The moment the monster lunged, Luciel's mind surged into overdrive.
Direct confrontation was suicide.
He couldn't afford it — not with his current state, not with unstable mana and lingering wounds still slowing him down.
He threw the berries and herbs that he had collected, pivoted sharply, throwing himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the beast's snapping jaws. Leaves exploded upward as its claws ripped through the spot he'd occupied a heartbeat earlier.
—whoosh!
Luciel's body ached from the sudden movement. Pain flared along his ribcage, where half-healed bruises protested violently.
He gritted his teeth.
Pain later. Strategy now.
He needed to buy time, create distance, force the creature into a disadvantage it couldn't easily recover from.
Luciel's eyes darted to the environment around them — trees thickly clustered, roots snarled across the earth, uneven ground that dipped and rose unpredictably.
Good.
He could use that.
The monster snarled behind him, its heavy body thudding against the ground as it twisted to follow.
Luciel sprinted toward a cluster of low trees where the roots jutted outward like skeletal hands. His footfalls were light despite the pain, weaving through the terrain with precise, calculated movements.
Not speed. Not strength.
Tactics. Precision.
Luciel led the creature into the uneven ridge-line, deliberately choosing a path that would slow it down — force it to maneuver awkwardly.
The monster crashed after him, slower in the tangled terrain but still monstrously fast.
Luciel skidded to a halt by a fallen tree, his palm flashing out.
Mana surged beneath his skin — raw, imperfect, but usable.
Ice.
A rough spike of frost exploded upward from the ground, forming a jagged barrier between him and the creature.
—crackle!
It wasn't perfect — the formation cracked at the base — but it was enough to make the beast rear back instinctively.
Luciel didn't wait to see if it held.
He darted around the side, moving further downhill where a small depression formed a natural basin filled with wet, mossy stones.
Another idea.
Luciel thrust his hand downward, channeling mana into the earth as he ran.
Small, razor-sharp needles of ice stabbed upward from the damp ground, hidden under fallen leaves and moss. Not enough to kill — but enough to wound. To slow.
—crack!
The beast's heavy paws slammed into the trap a moment later.
—screech!
A shriek tore from its throat — guttural, furious.
Luciel heard the crunch of ice piercing flesh.
He pushed his broken body forward, ignoring the way his lungs burned and his wounded side screamed.
The monster thrashed behind him, slowed, but not stopped.
It was bleeding now.
But so was he.
The exertion was reopening wounds he hadn't fully healed. His side was slick with warmth — blood soaking into the cloth strips he had hastily tied earlier. His breathing grew harsher, sharper, but he shoved the weakness down.
Weakness would mean death.
Luciel angled himself toward a narrow bottleneck between two massive trees, their roots twisted together in an almost perfect choke-point.
If he could get the monster to charge…
Another surge of mana.
He focused, biting down the pain that clawed through him.
A wall of ice erupted between the two trunks, sealing the gap with a translucent barrier.
Jagged, imperfect — but thick enough to withstand an impact.
The creature, blinded by rage and blood, roared and barreled forward.
—growl!
It didn't see the trap.
It slammed into the ice wall full-force.
—crack!
A deafening crack split the air.
The wall shuddered — fractures spider-webbing across its surface — but it held.
Luciel didn't waste the moment.
He conjured a small ice dagger into his hand — crude, barely shaped — but sharp enough.
With swift steps, he closed the distance.
He struck low, driving the dagger into the exposed underside of the beast's forelimb — where the ice spikes had already torn gaps in its flesh.
The monster howled.
But Luciel didn't stop.
He twisted the blade, forcing the wound wider, destabilizing its stance.
A heavy claw lashed out in retaliation.
—slash!
Luciel tried to dodge — but not fully.
The claw clipped his shoulder.
A burst of pain sent him sprawling backward.
He rolled, landing hard against the roots. His vision blurred for a heartbeat, stars exploding behind his eyes.
Something was wrong — his left arm didn't respond properly. The shoulder was dislocated. Maybe worse.
Luciel forced himself upright, breathing raggedly.
The beast had pulled free from the ice wall, bleeding heavily now — one forelimb dragging uselessly.
But it wasn't finished.
Its green eyes burned with a feverish rage.
It limped forward, slow but deliberate.
Luciel steadied his stance, shifting his weight away from his bad side.
Think. Adapt. Survive.
Mana pooled at his fingertips again — slower this time. His body resisted, the flow sluggish and painful.
But he drew it anyway.
One more trap.
Luciel knelt, slamming both hands onto the ground.
The moisture in the soil responded to his will, freezing rapidly into a jagged minefield of razor-thin ice needles beneath the surface.
The monster charged again — slower, limping, but no less deadly.
Luciel waited.
Waited.
At the last possible moment, he rolled to the side — and triggered the trap.
A forest of frozen spikes erupted upward.
The monster shrieked — a sound that tore through the trees, raw and pained.
Ice punctured its underbelly, its legs, its exposed throat.
It stumbled — nearly collapsed.
Luciel pressed the advantage.
Summoning another ice dagger with a trembling hand, he sprinted — pain forgotten.
He drove the blade into the monster's side, just behind its foreleg.
It thrashed violently — catching him with a glancing blow that sent him skidding across the mossy ground.
Luciel gasped, his body screaming in protest.
But he forced himself back up.
One knee hit the dirt.
He was bleeding — from his shoulder, his side, a fresh gash across his temple where a branch had torn him.
His vision swam.
No.
He locked it down.
He would not die here.
The monster staggered, bleeding from half a dozen wounds, green eyes flickering.
It was weakening.
But it was not defeated.
Not yet.
—huff…huff…
The two faced each other across the clearing — two battered creatures, bloodied and broken, but unyielding.
Luciel's hand tightened around his makeshift dagger. Mana crackled faintly at his fingertips, ready to be shaped into another desperate defense.
The wind stirred around them, cold and sharp.
The forest held its breath.
And then —
The beast growled low, head lowering, muscles tensing for another charge.
Luciel met its gaze, cold and calculating.
He was not ready to die.
Not yet.