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⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️
This chapter contains scenes of violence and graphic imagery that some readers may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
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The scorpion lunged again, scattering the group. Its massive claw crashed into the sand, sending up a spray that blinded half the field. The trainees coughed and stumbled.
Daiana's hands were red to the wrist now as she worked over two fallen trainees at once, pulling venom, closing arteries with shaky chakra precision. Her face was tight with strain. She wanted to stand and fight, but with every scream of pain, every new collapse, she found herself pulled further away from the front.
The scorpion's shriek cut the air again, and with it, another trainee fell.
Minutes blurred into an eternity.
The once-coordinated squad was reduced to scattered clusters, each fighting or retreating alone. Half their number lay wounded, some motionless, in Daiana's desperate care.
The realization broke through the group like a poison.
Their strongest couldn't break it.
Their medic was drowning in wounded.
Their numbers dwindled.
Shira was buckling under every step. His lungs burned. His muscles screamed. He'd already given everything in the desert, in the bandit camp, against the leader with the warhammer. Now, with the sun hammering him down and the sand sucking at his legs, he could barely keep upright.
Another trainee fell. Another scream.
Shira's knees trembled, his fists loose. He knew he couldn't keep going. He knew, and it clawed at him like the scorpion's shadow.
Then Isan's voice cut through the chaos.
"Shira!"
Shira looked up.
Amidst the swirling sand and blood and heat, Isan stood a few paces off, also looking tired and dirty.
He raised one hand. And gave a thumbs up.
For a second, Shira didn't understand. Then he saw the look in Isan's eyes.
He closed his eyes while gritting his teeth.
'Eight Gates of Death: First... Opening Gate, open!'
His chakra roared.
The First Gate burst open, his muscles bulged, strength flooding back. Veins bulged against his skin, his heart pounding like a drum. He gasped as life roared through him.
'Second... Healing Gate, open!'
The Second Gate followed. Energy exploded through his body, exhaustion burning away, replaced by reckless vigor. His pain vanished, muscles surging with unnatural strength.
Shira's eyes snapped open and he vanished from sight.
He reappeared against the scorpion's face, knee slamming into its eye. The carapace cracked, blood spraying like tar. The beast shrieked, staggering.
Before it could retreat underground, Shira blurred again, fists raining down on its legs, forcing it to stay above the sand. Blow after blow pounded, each impact cracking armor, spraying gore. His knuckles split, blood mixing with blood, but he didn't stop.
Faster than the scorpion could track, faster than the sand could hold, he was everywhere at once, fists and feet a blur of strikes against its carapace. Every blow cracked the dunes like thunder. Every strike forced the beast back, legs scrambling for purchase.
"Don't let it go under!", Isan shouted, his threads lashing down to bind the sand beneath it, weapons pinning to force it up. Shira understood instantly, his speed kept it distracted, his strikes staggering it, while Isan tethered it above the surface.
The scorpion hissed, enraged, striking wildly. Shira ducked a claw, vaulted a stinger, then drove his knee into its face with enough force to send it reeling back a full meter. He landed, panting, blood trickling from his lips, but his eyes were blazing.
He darted left, then right, then vanished into a streak of motion. His fist gathered force, every muscle, every ounce of pain and power channeled into one strike.
The scorpion raised its claws to shield its head, leaving its flank exposed.
Shira slammed into its side with an explosion of force.
Chitin cracked, blood erupting in a fountain, splattering the sand red.
The scorpion reeled, shrieking, thrashing, blood pouring from the wound.
Shira staggered back, chest heaving, vision swimming. He could feel the raw, primal and brutal energy shredding him from within. His skin burned, muscles tearing under the unnatural strain. With a choked gasp, he collapsed, slamming the gates shut while his body shoke violently.
The scorpion reeled, wounded and furious. Its tail arched high, shadow falling over Shira's limp form. Its claws flexed, ready to tear him apart.
Isan's eyes narrowed. His chakra flared.
Chakra threads lashing out to every weapon scattered in the sand, kunai, shuriken, broken steel. Every fragment lifted, hundreds of blades glimmering under the sun. His chakra screamed at the strain, but he pushed further.
"Move!", he roared, his voice cracking under strain. He could feel his reserves emptying, his limits shattering.
But he didn't care.
The storm of steel struck the cracked flank. Blades buried deep into the exposed flesh, tearing, ripping, exploding in a grotesque spray. The scorpion shrieked, legs buckling, body convulsing. Blood drenched the sand, boiling in the heat. Its tail twitched once, then fell still.
The scorpion convulsed, shrieking, blood spraying in jets. It writhed, struck out, then collapsed with a thunderous crash that shook the dunes.
Silence followed.
Only the ragged breathing of survivors remained.
Isan staggered, falling to one knee, but kept his threads tight until the scorpion ceased all movement. Then, slowly, he released them. The weapons clattered into the sand.
He crawled to Shira's side, dragging him back from the beast's corpse.
"Daiana!", he shouted hoarsely while feeling his body go through the motion, it felt like he was swimming in water.
She came running, hands already glowing, but flickering.