A scaled grey-green tendril wrapped around Oscar, lifting him from the ground and towards the beast’s mouth. a scream erupted from his mouth. As far as he could see, no around could save him.

He looked to his friends and the other men of his village. Some were battling on the ground, their swords clashing with the tendrils. Others were in the same position as him, it was too late for them.

A tear ran down his face: he didn’t want to die like this. He had hoped to live for at least another 20 years, if not more, have children and grow old with his wife. But at this time, this didn’t seem likely.

Until...

Oscar’s head lulled back and in his melancholic state he could do nothing about it. His eyes wandered, wanting to see beyond the mist that surrounded the monster and into his home village.

But the village was too far away and the only thing he could notice was a tiny moving dot. His eyes eventually found other tiny moving dots and it almost seemed like an army of ants.

The army of ants soon grew larger and Oscar was finally able to see what it truly was. The women from the village had come to save them armed with more weapons and fierce expressions.

He saw as they fought off the monsters and saved the men. Next time a monster pops up, they’ll probably send the women, he thought, as his wife caught him.

“You’re my hero,” he told her.

“I know,” he heard her whisper before losing consciousness.