A second burst of flames erupted from the beast's gaping maw, a fierce and unrelenting wave of heat aimed straight at Kael.
The sheer intensity of the flames turned the air around him into a shimmering haze. He didn't have time to think. His body moved on instinct, muscles burning with adrenaline as he threw himself to the side, dropping low to avoid the worst of the blaze.
Even so, the heat was impossible to escape. The flames crackled and hissed around him, licking at his skin and singeing the hair on the back of his neck.
It didn't hurt—not yet, at least—but it was enough to fuel the growing fire inside him.
This monster, this hellish beast, was causing him and his new friends too much trouble. Too much loss. Too much destruction.
The faces of the comrades who had already fallen, their bodies now nothing but ashes, flashed in his mind. His heart hammered in his chest, pumping rage and resolve into his every movement.
Kael's mind sharpened, a surge of fury overriding the pain of his near-miss. The beast had no right to keep causing this much destruction. He wasn't going to let it. He couldn't.
His eyes narrowed, and with a guttural growl, he pushed himself to his feet, still half-blinded by the smoke and the heat.
The beast swung its enormous claw in a violent arc.
Kael ducked and rolled just in time, feeling the wind of its strike slice through the air above him. The cavern floor trembled as the beast's enormous weight shifted, trying to line up for another deadly swing.
The claw missed, but Kael knew it was only a matter of time before it would strike again. He couldn't afford to hesitate.
Kael surged forward, pickaxe raised. Even in the dim light of the cavern, it almost seemed like his weapon was glowing.
The beast sliced at him again, but this time, Kael was already swinging first.
The blade of his pickaxe met the wrist of the beast's arm and completely sheared it off.
More golden blood leaked out, staining and burning parts of Kael's uniform.
The beast was weakening. Its movements had slowed, its massive body sagging slightly under the weight of its injuries. The creature's breath was labored, its roars now filled with desperation instead of anger.
Kael could see it, feel it—the opening he'd been waiting for. The beast was no longer the unstoppable force it once had been. Its vulnerability hung in the air like a promise.
Ignoring the pain that still burned on his skin from the earlier flames, Kael focused on finding a weak spot.
There, just below its neck. The skin there was thinner, softer—less armored than the rest of its body. That was his chance. That was where the fight would end.
With a steadying breath, Kael swung his pickaxe using all of his newfound strength. The air around the pickaxe seemed to hum with power as it flew toward the beast.
The blade of the pickaxe made contact with the creature's neck, sending a wave of pain through Kael's arm. It bit deep into the flesh, but not deep enough.
The enemy remained standing. It roared, jerking its head violently, catching Kael off guard.
Kael's hands tightened instinctively around the handle, but the beast's wild movement was too much. He couldn't hold on any longer. The pickaxe was ripped free from his hands. His body was jerked violently to the side, and he felt himself flying through the air.
The wind was knocked out of him for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and for a moment, the world spun around him. His vision blurred, his breath ragged and shallow as he struggled to push himself up from the cold stone floor.
The roar of the beast was all around him, the creature's rage echoing off the cavern walls.
His hands scraped the floor as he tried to rise. The pickaxe was lost, but the fight wasn't over. He had a little strength left.
Kael looked up, gasping.
The beast towered above him, raising its intact front paw.
He winced, waiting for the impact.
But it never came.
Kael opened his eyes to find Ryker standing in front of him, holding the beast's paw in place. His strength was even more immense than he'd thought.
"What're you waiting for?" Ryker asked in a strained voice. "Finish this thing off!"
Kael stumbled to his feet and grabbed the pickaxe still lodged in the neck.
It wouldn't come loose. He pulled harder. Still nothing.
Kael raised his legs, placing his boots on either side of the pickaxe. Screaming, he ripped the pickaxe free.
Blood sprayed everywhere as he fell backward.
Ryker let go of the beast's paw and leapt away.
Was that it? Is it dead?
The beast still stood, blood spurting from its neck. Then, its eyes rolled to the back of its head, and it collapsed to the ground with a massive thud.
Kael gave a sigh of relief, letting his head rest against the ground. It was over. The thing was dead. But at what cost?
Elysia appeared in his view, her head bandaged. Much of her exposed skin had been burned, and was now various shades of red.
"Thank-you, Duskborne. You've…exceeded my expectations," she said in a formal tone.
"I couldn't have done it without you or Ryker," he said, indicating the large man now inspecting the beast's corpse. "And the Soulless."
Elysia raised an eyebrow. "The Soulless? They were just fulfilling their duty."
"They played a huge part in this too. They gave their lives for us. Without them, all of us Talkers would've died a whole lot quicker."
Elysia didn't respond.
Kael studied her. Was she serious? Did she really have no regard for the lives of the Soulless?
"This isn't the time for talking," Lucian interrupted. "I see you've managed to get injured again, Kael. I hope this won't become a habit of yours."
Before Kael could respond, Lucian set to work. "Now let's see those wounds."