As The Webster lay on the floor, unconscious and crumpled from the blow to his jaw, Lucian stood over him, his heart pounding with a single, burning thought: finish the job.
The adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, and he knew this was his moment, the only chance he had to ensure the fight was truly over.
His eyes darted around the ground, desperate to find the knife The Webster had dropped. It had been the weapon that nearly ended him, and now Lucian needed it to make sure the man couldn't get back up.
He scanned the area, his movements frantic and wild, but the knife was nowhere in sight. The ground was bare, save for the patches of blood staining the earth. His gaze shifted from one spot to another, growing more frantic with each passing second.
Where was it? Where had it gone? The fear crept in as he realized the knife was lost, and the opportunity to end this was slipping away.
For a moment, panic gripped him—he had no weapon, no way to ensure The Webster stayed down. The thought of leaving the man alive, only to have him rise again, was almost too much to bear.
Lucian's heart raced as his eyes swept the ground, but the knife was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath, his frustration growing with each passing second.
It didn't take long for him to realize the truth—most likely, one of the prisoners had seized the opportunity in the chaos and quickly grabbed the knife, hiding it away before Lucian could even think to reach it. It was a clever move, but it left him with one less weapon, just when he needed it the most.
"Just my luck," Lucian muttered bitterly to himself, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. His fingers twitched, longing for something to grip, something to use to end this fight once and for all.
He had already lost one weapon when The Webster's wrist had been shattered, and now, the knife was gone, too. He couldn't afford this mistake. Two potential weapons, now out of his reach, leaving him with nothing but his own bloodied hands and a sharp instinct to survive.
The weight of it pressed heavily on his chest as he stood there, frustration gnawing at him. He could hear the distant murmurs of the prisoners still watching, their eyes on him, waiting for what would happen next. Lucian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay focused.
He couldn't afford to let this setback stop him. If he was going to finish this, he would have to do it the hard way—using whatever he had left.
He had to, finish the job. He didn't have a choice. But there was one problem: time. He wasn't sure how much longer he had before the guards realized what was happening.
They wouldn't let him kill their main asset-not without a fight. They would stop him, and the last thing Lucian needed right now was a fight with armed guards. He had to do this fast.
His grip tightened around the femur, the sharp end glinting in the dim light. It was all he had left, and it had to be enough. He quickly turned it, angling the bone until the sharpest point was aimed at The Webster's neck.
The femur was crude, but in the heat on the moment, it was as effective as any weapon could be.
He could feel the roughness of the bone under his, fingers, the blood still staining it from the previous blows.
With a steadying breath, Lucian brought the femur down with all the force he could muster.
The sharp end plunged into The Webster's neck, driving deep into the flesh. The impact was sickening, the feeling of resistance as the bone cut through skin and muscle making Lucian's stomach twist.
The Webster's body jerked suddenly, as though trying to fight back, but it was a futile attempt.
His head tilted slightly, and his chest gave shallow, gasping breath before going still.
Lucian's breath came in ragged bursts as he stared at the man who had nearly killed him.
He had done it-he had finished the job-but the reality of what he had just done hit him all at once. His hands were slick with blood, his heart still pounding in his chest, but there was no time to dwell on it.
He quickly looked around, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement from the guards or the prisoners. His pulse was racing, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
He needed to get out of'here, and fast.
The system blinked to life
{1 kill, + 10 xp}.