I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
The golem's master was dead, yet showed no hesitation as it lifted its claws and charged forward. While spun from the shadows itself, the creature's flesh was real and tangible, the claws as large and sharp as swords. Saliva flung from its gaping maw in sticky droplets, and the pure hatred and joy of the kill smoldered in its eyes.
"Dyson, intercept it!" Rasce called.
His bowstring thrummed, and an arrow sprouted from the monster's chest. The shaft burst into flames, and the monster screeched in pain, its step becoming erratic. Dyson smet its claws with both swords, strengthening his body at the last moment with a magical technique.