Blood sprayed in a vicious arc across the cracked, sun-scorched earth, a streak of crimson painting the dust as it caught the light of the sickly green sky. The air reeked of iron and ozone, thick with the scent of violence.
Belial lay slumped against a jagged outcrop of stone, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. His right shoulder was a grotesque ruin—flesh torn away in ragged flaps, bone splintered and jutting like broken spears. His breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one a rattling rasp that seemed to fight for space against the agony that wracked his body.
Towering above him stood the Dusked Minor, its monstrous frame coiled with predatory intent. The creature was a nightmare wrought of sinew and scale, its mottled flesh stretched taut over corded muscle. Three burning eyes—red, gold, and a sickly blue—glared down with malevolent glee. Venom seeped from its elongated fangs, thick droplets hissing as they fell to the earth, burning small craters into the ground. A guttural growl rolled from its throat, low and resonant, making the very stones tremble. The sound thrummed through the ground and into their bones, primal and full of death.
Raven and Xin stood frozen, caught in the gravity of the moment. For a single heartbeat, they did not breathe. Did not blink. The sight of Belial...proud, fierce Belial...now broken and bleeding, snapped something loose inside them. A spark. A fire.
"Move!" Raven's voice thundered through the desolation, a raw, commanding roar that shattered their paralysis.
In a flash, his black-armored form surged forward, a shadow made flesh, wreathed in war. The dark plating of his gauntlets shimmered with a violent energy, the runes etched along their surface flaring to life as he closed the distance. The Dusked Minor turned with startling grace for its size, its scarred hide rippling like disturbed water. It lunged to meet him, its talons slicing the air in a blur of obsidian death.
Raven ducked beneath the incoming blow, instincts honed through years of brutal combat guiding his movement. The creature's claws passed inches from his face, close enough that he could feel the wind of them. He countered in the same breath, driving a clenched gauntlet into the creature's side. The impact landed with a meaty, echoing boom, ribs cracking beneath the force. The beast snarled but did not stagger...its central eye flared with fury as it struck back, jaws snapping with terrifying speed.
A short distance away, Xin trembled. His hands moved in desperate rhythm, the Dharma Wheel spinning rapidly between his palms, gold and white energy flickering in frantic pulses. He poured his ether into Raven, flooding him with pure power, burning through reserves with reckless abandon.
"Hold it!" Xin shouted, his voice raw with effort. His eyes glowed with strain as the wheel spun faster, its glyphs blurring.
Raven surged again, faster now, the ether coursing through him like fire in his veins. He twisted past the beast's fangs, venom sizzling as it grazed his pauldron, leaving deep pockmarks in the metal. With a grunt, he stepped into the monster's reach and seized its lower jaw with both hands. His gauntlets sank into the slick flesh, grip tightening until the metal creaked under the strain.
With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he pulled downward.
The Dusked Minor shrieked, its voice a high, piercing wail that split the air. It thrashed, its enormous body writhing like a serpent caught in a snare, but Raven did not let go. He twisted, forcing its maw open wider, until the sinews at the corners of its mouth began to snap.
There, within the dark cavern of its throat, the tongue emerged—long, barbed, a grotesque mass of purple-black flesh that twitched and lashed like a whip.
Raven didn't hesitate. With a snarl, he reached inside and clamped his gauntlets around the disgusting organ. The tongue writhed against him, slick with venom and blood, but he held firm. Muscles tensed. Joints screamed. And with a sound like tearing meat and snapping rope, he ripped the tongue free.
The creature's eyes bulged wide, all three orbs flaring in panic and disbelief. A geyser of dark ichor burst from its mouth, drenching Raven as the beast reeled backward, choking on its own lifeblood. Its screeches turned to gurgles, limbs twitching erratically as it staggered and fell to one knee.
With a snarl of disdain, Raven flung the severed tongue aside. It landed with a wet slap, quivering like a freshly gutted fish.
Before the Dusked Minor could fall, Raven stepped forward and drove his fist into its skull. The blow landed with a sharp crack—bone shattered, and the beast's body finally collapsed, lifeless. Its three eyes dimmed, fading to dull glass.
The silence was sudden, deafening, broken only by the wind's mournful howl and Belial's pained gasps. Raven stood over the corpse, chest heaving, his gauntlets slick with gore. Xin rushed to Belial's side, dropping to his knees beside the fallen warrior. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the dirt, his shoulder a jagged mess where the fangs had torn through. His violet eyes were half-lidded, glazed with pain, but his jaw was set, refusing to yield even now.
"Hold on," Xin muttered, his voice tight as he pressed his hands to Belial's chest, avoiding the wound. The Dharma Wheel flared, its golden light washing over them, and Xin focused, channeling ether into a barrier. He couldn't heal the poison—not yet, not fully. The alien venom still coursed through Belial's veins, a stubborn shadow he couldn't unravel. But he could reinforce the wall he'd built within Belial's body, a fragile dam holding the toxin at bay. The ether flowed, weaving a lattice of energy that slowed the poison's spread, buying them time.
Belial grunted, his voice rough but steady. "I'm fine. Stop fussing."
"You're not fine," Xin snapped, his hands shaking as he worked. "You're a damn mess, and I can't fix it yet."
Raven loomed over them, wiping blood from his gauntlets. "We need to move. More'll come."
Xin nodded, his jaw tight. He helped Belial to his feet, slinging the warrior's good arm over his shoulder. Belial hissed in pain but didn't complain, his stubborn pride a shield against the agony. Raven took point, and they retreated, limping back toward the cave. The terrain blurred past—jagged rocks, ether mist, the distant howl of something unseen—but they pressed on, the promise of shelter driving them forward.
The cave swallowed them whole, its damp walls a cold embrace after the chaos outside. Xin eased Belial against the stone, his breath hitching as he settled. Raven stood guard at the entrance, his silhouette stark against the faint light filtering through the crevice. The air was thick with the scent of moss and blood, the silence a fragile reprieve from the violence they'd left behind.
Xin knelt beside Belial, the Dharma Wheel glowing faintly as he resumed his work. "Let me see," he said, his tone softer now. Belial didn't protest, his head lolling back as Xin pressed his hands to the wound. The ether flowed again, stronger this time, knitting torn flesh and staunching the bleeding. His healing had improved—days of practice in the cave, mending Raven's bruises and Belial's cuts, had sharpened his skill. The shoulder was a patchwork of scars and raw tissue, but the bleeding slowed, the skin closing under his touch. Yet the poison lingered, a dark pulse beneath the surface he couldn't touch.
"It's not enough," Xin muttered, frustration gnawing at him. "The venom's still in you. I can't get it out."
Belial cracked a grin, weak but defiant. "I've had worse. Just keep it locked up...I'll burn it out myself."
Xin didn't argue, though doubt gnawed at him. Belial's body was weakened, the ether from their kills barely enough to offset the starvation and now this. He assumed the poison was sapping him further, draining what little strength remained, but Belial's silence—his refusal to complain—made it hard to gauge. Xin reinforced the barrier again, the golden light pulsing as it tightened its hold, and sat back, exhaustion tugging at his limbs.
Raven turned from the entrance, his voice low. "The Day's coming."
Xin glanced up, the faint shift in the light beyond the crevice confirming it. The green-tinged sky was paling, a sickly dawn creeping over the horizon. Daytime brought its own dangers—brighter light, yes, but also the heat, the exposure, the creatures that thrived in the open. They needed rest, needed to recover, but the cave felt less like a sanctuary now and more like a trap.
"Sleep in shifts," Belial rasped, his good hand flexing. "I'll take first watch."
"You're half-dead," Xin shot back. "Raven's got it."
Raven nodded, settling against the wall, his gauntlets resting on his knees. Belial didn't argue, his eyes drifting shut as the adrenaline faded, leaving only pain and fatigue. Xin watched him for a moment, then turned to his alchemy tools, scattered from their earlier confinement. He couldn't heal the poison...not yet...but he could study it, refine his approach. The vials glinted in the fungal glow, a quiet promise of answers he hadn't found.
The hours crept by, the cave a cocoon of uneasy rest. Raven's watch was silent, his shadowed eyes scanning the lightening world outside.
Xin dozed fitfully, his mind churning with formulas and ether particles, while Belial slept, his breathing shallow but steady. The ether they'd siphoned from the Dusked Minors sustained them, a thin thread of life in a world bent on breaking them. Xin's healing had bought them time, but time was a fickle ally.