This was not a strategic run. It wasn’t sothing that ca out of tactics or training or any of the combat fundantals I’d read about. This was a pure, unhinged flight response — my body screaming at my brain that if I didn’t move faster, I was going to die.
And the fact that Kassie had suggested it made wonder for a split second if there was ever a ti in her life when she’d had to run like this. When she’d known, bone-deep, that standing and fighting ant death.
I couldn’t picture it. I just couldn’t see it.
I ran deeper into the cave, because that was the only direction available. The beast’s footsteps thundered behind , each impact shaking loose dust from the ceiling, gaining ground with every stride. I could hear its breathing — wet, rasping, furious. The sound of sothing that wasn’t going to stop until it had .
A tentacle lashed past my head, close enough that I felt the displaced air whip across my cheek.
I cut right, hoping to throw it off, hoping the sudden direction change would buy even a second. But another tentacle slamd into my back like a club made of muscle and hate.
I went down face-first, tasting blood and stone. The impact knocked the breath out of . Before I could move, before I could even process what had happened, sothing wrapped around my ankle and dragged backward across the rough ground. My shirt tore. My skin tore, shredded against rock that felt like sandpaper. I was screaming — I think I was screaming — clawing at the floor for any kind of purchase, fingernails breaking against stone that didn’t care.
The beast flipped over like I weighed nothing.
I stared up at it, pinned beneath one massive paw that covered half my torso, tentacles hovering above like executioners waiting their turn. Patient. Almost curious. Its remaining eye — the one I hadn’t managed to destroy — dripped that black liquid onto my face. It was warm and thick and slled like rot and copper, pooling in the hollow of my throat.
’I can’t—’
My chest couldn’t expand. The paw was too heavy, pressing down with what felt like the weight of a car. I was suffocating under it while the thing watched struggle, watched gasp like a fish pulled from water.
’I can’t breathe I can’t—’
"What did you do wrong?"
Kassie’s voice cut through the panic. Calm. In fact, almost bored, like she was gisting with a friend she just t now while I died three feet away from her.
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Could barely think past the weight crushing and the darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. My lungs burned. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, growing slower, growing weaker.
"Answer , Summoner."
The beast pressed harder. Sothing in my chest made a sound that ribs shouldn’t make — a wet crack that I felt more than heard.
’Everything,’ I thought desperately, the word fragnting under the pressure. ’I did everything wrong. Wrong weapon. Wrong distance. Wrong—’
Distance.
The realization hit like cold water. I’d let it control the distance. Every ti I thought I was being clever — circling, dodging, counterattacking — I was still playing its ga. It was faster. Stronger. Had more reach with those goddamn tentacles. I’d been fighting like I had advantages I didn’t have, like I was the predator in this equation instead of the prey.
"D-distance," I choked out, the word barely more than a wheeze. "Let it... control..."
"Good."
Kassie moved.
One mont she was against the wall, arms crossed, expression blank. The next, she was beside the beast, her hand closing around the tentacle nearest her. She didn’t yank this ti — she simply squeezed. I heard sothing crack, the sound of cartilage giving way under pressure no living thing should be able to exert. The creature howled and reared back, releasing as it spun to face this new threat.
I gasped, sucking in air that tasted like the sweetest thing I’d ever breathed. Each inhale was agony, my broken ribs screaming in protest, but I didn’t care. Air. I had air. I was alive.
Kassie kicked the beast in the jaw hard enough to snap its head sideways. It staggered, legs scrambling for purchase on the stone. She kicked it again, sa spot, no wasted motion, and this ti sothing broke with a sound like splintering wood. The creature collapsed onto its side, legs twitching, tentacles spasming weakly against the ground.
She walked over to where my dagger had landed, picked it up between two fingers like it was sothing distasteful, and drove it through the beast’s skull with no more ceremony than swatting a fly.
The twitching stopped.
[You have killed a Primal (Tier 4) Spirit Beast: Voidlash Stalker]
[You have gained Spatial mbrane]
’I didn’t kill shit.’
I lay there on the cold stone floor, staring at the cave ceiling, trying to process the fact that I was still alive. My ribs scread with every breath. My back was on fire where the ground had shredded it, probably bleeding into whatever remained of my shirt. My ankle throbbed where the tentacle had grabbed , already swelling. Blood dripped from sowhere on my face—maybe the reopened wound from earlier, maybe sothing new. I’d lost track.
’I almost died.’
Not in the abstract, heroic way. Not in the "dramatic last stand" way that made for good stories. In the real, pathetic, gasping-for-air way. In the "dragged across the ground like a chew toy" way.
Kassie appeared above , looking down with that sa cold expression. Not concerned. Not impressed. Not anything, really.
"Terrible," she said.
"Thanks." My voice ca out as a croak, barely human. "Really... feeling the encouragent."
"You relied on speed you don’t have. You attacked without ensuring retreat. You threw away your weapon on a gamble." She tilted her head slightly, studying like I was a particularly disappointing specin. "You survived only because the beast was stupid. A smarter opponent would have killed you three tis over."
I wanted to argue and point out that I’d actually hurt it, that the eye thing had worked, that I’d bought myself ti with tactics she hadn’t taught .
But she was right.
I knew she was right.
If this had been a real fight — if Kassie hadn’t been there to pull out — I’d be dead and digested. Becoming another cautionary tale about overconfident summoners who thought they could punch above their weight.
"Distance," I said quietly. The word hurt to speak. Everything hurt. "You said I let it control the distance."
"Yes."
"How do I fix that?"
For the first ti since the fight began, sothing shifted in her expression. Not warmth, exactly. Nothing close to kindness. But maybe... approval?
She extended her hand.
I took it, letting her pull to my feet. The movent sent fresh agony through my chest, white-hot and nauseating, and I couldn’t quite straighten all the way, but I was standing. That counted for sothing.
’Doesn’t feel like it counts for much.’
Kassie retrieved my dagger from the beast’s skull and handed it to . The blade was still slick with that black liquid. I wiped it on what remained of my shirt, which was basically just sleeves at this point.
She walked into the darkness, returned a mont later with the second dagger I’d thrown, and tossed it to without warning. I caught it. Barely. My hands were shaking.
"We continue through the cave," she said. "There may be more."
I stared at her.
"More? I can barely walk."
"Then you’ll learn to fight while barely walking." She turned and started deeper into the darkness, not bothering to check if I was following. "Pain is an excellent teacher. Almost as good as ."
I looked at the dead beast. At the black blood pooling around it, spreading slowly across the stone. At the claw marks I’d left in the floor while being dragged to my death, parallel gouges that told the story of desperation.
’This is going to be a long training arc.’
I limped after her, one hand pressed against my broken ribs, the other clutching a dagger I’d proven I barely knew how to use.
But I was learning.
That had to count for sothing.
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