3x Cloning System: The Fleshmancer's Undead Army is full of Heroes-Chapter 26: The Dipsh*t, and the Summoner

Getting hit by a Basilisk was not a good experience. Getting hit by a Basher Basilisk was even worse.

Clayton had never heard, or read about them before, but at the moment, he didn’t really care if they were rare or not.

Not only did that horrid creature attack him, he was also pretty darn sure that he hadn’t managed to kill it.

Based on his recent experiences, he was under the impression that when he attacked someone, or something, they were supposed to die. That was the simple law that Fleshmancy promised, as be it either by ’death cloud’ or by the merciless, singular grip of the Demon’s Kiss ability, anyone he attacked, was supposed to die.

By that principle, the Basher Basilisk was supposed to die as well, and yet it didn’t, even after he used the Demon’s Kiss ability on it, by a short second.

That single second of his attack should’ve been enough to drain the life out of the beast, and only leave its skeleton as a mark of its existence, and yet that was not the case.

Even between his cycling landslides of altering consciousness, he could hear the Basher Basilisk raging through his troops! It wasn’t dead, it still had plenty of power within its trunky, four pairs of legs. At this rate, he could easily guess that the beast would tear through half of his troops before he had the chance to recover, and fight back.

Clayton was still airborne, for one thing, as the beast had hit him with his tail so hard that he flew above the lines of trees like a fish that was slapped out of the water. Unlike a fish, some of his organs were spread across the mountainside, straight up smacked out of his body.

When he did land, he crashed on a thick tree, one-hundred meters, or around three-hundred feet from where the beast had initially hit him. He would’ve flown further if it wasn’t for the tree, so in a way, he should be thankful, but the collision he made with the tree further hurt his already broken body.

With all the shock that came from the excruciating, boundless pain he experienced, he was surprised he wasn’t dead yet. He was supposed to be dead, as mother nature intended for victims of wingless dragons, but his body refused to quit.

In recent experiences, he discovered that it took him a couple of seconds, sometimes less, to grow a new head in the few occasions where he was beheaded. It wasn’t too expensive either.

However, when it came to healing basically most of his skeleton, including his shattered spine, along with regenerating the organs that had popped out of his body, the process was neither quick nor cheap.

"Mother of Thaleena!" He grunted, as he tried to find use of his arms. "That sparks!"

Lesser men would be crying for their mother now, they wouldn’t describe their crackling, moving bones as a mere spark, but Clayton was no lesser man. He cared for the safety of his new friends, for one thing, as he didn’t want them to die only a few hours after he made them promises.

Other than that, the benefits of Fleshmancy made him quite literally uncaring towards the possibility of his own death. He felt neutral about it, nay, he didn’t even care to discuss it as a topic, because he knew his body was going to heal itself no matter what, assuming he had enough Life Essence Points for his body to use. He had plenty of those, so the moment he got some use of his arms, he started crawling towards his friends, and essentially, towards the Basher Basilisk.

During the first minute of his healing, he was in so much pain that he kept getting knocked out, but he didn’t let that stop him. He started crawling again every time he woke up, and he did wake up after every few seconds, because the pain didn’t let him sleep. It didn’t give him such comfort.

"Come on..." He grunted, "What’s taking so long?"

In moments of desperation, seconds felt like hours. One would think he was in a black hole.

It took him two minutes to regain the use of his legs, but it sure as hell felt longer than that. He felt as if he had been crawling across the mountainside for days!

When he did regain the use of his legs, he tried to run, but tripped, and fell on his face quickly after. Parts of his hip were still not healed, so he moved with a limp, and had to drag his leg around.

At the third minute, he felt mostly normal, and got within a few feet of the Basher Basilisk.

At this point, it had killed most of his undead slaves. A few of them remained, and they were trying their best to fight back, by either shooting fireballs or thunderbolts at the beast. Some were unlucky enough to have to face such a monster with only their swords, which was horrifying, when taken into perspective, but either way, each slave of his had about the same chance when it came to killing, or even hurting the Basher Basilisk. Their chances were next to zero!

The Basher Basilisk’s scales were as thick as stone. They weren’t meant to be killed, not nearly. Mother nature didn’t design them that way, but yet, Clayton wanted to give it another shot anyway.

[-1,700 Life Essence Points]

[Remaining Points = 2,840]

"Darn," He sighed, "Expensive."

[You aren’t supposed to be alive right now. You grew a new liver, for goodness’ sake.]

"Okay," He sighed.

Clayton did not care to have a conversation with the system right now. He had other issues to worry about.

For one thing, he didn’t see his friends anywhere. Either Rufus and Lara were very good at hiding, or the beast had torn them apart already.

Secondly, Princess Esmeralda wasn’t here either. He was sure that she had been destroyed, which stung a little bit, because he had put quite some effort in to increase her longevity.

Overall, this God forsaken attack from the Basher Basilisk seemed random, and he hated it. He was not a fan.

However, he was ready to get hurt again. Hurt, as in, his body was healed, and he was sure he could withstand two more blows from this freak of nature before he ran out of Life Essence Points.

Clayton did not rush towards the beast this time. Instead, he began unleashing the Life Draining Mist instead, and hoped that it was going to be effective. The mist could spread wide enough to swallow the beast within seconds, and unless this thing was immortal or something, the mist should be enough to kill it.

He started unleashing the mist, but before it could blow up in size, he heard someone yell his name.

"Quit that, dipshit!" A female voice echoed, "I caught the Summoner!"