It snapped its jaw with a crack that tore through the air, leaping forward with a slash that would have killed the saint had he moved a second later.
Casmir sprang back with startling speed, his eyes locked on the beast. His blade was already in hand, gauntlets tightening around the hilt as he landed lightly on his feet. Moonlight gleamed along the silver-forged edge—a weapon crafted not merely for killing, but for ending things that should not exist.
He adjusted his stance, right foot sliding over shattered cobbles slick with moss and old blood. A measured breath escaped him as he focused, the way he was meant to—like a saint.
The monster shrieked loud, a noise more akin to twisted metal than anything born of flesh. Its claws lengthened, like spears of bone laced with shadows. Massive feet tore across the stone courtyard as it lunged again, each step cracking flagstones.
Talons gleamed in the moonlight, aimed for the hunter's skull.
But Casmir was faster.
He ducked and weaved between the slashes with dancer's grace, retaliating with swift, measured strikes. The blade sang as it moved—an old song, one of ritual and death—but each blow barely scratched the creature's smoke-gray hide. It was like cutting stone wrapped in sin.
Each dodge became more desperate. Each breath, heavier. Sweat beaded beneath the leather of his collar, his heart hammering not from fear, but exertion. The beast's fury only rose, growing faster with each moment—as though it learned from every failed strike.
He leapt high up, crossing his wrists mid-air, and invoked the Sign of Vaelak.
Crimson light crackled across his arms, veins glowing momentarily with the runes burned into his skin. A bolt of lightning erupted from his palms, tearing a jagged path across the air. It struck the creature square in the chest with a thunderous crack, flinging it backward. The air stank of scorched flesh.
The beast crashed into the ruined fountain, sending up a spray of moss and shattered stone. A gaping wound sizzled across its torso, skin still hissing where the lightning had kissed it.
Casmir hit the ground hard. Pain jolted through his knees and spine. There hadn't been time to soften the fall, to cast a spell to aid his landing. He staggered to his knees, panting, cold sweat tracing his jawline.
But the beast was stirring.
Its arms twitched. It growled low, deeper now—almost thoughtful. Its eyes, bright as smoldering coals, never left him.
So it thinks, he noted grimly. Not often had he come across such monsters. They were rare as saints. The most dangerous.
He pushed himself up, pulled twin throwing blades from his belt, and hurled them with practiced speed. They spun like silver comets, fast and true.
Both struck—but neither pierced deep enough to cause real harm. The creature barely flinched.
Then it began to change.
With a guttural roar that shook dust from the high arches above, it launched itself atop the fountain. Its spine cracked. Arms burst from its sides—wet, clawed, twitching. Massive bone-like wings unfolded from its back with a sound like tearing bark, and from its limbs erupted spikes.
Casmir's breath caught. There was no killing this beast—not like this. Not while it change as easily.
But there was a way.
He knew it. He had always known it.
He would have to let go—not of the fight, but of what kept him human. Not for long. Just enough to stand a chance. He reached for his silver medallion—the sigil of his old order— came free with a sharp pull.
The monster within him stirred.
His heart pounded violently, rhythm gone wild. His pupils flooded with red, veins lacing pale across his neck and face. His skin blanched as the surge of power flooded him—unwelcome and yet always faithful.
And his senses exploded.
Every movement the creature made traced lines through his vision like echoes. Every drop of its corrupted blood screamed in his ears. He could feel the hunger in it. The ferocity. But deeper still—he felt grief.
Was it hers?
The beast snarled, circling above like a vulture. Then it dove.
Casmir stood unflinching.
Blade raised, knees bent, he braced for its strike.
But the beast was sharp. Diving straight for a strike, letting loose a jet of grey smoke from its maw before getting close—smoke almost as hot as fire itself, tinged with sickly smell.
He moved vigilant. The smoke blinded him, shattered his focus. And then it shrieked, louder this time, striking his hearing.
And with no warning, claws raked across his chest, burning hot and deep.
He was flung aside, crashing into a twisted tree at the courtyard's edge. Bark split. Bones cracked. Pain bloomed across his ribs like hammer to glass, sharp and sudden, splintering through him.
Blood leaked from three deep slashes torn through his chestplate. His lungs burned. He dropped to one knee, teeth gritted, his back pressed to the tree as if it might hold him up.
"Damn you," he rasped.
He uncorked a healing potion and drank. Bitter and sharp, it hit his gut like blade. The bleeding slowed—but he knew the wound would not close in time. Not unless he ended this quick.
The beast was circling again.
He pushed himself upright, blade gripped tight in one hand, every muscle burning with defiance. No time to rest. No breath to gather strength. And just as it dove, claws extended once more.
He heard it, almost late.
He raised his other hand, tracing the Sign of Xath.
A translucent barrier shimmered to life—hexagonal lines dancing like glass.
The monster crashed through it.
The shield held—barely—but the sheer force drove Casmir backward, his boots skidding. He fell hard again, ears ringing. His ribs flared with pain, and for a moment, his vision flickered.
Above him, the creature shrieked in triumph.
It circled again with the smoke giving way.
This time, Casmir did not rise.
He waited. Let it come.
He watched the shadows of its wings stretch across the moonlit ground. He inhaled. Exhaled. Timed its descent.
And when it dove—he moved.
He rolled left, ducked beneath the claws, and raised his arms just in time to block the second swipe. Sparks flew from his gauntlets. His arms screamed in pain. But he held firm. He stepped in, close, under its reach—and with his hand, traced the Sign of Raq.
Wind exploded outward.
The blast hurled the beast backward into a wall with a shuddering crack.
His vision dimming. His body was getting to its limit. Not just from exhaustion and wounds, but from containing his power.
The courtyard fell still for a heartbeat. Dust settled. The beast slumped at the base of the wall.
Then came the growl.
It rose again. Slower this time. Limbs shaking. But alive.
Casmir forced one foot forward. Then another. His fingers curled around his sword's hilt.
The beast launched at him in a final mad charge, wings tattered but claws still gleaming.
It roared—like it wanted the world to hear.
Casmir ran to meet it.
One step.
Two.
Three.
On the fourth, he pivoted hard, planted his right foot—and twisted.
His blade followed the motion, silver flashing clean through the beast's neck in a single, perfect arc.
Time slowed.
The head flew, trailing a black ribbon of blood. It landed near the shattered fountain with a sickening thud, its mouth still frozen mid-scream.
The beast's body twitched. Then collapsed. And with that, the courtyard fell into silence.
Nothing moved.
Not the wind. Not the trees. Not even the moonlight.
Then—from deep within the castle walls—a cry.
Not of pain. But grief.
Casmir's head turned, his body trembling from exhaustion.
The girl.
He staggered forward, boots crunching glass and bone. His vision was blurred by pain and blood.
He stopped at the creature's body and looked down, dropping to one knee.
"Curses" he whispered.
The beast was strong, powerful. A creature that should not be, not in their world.
He rose, slowly. The blade heavy in his hand. He turned toward the castle, where the cry had come again—softer now, breaking.
He had to keep going.
One step.
Then another.
Moonlight bathed the blood-slick courtyard in silver, painting his path in ghostly hues. The walls of the keep loomed ahead, tall and dark, windows empty like eyes that had seen too much.
Somewhere inside, his main task waited.
He had slain the beast.
But he was here to save a child.
A child that would lead him to her.