"Some deaths are not about victory, they're about refusing to kneel, even when the end is certain."
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The Marduk thrashed on the floor for several heartbeats, its six eyes rolling wildly as it tried to process the damage. Then, with a determination that spoke to its supernatural nature, it began forcing itself back to its feet. The wound was grievous, dark blood flowing freely, but it was not fatal. Whatever demonic essence animated the creature was too strong, too alien, to be stopped by mere steel through the spine.
Those amber eyes fixed on her with newfound respect and hatred. She was no longer an annoying insect to be casually swatted aside. She was a genuine threat, something that had caused it real pain, and the creature's expression promised that her death would be neither quick nor clean.
Without warning, it lunged toward her with undiminished speed. Her exhausted body barely managed to throw itself sideways, claws that could rend stone passing inches from her face. She could feel the wind of their passage, smell the corruption that clung to the creature's very essence like a funeral shroud.
Her enhanced reflexes were beginning to fail her. The initial burst of adrenaline that had carried her through the first exchange was fading, replaced by the crushing weight of accumulated injuries and exhaustion. Her head still pounded from striking the bar, her shoulder ached where claws had raked across it, and her legs felt increasingly unsteady beneath her.
The Marduk, by contrast, showed no signs of fatigue despite the grievous wound she had inflicted. Its movements remained fluid and deadly, powered by supernatural vigor that mortal flesh could never match. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out, before failing reflexes left her open to those terrible claws or crystalline fangs.
She managed to dodge one more attack, throwing herself behind an overturned table as the creature's claws raked deep furrows in the wooden planks where she had been standing. Splinters flew like shrapnel, and she felt several small cuts open on her exposed skin. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps now, each inhalation an effort that left her feeling weaker than before.
Her final dagger was still in her hand, the last weapon she possessed, the final barrier between her and oblivion. If she could somehow get close enough to the creature's head, if she could find the strength for one more perfect strike...
But even as she formed the plan, she knew it was hopeless. Her legs gave out beneath her, sending her sliding down the wall to sit heavily on the blood-soaked floor. The scent of Adnir's death hung heavy in the air around her, mingling with sulfur and her own fear-sweat to create an atmosphere of despair that seemed to press down on her soul.
She could hear the Marduk moving, its claws clicking against wood as it stalked around the overturned furniture. There was no hurry in its movements now, it knew she was trapped, knew she lacked the strength to run or fight effectively. It was savoring the moment before the kill, taking pleasure in her terror the way a cat might toy with a wounded mouse.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure if she was addressing the gods, the townspeople she had failed to protect, or the two boys whose revolutionary fervor had brought them to this bloody end. "I tried. I really tried."
Her fingers tightened around the dagger's hilt as she raised it in front of her, the blade catching the lamplight one last time. If the creature wanted her life, it would have to pay for it. She might not be strong enough to win, but she could at least make sure her death cost the demon dearly.
Steam continued to rise from the Marduk's body as it positioned itself for the final strike, carrying whispers in that ancient tongue that spoke of suffering beyond mortal comprehension. The creature's six eyes gleamed with anticipation, and its jaws opened to reveal those terrible crystalline fangs that had already claimed one life tonight.
Nisheena closed her eyes and tried to center herself, drawing on the meditation techniques her grandmother had taught her decades ago in the mountain halls where her people once dwelled. If she was going to die, she would do so with dignity intact, facing her fate with the courage that dark elf blood demanded.
The sound of the creature's final leap reached her ears, that distinctive whisper of displaced air that meant death was only heartbeats away. She opened her eyes and raised her dagger, hoping against hope that some miracle might guide her blade to its target one last time.
The Marduk's massive form filled her vision, claws extended and jaws gaping wide enough to encompass her entire head. This was it, the moment where her story would end, where decades of careful survival would be snuffed out by supernatural malevolence.