The ghouls moved inhumanly fast.
Luckily, our hero could keep up with them.
Not a single attack was landing. Their strikes were being redirected or weaved around by our hero and his sword.
Their long, metal-like claws striking against the sword left a sharp ringing noise through the air.
As he deflected the attack from the pyromancer, the strike hit his hilt. He pushed the ghoul's entire arm aside using his sword—and in a quick flash—
He cut off the ghoul's arm.
He heard incantations from behind him. He felt heat and immediately sidestepped.
The attack landed perfectly.
Upon touching the one-armed ghoul, it began turning his smooth, white skin to black ash.
But our hero didn't even pay attention. He was too busy blocking other attacks, trying to keep his focus. Every strike met by his sword didn't stop the shockwave—it shivered through his bones.
But he kept blocking. His sword was decaying with every hit, one after another.
Then he saw an opening—a large, wide claw attack from one of the two remaining ghouls.
It was now or never. If he successfully parried the attack and countered, they'd win.
If he failed, the attack would break through his sword—and their line of defense would fall to the ghouls.
He thought to himself:
Such pressure… on me, a failure. But the past shall not taint my image forever. I can still rebuild it, brick by brick—starting here and now.
He raised his sword in front of the attack.
Every training session I had with my master… every duel with a friend… every hour I trained under the sunlight… it all led to this moment.
My talent can fail me. My power can fail me. But my hard work—and the endless work of tireless generations, improving the technique, perfecting it—
And my endless nights spent under the stars, learning every bit of it… engraving it upon my brain, upon my body, upon my hands, upon my blood, and into my sword…
That will never fail me.
His posture became more open. His chest went out, his muscles relaxed, his chin pointed forward, his eyes locked upward—and lastly, his technique was flawless.
He angled his sword just right. The attack slid right off. He kicked the monster with his foot, and it hit the ground right in front of him.
He was about to slash it dead—
But he saw the other ghoul… its claws striking toward the pyromancer.
Toward her beautiful, silky blonde hair.
In a flash, his sword was between the ghoul and the pyromancer. He let his chance slip away.
Or so he thought.
He kept telling himself,
I was so locked in… focused on restoring my ego… I almost let her die… how can I be such a fucking failure?
Worse than that—I let this perfect chance go to waste…
Until he looked behind him.
The ghoul was on the ground, burning slowly—marked by a deafening screech.
He looked at the pyromancer's face. She wasn't smug about it.
He instantly knew:
I was so focused on having her back… I forgot that she has mine too.
There was only one ghoul left. Its pale, white feet pushed against the ground—
It leaped away. Once. Then twice.
They realized—"Wait… they're retreating?!"
All the ghouls left in the entire camp began devouring the bodies as fast as possible, carrying all they couldn't eat.
They slowly backed away, turning their backs to our hero and the pyromancer.
He stood tall, aiming his sword at them until he was sure they were all gone.
Then he hit the ground, feeling every muscle in his body ache.
He let out a deep breath. A sigh.
Then looked to the pyromancer and said, "We actually did it."
But she didn't respond.
He lay on the ground, victorious—relaxing his whole body.
Yet something felt… off. Curiosity got the best of him. His neck moved slowly—he was only moving his head,
yet It felt like he was moving a mountain.
He kept rotating his head until he finally saw the pyromancer.
She was just standing there. Menacingly.
He thought to himself, Why… why does she seem off? Did I do something wrong?
But he realized—Her face… she's angry.
He opened his mouth, trying to ask why:
"hey-... li-.like.. are yo-..."
Before he could finish stuttering—
She started heading toward him. Almost jogging.
Obviously, she was trying to run, but her legs kept dragging behind her.
Her face was angry, but her eyes were closing. So was her mouth.
Her body was stiff and unmoving—yet she kept coming toward him at a fast pace.
She raised her staff to his face, screaming—
WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!