They've escaped the Tutorial with a heavy cost. Classes are chosen, destinies written, and the story unfolds in arterial threads of never ending fulcrums, slips of breath in chests heaving loss and hope. War World is now the sandbox, the arena, and they must grow stronger, much stronger if they want to save that which they treasure more than life itself.

A GrimDark LitRPG. Book 2 of Blood Brothers.

"Roll with it Dom", the echo of Pop’s voice trembling in ear. "Bitch or Dance boy, time don’t wait on nobody." Definitely dance Pops. I thought of Doze as I slid to burgeoning sound of a bass line thrumming to my beat, flitting within range of the monstrous beast and those four arms, tight as a lover, tight as destiny as I rolled across its hips, its clawing arms breezing a sliver behind my form, my seax and it’s wintry flames caressing its flesh, around its back, the symphony of music and heavy slap of bass, four bar stroll carrying me within its embrace, my small axe and cold embers carving more flesh as I led it to a tree trailing the ending of songs.

Dozer decided to join in the music, cultivating the joy across the bond and stepped in and out of the gorilla’s peripheral, static stuttering it out of balance as my edges with polar kisses kept touching it and skimming butterfly shifts ahead of it’s seeking claws and fangs.

I reached the boughs of targeted tree, and the Dregan, is what Ruri named it, had slowed tremendously, cold flames now pirouetting in small flits of space across it’s flesh, frost riming the homes of edges opening doors into skin.

Time to bring the dance to the crescendo of back alley gutteral blues, bass heavy thump pit pattering to a twelve string step soloing carnage.