The Wizard Killer - Season One: A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy Serial Read Online Free

keep pulling the trigger again and again. My stomach drops so hard and fast, I think I’m going to pass out. Just then, all that pressure in my chest races through my arm and out the pistol. Flaming blue balls shoot out the barrel and I’m thrown back. I catch a glimpse of the carn’s flames dousing just before they hit. “Let’s see how you do without any magical shielding, carny.”
    Scurrying back to my feet and snatching my pistol off the ground, I keep my eyes on the bent over carn. I take a second to shake out my fingers and wrist, which feel like I’ve stabbed a hundred needles in them.
    The carn lurches to one side, then the other. It drops to one knee, but clearly isn’t dead. With a moan, it stands back up, a claw covering a burnt part of its chest. As its flames come back to full strength, it emits a sound that feels like a laugh. I don’t need to think about my stomach to know that magic’s back. “Yig me.”
    I point the pistol at it again. Without thinking or hesitation, I’m surprised to see another blue shot come out, knocking the carn on its heels. With a quick glance at the levi-car where I’d left my short sword, I decide I’ve got only one chance and bolt in the direction the levis had come from. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going, except that I’m not going to get ripped apart and burned to death by the carn, not today.

episode seven

    I fall down and lie there in the middle of the road. My feet refuse to take me any further, and I can’t blame them. I reneged on our agreement, after all. I shield my eyes from the brutal early morning sun. “I should wake up any minute night, right? In a nice bed with breakfast sausage smells and everything, right?” I’m disappointed no one answers. There’d be some solace in knowing I’d gone crazy. At least I’d have company.
    Sitting up, I glance over my shoulder at the dusty road. There’s a mile of nothing. Still, I doubt I’ve killed it. There wasn’t a single shot that had gone clean through it. Tough yig, that thing.  
    Grunting like a broken, old man, I start to stand up but then abandon the idea half-way. My arms perched on my knees, I squint up at the sky. I have a feeling like I’m looking for something, but I don’t know what. I can’t even remember who I wanted revenge on or why. Did I even know after I came back to life this time? Even my recent memories feel strangely fuzzy. Looking at my arms, I wonder why I so desperately want those tattoos to reappear. “Gah!” I scratch my head hard and then pick up a rock and throw it at the desolate wasteland. “Stupid yigging crap.”  
    Smoothing down my beard, I find a few stowaway pebbles and twigs. I don’t know why, but I start chuckling. It feels good to laugh. Rubbing my face with my rough and dusty hands, I decide it really is time to get up. Yig, I would kill for something to drink or eat. My throat feels like a carn is crushing it.
    Peeking up at the blazing sun again, it dawns on me that I need to be smarter. There’s no telling how long it’s going to take me to find some civilization or water. Pulling off my shirt, I wrap the filthy thing around my head.  
    I imagine what I must look like: a wild eyed, shirtless bandit with a long-barreled pistol. The blood-stained brown pants and shoes a beggar might throw away really add that special something. I stare at the long road I’ve already covered and think back to the carn and my sword. I shouldn’t have left that behind.  
    With an arched eyebrow, I stare at the eerie scenery: the weird, melted, brown grass, withered trees and dusty roads. There are some scorched outlines along the ground at the road-side, almost like reminders of buildings long gone. Licking my cracked lips, I shrug. I’m not up for investigating it. I’ve got one thing on my mind, the short sword.
    Staring at the long road back, I get butterflies thinking about the carn. I was lucky to get away once, what are the chances I can