Chapter 20: The Kill

Blood ran down Sigurd’s left arm and dripped from his fingertips, darkening the leaves beneath him.

Across the clearing, the Armored Bloodfang looked worse. Severing Line had opened its right shoulder almost to the chest, splitting the vulnerable seam between its natural plates.

Blood streamed through charcoal fur and splashed beneath its forepaw whenever it shifted its weight. Yet the beast remained standing, four amber eyes fixed on Sigurd with unmistakable hatred.

The clearing around them no longer resembled the place where the fight had begun. Ferns had been flattened into the mud. Broken branches littered the battlefield. Blood marked both sides of the clearing, Sigurd’s in small crimson drops and the beast’s in broad smears.

The beast broke the stalemate first.

"GRRRAAAH!"

Its roar shook leaves from the canopy. The Bloodfang lunged, favoring its damaged side but still moving fast enough to cross several yards before Sigurd completed a breath. Sigurd didn’t retreat in a straight line. He stepped diagonally behind the remains of the broken root, forcing the creature to either jump or turn. It jumped.

He slipped beneath its left side as its shadow swallowed him, turning his shoulders so the injured arm stayed away from its claws. His sword flashed upward and cut across the beast’s belly.

SHNK!

Blood sprayed across the moss. The Bloodfang landed badly and crashed shoulder-first into a tree.

BOOM!

The trunk shuddered. Bark exploded outward. Several enormous leaves tore free somewhere above and spiraled down through shafts of sunlight.

Sigurd was already moving.

Earlier, he would have rushed toward the exposed flank and risked being caught by the beast’s recovery. He had learned better. The Bloodfang’s body was a weapon even when its jaws weren’t facing him. Its tail could break his ribs, its shoulder could launch him across the clearing, and its paws could reach farther than their apparent range suggested.

Sigurd circled instead, sword held before him, forcing the injured creature to turn if it wanted to keep him in sight.

The Bloodfang pushed away from the tree and snapped at him.

Sigurd stopped just outside the jaws.

They slammed shut.

CLACK!

He stepped in immediately and stabbed toward its face.

The creature jerked aside. His blade missed the nearest eye but carved a line across its muzzle. The Bloodfang swiped. Sigurd had already begun withdrawing. Three claws passed inches from his chest and sliced through a hanging vine behind him.

During the opening exchanges, the beast’s unfamiliar anatomy had forced him to discover its movements while avoiding them. Now he had patterns. The Bloodfang lowered its head before driving forward. Its left shoulder rose before a horizontal swipe. Its spine curved before using its tail. When forced to turn toward its injured side, it compensated by shifting weight onto the healthy rear leg. Each observation shortened Sigurd’s response by a fraction, and fractions decided whether claws struck flesh or empty air.

The Bloodfang charged again immediately.

Sigurd moved right smoothly.

As expected, the creature turned with him, placing extra weight on its healthy rear leg. Sigurd abruptly reversed direction. The Bloodfang tried to follow.

Its wounded leg buckled.

Sigurd entered.

His sword cut once across the exposed foreleg, then he pivoted away before the beast could bite.

CRACK!

The Bloodfang’s jaws closed on the trunk of a sapling instead. Wood splintered between its fangs. It ripped its head sideways, tearing the young tree apart and hurling half of it through the clearing. Sigurd ducked as the broken trunk spun over him and smashed into another tree with a thunderous impact.

He came upright behind the beast.

One step.

A horizontal cut opened the back of its injured thigh.

The Bloodfang whirled furiously. Sigurd was already gone.

Sigurd wasn’t becoming faster in any meaningful physical sense. His strength hadn’t increased during the fight, his Vis hadn’t suddenly become denser, and his injury was actually reducing what his left arm could contribute. What changed was the number of unnecessary decisions between perception and action.

The boy had stopped testing possibilities and started eliminating them. He knew which angles were dangerous, which movements were feints created by the creature’s pain, and which attacks left genuine openings. Every exchange added information, and Sigurd was using it immediately.

He also understood that dragging the fight out would eventually favor neither of them. Blood continued running down his arm. His Vis reserves had fallen significantly after the previous Severing Line, and maintaining constant reinforcement was consuming more.

The Bloodfang was bleeding heavily, but wounded animals could remain lethal until their final breath. He needed to finish it without becoming careless.

The beast suddenly backed away.

Sigurd didn’t pursue.

Its four eyes watched him while its chest expanded and contracted. Foam and blood hung from its jaws. Then its posture changed. Instead of lowering its entire body for another charge, it shifted its weight backward and raised its armored forequarters slightly.

The Bloodfang spun.

WHOOSH!

The tail swept across the clearing like a battering ram. Sigurd jumped backward, but the beast had used the attack differently this time. Its tail struck a damaged tree rather than him.

CRACK!

The lower trunk burst apart.

The tree began falling directly toward Sigurd.

The canopy erupted as branches tore through leaves overhead. An enormous shadow descended. Sigurd sprinted instead of retreating, racing toward the falling trunk. At the last moment he planted a foot on a raised root, jumped, and landed atop the collapsing tree.

BOOM!

The trunk smashed into the ground behind him, throwing dirt, leaves, and shattered wood into the air. Sigurd ran along the angled surface while it was still bouncing from the impact.

The Bloodfang hadn’t expected him to come through the debris.

Sigurd launched from the trunk.

His sword descended toward its neck.

The Bloodfang twisted. Steel struck one of the black plates covering its shoulder.

CLANG!

Sparks burst from the impact. Sigurd’s wrists screamed as the blade bounced away. The beast reared and struck upward with its healthy forepaw.

Sigurd twisted in midair.

The claws missed his stomach but caught the hem of his coat and tore it apart. He landed hard, rolled through loose earth, and came up beside a gigantic tree trunk. The Bloodfang followed immediately, jaws opening.

Sigurd stepped aside.

BOOM!

The beast’s armored skull struck the tree.

The impact shook the ground. Its fangs gouged deep channels through bark, and the Bloodfang staggered as fragments rained over its head.

Sigurd attacked the moment its balance broke.

Instead he drove an ordinary Vis-reinforced thrust into the existing wound behind its foreleg. The sword sank deep. The Bloodfang screamed and slammed its shoulder toward him. Sigurd released one hand from the hilt, pivoted with the collision rather than resisting it, and ripped the blade free as he was thrown aside.

He struck the ground, rolled, and rose.

His left arm nearly failed when he used it to push himself upright.

Sigurd grimaced and adjusted his grip. He could still use both hands, but not for many more heavy exchanges.

The Bloodfang stumbled away from the tree.

Its movements had changed completely now. The explosive acceleration remained, but only in brief bursts. Blood poured from several wounds. Its right foreleg dragged slightly. The rear leg Sigurd had repeatedly targeted barely touched the ground. Yet the creature’s eyes remained locked on him.

He had enough Vis for another proper Severing Line.

One would be enough if he chose the target correctly.

The neck.

Its sides lacked the heavy plating covering the skull and upper shoulders. He had seen the vulnerable line whenever the beast turned sharply, but reaching it required committing himself inside the range of both jaws and foreclaws. Missing would leave him nowhere to escape.

Sigurd shifted his sword.

The Bloodfang growled.

Then both moved.

The beast charged with everything remaining in its body. Soil exploded behind its paws.

BOOM!

Sigurd ran directly toward it.

Osric straightened above them.

The distance vanished.

At the final instant, the Bloodfang opened its jaws and threw its head forward. Sigurd planted his left foot and changed direction sharply, passing along the creature’s wounded right side. The beast had anticipated another dodge and twisted after him, jaws snapping toward his shoulder.

Its neck turned.

The unarmored side opened.

Sigurd’s stance settled.

His Core released Vis.

No hesitation entered the circulation this time. His foot established the line, his hips rotated, his torso carried the motion into his shoulders, and the energy traveled through his sword arm with it. The Bloodfang tried to correct. Its injured rear leg slipped beneath the violent turn.

Sigurd saw the opening widen.

He cut.

"Severing Line."

The pale edge flashed.

SHIIIIING!

For a fraction of a second, nothing seemed to happen.

Sigurd completed the arc and flashed past the beast.

The Bloodfang landed behind him.

Its claws scraped once against the earth.

Then its enormous head slid from its neck.

THUD!

The body continued forward for another step before collapsing.

BOOM!

Dust and dead leaves burst outward as fifteen feet of armored muscle struck the forest floor. The severed head rolled twice, four amber eyes already losing their light, and stopped against the shattered remains of a root.

Silence returned to the clearing.

Sigurd remained standing with his back to the corpse, sword lowered beside his leg. Blood ran from its edge and dripped steadily onto the earth.

His chest rose.

Then fell.

Only when he was certain the creature would never move again did Sigurd finally turn around.

The Armored Bloodfang was finally dead.