And at this moment I realize three things.
First off, that fighting with two people wasn't the smart thing to do.
And I should always do the smart thing.
Secondly, That I'm not listening to myself.
Because who's IN THEIR RIGHT FUCKING MIND! Would say that rushing, passing the two fallen wooden warriors, and going shoulder first against a litteral giant made of wood is a smart thing?
I don't know who. Maybe me? If I do enough mental gymnastic.
Maybe it's because running is providing me with this euphoric feeling again? The one I was chasing? Freedom? I don't know.
But what I know for sure, is that as the sand fly beneath my feet, I'm doing it.
Doing the inverse of what I preached. Retreat.
But it doesn't matter.
No matter what kind of justification I can bring in. No matter what the voice of my father would say. I just can't stop.
I can't.
I can't even think of it, my muscles burn, roaring under my skin. Begging to be used.
Violence can feel so good sometimes. Freeing.
I slam shield first into this fucker knees. Slamming my entire body weight behind this attack.
I just don't tackle it. I don't think you understand. I'm just trying to crush this fucker knees. I just fucking jump on it, like I was rabid dog jumping on a bear.
I can feel my shoes loosening. My knees cracking. My whole legs burning.
I put everything I had. AND EVERYTHING I WILL EVER HAVE in this attack.
It wasn't announced. But I don't fucking care, I can't seem to care right now. That's life. One second everything is fine, and the next you just need to go all out. So all out that you feel your tendons strains under your muscles.
There wasn't much thought in my attack, just a pure animalistic rush of violence that flooded in my veins.
If the first time I felled one of the big automaton I felt like it was a tree with unusable legs. Right now. I feel like I impacted a concrete wall.
There is no in between.
I don't feel a give, I don't feel the crunch of wood. I don't feel anything but how the air rush out of my lungs.
Slam yourself into a wall as hard as you can.
You'll understand how I feel.
This leg was like a wall. A litteral wall. You can't pass over it.
You can't break it.
You can't make it tumble.
I could have guessed that from afar.
I can't break the wall. I never could, and never will. But even if I knew, even if I felt like that.
There was a chance, a slight chance I could do it.
I just....couldn't let it pass.
So I didn't, not again.
No matter how I feel. Reality is different, unbiased and real. Not tainted by my thoughts and past.
A wall is not as representative as I would like it to be.
Because even if I feel like I did nothing. Like always. My efforts, even if sometimes underappreciated by me, by him. They still do something.
I CAN DO IT! I CAN DO SOMETHING CAN'T YOU FUCKING SEE THAT!?
A wall doesn't fall.
But it did.
He fell.
Not fully. But he fell. His gigantic body slammed down beside me. The sounds tell me. Only the sounds.
As the sand coming in my eyes, itching me, making me tear up don't help me see.
It hurt. It burn, but I can't blink.
It hurt, badly. I can't breathe.
My lungs crave for air, and I give it to them. Taking the biggest inhale ever before falling into a coughing fit. It rumble in my chest and throat.
Fucking sand.
I just realized I'm tumbling on the ground like some kind of puppet without strings.
I blasted through.
I blasted through his leg.
Made him fall on one knee.
Passed through. Slammed on the ground. I don't know what first, but I'm now a ridiculous tangle of limbs, rolling and surviving in the sand.
Like always.
A fucking baby tumbling, just trying to figure out how to walk. How to crawl. How to cradle my neck to avoid the pain.
Like fucking always.
And like fucking always. I tumble. I eat sand, I feel the pain. I crawl, I dig my fingers in the sand. I try to regain control.
And unlike how it always happen.
I do it. I claw my way up, sand digging into my nails until I find myself resting in a half kneeling crouch.
I cough again and again, staring at the sand. My head whip around to see the sight.
Almost covered fully by flying sand, I don't blink. I still don't.
I don't really know when I crawled on my knees, maybe it's when I saw that he was only on one knee, a tower tumbling but not falling.
Still taller than me, no matter how high I'd jump.
His back is so fucking wide.
Wider than I could ever be for sure. No matter how much I train, getting stronger, getting wider. Appeasing my feelings, it won't change, it won't grow.
I can't climb it.
Nor can I fell it.
I don't know why I can't do it, I don't know, so I change it. I don't know why, but what I know for sure.
What I know for sure, is that for once, I'm jumping again, fire flooding my veins. I would beat myself up for not tackling it again.
But I couldn't think.
I could just feel. I can only think. So I jump, and like an animal possesed my nails dig into it's wooden flesh. Breaking and tearing as I scratch like a cat desperately searching for a grip to pull myself up.
My legs slam onto it's side, climbing him like he's a wall.
Before I can even realize I'm slamming the tip of the shield right onto the back of it's head as my legs clutch around his neck and back.
Fucking.
Fall.
Down.
The sound of metal against wood pierce my ears but I ignore it. I just slam. Again. And again. And again.
It needs to fall down. I can do something, I can do it.
Again.
And again.
And fucking again.
My arms burn, every hit disforming wood and hurting my hands, both of them. My dagger dissapeared in the haze. I'm grabbing the shield sides with both hands. Bring it high overhead, feel the stretch in my shoulders. And bring it down like a hammer.
Like an axe.
Cut this fucking wood.
Make it fall.
Please.
And fall it does. At every single one of my mad fueled hit. A mix of too many feelings to describe.
It slowly inch down.
It's wooden hand digging in the sand and shifting around. Trying to keep itself in balance.
But it can't.
Not with those skills. Not against this.
So it fall. Slowly. Like a tree, depressing to the side. And soon enough his head almost rest on the sand.
The spurt of blue blood make me look to the side. My eyes still burning.
I did not blink.
Malfoy is here, sword digging into it's vein like neck, one that's the width of my torso.
It fall down, for sure. A single sword and a human standing over it.
Malfoy look at me.
I look behind him.
At the big one that closed up, arm with the sword raised high. Ready to swing in that uncoordinated manner, right at malfoy back.
Like I'm getting used too. Since the start of the fight. Warm and comfortable burns flood my veins. Prodding me to act before I can think.
That's why I'm finding myself in the air, shield raised high, right above that new one.
Jumping above the dead giant was trivial. Reaching those highs was trivial. And slamming the entire shield into the big one face was not trivial.
But it was enjoyable.
I fall over it. We both fall. The wood on it's back, and me half on it and half on the sand.
Pushing myself up, I barely have time to turn before I meet malfoy, already finishing this one.
He let his sword inside the blue vein. Pushing himself up, slowly. Staring at me.
I look behind me, not seeing anything else. I allow myself to blink.
He stare at my eyes.
Then raise his hand, slowly, fist tight.
"This." His hand extend "This was mighty impressive"
I raise my fist, fistbumping him.
This time.
It was easy.
What was the third thing I realized?
Fighting is kinda funny.
I'll admit it.
[Congratulation on beating the Sixth wave!]