The monster charged once more, its movements now a disturbing blend of bestial and humanoid. Arthur braced himself for the familiar pattern—expecting the creature to lunge forward with its gaping maw as it had done repeatedly.
But this time was different.
At the last possible second, the beast rose up onto its misshapen hind legs—the grotesque approximations of human limbs straightening with a series of wet pops as joints realigned. In that horrifying moment of transformation, Arthur realized the creature was adapting, learning from its failed attacks.
The monster raised its remaining arm—the clawed fingers splayed wide—and slashed downward toward Arthur's face in a wickedly fast arc.
Arthur possessed no formal sword techniques to counter such an attack. His time at the Academy had yielded little in terms of bladework skills. No parries, no counters, no fancy footwork that might save him now.
So instead, he did the only thing that felt natural in that moment of absolute terror—he closed his eyes, ducked his head slightly, and swung the odachi downward with desperate force, hoping it might intercept the incoming claws.
One second, Arthur was certain of his impending death, eyes squeezed shut against the inevitable. The next, he heard the unmistakable sound of blade parting flesh—a wet, sucking noise followed by the solid impact of metal against bone.
When no pain followed, Arthur cautiously opened his eyes. The monster was no longer in front of him. Instead, a severed gray limb lay by his feet, fingers still twitching with residual nerve impulses, black ichor pooling beneath it on the stone floor.
Arthur spun around, the odachi trailing an arc of dark fluid through the air. The creature had somehow ended up behind him—either through its own momentum or some unseen movement that Arthur's closed eyes had missed. It was hunched over, the stump where its arm had been pressed against its torso as if trying to stem the flow of viscous blood.
The reprieve lasted only moments. Though the monster had no eyes, Arthur could sense the rage emanating from it—a palpable hatred that seemed to distort the air between them. Its posture shifted, shoulders hunching forward as it adjusted to its new asymmetry.
Without warning, the beast charged again—but this time, it ran fully upright on its hind legs, moving with unnervingly human-like strides. The sudden change in attack pattern caught Arthur off-guard. The creature closed the distance between them with frightening speed, faster than Arthur could properly counter or evade.
With no time to dodge, Arthur raised his blade horizontally in a desperate blocking motion. One hand gripped the hilt while the other pressed against the flat of the blade, bracing it against the incoming attack.
The monster's jaws slammed into the odachi with bone-jarring force. Its teeth scraped against the dark metal with a sound like nails on chalkboard as it tried to bite through the blade itself. The impact drove Arthur backward, his boots sliding across the stone floor as the creature's raw strength threatened to overwhelm him.
Arthur felt the cold stone wall approaching behind him. If his back touched that wall with the creature's jaws still pressing against his blade, he would be trapped—pinned against the stone with nowhere to retreat. Death would be inevitable.
Summoning strength born of pure desperation, Arthur twisted his body as he was being pushed. He used the monster's own momentum against it, swinging their combined mass in a half-circle that reversed their positions. The creature's back slammed against the wall instead, now pinned between the unyielding stone and the horizontal edge of Arthur's blade pressed against its mouth.
Arthur didn't relent. He leaned his entire weight into the odachi, pushing the sharp edge deeper into the corners of the monster's maw. The blade began to slice through the juncture where the creature's lips would be if it had been truly human.
'Die. Die. Die... please just die,' Arthur pleaded desperately in his mind, arms trembling with exertion as he maintained the pressure.
Foul-smelling foam bubbled from the monster's mouth, mixing with streams of its black, viscous blood. Its legs kicked frantically against the floor, seeking purchase that would allow it to escape. The remaining clawed hand raked across Arthur's torso and arms, leaving deep furrows in his flesh.
Arthur barely registered the pain. His entire existence had narrowed to this single moment—this desperate struggle to end the creature before it ended him. He pushed harder, gritting his teeth against the burning in his muscles, the trembling in his arms, the slick blood making his grip on the hilt tenuous at best.
The monster's once-terrifying screams transformed into pathetic, gurgling cries. The sound should have evoked pity, but Arthur felt nothing but grim determination as he continued to press the blade deeper into the creature's face.
With a sudden, sickening crunch, the odachi broke through the last resistance of bone and gristle, slamming into the stone wall behind the monster's head. The upper and lower halves of its face separated completely, sliding apart in a grotesque display as the creature's body went limp and collapsed to the ground.
Arthur remained frozen in position, still pressing the sword against the wall. His mind hadn't yet processed that the battle was over. For several seconds, he continued to push, muscles locked in the same desperate posture, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Only when the silence finally registered did Arthur step back, staring down at the mutilated corpse of his first Realm encounter. The creature lay sprawled on the blood-slicked stones, its body already beginning to twitch and convulse in death.
The realization of what had just happened—what he had just done—washed over Arthur in a dizzying wave. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto his rear, letting his head fall back against the cold, blood-covered stone floor.
'What the hell.'
The odachi remained clutched in his right hand, its impossibly dark surface seeming to absorb the blood rather than be stained by it. As Arthur's breathing gradually slowed, he noticed that his numerous wounds were already beginning to sting with fierce intensity—the adrenaline that had masked the pain now fading.
'I need to move,' Arthur thought, knowing that remaining in one place was dangerous. 'Who knows what else might have heard that fight.'
But for just a moment longer, he allowed himself to rest on the cold stone floor, the black odachi still clutched in his trembling hand—his only ally in this world.