Chapter 93: The Final Struggle [4]
The blood spun and change it shaped to ...a long, needle-like spike—thin, gleaming crimson, and deadly.
With a subtle twitch of my finger, it shot forward.
Shlick—!
...At Bjron
The Blood Needle shot from my fingertip with a sickening whistle, fast as lightning, straight toward Bjron’s throat.
But at the last instant—
He moved.
His eyes widened, instincts screaming. He twisted his body and pulled back, abandoning the downward swing of his cleaver mid-motion.
A wise choice.
Had he not moved, the needle would’ve pierced his throat and ended it all.
But—
SCHLARRKK—!!
Instead, it tore through his shoulder—right through the joint of the arm that held his weapon.
A geyser of blood burst into the air, splashing across the stone floor and my face.
"Aaaarghhh!"
Bjron howled in agony, stumbling backward, crashing into the wall. His cleaver dropped with a loud clang, echoing in the chamber like a funeral bell. His shoulder was mangled—flesh torn, bone shattered. That arm was useless now.
I should’ve felt triumphant. But—
My vision blurred.
My knees buckled slightly.
Shit.
The rush from Ghoststep faded fast, and the cost came crashing in.
My veins felt like they were on fire.
Blood Magic’s backlash hit hard.
I stumbled back, chest heaving. The warmth I felt wasn’t triumph—it was blood. My own.
A crimson stream trickled from my nose.
[Warning: Mana critically low.]
[Blood Magic Side Effects: Minor hemorrhaging. Dizziness. Risk of unconsciousness imminent.]
I gritted my teeth.
No time. No energy to spare.
My heart was pounding, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of refusal.
I refused to let this bastard win.
Bjron was still standing, barely. He leaned on the wall, one arm hanging useless, blood soaking through his torn leathers. His eyes were wide—not with rage now, but with something else.
Fear.
I took a shaky step forward. My legs screamed in protest.
"You’re done, Bjron," I rasped.
He didn’t answer. Just kept glaring at me like a dying beast.
My knees almost gave out again.
I dropped to one.
Breathe.
Calm.
I raised my hand again, fingers trembling. I didn’t even know if I had enough blood left to cast another Needle.
One spell. One more. That’s all it would take.
Bjron saw it—knew it.
He took one step back. Then another. He glanced at his fallen cleaver, tried reaching for it with his good hand—
"Don’t," I warned.
He froze.
I dragged myself to my feet again, barely. My coat fluttered slightly from the motion. Lila was still on the bed, unconscious or in shock.
I had to finish this.
For her.
For myself.
"You’re not walking away from this," I said quietly.
The blood coiled at my fingertip once more. Slower this time. More sluggish. I felt light-headed.
One more... just one more...
Bjron took a breath. He was gauging it. Me.
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t be able to fire again.
Maybe he was right.
But I couldn’t afford to let him be.
I aimed again—straight at his heart this time.
He took a step forward—
And I smiled.
"Try me," I whispered.
The Blood Needle spun at my fingertip, unstable—sluggish. It wobbled slightly in the air like it was fighting to keep its form.
My body trembled with the effort, but I kept my arm raised, eyes fixed on Bjron.
He wasn’t charging. Not yet.
He stood there, hunched and bleeding, shoulder ruined, face shadowed. And then—he laughed.
A deep, guttural thing that scraped out of his throat like rusted metal.
"Hahaha... HAH-haha... HAHAHAHA!"
The sound echoed through the chamber, wild and jagged, filling the air with madness.
He threw his head back, blood dripping down his chin, eyes wild and burning like twin torches.
"You think I’m afraid?" His voice cracked. "You think that just ’cause I’m bleeding, I’m gonna crawl away like some kicked dog?"
He stomped one foot forward—hard. The stone beneath cracked from the impact.
"You self-righteous little worm. You think I’m the monster here?"
He pointed at himself with his good hand, then out toward me.
"I butchered them, yes! Tore through villages, dragged screaming bodies out of hiding, slit their throats and drank their blood!" His teeth gleamed red. "And guess what?"
He leaned forward, drool mixing with gore on his lips.
"They. Were. DELICIOUS!!!"
The words rang out, vile and proud.
I didn’t flinch. I just watched.
"I ate them," Bjron growled. "I broke their bones and sucked out the marrow. Their children, their elders—it didn’t matter. They were meat. All of them."
He took another step, and this time I could feel his bloodlust like heat pressing against my skin.
"You humans feast on pigs. You fry chickens. You skin rabbits. You trawl the seas and gut fish by the thousands—just to fill your bellies. Don’t act like you’re any different."
He spread his arms as if preaching. "You raised animals in cages, pumped them full of filth, chopped them up and laughed. Called it culture. Called it cuisine."
His eyes gleamed. "And when I do it? When I flip the table and chew on a few screaming humans—it’s evil? Hypocrisy!"
His laugh exploded again, louder, madder. It echoed down the walls like a sickness.
"I am what you are," Bjron roared. "No better, no worse. Just honest. I eat what’s weaker than me. That’s the law."
He spat, a wad of blood and saliva hitting the floor.
"And I’ll keep doing it," he snarled. "Until I choke on my last bite."
I stared at him, heart pounding, fury bubbling beneath the exhaustion.
He wasn’t lying.
Not a hint of regret in his words. Not a shadow of doubt in his gaze.
Just hunger.
Mad, monstrous hunger.
I staggered forward.
"You call it a law?" I said quietly. "Then I’ll be the one to break it."
The needle spun faster.
"Meat rots, Bjron," I said. "And you’re already starting to stink."
----
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.