The beast lunged again, a blur of muscle and fury. Garret barely rolled aside in time. Pain ripped through his leg, sharp and blinding, his knee gave out with a sickening crack. He hit the ground hard, biting back a scream as his sword skittered across the pavement. The creature turned, its massive hooves grinding against stone, steam bursting from its nostrils. Its golden eyes burned with primal rage.
Garret dragged himself upright, every breath a knife in his lungs. One arm hung uselessly by his side, dislocated, maybe broken, but his mind was sharper than ever. The Adapt ability pushed past agony, forcing his thoughts into grim precision. He glanced around. Rubble. A broken lamppost. The remains of a collapsed wall. A plan took shape. Suicidal, but possible.
The creature charged again. Garret grabbed the lamppost with his good arm, braced himself, and slammed it forward. The impact barely slowed the monster, but it angled its charge slightly, exactly what he wanted. The beast crashed into the half-collapsed wall behind him, stones raining down, dust filling the air. The beast tore itself free from the rubble, bellowing in rage, chunks of concrete and dust flying from its hide. Garret's lungs burned with every breath, his vision a smear of crimson and ash, but he saw his chance.
With a hoarse roar, he charged. The creature swung its horn, but he slipped under it and leapt, every muscle screaming in defiance, landing hard on its back. His sword plunged deep into the thick column of its neck, hot blood spraying across his face. The impact nearly tore his arm from its socket, but he held on, teeth bared. The beast howled, rearing violently. Its muscles rippled beneath him, its hooves hammering the cracked street. Garret clung to the sword, using it like an anchor as he was tossed about like a ragdoll.
Then he realized. Its mane wasn't fur. It was flame. Not a gentle, glowing warmth, but burning fire that licked at his legs and knees, searing through fabric and skin. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air. Pain roared through him like lightning. He screamed, raw and broken, but refused to let go.
"DIE!" he snarled, his voice cracking.
With his free arm, he began hammering his fist into the creature's skull again, again, and again. Each blow weaker but wilder, his mind slipping somewhere between agony and insanity. The beast bucked and thrashed, smashing into walls, trying to crush him, but Garret's body refused to obey the laws of endurance. He was done running. His palm shattered on the fifth strike. He felt the bones give way, the agony blooming up his arm like fire, but still he swung, using what strength he had left, each impact dull and bloody. The creature staggered, its movements slowing. The sword in its neck glowed faintly red from the heat, veins of molten blood spreading across its hide.
Garret screamed again, a sound of pure defiance, and drove the blade deeper with his last ounce of strength. There was a shudder. A strangled roar. Then silence. The monster crashed forward, its massive body collapsing into the dirt with an earth-shaking thud.
Garret remained on its back, motionless for a moment, smoke rising from his burned legs, his arm limp at his side. He barely had the strength to breathe. The flames of its mane flickered weakly before dying out, leaving only the stench of burnt hair and blood.
Slowly, he slid off the carcass and crumpled beside it, his body broken, shaking uncontrollably.
{You have slain the First Weave Leontaur. You have received +20 Strength +10 Magic +10 health +5 stamina
You have levelled up
You have levelled up
You have levelled up… You have reached the maximum level of Unwoven beings, choose a path to advance. Paths available…}
Quickly ignoring the purple notifications in his retina, he concentrated on his spoils. He quickly searched for any drops while still bearing the pain from his broken arms and leg. Finding two skill scrolls and a green orb, slightly disappointed of the merger drops. Using his mangled arm, he placed them in his pocket
"Argh, that hurts so bad." He shrieked.
He couldn't stay here in the open, he limbed slowly while cursing the creature even in its death. He knew the real owners of the night were bound to find him due to the noise they had caused. And true to his thoughts he could see the bastards slowly making way towards him. In pain, Garret dragged himself across the shattered pavement, each movement a battle against his own body. His breaths came ragged, wet with blood. He didn't know how long he'd been crawling, only that his instincts had guided him to the faint white outline of the medical facility ahead. Its glass doors hung half-shattered, swaying lightly in the wind. He knew, brutally, certainly, he wouldn't make it out this time.
"Damn it, I survive hell only to become food for these mindless things. Only one sword swing and I cleave through them all." Garret lamented in self loath
"Where even is that damn sword."
His vision was already starting to blur, his body couldn't take the pain anymore and was shutting off to heal. But he couldn't pass out, but he couldn't fight. From the corner of his eye, he saw something.
"I guess today isn't the day I die," He gasped as he slowly shut his eyes.
Eira stepped through the shattered doorway, boots crunching over the frost that had swallowed the floor. Her breath came out slow, clouding in front of her like a veil. Then her eyes settled on the figure slumped by the counter. Garret. His leg twisted at a wrong angle, face half-unrecognizable beneath blood and ash. His clothes were shredded, burned in places, the edges of his mantle still smoking faintly. For a long moment, Eira simply stared. Her chest tightened. Because just outside, not thirty meters from where she now stood, lay the corpse of that creature. That thing with the lion's head and a bull's body, had terrified her. She had never felt such raw dread in her life. And now, lying before her, was the man who had killed it. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. The truth clawed at her absurd, terrifying, undeniable.
"It… can't be," she whispered, though her voice trembled with the certainty that it was.
Garret's head tilted weakly toward her voice. And in that moment, Eira, the unshakable ice queen felt something unfamiliar crawl up her spine. Not fear. Not pity.
Awe.
"You…that monster… can you even walk."
Garret smiled or rather he attempted to. "Kh-kh…W… we have to go..."
Eira knelt beside him. Up close, Garret looked worse than she'd imagined, skin torn, burns seared deep into muscle, one arm dangling uselessly at his side. His other hand was little better but mangled at the palm. When she slid an arm around his back, he groaned, low and hoarse, the sound of pain held in by sheer will. She slipped her shoulder under his, half-lifting, half-dragging him upright.
"Don't talk," she whispered, though his lips hadn't moved.
Her heart hammered in her chest. She could feel the heat radiating from him, unnatural like standing beside the dying embers of a forge. His blood smeared across her coat, still warm against her cold skin. They staggered through the silent campus, every step leaving a crimson mark behind. The night wind bit at them, and Eira realized her hands were trembling not from the cold, but from something else entirely. Fear. Shock. And a strange, unfamiliar closeness. Garret's weight pressed into her with every step, heavy, unyielding. She had never been this near to anyone, never felt someone's heartbeat so raw and unguarded. She hated the warmth of it, because it reminded her he was still human. His voice, faint and slurred, broke the silence.
"You… shouldn't… have come…"
"You talk too much for someone half-dead," she muttered, but her voice cracked at the edges.