A blade scrapes against the cobblestone floor as Aganr rushes forwards, blood staining her vision as she arcs her sword to the creature's right. It evades leaping back, its corrosive form mutating to another form.
'I am lingering for too long between attacks.' She looks down at the gash marring her stomach. 'Here lies the fault.'
"Potion?!" Flor shouts to her, and Agnar nods. "Heads up!"
Flor throws it, and Agnar catches it, flicking the cover off and pouring it directly on her wound. She doesn't get to watch it heal; in a blink, the thing reshapes into a savage black panther and lunges, the earth cracking beneath its charge.
"That's the thing I saw before it turned into its natural form." Artticus says.
"By the bones of gods." She curses as they clash, her back slamming against the street as the beast's teeth bite down on her blade.
'I can't find a footing.' Her boots glide against the stone as she tries to push up the beast, retaliating by pressing her down.
"Do you need help!" Flor inquires.
"No." She replies sternly as her eyes redden and boost activates.
'I was saving it for when the time is right, but I guess now is the time.'
"Apply first blood boost." She commands the system, and it complies.
<
[Monsters' strength and speed are decreased by 5%]
[Time limit of effect: 20 seconds]
The strength of the skinwalker's hold on her blade slackens, and she takes the chance. Her muscles contort, hardening, a roar ripping from her throat as she launches it high up into the air and away from her.
It lands a few feet away, claws digging into the floor to stop. Agnar's focus and posture stay firm as the time limit of her boost drops to one minute.
'When the boost leaves me, I will be laid bare. This must be finished within a minute.' She acknowledges.
[Monster debuff over...]
<
Her gaze locks forward, fixed on the skinwalker, its back rising and falling rapidly, something coming alive within its skin. Flor and Artticus grimace while Agnar hurls forwards, sword trailing behind.
Nearing the beast, it doesn't move, only waits, its back continuously convulsing. Reaching her desired potions, she pulls back her sword over her head and slices downwards. Just in time, human-like hands burst forth and stop it mid-motion.
Agnar grasps, struggling to cut through its pale palms.
"She can't do it!" Flor says, worry etched into her tone. However, all Agnar hears is weak. Weak because she's less than. Weak because she's a woman.
"I can." She grumbles, grunting as she presses in deeper. "I can do it!"
The blade bites, and black blood pours out in a cursed flood, splashing across her skin, hair, and clothing, as she forces the sword through with unyielding fury. Flesh rips. Bones give way. And with one final, merciless push, the monster is carved in half.
"She actually did it..." Artticus mutters softly as they both stare at Agnar kneeling before the mutilated beast.
"She did..." Flor is astonished.
Closing the distance between them, picking up the empty bottle and refilling it with critical healing. She passes it to her, and she accepts, gulping it down as her open wounds on both arms and legs heal.
"Sorry for misjudging you." Flor apologizes.
"You are not the first." She says, watching as his wounds heal.
"Good job out there!" Articus smiles, his approaching hands extending as he pats her back, a bit too hard. A shiver of pain rushes down Agnar's body, causing him to freeze.
"Oh, my bad." His arms fly up in defense. "You good ya?"
"It's okay." She hisses, cracking her neck. "Let's hurry on inside; it's better we retrieve the box before they arrive."
"Right!" Flor and Artticus exclaim together.
Limping alongside the others, she pushes open the creaking door of the church. The sight of ruin, with splintered chairs scattered among heaps of debris, fills their vision, alongside light spilling through the once-proud ceiling riddled with gaping holes.
"Heavens." Arttiucus walks up, focus glued to the great cross dangling from the rusted chains above the altar, swaying faintly in the stale air.
Deep down, he knew; he even felt it, that whatever sanctity this place had once held was long gone, and in its wake, it left behind the brittle husk of something utterly…wrong.
"Not exactly what you'd imagined a church in hell would look like, right?" Flor joins. "But somehow, it's exactly what you'd expected," Flor adds.
"Yeah…" Artticus lingers back while they search.
"It's somewhere here; everyone be quiet." She gestures, putting a finger over her mouth, listening intently.
Tick…Tock…
She hears it.
Wasting no time, her feet echo in the hollow church as she scurries down the aisle, stepping up to the altar and moving behind it, spotting the ticking clock.
"It's here!" She cheers.
Artticus and Agnar share a glance and move to her, the clock hanging a few inches above her head.
"We don't have Ernest's special glasses, so what are we to do?" Artticus inquires.
"I'll destroy it." Agnar replies, knocking it, realizing it's a really thin wall.
She recoils her fist, muscles aching; despite that, she slams her fist forward, and the old stone quickly gives way at once, crumbling to reveal another wall; however, when they look down to the right, their eyes meet stone-carved stairs.
"Stairs?" Atticus's eyebrow arches.
Agnar, shaking off the pain exuding from her knuckles, doesn't hesitate in descending the stairs with care, Artticus and Flor swiftly joining, clinging to her shirt as though she were their shield.
"It's so dark," Flor whines. "I hate the dark."
"And it smells horrid." Artticus grimaces.
Agnar ignores their whines and continues until she doesn't feel any more stairs under her feet.
"We reached the end—" She's cut off by the flare of lights erupting from each of the torches, encircling them.
"Holy…" Flor backs away, and Artticus gags on the strong urge to vomit, while Agnar is speechless.
At the center of the room sat the sealed black box, but around it, human skeletons formed a circle, their bones bleached and cracked, as if guarding it for eternity.
"I've never seen such a thing before," Flor admits. "And I've seen a lot."
"Well, I'm definitely not accustomed to any of this!" Artticus adds. "Is this like a cult thing?"
Aganr, unaffected by the smell or the unrealness of their situation, looks beyond the cult-like nature of the dead actions. Maneuvering around them, he makes sure not to disturb the circle of bones, dropping to his knees as he reaches the circle, placing his sword upright between his legs, and bowing.
"She's doing it again. Do you know what she's doing?" Flor whispers to Artticus.
"I am paying my respects." Agnar replies sharply.
"Why? They're dead; they don't know you're doing it anyways." Flor retorts.
"They were alive once too. Just like us. Evil or not. Monster or human. Against the gods or with them. We all once bore bodies of flesh and bones. We all lived a life, no matter how grueling. Though they may differ from one another, We were all something before; we existed, which makes us special, and as a warrior, I find those things must be praised and respected even after death."
"I see, what a unique perspective on death," Flor says.
"I disagree. Not everyone deserves to be respected after death. Witches should stay unremembered and unrespected by anyone," Artticus says. "They should be burnt forever." Flor returns his answers with her confused expression, forgetting all about Agnar.
"You burn witches?" The corner of her mouth drops.
"Yes, They are horrid beings who deserve what's coming to them." He says, a look of anger etching onto his features.
Agnar lifts back up, sheathing her sword, and retrieves the box before returning to them. "You harbor your own outlook on things, as do I. Shall we get going?"
"Yeah."
Afterwards, they walk back out in silence, coming out onto the road, where the remains of the first skinwalker with its most recently added companion are sprawled out, withering on the cobblestones.
Just as the question of where Carnage and the others are arises, they appear from behind the church.
"I see you got the box," Carnage says first.
"Oh, you guys made it!" Flor beams, but she realizes Evrad isn't with them. "Where is Evrad?"
Carnage and Nullen shared a knowing look.
Crackle…
"I'm here…" He grumbles out, clenching his bleeding throat.
Flor gasps, rushing to his side. "What happened to him!" She at once pulls out her potion. "Drink this; it's critical healing."
"He was attacked," Ernest explains. "We barely made it out. I guess I was a bit off in my calculations." He let out an awkward chuckle, forcing a faint, uneasy smile.
'I admit, just looking at that face makes my decision to stop trusting others the best choice after my betrayal. You never know who's a psychopath.'
.
.
.
[Carnage POV]