Chapter 48 POV: Cart Driver

Words : 1584 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

Chapter 48 of "Rebirth of the Nephilim" opens with dynamic events: Chapter 48 POV: Cart Driver Grundwyrm. It had to be. Rock and stone shifted and tumbled, the... Read on for more!

Chapter 48 POV: Cart Driver Grundwyrm. It had to be. Rock and stone shifted and tumbled, the pile of debris partially obstructing the road ahead not just falling away but moving as a beast would because it was a beast, a demon-possessed amalgamation of slate and granite. On eight stubby legs it rose, each one as thick around as a barrel. A long, rocky tail thumped the ground behind the wyrm, counterbalancing a huge head with a stone horn on the nose that was as tall as a man. The demonic monstrosity opened its maw, a mouth wide enough to bite an ox in half, letting loose another terrifying roar of grinding stone on stone. Aila had not gone to a proper school, there hadn’t been one in Red Tree, her little village was too small for that. But she’d still learned her numbers and how to do sums and calculations and was quite good at them, too. It didn’t take much math to process the odds presented before her. Her uncles, both level forty-five scouts. Volker, a level forty-two soldier, and Specht, a level forty-three arbalist. Three level thirty mystery combat classes in the forms of Jay, Dys, and Syd, strangers she knew little about and had no information on fighting abilities. And finally, one level seventeen Cart Driver. Her party in summary. Versus a grundwyrm, a demon typically handled by ten or more level forty and up soldiers with at least one or two mages, preferably a cleric as well. “We need to run,” Aila stated as calmly as she could, already trying to rein in the two startled aurochs. Aurochs were stoic beasts, less prone to panic than horses or oxen, but even two sturdy and well-trained bulls were going to flinch in the face of a walking boulder fueled by demonic hate. She could see her uncles and the giant Syd skipping back and away from the wyrm as it lumbered towards them. Gerwas was shouting, she couldn’t hear what over the noise of the stony demon’s steps, and Ludwas was reloading his crossbow. He must have fired it off, gods know why, since no bolt would do any good against an opponent made mostly of rock. “Grundwyrms are slow, we might be able to outrun it,” Aila continued, speaking just as much to herself as to the nearby Jay. “It’s good that it sprung its ambush too early, I can probably turn the cart in time—” “Forward!” Specht shouted from behind, “Forward gods blast you, go ‘round it!” What? Why in Valtar’s name would she push forward with that blocking the way? Aila turned around in her seat, looking back to see what madness had taken hold of Specht only for her blood to run cold. A dozen gangly figures were rushing down the side of the hill to the left behind the wagon. Each one had to be between twenty and twenty-four hands tall and shaped like snow elk that had been twisted into mockeries of men. Their heads were crowned with splayed antlers, making them seem even taller. She could see even at a distance the lines of tentacles moving under the fur and flesh of the corrupted creatures, the ends protruding out of the arms, acting as hands and fingers wrapped around spears, swords, and axes the demons had either made or stolen from the dead. “Switch!” Aila was startled back into the present moment by Jay’s sudden shout, loud enough to echo in the valley between hills that the demons had set their trap in. “What are you—” She started to question before Jay abruptly ran forward, her large makeshift maul grasped in both hands. She was so fast! Aila had seen higher level mercenaries and message runners that specialized in speed and agility move faster, but Jay ran far, far faster than someone of her level ought to be able to. As she watched her rush forward, she saw that Syd was running back towards the wagon, except she wasn’t just running back alone, she had picked up Aila’s uncles, one under each arm, and was sprinting with just as much speed. Before she could process the bizarreness of seeing two large men being carried around like children, another voice speaking right next to Aila shocked a small scream out of her. “Keep going forward, that way!” Dys shouted, pointing to the right of the road, where a hill sloped upward. A horrible gurgling sound came from the right of the wagon. Aila turned to look but was unexpectedly enveloped in the arms of her uncle Ludwas. She could hear him cry out in pain as an awful, nauseating smell of bile and blood began clouding the air around them. One of the wretches could cast spells, Aila realized. An acid spell? Something close range, probably a breath-based attack. How frequently could it cast? Did it have others or just the one? How much damage could the spell do and how long did the acid effect last? The analytical side of Aila’s brain worked overtime, filling her conscious thought with diagnostic questions, because if she didn’t, she’d have to deal with the emotional comprehension that her uncle was currently melting while holding onto her. Aila couldn’t see, but the gurgling sound stopped abruptly, followed shortly after by a string of foul curses. “Fucking nasty ass piece of dogshit! Motherfucking wendigo wannabe puke stains! Sit on your spears and spin you fucking prolapsed assholes!” She’d never heard a couple of those words before, but Aila was impressed by Syd’s colorful vocabulary, nonetheless. Dropping the reins to the wagon, Aila eased her uncle off of her, letting him lie down flat on the crates to the front of the wagon. As she did so, another rock whizzed by her head, but she ignored the attack. She had to see what she could do for Ludwas’ injuries. The acid spell’s effect was still lingering, the putrid yellow substance still coating the back of his armor, sizzling as it ate away the material. His brigandine and helmet and protected him from most of the attack, but some amount of the acid had still gotten through and was eating away at his flesh. “Nevermind me, I’ll be fine,” Ludwas said through gritted teeth. “Keep your head down, Bean Pole.” “Don’t call me that,” she said reflexively. “I’ve got to get this off of you.” As she spoke, Aila pulled a cloak she kept for rainy days out from its spot under the wagon seat and wrapped her hand in it, using it as improvised protection so she could start wiping the foul acid off of Ludwas’ armor. As she did so, he struggled to pull his gloves off, trying to pass them to her. The whole wagon shook as something large crashed into it. Aila looked up to see that Syd had again skewered another wretch, slamming it against the side of the wagon, breaking its neck with the force of the impact. With a quick twist, Syd spun and hurled the now dead demon at one of the other few still remaining, bowling it over. A third wretch chose that moment to slip close and strike with a rusty axe, slicing against Syd’s arm and leaving a deep gash, though doing less damage than Aila would have expected to her unarmored flesh. A crossbow bolt appeared in the axe-wielding wretch’s eye, Volker letting out a cry of triumph as the demon collapsed to the ground. “Almost there, men, just a few more!” Gerwas shouted from somewhere on the back of the wagon. Syd’s spear went through the chest of the wretch that she had knocked to the ground with its twisted kin, silencing its vile noises and stopping its movement for good. “I’ve got to go help my sisters,” Syd called out, barely stopping long enough to glance back at the cart, her violet eyes sweeping the mercenaries, briefly lingering on Aila and Ludwas. Without another word, she ran off, heading towards the still raging battle of two pale giants against a stone wyrm. Aila almost wanted to stop her. There were still wretches around the wagon, and what exactly was she going to do against a creature made of stone with nothing but a spear? Not even a real spear, either, but a dagger tied to a length of wood. Then Aila looked around, seeing the string of dead demons trailing behind the still slowly moving wagon. The only two wretches still moving were limping away, trying to flee as Specht and Volker put more bolts into their backs. As the wagon kept rolling, Aila helped her uncle into a better position, pulling off his armor as the lingering effect of the acid spell faded, making it safe to touch. She called for someone to pass her a bandage kit with cure salves, wincing as the adrenaline started to wear off. Some of the demon’s spell had gotten to her, despite Ludwas’ best efforts, leaving painful patches of bile-burnt skin. As she worked to quickly patch her uncle up, she couldn’t help but lift her gaze towards the road where the Nephilim were. Aila wanted to see what Jay, Dys, and Syd were going to do against the powerful, deadly grundwyrm that should by all metrics far outclass them. Because from what she could see so far, it looked like they were winning.

Chapter 48 POV: Cart Driver

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