The monster moved before Raska finished her warning.
Legs drove into ash and stone—debris exploding upward—and it launched at the boy.
Faster.
Eight scythes fanned wide and the clicking was faster now—tick-tick-tick-tick—and the mass behind it was undeniable.
Same.
Predictable.
The boy's hands came up. Skinner left, cleaver right. Cross-block ready for the impact he'd seen twice already.
The monster's scythes angled for the intercept—
Then it hit the left wall instead.
Not slowing. Not stopping. Using the stone to redirect the momentum in one fluid motion.
Obsidian bit into green rock. The body pivoted—instant, brutal—and the scythes weren't coming at the boy anymore.
"Mr. Welf! Watch out!"
Lili's scream cut through the corridor.
"What the—"
Welf's greatsword snapped up—no time to think, only steel between him and the incoming arcs. The scythe meant for his throat met his blade an inch too soon.
The impact drove him back four feet.
Boots carved deep furrows through ash. His arms locked. Elbows buckled inward.
Something in his shoulder made a sound that wasn't right—wet wood splitting under pressure—and his teeth clamped. His vision went white at the edges—
but he held.
Another scythe came for his neck.
He tucked. Pulled his head down hard.
The blue scarf around his neck tore clean off.
Fabric spiraling down through phosphorescent light into the ash below.
"Firebolt!"
Three consecutive bursts of electric flame punched into the creature's torso, forcing it back.
The monster jumped. Released Welf. Landed five feet away.
Raska froze mid-step, eyes blown wide with horror.
Welf stayed up.
Barely.
His boots found purchase in the ash. His hand shook around the hilt. The greatsword tip wavered in the air between them.
The monster's red slits lingered on him for one long beat.
Then shifted.
Then it moved again.
Straight at Bell.
No redirect. Pure commitment. Single scythe raised overhead. Vertical strike. Clean line to Bell's skull.
But Bell was faster.
He jumped back two steps. Raised his left hand—palm out.
"Firebolt!"
Electric flame erupted and punched the creature's chest dead center.
The charge broke left—hard redirect from the impact—and Raska was already moving to meet it. Shoulder drove into the deflected limb. Hands locked onto obsidian hide. Boots slid through ash but she held her ground. Wrenched it further off Bell's line. Full weight behind the pull.
The boy went low. Slid under Raska's extended arm. Went for the leg joint—the one Lili had been targeting. His cleaver came across in a tight arc. Found the crease. Bit. Dragged. The obsidian resisted for half a second then gave. Opened clean.
Lili's bolt came from behind. Already in the air before the boy's cleaver finished the cut. Found the same crease. Punched through with a crack.
The creature flinched. Pulled back two steps.
Before anyone could reposition it came again.
Straight at Raska.
Full commit. Eight scythes converging on her position.
She braced. No weapon. Just her body. Planted her feet. Raised her arms.
The impact hit. Traveled straight up from her hands to her shoulders. She absorbed it. Locked every muscle. Held the line.
Raska's block forced the joint open.
Welf used that opening to drive his greatsword in with everything he had left. The joint cracked like stone under frost.
The creature pulled back. Three steps. The damaged limb hanging different now. Lower. Compromised.
Welf's hand went to his neck. Where the scarf had been. Fingers finding bare skin.
"Tricky bastard. Almost took my head off."
His voice was flat. Shaken.
Raska's eyes locked on the creature, anticipating next movement.
The monster lunged again—straight, scythes locked on Bell.
Bell stepped into the charge. Hestia Knife rising, purple wake left in the steel's path.
Raska cut in from the flank—timing his counter.
But the creature's body twisted mid-air suddenly.
"Mist—"
Lilly's warning died in her throat.
No wall. No ceiling. Just torso wrenching, scythes redirecting while Bell's counter carved empty air.
Scythe met flesh.
Not Bell.
At Raska.
Bell caught in his own momentum. His boots scraped stone—too fast to stop.
His left hand snapped up on instinct.
Raska crossed his line. One wrong release and the spell would cut straight through her.
Her arms came up. Bare hands catching two scythes.
No-one close enough to stop six more.
One punched through her shoulder.
Obsidian sheared through leather. Sheared through skin.
Blood sprayed across ash in dark streaks.
Agony detonated through her body. Her teeth ground together, breath hissing through clenched jaw as she locked in place.
"You're dead."
Her voice was iron. Cold as a grave. Her pupils parted crecent for a beat.
She ripped the scythe free. Snapped it clean.
Caught the broken arm, wrenched hard—leaned back—then twisted through the pull, using the momentum to hurl it.
The monster slammed into the ground. Skidded through ash.
Welf and the boy rushed the flank angle, boots skidding through ash as the opening collapsed before they reached it.
The monster dragged itself up. Red slits fixed.
Bell kept his eyes on the monster—never breaking focus even as his breath came ragged.
"It switched targets mid-strike. Again!"
Not a question. Realization.
Welf planted his feet, breathing hard. The leather binding groaned as his grip strangled the hilt.
"This thing plays dirty!"
The boy's gaze caught on Raska's shoulder.
Blood ran dark down torn leather. She stayed upright through damage that should have dropped anyone else.
Behind them—light footsteps, uneven. A strained breath trying to steady itself.
The creature's red slits tracked them—lingered on Raska's shoulder, shifted to Welf's stance, settled on Bell.
"Damn it!"
It came straight at Welf.
His greatsword rising to meet the charge. But his arms were slower now—shoulder wrong from the first hit, balance off, the scarf's absence pulling at his awareness like a missing tooth.
The impact shuddered up through his guard. Boots slid back through ash. His stance looser than it had been. Degraded.
He held. Barely.
The boy found the joint. Cleaver dragging across the crease. The angle not quite right—his left arm trembling badly enough the cut went shallow.
Lili's bolt followed. Hit high instead of center.
The creature pulled back. The damaged limb dragging lower. Visibly compromised now.
Brief silence.
Nobody said it but the hope bled into their stances anyway. Grips loosening half an inch. Breathing evening out just enough to believe they might actually be hurting it.
---
The creature moved at the boy. Full charge. Red slits locked forward.
The boy's blades rose. Skinner and cleaver crossing.
The creature jumped.
Straight up. Legs coiling then releasing. Mass launching vertical into the narrow corridor's height. Hung there for half a second—suspended—then dropped.
Not at the boy.
At Welf.
Again.
The man whose shoulder was already wrong. Whose stance had already degraded. Whose grip had loosened from hope half a second ago.
"Mr. Welf—!"
Lili's voice cracked.
Welf tried to bring the greatsword around. Too slow. The weight fighting him now.
The creature's mass hit him from above. Scythes drove through his guard like it wasn't there.
His back slammed corridor wall and stone cracked under the impact—loud, final—and his knees buckled and the greatsword clattered from numb hands.
He went down.
Hard.
WHOOM—
The shockwave kicked ash off the ground in billowing clouds. The moss-light flickered. Died in the gray.
"Mr. Welf!"
Lili already moving. Small hands pulling the potion. Blue liquid sloshing. Fingers shaking badly enough the glass nearly slipped.
Raska stepped over Welf. No weapon. Just her body between him and the creature, blood from her shoulder running down her arm, mixing with ash on her skin.
He tried to stand.
"Stay down. Drink first." Flat. No room for argument.
Bell and the boy closed ranks. Three bodies between the creature and the two on the ground.
Welf drank. Coughed.
Blue light bled through the worst of it but his movements stayed wrong. Slower. Uncertain. The kind of wrong potions don't reach.
He got up anyway. Greatsword in hand. Grip loose. Weight distribution off. Something in his shoulder making him favor the right side in ways that would cost him later.
The monster pulled back. Red slits swept across Welf's new stance—the compensation in his grip, the way he held weight different now—and paused there half a second longer than on anyone else.
Then moved to the next target.
It came at Raska. Full charge.
She read it.
The creature hooked the ceiling with two scythe limbs mid-charge, swung, and came at Bell instead.
"It's switch—"
Bell's voice cut off as he scrambled back. His ankle buckled. The injury from earlier finding the worst moment.
Raska intercepted. Third hit to her already-opened shoulder. Her bare hands caught some of the scythes, but the rest punched through and drove into her ribs.
More blood. Darker now, running down her arm and mixing with the ash and sweat on grey hair plastered to her neck.
She stayed up.
Through what, nobody watching could understand.
Another exchange came fast.
The creature charged the boy—he went low, cleaver finding the joint but his left arm trembling made the skinner's stab miss entirely. The skinner clattered to stone somewhere behind him.
Then at Bell—wall redirect, electric flame met obsidian but the angle was wrong and the burst scattered wide.
Then at Welf—his compensating stance meant the block came late, cost him another step back through ash.
The pattern kept shifting. Straight, redirect, straight, redirect. Random enough they couldn't settle on one read. Deliberate enough to punish every hesitation.
The monster pulled back after each exchange. Stopped pressing when they expected aggression. Let them breathe just long enough for calls to start conflicting.
Ash had gotten into everything now. Coating mouths. Stinging eyes. Every breath tasting of copper and gray powder.
The footing worse with each exchange. Stone fragments grinding underfoot. Every pivot uncertain.
Bell's ankle wouldn't hold anymore. Welf's sword arm hanging looser. The boy down to just the cleaver now, left hand empty and trembling.
Lili's hands shaking loading bolts. Eyes everywhere trying to track patterns that kept shifting.
Raska's breathing gone shallow. Too much blood on the ground for her to still be standing. Grey hair soaked dark with sweat and blood. Arms still raised but the trembling was getting worse. Compensating for something broken inside that wouldn't fix.
The creature charged. At the boy.
"Straight ahead!"
Raska's voice.
The boy braced.
The creature's torso twisted mid-charge. Went for Welf instead.
"Switched—"
Bell's warning overlapping Raska's call.
Welf tried to adjust. Read one thing. Got another. The greatsword caught between positions.
Took the hit anyway and stayed up through sheer will.
Then at Bell.
"It's switching again!"
Welf's yell.
"No—straight!"
Raska calling different.
Both reacting to what they'd learned from different exchanges.
The creature jumped. Pushed off the ceiling. Came down at an angle neither had called.
Found Lili.
"Mr. Bell—"
Too late.
Bell intercepted. Ankle giving. The block wrong.
Raska covered. Fourth hit. Fifth. Her bare hands catching arcs meant for others. Her body opening red in new places she couldn't protect anymore.
It charged again.
"Straight—"
Wall push.
"Wait—"
At the boy.
"Can't—"
Voices overlapping. Strained. Conflicting.
The boy's cleaver rose. Wrong angle. Left arm failing completely now.
Bell cut across. Desperation replacing tactics.
The scythes found gaps anyway. Found Raska's ribs.
She went down to one knee. Blood on ash.
Too much of it now.
Got back up.
Grey hair soaked dark. Breathing wet. Arms still raised but shaking. Compensating for something broken inside that wouldn't fix.
Another charge.
"Which way—"
Redirect.
"Too fast—"
Another.
"Again—"
The creature came at Bell. Mid-air twist. Hit Welf.
Came at the boy. Wall push. Hit Raska.
Came at Raska. Straight through. No redirect at all.
The hesitation—waiting to see which pattern—cost them every time.
Then it came at Lili. Full charge.
Everyone read redirect. Everyone held back that half-second waiting for the twist that had to be coming.
It went straight.
No pivot. No change.
Pure momentum at the smallest target. The one calling weak points. The one always behind the line.
By the time everyone saw—
Too late.
Raska threw herself across. No weapon. Just her body one more time.
Intercepted. Took all eight scythes.
The impact drove her back. Into Lili. Both hitting wall together.
CRACK—
Not stone. Something in Raska's body. Ribs. Maybe more.
She slid down. Grey hair dark with blood now. Eyes unfocused. Breath rattling in her chest like stones in a box.
Lili scrambled out from under her. Hands finding potions. Shaking so hard she dropped the first one.
Bell and Welf and the boy closed ranks in front of them.
Three people. Exhausted. Injured. Barely standing.
The creature pulled back. Five steps this time. Red slits tracking all three.
Not pressing.
The clicking slowed. Steadied to something deliberate.
Tick... tick... tick...
Waiting.
For them to finish breaking themselves.
In the sudden quiet the corridor leaned closer.
Listening.
The manageable fight had been over for exchanges.
They'd only been too busy dying to see it.
The boy looked at Raska against the wall. At Lili trying to get a potion into her with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.
At Bell's ankle that wouldn't hold weight right.
At Welf's arms hanging loose.
At his own left hand—empty now, the skinner lost somewhere in the ash behind them.
He looked at the corridor.
At the narrow walls. At the low ceiling the creature swung from. At the ash coating everything. At the stone fragments making every step uncertain.
Every advantage they had—the corridor strangled.
Turned dodges into wall collisions. Turned teamwork into risks. Turned calls into overlapping confusion.
He looked at the creature.
At the red slits sweeping across them slower now. At the way it had mixed the pattern until they couldn't settle on one answer. At the way it pulled back instead of pressing.
Let them think they were learning while it watched how they adapted.
They couldn't win here.
Not couldn't win the fight.
Couldn't win in this space.
The corridor was killing them as surely as the scythes.
And they were too exhausted to keep guessing.
And Raska was down.
They were fighting in a killbox designed to make fighting impossible.
And the monster was patient.
Tick... tick... tick...
The boy's arm snapped back.
The cleaver, the only wepon left in his hand. Spun end over end through ash-thick air. Hit the creature's face dead center.
Obsidian deflected steel.
The blade bounced off, skidded five meters sideways across stone. Clattered to rest in ash.
Red slits locked onto him.
"Hey ugly."
His voice cut through the corridor. Flat. Cold.
The creature's head tilted. Scythes shifted position.
"Wanna fuck with me?"
The boy started moving. Straight at it.
"Catch me if you can."
Red slits locked onto the boy.
The creature's mouth opened.
For the first time.
Teeth. Jagged. Too many. Rows of them filling a grin that shouldn't exist.
A screech tore through the corridor. High-pitched. Grating. The sound of metal scraping bone.
Its legs tensed. Scythes rose. The clicking spiked—
tick-tick-tick-tick-tick—
Bell moved. Positioned himself between the creature and the three on the ground. Hestia Knife raised. Stance wide.
"What are you—"
Raska's voice cracked.
"—doing?!"
Raw. Not anger.
Horror.
Helplessness.
Watching the boy walk straight at it.
Tick-tick-tick-tick—
He walked slowly.
"I'm changing the battlefield even if I have to become the target."
His breath calmer than ever.
The clicking stopped.
***