Chapter 240: A bloody battle
The hammer’s head dragged a furrow through the sand as Luke let it hang loose at his side, the weight settling into his palm as if exhaustion wasn’t weighing on him tille now.
The man’s grin faltered for the first time.
"A hammer." He rolled the word around like he was tasting it. "Didn’t take you for a brute."
"You talk too much."
Luke didn’t wait for a reply. He closed the distance in a single bound, the hammer arcing up from low and driving toward the man’s ribs.
CLANG
The man caught it on the flat of his blade, boots digging trenches into the sand as the force shoved him back a full meter. His eyes widened. He hadn’t expected the boy to hit like a falling wall.
"Tch. Heavy."
He didn’t give Luke room to follow up. The blade whipped around in a backhand slash, and when Luke pulled back to avoid it, the man was already there, scabbard snapping forward like a club aimed at his temple.
Luke barely got the hammer’s haft up in time.
THWACK
His arm went numb from the wrist to the elbow.
He skidded sideways, boots tearing through loose sand, and forced himself to plant his feet before the next swing came.
It came anyway.
The blade, the scabbard, both weapons moving together now in a rhythm the man had clearly spent years building.
"Take this!" Blade high, scabbard low, blade again, each strike chasing the last with no gap for Luke to slot a counter into.
Luke weaved. Ducked. Let one slash hiss past his ear close enough to stir his hair.
His domain screamed warnings the entire time, that close-range hum of danger lighting up every inch of his skin, but the warnings were coming slower now. A half second slower than they should.
He could feel it.
The cool current that had been running through his limbs all night, the one that kept his muscles loose and his reflexes sharp, was thinning out like water draining from a cracked jar.
’This is frustrating...I need to do something fast.’
Each contraction of his fist around the hammer’s grip cost him a little more than it should have. His shoulders burned where he wasn’t even hurt.
His knees, locked from hours of bent-over walking, screamed every time he pivoted.
The sky behind the horizon had shifted from black to a deep bruised violet.
Less moon. Less time.
’Twenty minutes. Maybe less.’
The man pressed forward, sensing the shift before Luke even said anything.
"You’re slowing down."
"Shut up."
Luke swung the hammer in a wide horizontal arc, putting his hips into it, and the man ducked under it with insulting ease, scabbard driving up into Luke’s exposed ribs.
CRACK
Pain lanced through his side. He staggered, breath punched out of him, and the blade came around for his throat.
He threw himself backward, hit the sand hard on his shoulder blades, and rolled just as the blade buried itself where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier.
"Get up, get up," he hissed to himself, scrambling to his feet.
The man wasn’t even breathing hard.
That was the part that gnawed at him. Not the bite wound still leaking down his shoulder, not the bruised ribs, not the ache crawling up his spine. It was watching this man fight at full output while Luke’s own reserves bled out by the second, the moonlight retreating like a tide pulling away from shore and taking his strength with it.
If this dragged on, he would lose. Not because the man was stronger.
Because time itself had turned against him.
Luke’s jaw tightened.
’Fine. Then I won’t give you time.’
His domain flared, a second pulse of cold silver light gathering around his free hand, and another hammer materialized there, twin to the first, the weight of it settling into his palm like an anchor.
The man’s brow lifted. "Two now?"
"Last warning. Walk away."
"Or what, boy?"
Luke didn’t answer.
He just moved.
Every ounce of strength he had left, every scrap of stamina the fading moon still owed him, he poured it all into his legs and drove forward in a dead sprint, sand exploding behind him.
The man brought his blade up, expecting another testing blow.
He got a storm instead.
Luke’s first hammer crashed into the blade with a force that buckled the man’s wrist, the second swinging up immediately after in a brutal uppercut aimed at his jaw.
The man twisted away just enough to save his face, but the hammer’s head clipped his shoulder, and bone gave way with a sickening crunch.
"GAH!"
The man’s arm dropped, the weapon wavering.
Luke didn’t stop.
He drove forward, shoulder first, slamming into the man’s chest and sending him stumbling backward off balance.
Before the man could recover his footing, Luke brought both hammers down in a crossing strike aimed at his ribs.
The man twisted his scabbard up in a desperate block.
It wasn’t enough.
CRACK
Wood splintered. Ribs followed.
The man flew backward, hit the sand, and rolled twice before skidding to a stop, blood now leaking freely from his shoulder and his side, his breathing ragged for the first time all fight.
Luke stood over him, chest heaving, both hammers hanging heavy in his trembling hands, sweat and sand and blood mixing down the side of his face.
The moonlight kept fading behind him.
"Luke..." He heard Synthia’s voice faintly. He couldn’t focus on her on anything right now.
Exhaustion was settling in.
He could feel his vision wavering.
But the man was still in shape to fight.
He reached for his gourd, likely intending to heal himself once again.
"Not again!"
Using Amplification, Luke slammed his palms together.
BOOM!
The compressed sound wave blasted outward, kicking up a violent cloud of sand. The gourd was knocked from the man’s grasp and sent flying.
The man’s eyes widened. Through the swirling sand, his vision was nearly useless, but he could still sense his opponent closing in.
"Show yourself!"
He swung his blade wildly, slashing through empty air.
No reply came.
Only the soft hiss of falling sand.
Then...
Tap.
The man spun and slashed behind him.
Nothing.
But before he could react further, a hand clamped around his neck from behind.
His eyes widened.
"You!"
Luke was perched on his shoulders, dagger raised high.
The man reacted instantly, driving his blade backward into Luke’s thigh in an attempt to throw him off.
The blade sank deep.
Yet Luke didn’t even flinch.
Pain was nothing compared to the frustration boiling inside him.
SQUELCH!
"AAAAAHHH!"
The glowing dagger plunged into the man’s eye socket.
He didn’t stop there.
SQUELCH! SQUELCH! SQUELCH!
The other eye.
The temple.
The throat.
Again and again, the dagger came down without mercy.
Blood sprayed as the man staggered forward before collapsing to his knees.
His body trembled weakly.
His fight was over.
"You shouldn’t have interrupted me."
Luke placed a hand over the man’s mouth, silencing the broken screams.
Then, with one swift motion, he drew the blade across his throat.
The man’s body went limp.
Luke remained mounted over him.
Just then, "*Cough*" Luke coughed once, a violent cough as he felt his chest heaving.
His vision swirled...he knew he would pass out any moment now.
However, the moment the dust cleared...he saw something that made his instincts scream
Sunlight.
Shit!
