Silas and Aberham stood on either side of the glowing flower, their bodies tense as the desolate field expanded around them. The once-vibrant landscape was now lifeless, the flower's energy pulling vitality from the world itself. Silas could feel the energy emanating from it now—a faint but steady pulse that grew stronger with each passing second. It wasn't just an object anymore; it felt alive.
He glanced at the timer displayed in his vision. Thirty minutes left.
Then, a rustle at the edge of the clearing snapped him to attention. Both men turned toward the noise, weapons ready. The sound grew louder, accompanied by a guttural hiss, until a massive creature emerged from the treeline. Silas's eyes widened as he took in its form.
The creature was a salamander, but one grown grotesquely large. Its slick, black-and-yellow spotted body gleamed faintly, the bright yellow patches almost glowing in the fading light. It was the size of a sedan, its muscular legs digging into the earth with each step. Small, sharp spines jutted along its back, and its long, thick tail swayed behind it, tipped with a slight curl that hinted at its lethality. The salamander's amber eyes glowed faintly as its forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. Then it hissed again, low and menacing, the sound sending a shiver down Silas's spine.
A ping echoed in his head, followed by the system's dry tone:
"Emperor-level beast detected: Black-Spotted Salamander. Additional merit points will be awarded for slaying this creature. Note: Reflects current environmental power levels. Proceed with caution."
Silas's gaze flicked to Aberham, who stood calm and resolute, his sledgehammer resting easily in his hands. They exchanged a glance, both understanding the gravity of what stood before them.
Aberham broke the silence. "We can abandon our treasure," he said, his voice steady, "or we can help each other. This world's changing fast, and I'd like to think I can trust you. Or no?"
Silas hesitated, his instincts battling with his reason. The world had already shown him what trust could cost. Traci's victims flashed in his mind—the two men who had trusted her, only one to be drained of their life and other stabbed. He had seen how trust turned into fatal mistakes. The world wanted him to be distrustful, to keep everyone at arm's length.
But the salamander was a different kind of reminder. He couldn't do this alone, not this time. The brutal fights with the wolves and the eagle had pushed him to his limits, and this was far beyond that. He needed someone to watch his back.
"Dammit," Silas muttered, exhaling sharply. "Time to take a chance."
He looked at Aberham. "Who do you think of the two of us is faster?"
Aberham answered without hesitation. "You are. My cultivation focuses on strength and endurance. Watching you earlier? You're definitely quicker."
Silas blinked, studying Aberham's calm demeanor. The straightforward answer made him wary. Is he setting me up? But as much as he hated to admit it, Aberham's good-natured honesty felt… real.
"Fine," Silas sighed, gripping his staff tightly. "I'll distract it. Try and get a good hit in."
Aberham nodded, hefting his sledgehammer. "Got it."
Silas approached and Aberham positioned himself more to the side out do the beasts view.
Suddenly Silas darted to the side, his enhanced speed propelling him just out of the salamander's immediate reach. The massive creature hissed, its amber eyes narrowing as it tracked his movement. Its tail whipped around behind it, the force of its swing carving deep grooves into the dirt.
"Let's see what you've got," Silas muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on his staff as he deliberately stepped into the salamander's field of vision.
The salamander lunged, its powerful legs propelling it forward with alarming speed. Silas sidestepped the charge, bringing his staff up to jab at its side. The staff struck the creature's flank with a sharp thud, earning a hiss of anger. It whipped its tail toward him, the speed and force of the attack catching Silas off guard.
Too fast! Silas thought as the tail connected with his side, the impact like being slammed by a steel beam. He flew backward, skidding across the dirt and barely managing to keep hold of his staff. Pain flared in his ribs, and he coughed, forcing himself to his feet as the salamander turned toward him, its amber eyes glowing with malice.
"Silas!" Aberham's voice cut through the haze of pain. Silas glanced at him briefly, seeing the sledgehammer raised and ready. "I need an opening!"
Silas nodded grimly, shaking off the pain as he moved to circle the salamander again. He twirled his staff, shouting to draw its attention. "Come on, you oversized gecko! You want me? Let's go!"
The salamander hissed, its long tongue flicking out as it lunged at him again. Silas ducked low, using his speed to keep just ahead of the creature's snapping jaws. But its tail lashed out again, a lethal whip that forced him to keep moving. Each swing cracked through the air with terrifying power, and it took all of Silas's agility to avoid the strikes.
Finally, the salamander's tail caught him square in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through his body, and his vision blurred for a moment. He clenched his teeth, pushing himself up on shaky arms as the salamander closed in.
That was the moment Aberham had been waiting for.
With the salamander's attention fully on Silas, Aberham charged. His heavy steps pounded the earth as he raised his sledgehammer high. The salamander turned just as Aberham brought the hammer down in a devastating arc. The strike connected with the creature's front left leg, the sickening crack of bone breaking echoing through the clearing. The salamander screeched in pain, stumbling as its injured leg collapsed under its weight.
Aberham pulled his hammer back for a second strike, aiming for the salamander's head, but the creature rolled instinctively, narrowly avoiding the blow. Its tail lashed out in retaliation, catching Aberham in the chest. The force of the impact sent him flying backward, though his larger frame absorbed the brunt of the attack. He hit the ground hard but managed to roll to his feet, shaking off the pain with a grunt.
Silas, still clutching his side, pushed himself upright. His ribs screamed in protest, but he steadied himself, gripping his staff tightly. The salamander's movements were slower now, its injured leg dragging as it tried to regain its footing. Silas glanced at Aberham, who nodded back at him, his expression grim but determined.
Silas exhaled, the pain in his body fading into the background as he focused on the salamander. "Let's finish this." He thought.
Silas groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his ribs burning with every shallow breath. The sharp taste of iron filled his mouth, and he spat blood into the dirt. His body screamed at him to stop, but the massive salamander, its leg dragging and tail whipping through the air like a coiled weapon, wouldn't wait. It was still dangerous—still deadly—and Silas knew there was no room for hesitation.
Aberham closed in from the other side, his smaller sledgehammer raised high. The hammer crashed into the salamander's side with a solid thud, the beast hissing in fury, but the hit didn't penetrate deep enough. Its head snapped toward Aberham, jaws biting down into empty air as the man retreated just out of reach.
Silas watched, forcing his body to move. His mind was racing, his legs unsteady, but he knew he needed a weapon. Spotting his knife lodged in the dirt a few feet away, he bolted, weaving around the salamander's snapping jaws and whipping tail to retrieve it. Gripping the hilt tightly, he turned back to the creature, waiting for his opening. Aberham charged again, his hammer slamming into the salamander's flank with a dull echo, but it only seemed to irritate the beast.
Silas darted forward, aiming for the creature's exposed underside. He thrust the knife with all his strength, but his aim was off. The blade sank into the tougher flesh of its side, lodging there. Silas tried to pull it free, but the salamander twisted violently, wrenching the blade from his grip. The beast roared, its tail swinging wildly. Silas dodged, but the next lash caught him square in the ribs, sending him flying backward.
Pain exploded through him as he hit the ground, his vision swimming. His body screamed at him to stop, to run, to flee. And for a moment, his brain agreed. The primal instinct to survive clawed at him.
But then another thought rose, burning through his mind like fire.
Emperor beast? A real emperor would topple oceans, flip mountains, and shatter the heavens. You're nothing but an overgrown lizard.
That fire didn't stop there. It spread, consuming every doubt, every hesitation, until all Silas could feel was a pulse—a beat that matched his heartbeat, the rhythm of life itself. And in that rhythm, he found clarity. He didn't just feel alive; he felt more alive than he ever had before.
A grin spread across his face as he forced himself to stand, blood dripping from his mouth. His battered ribs, the searing pain—it was all background noise now. What mattered was this moment. What mattered was the fight. He mattered.
The salamander lunged at him again, its claws carving into the dirt, but Silas was already moving. He ducked under its tail, spinning to its side as his staff cracked into its flank. The salamander hissed and snapped at him, but he weaved through its strikes like water slipping through cracks. His staff struck again and again—each hit adding up, each blow taking its toll.
Across the field, Aberham roared as he threw himself back into the fray. His smaller hammer splintered after another brutal strike to the salamander's side, but Aberham didn't stop. He tossed the shattered weapon aside and threw his fists into the battle, each punch landing with bone-crushing force. He felt something building in him, something primal, as if the echo of drums beat in time with his strikes. Each blow matched the rhythm of his breath, the rhythm of the world itself. Pain didn't slow him—it drove him.
The salamander whipped its tail, catching Aberham in the chest. He flew back, skidding across the ground, but he rose with a roar. His muscles burned, his chest ached, but the fire inside him burned hotter. He charged again, his fists swinging with unrelenting power, meeting the salamander's claws with defiance.
Silas didn't notice. His staff struck the salamander's spines, then its injured leg, then its head, his movements fluid and precise. Each hit landed perfectly, as though the world itself had slowed to guide him. And all the while, the fire inside him burned brighter, hotter. This wasn't just survival. This was life.
I choose this, he thought as he slammed another strike into the salamander's side. I'll live. I'll fight. I'll give everything I have.
The salamander screeched, its body swaying, its movements slowing. But it wasn't dead yet.
And yet, in the shadows of the desolate field, they were being watched.
Eyes gleamed in the dark, both human and beast, their forms hidden in the dying foliage around the clearing. These were scavengers—opportunists who had come for the flower, waiting for the right moment to strike. They had expected a fight to weaken the contenders, leaving the prize vulnerable for the taking.
But what they saw stopped them cold.
Silas moved like a dancer, his staff striking the salamander with pinpoint precision. He evaded its snapping jaws, ducked under its claws, and twisted away from its deadly tail with an ease that defied reason. His strikes landed faster, sharper, and harder, as though the longer he fought, the more dangerous he became. Blood streaked his face and arms, but he didn't falter. If anything, he fought with even more ferocity.
Aberham was equally terrifying. His fists were bloody, his muscles straining as he matched the salamander's blows. The beast snapped at him, clawed at him, but he stood his ground, his powerful punches driving it back again and again. His war cries echoed through the field, the sound vibrating in the chests of the onlookers. Aberham wasn't just enduring the fight—he was commanding it.
The scavengers faltered, their confidence waning. They had expected easy prey, but what they saw before them wasn't human. It was something more. Two mortals, battered and broken, but still unyielding. They fought as though the flower wasn't just a prize—it was life itself.
A low growl rose from one of the watching beasts, but it didn't step forward. None of them did. Slowly, the predators slunk away, their instincts screaming that these two were not prey, but predators of a different kind. The humans, too, began to back off, their greed replaced by awe and a healthy dose of fear.
For those who stayed, there was no doubt in their hearts: the flower would not be taken by anyone but the monsters who fought before it.
Silas didn't notice the retreating figures, nor did he care. His focus remained locked on the salamander. He struck again, his staff cracking into its injured leg. The beast hissed in agony, collapsing onto its side for a brief moment before thrashing back to its feet.
Aberham roared again, his massive frame crashing into the salamander's side like a battering ram. His fists slammed into its jaw, his strikes reverberating like thunder. The salamander staggered, its movements slowing, its once-lethal tail dragging limply behind it.
The salamander hissed, its movements sluggish and uncoordinated, its injured leg dragging more heavily with each step. Blood streaked its glossy black-and-yellow hide, and its once-lethal tail now hung limply, twitching in defiance but devoid of its earlier power. Silas darted forward one last time, landing a clean strike with his staff against the creature's head. The beast staggered, its massive frame shuddering under the impact.
Aberham was already moving, his fists a blur as he slammed them into the salamander's flank with the force of a battering ram. The beast screeched, swiping at him wildly. Its claws raked across Aberham's chest, tearing deep into his flesh, but he didn't stop. He drove his shoulder into its side, forcing it back further.
The salamander recoiled, panting heavily, its amber eyes flickering with desperation. It tried to lunge, but Silas intercepted with another powerful strike to its injured leg, forcing the beast to stumble. Aberham followed up, slamming his bloodied fist into its jaw with a sickening crack.
The salamander froze for a moment, its body trembling. Then, with a final guttural hiss, it turned sharply and bolted, dragging its shattered leg as it fled into the desolate forest. Its tail disappeared into the shadows, leaving the clearing eerily quiet.
Silas stood still for a moment, his staff clutched tightly in both hands, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His body felt like it might give out at any second. Blood dripped from his mouth, and every breath was like swallowing knives. He raised a shaky hand to his lips, wincing as he realized the source of the blood.
Bit my tongue, he thought with grim relief. At least, I hope that's all it is.
Aberham dropped to one knee, his hands pressed against the dirt as he tried to steady himself. His chest was a mess of blood and gashes, the deep claw mark across his torso still oozing. His knuckles were split and raw from punching the salamander's armored hide, and sweat poured down his face.
Finally, Aberham slumped to sit back on his heels, his breathing ragged. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. Then, after a beat, he started laughing—a low, gravelly sound that shook his battered chest and made him wince. "We survived," he said, his tone still carrying that good-natured humor despite the pain. "We actually survived."
Silas chuckled, though it came out as more of a wheezing cough. He used his staff to push himself upright, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His legs felt like they might buckle at any moment, but he stayed standing. His eyes met Aberham's, and he couldn't help but grin, bloody and exhausted as he was.
"We survived," he repeated softly, as if saying it made it more real.
Aberham nodded, still laughing, though the sound was hoarse and painful. "Barely."
Silas reached out a hand to help Aberham to his feet. The big man hesitated for a moment before taking it, his massive, bloodied hand gripping Silas's firmly. Together, they pulled each other upright, their movements slow and unsteady. They both swayed slightly, but neither let themselves fall again.
For a moment, they stood there in silence, leaning on each other, their breaths heavy and labored as the adrenaline began to fade. The air around them was still, the desolate field eerily quiet except for the faint hum of the flower behind them.
Silas finally turned his head, glancing at the glowing bloom. A sharp ping in his mind caught his attention, and the system's timer flashed across his vision.
Two minutes left.
He glanced back at Aberham, who had followed his gaze to the flower. Aberham grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Almost there," he muttered.
Silas nodded, a faint, tired smile on his lips. They had made it. Against all odds, they had made it.