Three more to go… ugh. If normal orcs are this hard, I'd better be ten times more careful with higher ranks, he thought, breath ragged.
The remaining three did not break. If anything, they burned hotter, roaring as they charged.
Leon dragged himself upright and met them.
"Oooh, come on!!!" he snapped, frustration cracking through exhaustion. His hands trembled; sweat slicked the dagger's grip; it almost slipped free.
I'm at my limit… I can't hold this pace much longer.
They crashed into him like a wave.
Leon feinted left, then kicked off the sand and skimmed low under a sweeping axe, leaving a thin trail through the dust. He slashed a calf as he passed—shallow, but pain slowed even monsters.
He spun, brought his clawed gauntlet up to catch a descending blade—sparks screamed as steel met steel—then torqued his hips and drove the crystalline dagger along the seam of an orc's ribs. Not deep enough. He retreated a step, lungs burning.
