Blood boiled in the veins of The Night Terror. He was fooled by an amateur spell, which put his sister in quite a bit of trouble.
With a bang, he broke through the stone wall. His tails shot through the air like whips, transforming boulders into harmless pebbles.
This wasn't the wisest solution. In the heat of battle, he forgot which element the goblin was wielding; by the time the monster realized his mistake, it was too late.
The stones that were moving away from him suddenly stopped in mid-air, taking the shape of sharpened picks. With the help of mana, Rascal gave them a proper rotation, thus enhancing their penetrating power. They resembled hundreds of small drills, rotating along their axis.
To keep things from getting boring, Rascal prepared a little surprise. Each of them was covered with a small layer of mana mixed with an element of fire and darkness. Two types of energy of a chaotic and destructive nature were perfect for inflicting as much pain as possible.
Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang
Chunks of rock bombarded The of Night Terror's body like bullets fired from a machine gun.
The monster groaned in pain. Although the spell couldn't penetrate its thick skin, it left a permanent mark in the form of cracked bones and minor injuries to internal organs.
Without the other half, the monster's defenses were practically nonexistent.
When Ramiel dispersed the magic formation, the fight became twice as easy.
A small smile appeared under Rascal's nose. He hadn't thought things could go so smoothly.
Goblin cursed himself for his stupidity. If he had come up with this idea earlier, his life would have been much simpler. At least his back wouldn't be covered in fresh burn marks.
The painful moans of his nocturnal pursuer became music to his ears. Although he knew it wouldn't be enough to kill the monster, he had no choice but to wait patiently for the spell to end. He would end up as Swiss cheese if he came within its striking range.
Magic is both beautiful and insanely dangerous. A moment's inattention is enough to buy a ticket to cross the River Styx. In the end, no rule protects the caster from his spell. If he can't take care of his skin... well... he'd better prepare himself a warm coffin.
The uninterrupted machine gun fire continued for 15 seconds. During this time, Rascal used up the remaining mana, covering his body with solid rock.
This is a precaution in case of an unforeseen event. Rascal liked his life and wanted to preserve it. However, this can prove difficult to achieve, especially when one has driven a wild beast to white fever.
" Wr... "
Hurried clouds of steam left the monster's dilated nostrils. Its feline eyes stared at the gray goblin with murderous intent.
From now on, The Night Terror had only one goal. To exterminate all the gray people that walk in this world...
" Fiu Fiu " Even Lucifer was impressed by the pure hatred that was born inside the naughty pet.
If negative emotions were transformed into bricks, a large and spacious castle with hundreds of chambers would be created.
Rascal's hair stood up on the end. His senses told him to run where the pepper grows.
But how could he look the Master in the face when he fled the battlefield like a coward? At the very thought of the potential consequences, it made his throat dry.
" Are you waiting for an invitation? "
Rasp
A sea of sparks poured out from the clash of three deadly weapons. Rascal's muscles tensed to the limit, and a fresh wave of adrenaline went through his body.
The two creatures stood facing each other, testing their strength. Neither of them wanted to let go. Here, it was no longer a matter of life or death but of male pride.
Slam Slam Slam
Under increasing pressure, the ground cracked beneath the goblin's feet. For a brief moment, Rascal lost stable ground beneath his feet. It was literally a fraction of a second, but it was enough for The Night Terror's paw to strike the goblin's feet.
The gray creature collapsed to the ground like a tree felled in the forest.
" You ! " Rascal couldn't finish. He rolled like mad, dodging the black sickles that pierced the air to delay his encounter with the grim reaper.
Again and again, he was covered by a hail of falling blows. His rock armor was reduced to a pile of useless rubble.
Rascal couldn't catch his breath. A suffocating sensation appeared in his chest and slowly spread throughout his body.
A suffocating vacuum formed in his lungs, absorbing all the oxygen from them.
The goblin's face turned as white as a clean sheet of paper out of fear. Rascal went into shock. He had no clue what was happening. His limited brain was working at top speed, trying to find the solution to the puzzle. Despite all the effort he put in, he failed.
" Reverse the mana flow in the lungs, then expel what remains. "
Seraphine, or rather her voice, came to his aid. The necromancer couldn't help the goblin. She had enough problems of her own. The only thing she could afford to do was send a message with the help of a stray soul.
Rascal fully surrendered his life to Ramiel. He was ready to jump into the fire for him. If his Master ordered him to fulfill the will of the former monarch without blinking an eye, he would similarly do it without a second thought.
Heeding the necromancer's words, he reversed the direction of the mana within him.
Suddenly, the unbroken river turned into a torrential mountain torrent that gusted everything in its path. The dark space inside Lung shook, and its perfectly smooth edges became sharp and angular.
The sphere responsible for imitating the vacuum burst, like a balloon left in the sun. Its remnants turned into microscopic particles that tried to penetrate inside the mana particles.
Fortunately, Rascal reacted in time. The infected particles were entrained by the wild torrent and left the goblin's body in the form of a subtle mist.
The Night Terror growled furiously. The spell he used never failed him. It always ended the same way.
Creatures that were unlucky and fell victim to it would suffocate alive. Their faces turned purple, and their limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
The Night Terror spell is responsible for the real hell on earth, which they experienced in the last seconds of their existence.
It creates microscopic particles of dark matter in the air, which enter the lungs. When enough of them gather, they combine to create a space that imitates a vacuum.
Why only imitative? Because it was different from the real vacuum. Its sole purpose is to remove oxygen from the bloodstream. Everything else, including carbon dioxide and nitrogen, is left untouched.
Who knows? With a little luck, the monster might reach a level of power in two hundred years that would allow it to manifest a true vacuum. For now, however... it remains a distant dream.
" Ugh... "
A muffled groan escaped Rascal's lips. Yes, he had managed to avert the current crisis, but he had to pay a price.
After an endless barrage of attacks, The Night Terror finally achieved his goal. His right paw is bathed in fresh blood... In his mouth, he held Rascal's still-warm and trembling hand...
The lack of oxygen in his blood left its mark on the goblin chief. His mind became cloudy, and as a result, his reaction time dropped several times. Not to forget the numb muscles, too. Their fibers contracted to the maximum, thus slowing down his movements.
The pain of losing half his arm brightened Rascal's storm-shrouded mind. It worked better than the sobering salts.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the fluttering stump and realized how screwed he was. If he didn't stop the bleeding soon, not only would he not get a raise, but he would end up as one of Seraphine's Faithful dogs. The latter scared him to the marrow of his bones. If there was anything he feared more than Ramiel, it was the leash the necromancer's cold hands would put on him.
Taking advantage of the complacency into which the monster had fallen, the blade of Rascal's weapon outlined the bedrock.
Involuntarily, the arrogant monster dodged a clumsy attempt on his life. It only needed to move a few steps back, and the greatsword hit the void instead of his neck.
The Night Terror snorted with disdain. Blatant mockery and embarrassment were painted in his eyes. He was ashamed that he had let himself be fooled by a pathetic creature of the gray creature's stature.
Crunch
Rascal's brutally torn hand disappeared irretrievably into the monster's maw. The only trace it left behind was a wet blood stain with faint traces of plasma.
" Tsk... fuck that hurts. "
The goblin stood up with a heavy expression. His mouth twisted ugly. Slowly, the tired body stopped producing fresh units of adrenaline. Its absence was accompanied by excruciating pain.
For the first time, Rascal felt the pain of losing a limb. The real miracle was that he wasn't writhing like a chick roasted alive on a bonfire.
" Huh?!?!? What the fuck... "
Rascal felt his leg getting wet, going lower with his eyes. He noticed a yellow puddle collecting under his foot.
Embarrassment had just set a new frontier, beating the previous record on its head.
The monster's wild laughter added fuel to the fire. This one openly mocked the goblin, whose bladder, under stress and pain, had released its long-accumulated load. It gave him superhuman pleasure.
As a representative of the feline species, the Night Fury loved to play with its prey. You can often see our sweet pet playing with a plush mouse-like toy at home.
To us, it looks like innocent fun. To him, it is a way to release restrained desires and murderous urges. Cats, by nature, are the worst sadists who live on the planet called Earth.
So, one cannot be surprised by the irrational behavior of overgrown tigers. Logic dictates that they kill their enemy as quickly as possible, but the blood flowing in their veins tells them otherwise.
" I will tear you to shreds motherfucker. "
Despite the hurtful rage filling his heart, Rascal remained calm. He raised his sword upward, pointing the blade's tip at the wide-smiling monster.
The Night Terror didn't take the goblin's threats seriously. The hand holding Ramiel's masterpiece trembled under its weight. As if that wasn't enough, the monster felt the negligible amounts of mana circulating inside Rascal.
He was sure they wouldn't be enough to cast a spell. This means ... he can play with his new toy longer.
His sister will wait. There is a good chance that she will understand if he puts it nicely into words. If not, it's hard to forgive him anyway. He can do without her, but she can't do without him anymore.
Grim footsteps echoed in the din of the ongoing battle a dozen meters away. The Fear of Night was in no hurry. He knew that the longer he dragged this out, the more mental pressure his victim felt.
Standing in front of Rascal, he looked deeply into his pitiful and tired eyes. His eyelids were heavy with dreams of a moment's rest. The goblin was barely on his feet. A gust of wind was missing, and it would have collapsed to the ground, like a collapsing building during an earthquake.
The monster was literally poking the shiny blade of the sword with its tails. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't afford to do more. If he gave in to the desires tormenting him, the goblin would die on the spot.
Cough
Rascal tottered on his feet. Every bump was like a clash with a speeding train for him. The slightest movement caused him immense pain. His muscles begged for mercy. A little more and they would break from overwork.
A little more... one more time... One thought repeated in his head like a mantra. It was the only one that kept his consciousness from fleeing into the land of oblivion.
Buzz
With a final push, Rascal's pupils dilated, and the flame of life flared up again.
The relatively healthy hand tucked the sword blade behind his shoulder, preparing for one last swing. The goblin stood firm, trying to keep his balance.
The Night Terror didn't respond to the goblin's desperate attempts to feed. He wanted to crush all hope, like a worthless worm in the middle of the forest.
Rascal made an elongated cut. His movements were slow and sluggish.
The monster facing him disregarded the goblin's last efforts. After all, victory belongs to him, right?
Halfway through, the runes carved into the blade erupted with a bright blue glow. Along with the blinding light, the air temperature dropped several degrees Celsius. Momentarily, the atmosphere around them became suffocating.
" I got you motherfucker. " Rascal's lips moved gracelessly.
Suddenly, the blade of the sword shot out waves of sulfurous frost, capable of instantly freezing the heated plasma.
The eyes of Night Terror came out of their orbits. He tried to do anything, but it was too late. Before the mana circulating inside his body moved, he turned into a sculpture of ice.
The monster became the tip of a cone, everything within its reach covered in sky-blue ice.