"Rudra… Rudra, wake up. It's morning now."
Amanda's voice pulled me out of sleep.
Blinking in a daze, I turned to see her calmly combing her hair.
"Good morning," I muttered, dragging myself upright.
She nodded. "Good morning."
"So, when do we continue the mission?" I asked, still half‑groggy.
"As soon as we eat breakfast, we're good to go." She handed me a couple of bananas.
After eating and resting for a short while, we packed up the tent. I grabbed my walkie‑talkie, dialed Sammy, and fired the first shot.
"Yo, asshole, what's the situation on your side? And why the hell did you hoard my food?"
Silence. Then, after a minute, static crackled and Sammy's voice exploded through.
"Good morning, you idiot! The situation here is tense—we've reached the area where the temple might be. And stop blaming me for your screw‑ups. You forgot to pack your own damn food!"
Amanda's glare hit me harder than any demon. That death stare froze me in place, colder than steel.
"I… I'm sorry," I stammered.
She raised her hand. "Shut up. We have more important things to do."
Head down, I followed her without another word.
---
As we followed Sammy's coordinates, the density of demons grew thicker, each encounter more dangerous than the last.
"Do you think they'll be able to hold the line until we get there?" Amanda asked as we sprinted west.
"They should. Let's stay positive," I replied, trying to ease her worry.
We didn't talk much after that. The coordinates were 25 kilometers away, and every step closer meant more demons. Amanda cut through them mercilessly, her blade flashing like lightning. I, on the other hand, was barely holding on . Every swing of my sword was survival, every breath a gamble. Watching Amanda fight stirred something in me. I began to trust my technique, countering blows instead of just blocking. But exhaustion clawed at me. My lungs burned, my chest heaved, and then—
A circle of higher‑ranked demons closed in. D‑rank. Experienced. Deadly. Amanda was busy with her own swarm.
"The shit's about to get real," I muttered, just before hell broke loose.
---
Third‑Person POV
Claws ripped through the air before Rudra could breathe. He raised his sword, the impact rattling his bones. The demon pressed down, strength overwhelming. Steel screeched against talon. He twisted free—barely—before another claw tore across his side. Hot blood spilled, soaking his tunic.
He staggered, gasping. Red eyes glared from every angle. One lunged, fangs snapping. Rudra swung, blade biting into its shoulder. The creature shrieked, but another slammed into his back, claws digging deep. He roared in pain, spun, and hacked wildly, carving a jagged line across its chest.
There was no rhythm. No elegance. Just survival.
A crushing blow smashed into his ribs. He collapsed to one knee, coughing blood. A talon descended for his throat. He raised his sword, blocking with both hands. The force nearly broke his arms. Muscles screamed, vision blurred, but he shoved upward, slashing across the demon's jaw.
Another claw raked his shoulder. Another slammed into his leg. His sword grew heavier, his body slower. Blood slicked the hilt. His lungs refused to fill.
A strike caught him square in the chest. He flew backward, crashing hard. His sword almost slipped from his grip. The circle tightened.
One demon stepped forward, claws raised. Rudra's arms trembled. He was finished.
No. Not yet.
Teeth clenched, he forced his body up and swung. The blade severed its arm clean. Black blood sprayed across his face. The creature howled.
Rudra roared back, charging. His sword became fury. He hacked into a chest, ripped free, spun, slashed a throat. Another lunged—he ducked, thrust upward, piercing its skull. He pulled the blade free, turned, cleaved another's spine.
Every strike was agony. His wounds screamed, his body begged to collapse. But he kept moving.
A claw tore across his ribs. He staggered, spat blood, and split a jaw. Another leapt—he pivoted, blade flashing, cutting it down mid‑air.
Chaos. Steel rang, claws tore, blood sprayed. Rudra's body was breaking, but his will refused to die.
Finally, only one remained—the largest. It roared, charging. Rudra raised his sword, but his arms faltered. The strike grazed its side. The beast's claw smashed into his chest, sending him sprawling.
He lay gasping, vision dimming. The demon loomed, savoring his defeat.
But his fingers never let go. With the last of his strength, he thrust upward. The blade pierced its throat. The creature froze, choking, before collapsing with a crash.
Silence.
Rudra lay broken, his sword buried in the final foe. His body shredded, blood pouring from every wound. He could barely breathe, barely see. But he was alive.
Surrounded. Beaten. Driven to the edge of death. Yet he endured.
He had won.
---
Amanda's POV
When I finished my own fight, I rushed to Rudra. He was a mess—bloodied, unconscious, wounds everywhere. Panic clawed at me, but I forced myself to stay calm. I disinfected what I could, wrapped him in bandages, then scooped him up.
I chuckled despite myself. Usually, it's the prince carrying the princess. Not today. I carried him to the shade of a nearby tree, where he could rest.
Sitting beside him, I stared at his face. I remembered how terrified he'd been of my glare yesterday in the tent and more I visualised his face i couldn't control and burst into laughter. Wiping tears away, I stretched out beside him.
The walkie‑talkie buzzed. Sammy's voice came through.
"How's the situation on your end?"
"We're about fifteen kilometers from the coordinates. Rudra's badly injured—he'll need rest before we move."
"Yeah, do that. Don't worry. We've found a safe spot near the coordinates."
The call ended. I lay back, watching sunlight filter through the leaves. The fight replayed in my mind. Rudra had grown so much since the first time I helped him. Against all odds, he had survived. I felt… proud.
But fear lingered. This wasn't the end. Not even close. The real storm was still ahead.
And I was scared. But determined.