>>5534081There’s no stance to worry about with your attack. It will be pure momentum put into a hard slice. You ready your sword as the disgusting red tissue on its back pulls in the bony shards.
The exchange of attacks happens in an instant. Several bone shards burst from its back with a sticky viscous fluid trailing. You lunge, slamming your sword into the unprotected portion of its torso, cutting deep into its mottled skin and exposing the cluster of inhuman bone that lay underneath.
Immediately after the moment of your slash, you hear the bone shards make impact into flesh three times behind you. The quick succession of blows is followed by a short yelp of pain from a voice too soft to be Seo’s.
You reel too quickly to turn from your attack losing your footing in the process. You tumble violently in the snow as singular brutal impact of brings the whole exchange to a close.
In the sea of frigid snow, you struggle to regain your footing until a hand roughly grabs you by the shoulder and helps pull you to standing. The flesh beasts wheezes its last few dying breaths.
Seo’s hand pointedly lets go of your body even before the snow has had a chance to slough off, but her treatment means nothing as you quickly assess who took the flesh beast’s attack.
It doesn’t take long as in the still present torchlight you spot Izurin standing frozen over the heavily bleeding body of Nilo. The Elin took two of the grievous bone shards directly to her body. One to her thigh and one to her stomach. The vigor for which you’ve come to know from the Elin has been utterly extinguished. Other than crimson steaming on the white ground, only a soft moaning of pain spills out of her body.
A caustic mixture of relief, guilt, and anger bubbles from your stomach as you witness the outcome.
In your flurry of emotions, you rapidly gaze among your group for the one person who could help to finally arrive, but she isn’t the one you find.
<span class="mu-i">Your eyes lock on something much worse.</span>
Past the line of trees, an imposing tower of a man in dark clothing marches intently toward Izurin and Nilo. The corrupted light of the sky paints this man for the terrifying force he truly is. Thick scars decorate every inch of his exposed skin, giving the impression that his body has known battle for far longer than it hasn’t. An absurdly large sword even for you hangs from his waist as he moves through the snow unimpeded. Few adult men would be able to hold it, let alone wield it effectively. Most potent are his eyes, that burn with a cold brutality that looking upon them would make the even this land seem hospitable.
You feel nothing but dark dread gazing at him.
“That’s quite enough.” His deep voice booms even as he speaks normally.
