The opponent, suddenly jerking with startling agility from the pain, flung me backward. My weapon remained lodged in his leg, preventing the wound from closing completely. That would do. As long as he kept bleeding. With that steady supply, I could fight him for quite a while—while he had no way to replenish his strength.
I barely had time to savor the thought when Birkin launched himself at me like a battering ram, hurling me toward the edge of the platform. Steel rods crumpled against my body. Right. In this form, he could jump no worse than a grasshopper!
I rolled aside as Birkin crashed down where I'd just been, leaving a deep dent in the steel floor. While rolling, I yanked a knife from the shaft of my army boot and hurled it at him. It struck his bony head and ricocheted off without causing any harm. But it made the monster hesitate, granting me a precious couple of moments to regain my footing.
I dashed toward him—only to spring back at once, slipping out from beneath the combined strike of all four of his arms. The moment my feet found purchase, I lunged again. His limbs were still embedded in the floor, claws likely punched through the steel and stuck there. It would've been a sin not to take advantage.
Using his upper left arm as a pivot, I vaulted upward and drove my heel into his head, snapping it violently to the right with a sickening crunch.
Birkin tore his limbs free. To avoid being crushed by a counterblow, I twisted midair and shot out my hand, grabbing his shoulder. Using it as a new fulcrum, I literally hurled myself over the opponent's back. I landed and immediately spun into a powerful strike against the monster's spine.
A low growl—that was all I achieved.
No. That wouldn't do.
I extended my claws and hammered straight punches into his back, trying to shred it to pieces, but managed only shallow gashes. I ducked beneath a wide retaliatory swing from one arm—only to take a blow to the head from his second right hand.
Damn it. Fighting something with multiple arms was incredibly inconvenient.
I retreated to avoid overexposing myself, kicking his lower left arm upward so its claws passed over my head. I had no desire to decorate my skull with them. Something inside my head, damaged by Birkin's earlier strike, slid back into place with a faint crunch, and now I moved in again.
I dodged both massive upper limbs, let the lower left sweep pass over me, knocked the lower right aside, and only then can I get directly to the bulk of his body itself. A quick one-two to the torso. Then I snapped upward, driving a vertical strike straight into the jaw of the grotesque growth he used as a head.
Another crunch from his neck. An irritated wheeze.
So I'd been right. That "head" of his was barely mobile; the neck seemed stiff as well. Every strike against that supposedly protected area broke something inside him and slowed the entire mass of his body somewhat.
I ducked under a swing from his upper right arm, drew the last knife I had on me, and plunged it into the enormous eye embedded in his forearm. I ripped downward, splitting it open to the creature's piercing shriek.
I yanked the knife free, flicked the blood from the blade in the same motion, and slid it back into its sheath. My other hand plunged into the wound I'd carved, claws working furiously, tearing and widening it as much as possible.
With a shrill scream, the monster lashed out with his remaining massive arm, delivering a devastating blow that hurled me as far away as possible. He even didn't care that the strike also smashed into his own injured limb.
I held on until the very last second, but in the end I paid the price—my right arm now hung broken and useless from the force of the impact. Still, I'd accomplished what I set out to do. I'd clearly damaged the bone badly—damage finished off by Birkin's own strike. His upper right arm tore free almost to the shoulder, blood pouring out by the bucketful.
Well, yes, he was huge. He had plenty of blood. And on top of that, he has accelerated regeneration, which quickly restores blood loss.
But now he's bound to weaken considerably, even if the wound sealed fast. Not only does he have one less limb to fight with, but his regeneration is busy with replenishing lost fluids. And the consequences of blood loss had to affect even him.
Meanwhile, the monster's blood was already flowing into me, knitting my injuries closed. My own blood, leaking from torn skin and open wounds, was swiftly returning to my body as well.
We were both monsters.
But we were different.
I couldn't finish you—not yet. I'd be the first to burn out of steam. But these injuries would force you to retreat. And your blood, taken from this evolved form, would push my own evolution forward.
We'll see who walks away the victor next time, Birkin.
For some reason, I have a feeling it'll be the last.
Yet, contrary to my thoughts, the monster showed no intention of retreating—until a grenade launcher round slammed into his other shoulder, followed by a rifle shot that pierced the gap between the plates of the cranial growth.
Claire and Yamata.
The first was recognizable by the glow, visible even through the cabin that blocked them from me; the second by her precise fire from that distinctive weapon.
One-armed thanks to my handiwork and his own actions, slightly scorched after two more shots from the grenade launcher, and with blood seeping from the growth on his head, Birkin still remained alive—and very agile. With a single leap, he vanished somewhere into the upper superstructure.
The professor's original head had relocated into his chest along with his brain during a previous stage, so damage to the growth wasn't fatal.
And I wasn't ready to play tag with him on his own turf.
"Miss me?" Yamata asked as she stepped out from behind the cockpit's corner.
"You have no idea," I replied with a quiet snort, pushing myself upright and noting that one of Birkin's massive paws had torn into my thigh as well. My right leg responded sluggishly, barely obeying me at all.
(End of Chapter)
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