Astel was blind, his body battered. He had been relying solely on his instincts—instincts that were beginning to fail him. His senses were unreliable, the voices in his head kept him from focusing on the sounds around him, and the darkness made his vision obsolete. The unfamiliar terrain only worsened his orientation.
His gut screamed at him to run, to try and survive, not fight. But Astel wouldn't listen.
He simply didn't want to.
Inhaling as much air as he could, he let out a long, heavy breath. Sharp pain surged through every part of his body. He was beaten and exhausted. He had reached his limit long ago—but he couldn't rest.
Resting meant death.
After calming his nerves slightly, he tensed up, preparing to continue the fight.
But nothing happened.
He just stood there, in the dark, assuming the only battle stance he knew, holding his breath. It seemed the monster had really run away. He held still for a few moments, then exhaled heavily. His muscles relaxed, and the pain washed over him like a cold tide.
He limped around the dark cave, staying alert against any incoming attacks. Each random sound made him shiver.
'These ruins... they were right under where I slept, yet I never realized.'
He sighed as he carefully looked around.
'I guess this is where that monster came from.'
He inspected a nearby wall.
'These structures feel man-made… but I've never seen anything like this.'
A small rock fell to the ground somewhere behind him. Astel spun around, raising his dagger—nothing happened.
'That monster is way more terrifying than I thought… it even seemed to teleport?'
He recalled all the times it simply appeared behind him.
'I guess it's not one to fight head-on, instead trying to finish its opponent with one strike from a blind spot.'
He grinned.
'Perhaps I can use that.'
Thinking about how he would kill the beast made his smile widen. He was nearly grinning from ear to ear.
'I managed to injure it, while it has barely touched me.'
His broken body, however, told a different story.
'Maybe not…'
He moved further into the cave and stumbled upon an opening into what felt like a large hall. The air there felt less… restricting.
'I wonder where that bastard ran off to.'
Just as he thought that, he felt a presence. He turned toward it but failed to see anything. On edge, he continued toward the center of the large open space, eventually stumbling onto a small sand hill. He carefully scaled it until his hand came into contact with something hard.
The object was round and half-buried in the still-hot sand.
They were eggs.
Astel had found the creature's nest—still warm from the beast's body heat.
'The creature seems to be afraid of light… but it somehow expels the same heat. How though? When I climbed atop it, its whole body was cold—even its blood wasn't exactly warm.'
His hands and weapon were still stained with it.
'Should I destroy these eggs? Oh, wait—what if I cook them?'
He licked his lips.
'But how am I going to cook them if I can't even make a fire?'
His gluttonous expression turned solemn.
'I'll leave these eggs here for now. Perhaps… if I survive, I'll come back for them.'
With that, he turned away from the creature's nest and carefully descended the small sand hill, continuing forward until he reached a wall.
'Where did the monster go? I know I hurt it, but it can't be that bad. How bad can a Category 1 hurt a supposed Category 4?'
He traced his hand along the wall until he felt something unusual. The surface felt softer in a small spot. Astel pressed harder with his empty hand, and the wall gave way.
It wasn't a wall—but some sort of hard, cloth-like material covering a smaller entrance. One made for humans.
'It must've used that weird ability of its to get to the other side.'
He walked through and entered another room. This one felt smaller, not nearly as grand as the hall behind him.
He walked with silent, careful steps. Each one made his anxiety worse. The pressure increased exponentially. The voices somehow grew even louder.
Then he stepped on something.
It had an odd texture. He bent down and grabbed it. It felt hard, rough, and… scaly.
His thoughts raced.
'It's the reptile's skin… and it's probably fresh.'
The realization struck him like lightning. He dropped the dry skin and tried to assume a battle stance—when a giant, sharp claw slashed his dominant arm.
Astel winced in pain and jumped away from the attack—unaware he had just fallen into a trap.
Another claw was coming, this time from above.
He wouldn't be able to dodge.
Astel expelled all his stored energy, trying with all his might to imbue it into the blade and block the incoming strike. Most of the energy left his body without effect. But a minuscule amount, against all odds, flowed from his mind and manifested into something tangible.
The energy followed his intent—down from his head, through his nerves, into his mangled arm.
Even though he had momentarily bent the impossible to his will—something that shouldn't be possible—he still couldn't channel it into his weapon.
In a split-second decision, he dismissed the chitinous blade and raised his arms instead, choosing to preserve his only weapon—his only chance to win.
The claw came down, piercing his flesh.
Pain exploded throughout Astel's body. His body slammed to the ground a heartbeat later, a second, even more overwhelming wave of agony nearly knocking him unconscious.
He couldn't give up.
Not yet.
But this time… it really felt like he would die.
He tried to free his hand from the claw's grip, but the monster's hold was too heavy.
It wouldn't let go again.
Then he felt it—the hot breath on his forehead. Drops of saliva fell onto his face.
The monster was about to bite his head off.
And he couldn't do anything about it...
Except—it was all part of his plan.
Astel raised his uninjured hand. It was near the monster's head, but the beast paid it no attention.
He turned his palm toward the reptile's eye and summoned the crimson chitinous dagger.
As it materialized from the unfamiliar energy, he thrust it into the beast's eye.
The monster noticed a split second too late.
It couldn't move.
The blade sank into soft tissue. The creature screamed in pain for the first time since their encounter. It tried to run—but Astel wouldn't let go.
He knew what to expect this time.
His other hand finally freed itself. The pain lessened—slightly.
Then, the world shifted again.
They were standing near the pile of sand that held the eggs. The mother shook her head wildly, but the dagger wouldn't budge.
Astel swung his body, using all his strength to get atop the creature's head. He yanked the dagger from one eye and thrust it into the other.
The beast was now blind—and in agony.
It thrashed violently, stumbling until it lost balance and crashed to the ground.
Astel didn't waste the opportunity.
He rolled off the monster, got to his feet, and dashed back.
Raising the blade high, he brought it down into its mangled, bloodied eye socket.
Again. And again.
Sometimes he missed. Sometimes he struck deep into the skull. Blood sprayed everywhere. His torn, dirty, improvised clothes turned crimson.
Astel was grinning.
The grin on his face was demonic.
Finally—he was killing something other than ants. Finally—he was releasing the pent-up anger and trauma. His eyes gleamed with joy.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" he screamed, stabbing again and again.
One of the first stabs had already reached the creature's brain, but Astel hadn't noticed.
This prey was his to enjoy.
Nothing was stopping him.
He drove the chitinous blade into the creature's head again.
He stabbed and stabbed until the blade splintered in his grip. His first weapon died with the thing it killed.
Shards of the dark, blood-covered blade crumbled onto the corpse of the monster below him.
Before Astel's tired mind registered it, the weapon dissolved into pure energy, scattering in the air.
He had lost his first and only weapon.
But it had served its purpose.
Now, only a corpse lay beneath the beaten, bloodied boy.
Astel collapsed soon after—falling into a deep, dreamless sleep atop the dead reptile.