Ruho stood in front of the massive corpse, sword in hand, and tried to figure out where to even begin. The Gigantosuchus was lying on its side, its armored back facing away from him, its pale underbelly exposed to the sky. The scales on top gleamed like polished metal, clearly designed by evolution, or Azirel's twisted design process to deflect attacks.
But the belly… the belly looked softer. The scales there were smaller, more flexible, with visible gaps between them where pale flesh showed through.
"Right," Ruho muttered, gripping his short sword with both hands. "Belly. That's where you're supposed to cut when butchering animals, right? The soft parts?"
He positioned himself near the midsection of the creature, where the belly was most exposed. The wound from the ballista bolt was several meters away, near the neck, still smoking slightly from whatever magical energy had been imbued in the projectile.
Ruho raised the sword above his head and brought it down in a two-handed stab, putting his full body weight behind it.
The blade punched through the softer belly scales and sank deep into the flesh beneath. Maybe six inches. Maybe more. It was hard to tell.
"HA!" Ruho shouted triumphantly. "See? I got through! I'm doing it! I'm—"
"NO!" Azirel's voice cut through with genuine panic. "Don't cut the belly first! The belly has all the blood! The stomach! The intestines! You need to—"
Ruho pulled the sword sideways, creating a long slash along the belly.
And the world turned red.
Blood erupted from the wound like someone had turned on a fire hose. Not a trickle. Not a flow. A deluge. Pressurized blood that had been held inside a hundred-foot body suddenly found an exit and took it with enthusiasm.
The spray hit Ruho full in the chest, knocking him backward a step. Hot. It was shockingly hot, almost scalding against his bare skin. He'd taken off his torn cargo pants earlier they were too damaged and bloody to be useful and was basically naked except for the dignity-preserving fact that there were no other humans around to see him.
The blood kept coming. It washed over him like a crimson shower, soaking into his hair, running down his face, filling his mouth with the taste of copper pennies mixed with something organic and meaty that made him want to gag. He tried to close his eyes but it was too late blood stung his eyeballs, turning his vision pink-tinted.
He stumbled backward, coughing and sputtering, trying to wipe his face with hands that were equally covered in blood. The flow from the Gigantosuchus continued for what felt like forever but was probably only fifteen seconds, the initial pressure spray reducing to a steady pour, then to a trickle, then finally stopping as the internal pressure equalized.
Ruho stood there, completely coated head to toe in crocodile blood, looking like the victim of a horror movie massacre.
"I TOLD YOU SO!" Azirel's voice rang out, a mixture of exasperation and I-tried-to-warn-you smugness.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ruho screamed back, spitting blood out of his mouth. It was in his nose too, burning, making his sinuses feel like they were on fire. "Just—just shut up! I don't want to hear it!"
He wiped his eyes again, managing to clear enough blood to see properly, and looked at the corpse. The slash he'd made in the belly was three feet long, and through the opening he could see… things. Internal things. Organs and tissues in shades of red and purple and gray that he had no names for.
"Okay," he said, his voice shaking. "Okay. I've made the cut. Now I just need to… to get the meat out."
"You need to hurry up," Azirel said, his tone shifting from smug to urgent. "Because blood hounds are in the area."
Ruho paused, his hand on the sword. "Blood hounds?"
"Exactly what they sound like," Azirel explained quickly. "Dog-like predators that drink blood. They can smell it from miles away. With the amount you just released into the air, every blood hound pack within a ten-kilometer radius is probably heading this way right now."
"Of course there are blood hounds," Ruho muttered, reaching into the belly wound. His hands sank into warm, slippery tissue. "Of course you made vampire dogs. Why wouldn't you?"
He grabbed what felt like solid meat muscle tissue, probably and started sawing at it with the short sword. The blade was sharp, at least. It cut through the flesh with relative ease, separating a chunk of dark red meat from the surrounding tissue.
The smell hit him as he worked. Not just blood that was everywhere, coating him, filling his nose but the deeper smell of internal organs. The digestive tract. He could see intestines through the wound, coiled masses of gray-green tissue, and the smell coming from them was…
Ruho gagged. Actually gagged, his stomach heaving. It was like every terrible smell he'd ever encountered rotten food, backed-up sewage, decomposing garbage all concentrated and amplified. His eyes watered. His throat constricted.
"Don't cut the intestines," Azirel warned. "If you think it smells bad now, wait until you rupture the digestive system. That's where all the partially digested—"
"STOP TALKING!" Ruho shouted, carefully maneuvering his sword around the intestinal coils. He focused on the muscle meat, the solid tissue attached to the ribs, trying to ignore the smell and the slippery texture and the fact that he was basically elbow-deep in a giant dead reptile.
He sawed and cut and pulled, his movements clumsy and inefficient but eventually effective. After what felt like an hour but was probably only five minutes, he managed to extract a chunk of meat roughly two feet by two feet. Maybe twenty pounds. Maybe more. It was hard to judge when everything was covered in blood and his hands were shaking.
"Got it," he panted, holding up the meat chunk triumphantly. Blood dripped from it in steady streams. "I did it. I got meat."
"Great!" Azirel said, his voice tight with urgency. "Now RUN."
"What?"
"RUN!" Azirel repeated. "The blood hounds are arriving! I can see them on the divine tracking system! There are three packs converging on your location! They hunt in groups of eight to twelve! They're maybe two minutes out!"
Ruho looked at his chunk of meat, then at the castle maybe thirty meters away. "You're bullshitting me. You're trying to freak me out again like with the Gigantosuchus and—"
"I am NOT bullshitting!" Azirel's voice went up an octave. "Blood hounds are pack hunters! They're about the size of wolves but faster and more aggressive! And they can smell blood from miles away! MILES! You are literally covered head to toe in blood! You are a walking dinner bell!"
"You always say that!" Ruho shouted back, starting to walk toward the castle but not running. Not giving Azirel the satisfaction.
"You said the same thing about scavengers! You said the same thing about ecosystem collapse! You're just trying to scare me and I'm TIRED of being scared! I killed a Gigantosuchus! I can handle some dogs!"
"These aren't dogs, they're—"
"I don't CARE what they are!" Ruho continued, really getting into his rant now, gesturing wildly with his free hand while the other clutched his meat chunk. "You know what your problem is, Azirel? You're a TERRIBLE guide! You drop me into situations with zero preparation! You give me the magical equivalent of a ten-year-old's power level! You 'forget' to mention crucial details like crocodiles can gallop or water acts like concrete or there are BLOOD-DRINKING DOGS! You're inconsistent! You're unhelpful! You're—"
A howl cut through the air.
Long. Haunting. Nothing like a normal wolf's howl. This was higher-pitched, with an almost musical quality that would have been beautiful if it wasn't clearly a hunting call.
Then another howl answered it. From a different direction.
Then another.
Then six more, all overlapping, creating a chorus of predatory intent that echoed across the plateau.
Ruho's rant died in his throat.
He stood there, covered in blood, holding his chunk of meat, and listened to the howls getting closer.
"Ruho," Azirel said quietly. "Run. Now."