The fight had dragged on far longer than any of them had expected. The ambushers had hoped for a quick dispatch, revealing themselves from the bushes and slitting the throats of their targets before they could understand what was happening. But that bastard had ruined it with his prophet level reaction time.
On the contrary, Pluto had expected Saul to slay all of them within the first two minutes.
But nature had its ways, surprising both sides with an outcome that wasn't an outcome.
Pluto struggled to keep focus in-between the two raging storms. Keeping his anatomy intact was like trying to hold a parted ship together with spider webs. The fresh wound in his shoulder didn't hurt as much because it just blended into the chorus. Then on the other hand, he had to preserve his hollow body, by preventing any more infliction of damage on it. But like always, it was easier said than done.
He focused all his will, coercing his brain into following the movements of the eel painting.
The signals came in subtle rapid jags, sending his thoughts into an imbalanced violent blur. Push, pull, contract, release. His form had improved dramatically since the beginning of battle, at least in the aspect of sensing the directive tremors on his skin.
The key problem laid in his execution. He was too stiff to follow the instructions of a fluid being beat for beat, and that was the only metric holding him back from having the prowess of Combat Class without using the ability itself.
Nevertheless, his mild sync was enough to change the tempo of the battle, albeit slightly.
One of the ambushers struck in from Pluto's blind, using the passing shadow of his comrade of temporary cover. He thrust he blade forward, aiming to sink it in just behind the Adam's apple.
The eel tugged sharply, demanding for a close line jab to the face, curving as the hand moved forward. Pluto understood what it wanted a moment later, but by then, it was already too late to implement it. So he simply ducked, feeling sharp air shake hands with his blood tinted hair.
The opening was clear, and the prospect of landing a clean strike made him ignore the eel's warning. He stabbed upwards, aiming to pay his attacker back in his own currency.
The blade had already salivated in delight, glinting with light that didn't seem available at that point. The second man leapt forward, counter balancing the strike with enough force to redirect its path into the arm of the first.
Pluto drew back and huffed. He hated this about them. Their coordination was not the best, but it did seem so when any of them were an inch away from death. It was frustrating. But strangely, that same frustration reflected in their eyes. If they continued this way, their expenditure would outweigh the gains and the battle made meaningless.
They were still ahead, giving Pluto one to three for every strike he landed. But even still, if he didn't go down before they exhausted all their threes, the advantage was just as meaningless.
Pluto didn't wait to be attacked anymore. The battle was reaching its bottleneck, and this point, anything was given permission to happen, and waiting would not do well in such unpredictability.
He pressed forward, slashing wildly in arc that were just as controlled as they were insane, maybe a bit less. His opponents reeled under the pressure, parrying in deflective bursts. It was the newer strategy they had come up with, to wear him out from his own strength. But it had created an opening.
Pluto pushed with his shoulder, sending the second one staggering. As the first turned to strike, he nimbly stepped back, wincing as the blade still cut his chest.
But the opening was wider this time. Pluto kicked forward, buckling the man's knee with immense force. The disorientation was not enough to capitalise on, but enough to tell them that their upper hand was dropping.
Saul was also evening things out. But strangely, not in his favour. Earlier, he had them on the edge of their wits, making them shiver internally everytime he stepped forward.
Now it was blow for blow. Gut for gut. His grasp wasn't slipping, instead it was readjusting. It was the exact same problem he faced. If he was able to keep dominant by draining himself and still couldn't finish it, then what was the point of it?
He was conserving energy for the prevention of being overwhelmed if Pluto was to fall. But that didn't mean he was becoming defensive. A single mistake was still all it took to end the lives of the ambushers.
His blade moved with purpose, always travelling towards something they couldn't afford to lose. And the attacks did same.
A heart, a tendon, a throat.
The swords did not clang anymore. They aimed, and then painfully missed. The battle changed from violent cacophonic clashes, to silent struggle.
Boots against dirt and heavy breathing louder than most vacuum cleaners. And for the most part, the grunting came from Pluto.
The fight didn't drain him, it reshaped him into some funny horror. Blisters and blood piled up.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then something else and another thing before another one. Pluto barely had time to keep track when there was barely anything to keep track off.
But somewhere around the hour mark, he could no longer take it. His knees his the ground, his shoulder clutched up with his other hand.
"T-time..."
His desperate wail echoed.
"Time out!"
***
Pluto jerked awake, dripping with sweat that coated his body wholly.
He heaved rapidly, taking a moment to release that it was night and that he laid against a tree and not the skin of a predator.
For a moment he peered blankly into the dark, unsure what else to do.
Then it hit him, it had been a dream. Again, it hadn't. Everything he saw and felt in his subconscious had happened. He was simply remembering it.
The fight had come to a strange conclusion. They fought until neither was able to throw the next blow, and then everyone just retreated. And that was surprising, considering the fact that Saul could still casually jump in space when they tackled a predator for cores later on.
Pluto turned to look at him. He laid a short distance away, sleeping soundly because it was Pluto's turn to take watch. Luckily he hadn't woken up to see Pluto sleeping.
'Would have been a bit awkward to explain...'
The forest was calm tonight, dangerously calm. Nothing was wrong, and he didn't feel any gnawing evil at his periphery, but that in itself was the problem. Since when had the forest ever been peaceful?
Trees swayed in the cool breeze, looking like graceful dancers through the clinging mist.
Pluto unwind a bit, letting his tense muscles sag against each other. He was in the mood for a little stroll, but the memory of the shadow deterred him. He did not want to receive a second ambassador brand, because his first was already too much to handle.
It may have seemed less active, but that was only because he had learnt how to use counter measures. Not everything required him to spring into action, and the less he did that, the less active his mark was.
It was good for him, but the attractiveness of the mark was the very reason Saul had agreed to spare him in the first place. So he just hoped that by the time Saul noticed, the urge to kill him would have faded.
Anyway, that would be something to think about in the morning. He laid back down, allowing sleep to close inwards again.
Just before it completely enveloping his mind, a strange thought slipped in.
'Saul seems twenty-one.'
***
Ronan picked another blade from the rack, weighing it carefully in his hands. This was the first time since he entered the forest that he was given the opportunity to actually make a choice.
Across, on the other side of the room, Khalifa observing the ancient carvings with eagerness. She had finally decided to enter the hill now that it had a torch in it.
Ronan didn't bother about teasing her about it, because he actually needed her help. His discovery dictated so.
The dark and hungry eyes he had seen earlier was a predator. After killing it, he stood have taking the hint. But seeing was believing. Eventually he still came to the same conclusion: this place was infested with predators.
Speaking of the place, he had decided to name it Atlantis. A place lost, not underneath earth, but in mist.
And the lower floors of this misty habitat, was nothing short of scary. The second floor along had contained many dozens of low level predators. Despite their weakness, the numbers really made up for it and he had to enter thrice before finally killing them all.
But while killing them, he noticed one strange phenomenon. None of the creatures crossed the boundaries of their floors. They never chased once he was out of their domain.
He accepted the advantage. But that alone was not enough to ensure that he could visit the lower floors in one piece.
If he really wanted to explore further, he would need not just Khalifa's help. But adequate preparations.
***
Doeg had not been allowed to walk about unscrupulously inside the chamber's headquarters before. But considering that the site was soon to be abandoned, the restrictions had been lifted.
The cave had grown a bit quiet, since the expansion attempts had been discarded, so things underground let off a more peaceful aura.
As Doeg walked by the prison area, he found that the cells weren't empty today.
Two girls sat inside one of them. And something about one of them felt too familiar to ignore.
He frowned and walked up to the bar. The girls looked up at him with hungry expressions.
He kept studying the one at the other end, but the feeling was still lost on him. Finally he asked with in a cold tone.
"Have me met?"
Neither answered. Mira refused to speak and so did Thea.
Doeg huffed with angry, and walked away, still hoping to explore more.
But as he moved further.
Realisation struck...