The Shaman stepped ahead of the pack. He inched closer to the assassin, feeling the tip of his blade with his fingers. "Are we so different?", he asked, strolling towards Boa. "No, we are not. I am the slave of my Chief and you of your lust", the assassin responded. The preachers could be seen escaping from behind Boa. Watching one preacher carrying the weight of the other, the pursuers were confident that the pursuit was not going to take too much hard work. The Shaman had talked enough. He pounced at him and the slash was easily parried by the assassin. The rest of the pack was about to follow suit when they heard a rustling noise from behind them. The group stopped in its tracks. A silhouette of a large cat kept growing bigger and bigger. Another panther emerged from the woods, welcoming the visitors. This one looked significantly larger than the one that was successfully slain. The decorated horse fled the scene as soon as it caught the first glimpse of the carnivore. As the predator leapt out of the green, the men turned pale in fear, vividly remembering the havoc a similar beast had wreaked just recently. A few even dropped to the ground trying to put some distance between them and the predator, without turning. As the beast eyed them, it looked as if it were a mere shadow with emeralds for eyes. The Shaman quickly decided that the beast was the first priority so he turned to it as he saw his men panicking yet again. He dashed to the panther through his panicked men. Some of the warriors went for the Boa. The beast had dallied enough. It dashed towards the hunter closest to it. The hunter tried to dodge the attack but in vain. The victim was smashed onto the ground with excessive force and as he tried to regain his footing, the beast had scythed off his throat. It didn't even eat it. The beast spat out the severed portion of the throat and dashed to its next prey, leaving behind a man lying on his back, kicking the air and gurgling with his own blood. All the carnage didn't take more than two seconds. The man tried to reduce the bleeding by putting his hand on the wound but it only made the blood fountain go higher. The shaman waited for a window of opportunity. The next victim was an apprentice who was already on the ground because of the initial shock. It only reduced the steps for the beast.
Meanwhile, the warriors that had went for the assassin, had surrounded him. Doing so had been easier than they had expected. Little did they know, the pale monster preferred it that way. Surrounded by ten warriors, he knew that at most only three would attack simultaneously, more than that would risk friendly fire. His anticipation proved to be correct. He almost smirked at how predictable the men were. Three dashed at him from the twelve, four and eight o'clock. The assassin stood his ground and let the attackers gain on him. As they were just a meter away, he picked his prey. He went down, dodged all of their swipes and dealt a precise slash on the knee joint of one of them. The victim was immediately immobilized as the blow rendered him unable to stand up. The assassin got up again, ready for their next attempts at glory. Another warrior accompanied the remaining two from behind them as they continuously threw quick swipes, which were all either deflected or evaded. The assassin soon taught them that friendly fire can occur even in attackers as less as three. He deflected a slash thrown by a warrior into another. Another one down. This one looked fatal. Not that Boa cared because they weren't handing out candies either. The downed warrior was replaced again. Just as the newcomer was running to join his men, another was needed. The assassin had simply blocked one of their attacks so hard that a warrior had lost his balance and given Boa an opportunity that he didn't mind using. The number of warriors surrounding him kept diminishing.
A hunter threw a forceful slash at the beast, only to be evaded. Too much force behind the slash gave it an opening and another one added to the tally of the predator. It didn't spend two breaths on the bare ground before leaping onto another victim. One after another, unfinished screams that concluded in brief squeals, were heard. The beast was surrounded by a pile of defaced corpses and soon to be corpses letting out their last agonizing breaths. Nothing but the cries of anguish, pained moans, one's own panicked heartbeat and the beast's growl could be heard. Even the Shaman was feeling a shiver down his spine as he saw the beast taking no more than a few seconds in putting his men out of their misery. Only a few were left for the beast to deal with before it was Shaman's turn. Without any hesitation it leapt onto a warrior who had failed to maintain a safe distance. Forced onto the ground, collar bone gnawed and chest ripped open. The Shaman looked behind himself to peek on the progress the warriors had achieved with the assassin. The news was not welcoming. It was down to two versus one. In the narrow glimpse he had stolen, he managed to catch the spectacle of one's brutal end with his own eyes. He looked back at his own battlefield and found nothing but corpses and silence. The beast had vanished. His panicked eyes worked beyond their ability to find the shadow of death in the trees in front of him but to no avail. The beast had killed every single one of his men but the Shaman himself. He stood there confused, trying to make a sense out of the episode. A scream of agony snapped him out of his thoughts and he faced the direction of the voice. The assassin had taken care of the last one. As the lifeless warrior dropped to the ground, the remaining two contenders locked their eyes on each other. The White Boa was no longer only white. The blood of his victims had painted him red. The red drops dripped from the edge of his sword as he glared mercilessly at the Shaman. The assassin was filled with abhorrence for Tai for what he had made him do to his fellow warriors.
"Remember your oath? Or have you forgotten it along with your place?", taunted the Shaman as he started to come in the direction of the assassin. The assassin had been a warrior in his youth and hence, had taken the warrior's oath that forbade him to hurt the Shaman. The Shaman dashed towards the assassin who awaited his rage fueled attack with a defensive stance. The Shaman threw slash after slash and not one of them without a cry at the top his lungs. Each blow was met with a calm block or a precise deflection. A part of him wanted to break the oath and unleash his fury on the mad man. The Shaman was getting weary yet the assassin didn't seem to break a sweat. He did not even try to attack. In the spree of blind slashes, the Shaman had given away a number of windows yet the assassin didn't avail them and waited for the Shaman to resume his attacks. The assassin was toying with him which was only adding to the rage of the Shaman. He threw his hands so recklessly that his sword slipped away from his grip. The assassin stood down and gestured him to pick his weapon back. The Shaman sprinted to his left and picked his sword. He was back to throwing ineffective blows. As he did, he caught the assassin stealing a glance behind himself and that's when he realized what a moron he had been. The assassin had been buying the preachers some invaluable time. He had been too late to understand because apparently, it was time for the assassin to put an end to this game. He pulled the Shaman's legs from beneath him with a low spinning sweep kick and down went the old man. As he stood back up, he saw the assassin already dozens of meters away from him in the opposite direction of the preachers. The Shaman let out a cry filled with anger.