Refusing to give it the chance, Silver lunged forward again. His claws became a blur of golden light as he systematically hacked at the expanding roots, slicing them into mincemeat. But it was entirely useless; for every root he severed, three more sprouted from the dark wood, aggressively weaving the monster back together.
Think, Silver, think! How do I stop something that doesn't bleed?
Sweat dripped down his temple as he dodged another clumsy, heavy swing from the reforming monster. His gaze scanned the reassembling anatomy, searching for a core, until it locked onto the one piece he hadn't completely shattered yet: the featureless, mangled head. Even while detached, the roots seemed to originate from the base of its skull, guiding the rest of the body like a grotesque central nervous system.
So, that's what's pulling the strings.
