The obscurant peeled itself from the wall with a shudder, its body half-collapsed but unyielding. Black ichor ran down its torso in thick rivulets, steaming where it touched the warm hood of the Hummer. Its jaw hung slack and crooked, one side shattered from the earlier impact, yet the shrieks that poured out were as piercing as ever—inhuman, guttural, vibrating down into bone.
Eli forced himself upright, ribs screaming with each breath. His knife was slick in his grip, black and red both smeared along the steel. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, but his eyes stayed locked on the creature.
It tilted its head, twitching like a puppet with tangled strings. Then, without warning, it lunged.
Eli sidestepped and slashed at its arm. The blade cut shallow, enough to spill ichor but not enough to slow it. Its momentum carried through, claws grazing across his ribs. He hissed, stumbling back, and countered with a boot to its midsection. The kick connected solidly, forcing a stagger, but the thing didn't fall.
The obscurant shrieked again, a sound too raw to be mere rage. Its hand lashed out, raking across the Hummer's hood, gouging deep scratches through the paint. Eli ducked low, swept the knife upward, and caught it across the chest. The gash spilled ichor, but it hardly flinched.
It's not enough, Eli thought, muscles trembling. It just keeps coming.
The creature lunged again. This time, Eli wasn't quick enough. It slammed into him, sending him sprawling across the pavement. The knife nearly flew from his hand, but instinct clamped his fingers tighter. His body skidded, shoulder cracking against the curb.
Paolo's gasp echoed inside the Hummer. He'd been frozen with his hands clenched around the wheel, eyes darting, breath staccato. Watching Eli stagger was like reliving the last twenty-four hours in fast forward—every moment Eli had fought, bled, survived while Paolo limped and hid.
He's getting torn apart while I sit here like dead weight.
Outside, Eli rolled as the obscurant's claws punched into the pavement where he'd just been. Bits of asphalt cracked and scattered. He came up in a crouch, knife forward, chest heaving. His arm trembled, bleeding freely from the slash near his bicep.
The obscurant snarled, ichor dripping from its jaw, and charged again.
This time, Eli met it head-on.
The knife carved into its shoulder, sliding along sinew and lodging deep. The creature shrieked, swinging its other arm wildly. The claw caught Eli across the back, tearing through fabric and skin. He cried out, stumbling forward, nearly losing his grip on the knife as it ripped free.
He pivoted, knife raised—too slow. The creature's claw hooked his forearm, wrenching his wrist. The knife tumbled from his grip, clattering across the pavement.
Panic spiked sharp in Eli's chest.
The obscurant lunged for his throat.
Eli twisted desperately, jamming his elbow into its chin. The blow connected, staggering it half a step. He dove for the knife, fingers brushing steel just as the creature pounced again. Its weight crushed him down, claws raking into the ground an inch from his skull.
His hand closed on the knife's hilt. With a guttural cry, Eli twisted and slashed upward.
The blade sank into its ribs again, angling for depth. The shriek that followed rattled through his teeth. Black ichor poured over his arm, hot and reeking, but Eli kept pushing, driving the blade deeper until the obscurant jerked back, tearing free with a wet rip.
Both staggered to their feet—Eli wobbling, bleeding, knife trembling in his hand; the obscurant twitching, spasming, ichor pouring from its wounds but strength undiminished.
Inside the Hummer, Paolo pressed both hands to his head. His breath came too fast, chest tightening until it hurt. "Do something," he whispered, voice breaking. "Do something, damn it!"
But his body stayed seated, frozen. His leg throbbed with every imagined step, reminding him of his uselessness. He saw Eli stagger again, saw blood dripping down his shirt, and it clawed at his insides.
He's breaking. And I'm… hiding. Always hiding.
Eli circled the obscurant, knife low. His eyes stung from sweat and ichor, every breath ragged. The cut on his side bled freely, soaking through his shirt. He could feel his strength waning, grip weakening, each motion slower than the last.
The obscurant sensed it too. Its head tilted unnaturally, a twitch of recognition. Then it charged again.
Eli blocked with his forearm, pain exploding as claws dug shallow. He countered with the knife, striking across its jaw. The blade sank, splitting black flesh, snapping broken teeth. The obscurant shrieked and whipped its head, nearly wrenching the knife away. Eli ripped it free, barely, then slashed again at its throat.
Too shallow. The cut wept ichor but didn't kill.
The obscurant's claws slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling across the Hummer's hood. Metal dented under the impact. Eli's lungs seized, the air knocked clean out of him.
The creature loomed, jaws unhinged, claws poised.
Paolo slammed his palm into the steering wheel. "Get off him!" he roared, but his voice cracked. His hand brushed the baton lying beside him.
His heart hammered. His breath came too fast. He remembered his father's voice when teaching him to drive, scolding every stall, every mistake. He'd never been good at it, never confident. Now he had rammed a monster with a Hummer, and Eli was still about to die.
I can't fight. I can't save him. I'll just screw this up like I always do.
Eli strained against the obscurant's weight, knife trembling as it bore down. He pushed with all his strength, but the claws edged closer, descending toward his throat. He gritted his teeth, muscles screaming, vision dimming.
Paolo's fingers closed around the baton. His body shook as he rolled down the window. His voice cracked into the chaos: "HEY!"
The obscurant's head jerked toward the noise.
Paolo hurled the baton with all his strength. It spun clumsily, striking the creature's temple with a dull crack.
The obscurant staggered, just for a heartbeat.
Eli seized the chance. With a roar that tore his throat raw, he ripped the knife free and thrust upward. The blade sank into the obscurant's eye, burying deep. Resistance, then give, then a sickening pop.
The creature shrieked—louder, rawer than ever—thrashing wildly. Black ichor sprayed across Eli's face, his chest, splattering the Hummer's windshield.
Eli didn't stop. He twisted the blade, grinding it deeper, pushing until the hilt was flush against the socket. The obscurant convulsed, claws gouging into the hood, then staggered back.
With a final shudder, it collapsed, twitching once, twice—then lay still.
Eli sagged, chest heaving, arms trembling uncontrollably. His knife was still lodged in the thing's skull. He wrenched it free, breath rasping. His body shook, bleeding, smeared with ichor.
Paolo stumbled from the Hummer, limping hard, eyes wide and glassy. "You… you did it," he whispered. Then louder, his voice breaking, "You killed it."
Eli spat ichor to the ground, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at Paolo, eyes heavy but sharp. "We killed it."
The silence that followed was heavier than the fight.
Eli wiped his blade on the creature's tattered clothes, slid it back into its sheath, then sagged against the Hummer. His breath rattled, body barely holding.
Paolo's throat tightened. He wanted to collapse, to cry, to apologize for everything. But instead, he just whispered, "I thought… I thought you were going to die."
Eli let out a weak laugh, half cough. "Not today."
The corpse twitched one last time, then stilled for good.
The world was silent again. But both of them knew—the silence would never last.