He Who Hunts Demons Chapter 18: 18-The Golden Tree

Read chapter 18 of He Who Hunts Demons by A_Random_Turtle on NovelPedia.

A sharp gasp, and I woke to a severe pain coursing through my body. A few of my ribs were broken, and blood flowed down from my eyes, nose, and mouth. Regardless of the pain, my mind remained focused on what was most important. “Bel?” I croaked, shifting on the ground as my blurred vision cleared slightly. We had been flung so far away by the attack of the pregnant tree, but luckily we were safe from the large pool of water beneath it. “Bel. Where are you?” My hands touched every point closest to me as I sought the feel of her body, but there was nothing. Until, there was a croak. I turned in its direction, and Bel was leaning against a tree, blood trickling out of the side of her head. I crawled towards her and examined her. She hadn’t been hit badly and she was still conscious. Which was good. “Snow?” she called. “Are you all right?” The fact that she could remember my fake-name, and still cared about me calmed me a bit. It was evident to the fact that she still had her memories intact. Now, all I had to do was get her to the golden tree as quickly as possible. Several loud booms sounded in the sky above, quaking the ground and surrounding trees. I held onto Bel tightly and looked upwards to see several vines of the pregnant tree snaking above as though it was stalking us, waiting for us to move before it attacked once again. I frowned weakly at that. “It won’t attack unless we move,” Bel stuttered. “It can’t see, so it relies on movement to catch its prey.” My brows twitched. My head ached so much that trying to decipher the mechanics behind that logic was more painful than helpful, so I discarded it, chalking it up to simply its mode of attack. The most important thing was Bel after all. “We have to move,” I told her. She nodded. “I know. But we’ll die. I have barely enough energy to stand. I can't protect us from another attack. And I doubt we’ll be able to even go far enough before we’re hit.” I knew that. “Which is why I have a plan,” I said. “Cover your ears.” Bel stared at me in confusion for a moment. I gave her a nod, and she went ahead to do as I’d told her. Then I shifted slightly away from her, stood up with a slight wobble, and stared straight at the pregnant tree. My eyes landed upon the multitude of monsters in its womb, and I was relieved that they were still in there. Dealing with the tree was already hard enough. Any more and we most definitely couldn’t handle it. My thoughts went straight to the Primal Skill I had unlocked earlier, and the itch in my throat returned. I wasn’t certain what the result of what I was about to do would be, but if I had received the skill from the Bullwings, then I supposed it was right for me to think that it did the exact same thing as what the shrieks of the Bullwings did. I steadied my burning eyes upon the squirming vines, then the main body of the pregnant tree, took a very deep breath in, and my throat burned. I leaned forward and coughed up blood; Bel shifted where she was seated, worried, but I raised a hand at her to keep her quiet and still. Then I ramrod myself straight once more—as straight as I could—took another deep breath, and this time my lungs opened up the way I wanted. A second later, I screamed, but what escaped my lungs wasn’t the usual voluminous, drawn out, burst of sound, but a high-pitched, piercing squeal, that made my throat itch even more and my ears ring out in dissonance. My cry settled upon the pregnant tree and as I fell to my knees and coughed up blood again, the tree stilled. Its branches froze, its womb stopped squelching, and its booms stopped. The forest fell silent. But I knew that it wouldn't be for long. Rushing to Bel, I scooped her onto my back despite every inch of my body screaming in protest. She was obviously curious about what I’d done while still being concerned about my wellbeing, but I was more concerned about hers, which, of course, directly resulted in how mine would turn out. So I didn’t give her the chance to utter even a s