wroe was above him. He wasn't the one that threw the waterball.

The thing crawled onto land, eight slick and gooey-looking arms lashing out at him. While Bucket was trying to think of a way to fight it, one of its arms wrapped tightly around his leg; it felt like sharp nails were pressing against his skin. Yelling out, Bucket slashed at the tentacle with his spear.

A slash, a stab, and a cut managed to free him from the devilish creature's grasp. He had to get away. He ran two steps and jumped, using his spear to vault him to higher ground. Using his new vantage point, he scanned the area. The 8-armed creature was huge, purplish and spotted, and was very intent on pursuing him. Bucket's eyes wandered as he also found a Summoning Circle scrawled into the sand, closer to where Mister Wroe was.

"Mister Wroe! You SUMMONED A MONSTER!!"

Wroe rocked the hammock lazily, still staring at the Allagan Tomestone, "Eh. It's probably fine."

"What's probably fine, Mister Wroe?! It looks really mad!!" Bucket jumped forward, rolling away and breaking out into a run. He had to make distance between him and the devilbeast so he could come up with a plan.

SPLASH!

The back of Bucket's head was struck with another waterball. Bucket growled in frustration, sucking up the pain, as he started to run in a zigzag pattern. More waterballs smashed into the nearby trees, breaking branches and terrifying the local wildlife.

Soon Bucket was running forward alongside panicked deer, rabbits, and a very terrified, very confused piglet. Behind them, the devilbeast's massive crawling tentacles, trampled the forest undergrowth and cracked apart the trees in its way.

Bucket and his woodland friends began to run faster. Bucket grabbed a low branch, swinging up onto a tree, abandoning his forest-dwelling running companions.

"Leave them alone! It's me you want!"

The devilbeast's arms raced forward towards Bucket, decimating the branches and vines in its way. Bucket breathed in deep, before letting out the strongest, scariest warcry he could, slashing and stabbing at the creature's arms. With a grunt, Bucket rotated his entire body into a spear slash, cutting off a big chunk of tentacle.

"GRAAAARRRWRRGHHHH!!"

"Take that, monster!" Bucket declared arrogantly.

Another four tentacles rocketed towards him. He abandoned the tree, a lot less arrogant than a few seconds earlier, "Sorry! I'm-sorry! I'm-sorry!"

The creature had arms with painful grips-- so it could definitely climb, too. There were so many arms that he'd be at a disadvantage if he were to stand and fight it.

He needed an advantage.

Bucket landed on the ground, painfully, rolling with the momentum. He gasped as he thought of an idea-- at the same time ducking to dodge another waterball. Excited by the thought, Bucket sprinted back zig-zaggedly towards the water.

...

Wroe was concentrating on his Tomestone. In it contained a veritable wealth of knowledge: forbidden lore, rituals with varying difficulties of complexity, but most importantly, blade techniques-- the mysterious and rare mana-activated techniques more commonly known as Skills.

Much of it came naturally to him. He was naturally curious about the darker sides of the world, so he retained the knowledge he gleaned from the Tomestone much like a dry sponge to water.

He didn't have to meditate to try to focus his mana. He simply prayed. He willed his love for his goddess and her pale, gently guiding hand guided the mana through his body-- or whatever black ink entropy she willed through him. The pain, too, was a form of worship.

He no longer had to exercise. He devoted his body towards praise of her name. Every drip of sweat from his brow, every rushing droplet of blood, the mass of flesh he called his body heaved and strained-- its whole existence was hers.

His mind changed, knowing too much, but capable of learning of the cosmos, of the rise and fall of entire civilizations, of the names of gods long dead, and the whispers of their inevitable return.

His very physique changed. He had promised her his heart. And where it once beat-- he doubted that part of him could still be called human.

He was a tool for her glorious will, to serve and worship throughout time everlasting.

He was in love.

Wroe looked away from his Tomestone, glancing down to see a pair of trees collapse as his summoned creature chased after the boy. He shrugged.

"S'probably fine."

...

Bucket remembered seeing a big tree leaning towards the water's edge. After witnessing the devilbeast's capacity for destruction, he hatched a plan to lead the creature there and trick it into smooshing itself.

As he ran, he picked up smooth rocks near the water's edge, throwing them when he could.

"Follow me, you big stupid!"

"GRAOHHHHHHH!"

Dashing away from the monster's roar, Bucket reached the base of the tree. It was huge, and its weight would definitely pin the devilbeast in place if his plan worked. Bucket took his place in front of it-- he didn't have to wait long.

The devilbeast was barreling through the brush and sand, furious from the rocks and the taunts. Bucket finally got a good look at it. Its body was a grey-purplish blob with bumps all along its skin. Its head was swollen with fluid and its dark pupils were an evil-looking wiggly shape. Its long tentacles were as thick as Bucket's waist, with their tips as thick as his arms.

"Come at me, I'm not scared of you!"

Bucket was a little scared. But he figured his dad wouldn't be scared at all. Boss would say something like, 'it's fine to be scared, as long as you win," but he didn't want the monster to know he was scared.

He hoped that was okay.

Massive tentacles whipped down at him, each with enough force to smash him into pulp. He sidestepped a tentacle, dashed forward and stabbed at the creature's main body. The spear point sank into the creature's soft, springy flesh, a stinking viscous fluid spurting out. The beast's tentacles had damaged the tree's exposed roots and made it creak forward, threatening to fall. Bucket needed to move quickly-- one more hit and the tree would fall and crush him along with the monster.

The creature roared loudly in pain, forcing Bucket to hold onto his ears. One of its tentacles latched onto one of his arms. Bucket yelped, it hurt soooo much, but he refused to drop his spear. If he dropped his spear, he would lose.

He reached for the knife on his back and began to hack away at the grey-purple meat. Recoiling in sudden pain, the devilbeast released him.

"Yes, here's my chance!"

As he charged forward, one more angry tentacle lashed out at Bucket. He ducked and slid, watching it smash into the tree's base. The massive tree began to fall.

Tentacles lunged forward, entrapping both of Bucket's legs and his spear arm.

"No! No!! Let go of me! I don't wanna die too!"

Bucket began to panic. His eyes grew hot and his heart began to beat crazily inside of his chest. He kicked and struggled, even as the tilted tree roared and cracked from its own weight. If he couldn't escape, he'd die. And if he died, he'd fail.

And if he failed, he'd never see his dad again.

He couldn't give up. But as he thought of his dad, he found words, buried deep in his mind-- words that didn't make sense to him, but words that he somehow knew he needed. He yelled them as loud as he could.

"MAGNUM… BREAAAAK!!"

Heat burned through his arms and legs. It felt like his heart was on fire. He opened his eyes and fire actually was all around him, a blazing flash of red and gold.

"GRAHHHHHZZRRZZZAAAAAAAHH," The devilbeast's tentacles that were grabbing him sizzled as it screamed in pain.

Bucket swung his dagger again, and three swift cuts later, he rolled out of the way of the groaning and crashing tree. Sand and stones flew up as the creature was crushed underneath. It squirmed and struggled, but the gross liquid just continued to bleed out, the creature must have been pierced through, more than it was pinned. Its arms tried to grip on the massive tree and it tried to push it off.

Bucket stabbed it in its eye. Its what Boss Tycon would do.

'Take away all their hopes and dreams,' he'd say.

He drove the spear as deep into the creature's body as he could, then he ran off-- his trusty log was nearby. He grabbed it and used it to hammer his spear deeper into the creature's eye. Several moments later, the creature stopped moving. It started to become see-through, crumbling away into fat clumps of magic dust.

Bucket breathed a sigh of relief as he tossed the fluid-covered log onto the sand. He sat down on his comfy leather-covered log and drank some water. He wasn't incredibly sure what happened, but thanks to that Magnum Break thing he did, he was barely able to get away from the tentacle monster in time.

A heavy splash kersplunked into the water behind him, so Bucket swiveled around on his seat to look. Wroe rose up out of the water's surface, water dripping down his blue hair and naked, muscular chest. Eventually, he stood magically upon the water.

"Hoho, you've done a little bit better, this time."

"Yeah, but I still dropped the log… I lost."

Bucket groaned, looking dejected.

"Not quite. Boss said you get half-points for holding onto your weapon. And you get bonus points for surviving against the monster."

"But I beat the monster!"

Wroe snickered.

"The summoned monster was on a time limit and the time ran out just now. Wherever it is, it should have turned entirely into mana dust by now."

"Oh, okay," Bucket nodded. He had seen the creature start turning into magic dust after he killed it. It made sense.

"You just have to wait to see if Mister Barza can pass his test," Wroe warned.

Bucket shot up, grinning wildly.

"That's right! Mister Barza will be able to pass, for sure! Let's go back so we can eat, Mister Wroe!"

Wroe returned the grin and in a puff of watery smoke, he disappeared and reappeared beside Bucket, placing the boy's log back onto the shirtless boy's shoulders

"Shall we have a friendly race, Bucket?"

"You're on, Mister Wroe!"