Dylan nearly collapsed under the weight of the leopard's bloody body, while the tingling sensation of mana seeping into his body barely kept him on his feet.
But that didn't change the fact that the gremlin had managed to retrieve the sword embedded in the ground, gaining the upper hand.
<< Damn it... >> he thought, detaching himself from the corpse and quickly retreating. Dylan had to throw himself backward to avoid the swift blade aimed at his neck.
By some stroke of luck, the sword missed him, but he was left with a chilling image: the blade slicing through the lifeless leopard's body as if it were butter.
<< And to think that damn thing almost cut me in two… >>
Still, he couldn't afford to lower his guard. For now, the creature seemed uninterested in the anima gem that the leopard's corpse could offer. No, its focus was singular: eliminating Dylan, its primary threat. He was the most immediate danger, and neutralizing him was the top priority.
For once, the creature had made the right decision.
The gremlin charged after the young man. Though it was faster, Dylan's natural agility allowed him to keep just enough distance. Meanwhile, the gremlin brandished its sword, unleashing a flurry of quick strikes, slicing through the air in desperate bursts.
Yet, Dylan dodged each attack, one after another, despite their blinding speed.
The gremlin was growing frustrated; this brown-skinned human kept evading every one of its strikes, no matter how unpredictable they were.
---
The gremlin's attacks might have seemed erratic at first glance, but Dylan quickly adapted to them.
It was clear the creature understood that it could use the weapon in its hand to slice its enemies. But knowing how to use it effectively was another matter entirely.
Its strikes were clumsy: no solid stance, no technique or cunning—just wild, disordered swings. To Dylan, it was like watching a ten-year-old child.
A being barely aware of its own movements, making mistake after mistake, incapable of delivering a precise blow. But that didn't mean Dylan could afford to underestimate it.
Sure, the gremlin had the intelligence and experience of a child, but it also possessed the brute strength of five highly trained men, packed into a frail yet absurdly agile frame.
If it learned how to fully harness its potential, Dylan knew he'd already be decapitated. And that single thought was enough to keep him on edge.
Truthfully, Dylan had never fought against someone armed with a sword, nor had he ever wielded one himself.
He was well-versed in dagger combat, but that fighting style was ill-suited for such a long blade. He wasn't even sure he'd fare better than the gremlin in a similar situation.
But one thing was certain: he couldn't afford to get hit.
"This damn sword is unbelievably sharp," he muttered as he kept running, his breath growing ragged.
Suddenly, his foot struck a spherical object on the ground. Dylan stumbled, nearly losing his balance. This momentary lapse did not escape his opponent's notice.
The gremlin, seizing the opportunity, lunged forward with brutal force, the sword aimed straight at Dylan.
The same object that had almost caused Dylan to fall rolled again beneath his foot as he bent at the last second. The sword, originally aimed at his heart, was deflected and tore into his shoulder, leaving a deep, searing gash.
Dylan grimaced in pain but couldn't help feeling relieved—he was still alive. Yet there was no time to address his injury. Ignoring the burning sensation in his shoulder, he rolled across the ground to put some distance between himself and his opponent.
Of course, the gremlin wasn't about to let him escape so easily. It relentlessly pursued him, attempting to drive the massive sword through him before he could even rise.
The crowd's roars echoed throughout the arena, a chaotic mix of excitement and frenzy. The spectators seemed eager to witness more bloodshed. But Dylan couldn't spare them a thought. His entire focus and energy were centered on one goal: executing his reckless plan.
As he rolled desperately to dodge the attacks, the gremlin's sword struck dangerously close to his face. Dylan felt the air around him ripple as the blade slammed into the ground with immense force. That was when he realized the sword wasn't just incredibly sharp—it was also absurdly heavy. The weight was likely the main reason the gremlin's movements were somewhat hindered.
The impact left a deep crater in the earth, so close to Dylan that shards of stone grazed his cheek.
A fleeting vision flashed through his mind: himself in place of the ground, his skull split in two.
"Ugh... I'd rather not imagine that," he muttered, shivering as his heart pounded violently in his chest.
Dylan took a deep breath, trying to steady his erratic breathing. His wound was killing him, but he had no choice but to act. His eyes scanned the arena. The leopards and jaguars were locked in a bloody brawl, while the two remaining wolves, their bloodstained fangs glistening, seemed ready to pounce on the first vulnerable prey.
A reckless plan had formed in his mind. If these beasts could be directed toward the gremlin, it would increase his chances of survival. But first, he needed them to take the bait.
Half-rising, Dylan grabbed the metal sphere lying at his feet. It wasn't that he had become stronger, but the sphere felt lighter than before. He took careful aim and hurled the projectile with all the strength he could muster. The sphere whistled through the air and struck one of the jaguars on the shoulder.
The reaction was instant. The beast, distracted by the impact, turned its yellow eyes toward Dylan. An ominous growl rumbled from its throat. Dylan's stomach tightened. "Oh, shit. That worked a little too well…" he muttered.
Without hesitation, he backed away, waving his arms to draw more attention from the other animals. A leopard, its fur streaked with fresh claw marks, raised its head. Its tense muscles signaled it was ready to charge. But before any of the predators could lunge at Dylan, the gremlin let out a piercing shriek.
The cry tore through the air like a blade, cutting through the sounds of battle around them. The beasts froze for a moment, disoriented. Even Dylan had to cover his ears, his head throbbing from the intensity of the sound. Then, in a fit of madness, the gremlin launched itself at the predators with almost inhuman aggression.
The first leopard, still reeling, didn't have time to react. The gremlin's blade carved a precise arc, slicing a bloody gash along its flank. The beast stumbled, growling in pain, but the gremlin didn't stop. In one brutal motion, it leaped onto the leopard's back and drove its sword into its neck.
Dylan watched in stunned disbelief as chaos erupted. The other predators, far from retreating, joined the carnage. A jaguar tried to sink its teeth into the gremlin, but the creature spun with lightning speed, using the still-warm corpse of the leopard as a shield. The jaguar's jaws closed on the already dead flesh.
The gremlin let out another roar, this time deeper, a genuine war cry. It dropped to the ground, rolling to dodge a wolf's claws. With an uncanny fluidity for its frail body, it sprang back up and delivered a vicious kick to the wolf's jaw, the sound of cracking bone shattering the air.
Meanwhile, Dylan repositioned himself, his mind racing. "This thing is a killing machine… even these predators don't stand a chance." He hated to admit it, but this creature was far more than it seemed.
One of the jaguars managed to rake its claws across the gremlin's back, tearing a sharp cry from the creature. Yet it didn't slow down. Enraged, it spun the sword in a deadly arc and, with one decisive strike, severed the jaguar's head.
At last, the other beasts hesitated, stepping back slightly. The stench of blood and the sight of the growing pile of corpses seemed to unnerve them.
Seizing the moment, Dylan jumped back, desperately searching the arena for a weapon or tool that could give him an edge.
Dripping with blood, the gremlin slowly turned its head toward him, a deranged smile spreading across its face.
And Dylan realized something else—this monster wasn't tired. If anything, it seemed to thrive on the violence and chaos surrounding it.
Still, Dylan forced a nervous grin.
"Well, buddy… it's you or me. Let's see who goes down first."