What Lies Beneath

What Lies Beneath: Chapter 4

Author's Note: As a little side note, I have decided to change the tense of the story. I had previously done past tense (don't ask why...) but will now continue writing in present tense. Enjoy a new chapter and I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever D:

“I'll sink my teeth into your flesh!”

I tense at the comment, my eyes glued to the twisted face of the demon as he flaunts his rotting teeth at all to see. He seems intent on ripping my head from my own body and keeping it as a trophy. I can see it in his sickly eyes.

He charges forwards, driven forth by a demonic thirst for blood and revenge, his claws outstretched as he leaps into the air. Thinking quickly, I throw myself forwards and out of his way as he lands on nothing but the bare ground on which I had stood a few moments ago. I rise to my feet, the skin of my elbows gone as I whip around to face him once again.

It hadn't been long at all when we descended from Vangaard to the surface that we were met with the same blood spilling battle that we had faced the other day. The damned had spread across the land at unbelievable speed, swiftly smothering all the life that had once grown peacefully in this world. Now the life had scattered, fleeing wildly amongst the streets and roads, hoping not to be trampled beneath the feet of doom.

An animal-like snarl rose from my enemy's throat as he tries once again to land a blow on me, lunging forwards with such determination it makes my stomach churn in disgust. I slash his arm away as he tries clawing my side to bits, my armor chinked with rets of jagged lines. I slit his wrist, shoving him back as I plant my foot on his chest and knock him down. I finish him as painlessly as possible as I plunge the dagger into his chest, ripping it through his heart and wrenching it out of his body. The stench of potent blood at once dances in the air, mixing in with the other unpleasant smells of war.

I inhale sharply as a nearby demon launches himself towards me, grabbing a hold of my shoulder with his two clawed hands and hurling me towards the ground. I fly back, beating my wings powerfully as I try to balance myself, the intensity of his throw making it difficult to do so. He lunges towards me again, the two of us locked in a battle of strength as he shoves me towards the side of a building, and I struggle to resist. He is massively brawner than I, and I know it is only a matter of time before he succeeds, the balls of my feet grating across the pavement as I am overpowered. He draws back his arm before sending it back at me, the extra force making my back connect with the wall as I lose the battle. I groan in pain as I hear my shoulder snap, my joint sent into a series of sharp and jolting spasms.

He scratches at my chest plate, a high pitched squeal ringing in my ears as more grooves are engraved in my armor. I give a heaving breath as I ignore the twinges of my shoulder, using my other arm to wield my dagger as I thrust it forwards, the blade sinking into the demon's abdomen. He roars in anger and agony, his expression hateful as he doubles his efforts to rake his sharp nails into my flesh. He changes tactics, attacking my exposed side, weakening the thin layer of chain mail that is the only thing protecting me from his slashes. I quickly slam my heel into his knee, dislocating the cap. He keels over enough for me to tear across his jugular with the tip of the dagger, his blood spurting over my hands.

I grimace, pushing the body towards the ground before I cradle my damaged shoulder. I can hardly move my right limb, and it is the arm I use for most of my tasks including fighting. I know I have to repair it if I intend to have any chance against these mongrels.

I take shaky breaths as I prepared to pop the joint back in place. I squeeze my eyes shut, clenching my jaw as I push forcefully, a sickening crunch making my head spin as a wave of agony travels through me. I hold my breath, only letting it out when it subsides somewhat. I open my eyes, my legs wobbly. I gingerly move my arm, finding small amounts of discomfort whenever I do so. Deciding I'd have to tend to the wound at a later time, I bring myself back to the reality at hand.