„Just another day on the road to Paradise”

It’d be pretty neat to have a big strong fellow like him be at their beck and call. Or at least firmly in their command. … What did hands of kings even do? Were they some kind of special servant guard, second in command, or something else? … It didn’t matter, there’d be no killing him this time no matter what so maybe reigning him back into their control – even if it was only for this loop if he didn’t remember in future loops – would be a fun alternative. It would certainly be something different to do anyway; a brief break from being sliced to bits and slicing monsters to bits in turn.

Carefully, Beheaded, stood back up. They took one step closer to the Hand but stopped. How would they reign him back in when they couldn’t speak to tell him they were the King he was supposed to be the Hand of? Did they have something to write on that they could toss his way? … No. Nor did they have anything to write with other than perhaps their own blood. So how would they communicate? …

Well if they trying to be ‘friendly’ anyway… They took another couple steps closer, putting them near the edge of where his arena would start. Then they lifted a hand in their best attempt at a friendly wave. A foreign gesture to them, probably from even back when they’d been a human, if what they’d surmised about what kind of person the King had been was true.

The Hand didn’t respond of course but that was expected. However his stance seemed to finally change a little as Beheaded lifted up their crossbow and made of show of putting it on the ground. Next, they pulled their backpack off and made another show of taking out their shield and traps and placing them on the ground next to the crossbow. And just for good measure, they dropped the backpack too before splaying out their arms, palms open, as they strode closer.

This was a stupid idea, disarming themself like a fool before approaching such a dangerous foe. But they’d have ‘died’ even if they’d gone in ready to fight like they usually did. So really the only thing at stake was their pride and dignity, which, considering how many times the Hand had ‘killed’ them with seeming ease already, wouldn’t be thathurt by another such event anyway.

Proving once and fall all that the Hand was still sane, he allowed Beheaded to slowly stride close to him without jumping out to attack like he normally did. He finally moved when they were about three quarters of the way across the arena towards him, lifting a hand in a gesture to stop. It grated on their nerves to do so but they obeyed, dropping their arms to hang limp at their sides as the Hand now started slowly approaching them.

He stopped a foot or so a way, within striking distance for him but safe from them, as if they could actually do anything to him anyway. “What?” His voice was deeper than they would’ve thought but understandably full of suspicion and anger as he glared down at them. Interesting how even though his eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet along with the rest of his face, his gaze could still be felt.

Beheaded bristled under it because who was he to look so disdainfully down at them? Only because they’d already come this far, they refrained from lifting a hand to flip him off, instead they lifted their index finger in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture. Then, fighting every instinct they’d gained during these many, many and increasingly more dangerous and violent run throughs of the island, they turned their back on him and crouched down. They were bleeding freely from multiple wounds, their clothes stuck uncomfortably warm and wet to their body with it, making getting enough on their finger tip to write on the ground with easy.

“I was not aware you were even capable of trying to communicate,” the Hand said as they wrote. Again, they were tempted to snap around and flip him off, with both hands this time, but they refrained once more, hating it and kind of regretting attempting this. But it was too late to back down now and he should apologize profusely to them once he knew the truth. … Or if he believed their lie, assuming the Giant had been incorrect in addressing them as ‘King’ or straight up lying, either was possible.

As they finished dotting the exclamation point, they looked over what they’d written so far. ‘I am the King!’ Perhaps they should’ve gone with all caps to make it more impactful, too late now though. Now should they write more and offer an explanation? … They didn’t really have an explanation though other than the Giant had called them ‘my King’ a grand total of once. Which wasn’t a lot to go on and they weren’t sure it was true themself. So their message was fine as it was.

They hopped back up to their feet, turning to face the Hand again. Taking a step to the side, they gestured for him to come closer and read their message. He hesitated for a second or two, just glaring at them before stepping closer to look down.

Immediately his stance shifted. Beheaded began moving before he’d even started lifting his lance but was still a bit too close and not quite fast enough to get out of its range before its end was slicing diagonally through their chest.

As always the ‘death’ blow was the most painful. They started disconnecting from it and the now useless body even before hitting the ground. The thud of the body landing in the dirt helped jostle them the rest of the way out. They pulled the last of their tendrils out and…

An armored boot stomped down on them, flattening them into the dirt and blocking out their vision. Then, adding insult to injury, the boot ground roughly down into them. Rude and utterlyuncalled for! Seriously what kind of asshole did that kind of thing?

There was nothing Beheaded could do about it though. So for now, they used the bits of themself smooshing out around the boot to pull the rest of themself out. A task made more difficult by his weight pressing down on them but they were slippery enough that they could still do it rather quickly. They naturally sprang back up into a blob.