Chapter 43: 43 – Death Plea

From deep in her chest there rumbled a hearty laugh, gouts of Fog spilling forth  with each bark. She pushed the trigger lever far enough to hear the first click whilst she excused her outburst, “I apologize for laughing, but… Surely you understand why I find it rich when a cannibalistic beast questions my humanity.”

Another slow nod, “Yes, I do. I also understand that only one of us can leave this field. If I am to be honest…”

The creature sat, crossing its legs and placing its hands in its lap in a strange, contortionist manner that looked very limiting. “I wish for death, yet my survival instincts won’t let me. All I can do to keep my beastly self at bay is play along, try to moderate the urges. This is no way to live,” it pleaded as a flicker of humanity flashed through its eyes. For a moment, they looked like the eyes of a scared young man.

“The moment you strike at me the beast will take control, it won’t let go until you’re dead and I’ve fed. It’ll take me some time to get out of this position, you should be fast enough to take off an arm. Don’t bother with my head until you’ve crippled me, my body will keep moving for long enough to kill you.”

It explained what it thought to be its weaknesses in such a pleading, calm voice that it made Zel want to ask more questions. After all, the beast wouldn’t come out unless she struck the first blow.

“Who were you before this?”

A blank stare. “I was a soldier,” said the creature as it turned its gaze aside, rambling on. Waiting for the first blow. “A dead man walking, fated to be among the thousands cut down by some Grekurian hero’s magic sword. In my time at the academy I learned of the Fog, in my free time I sifted through old stories and found the grains of truth hidden in the fables. I read between the lines, did the rituals, ate a man alive while he screamed and begged for his life. In the morning I was a living weapon, ready to lay waste to the Grekurian invaders. Three days later, they took the capital. The war was over. I fled through the countryside, indiscriminately killing and eating anyone whose skin was darker than snow...”

The beast trailed off, and while it did, Zel listened, but she also prepared herself. First the exhalation. “Lover’s Breath…” she uttered with the last of her breath, mentally focusing on her most vivid memory of the night before. Her assumption turned out to be correct when she found herself breathing heavily, ropes of silver Fog flooding out of her and lust gripping her body - lust for battle, lust for victory, but lust nonetheless, even without a carnal framing.

This feeling was familiar. This was the same exhilaration she felt when she faced down the rot-bear, she was alive. Although she allowed herself to slip into a battle-trance such as this, Zel was fully lucid, her mind racing as she speculated on what the beast could possibly do and how to most quickly eliminate it. 

Its head snapped towards her, its eyes shuddering in their sockets as it visibly struggled to stop itself from lunging. “O-one more thing, ple-ease,” it pleaded. “Tell Quincy I’m sorry.”

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Zel gave a nod, digging her heels in as she trained the gun on the beast’s chest. “Staggering Shot...” she uttered, hand utterly still even whilst her quarry lost control, untangling its spindly arms and lunging from the ground. 

An exhalation as she pushed the lever all the way. Click. Boom. She slid across the cornstalks when the recoil pushed her backwards, the smoke clouding her vision and the thunderous noise drowning out all sound. As she had done every time before she didn’t wait for the smoke to dissipate, sprinting through it as she continued to breathe, trailing a heavy curtain of Fog.

She saw that it was indeed staggering, a gaping wound in its stomach from which there gushed a mixture of blood, half-digested human meat, and bone fragments. However, it only staggered for a second, not nearly long enough for her to wind up for a full swing. No choice but to use her own momentum as she ran by, cleaving its thigh wide open with the very tip of her cleaver just before she spun around into a full swing with the intent to bisect it.

The wound snapped it out of the haze, and she felt its claws dig into her side. Brilliant pain shot through her body, but it only served to elevate her focus. Breathe in, breathe out. It tried to hold onto her with its vice-like grip, its teeth chattering and any humanity gone from its eyes as it gurgled and gibbered in inhuman tongues. Its mouth stretched wide open in the moments before it would sink its teeth into her flesh, but she had dealt with this before.

Once more, gunmetal would be her armor. Once more, she rammed her left hand right into its mouth. It bit down with inhuman force, its teeth creaking, their enamel audibly cracking under the pressure, and just as its teeth strained, so did her gun’s trigger mechanism, struggling to keep the trigger lever locked in the fired position. 

As useful as the Lover’s Breath was, she wasn’t yet accustomed to exploiting its advantages and compensating for its downsides. A deep breath in, she bore the pain of the beast’s fingers between her ribs as she filled her lungs. Halfway would need to be enough. A sharp exhalation, a shove using the cleaver to create some space, the beast’s fingers scoring gashes in her sides and shredding some of her chest bindings on the way out. As big an inhalation as she could to regain some lost breath.

Zelsys took hold of the cleaver with both hands, turning it to its push-saw side. 

“Beheading Saw!”

A step forward and a thrust to meet the beast’s immediate lunge. The feathered teeth sang as they cleft through flesh and veins and bone, but she knew to heed the beast’s own warning.

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