240: Fall From Grace
“BABYYYYYYYYYYY!!!” Wendy’s anglerfish-like head screamed as it watched Beatrice’s claw withdraw from her husband’s brain along with chunks of blackened brain matter.
With one of its two brains damaged, the already-weak monster lost control of its motor functions as it wailed its healthy and damaged limbs while Wendy howled in rage and terror.
Learning from her previous mistake, Beatrice did not give any chance for her opponent to recover. With her claws at their regular—but still decent—length and sharpness, she cut through Peter-head’s neck, tearing up the arteries and unleashing a stream of black blood that covered the succubus. That did not stop Beatrice. Even as the monster’s entire body trembled and fell into convulsions while a black aura seeped from many of the open wounds, Beatrice hacked Wendy-head’s neck, just as she did with Peter’s, unleashing more of the monster’s blood.
As the convulsions of the monster grew wilder and the black aura tore through it from the inside, Beatrice and Number Sixty-six jumped away from the monster. They could not know whether it would dissolve, explode or enter a whole new stage and transform into an even greater terrifying form.
“Many in the crowds wait with bated breath,” Thelicia commented. “Will the lovebirds be reborn from the ashes of this defeat? Or will they fall into the nothingness from whence they came?”
But while the aura that engulfed the monster grew more violent, it did not come even close to the power and spread from which the monster first appeared. And as the winds calmed down, they revealed two naked, human bodies, male and female, lying on the ground.
Peter laid motionless on his back. Though he was no longer a mutated, blackish, orcish monster, his body was covered in burns and wounds, his right arm was destroyed, his neck slashed, and a bloody hole through where his right eye used to be. Peter was dead.
The other body, however, Wendy, crawled on her stomach toward Peter. Human, just like before the terrifying transformation. Even her hair was no longer made of metallic braids. She was just a few feet away, just barely out of reach. But her body was just as bust-up as Peter’s. It’s not just our wounds, Beatrice thought as she looked at the extent of the damage throughout Wendy’s entire body. It wasn’t just the acid burns from Number Sixty-six vomit. Wendy’s flesh was cut open from shoulders to toes as if pierced by a thousand daggers. Beatrice was amazed that Wendy was still able to drag herself forward, even if it was an inch at a time while more blood poured from her split neck into the puddle under her.
Wendy stretched out her one good limb, her trembling hand toward her husband. Just a couple of inches to at the very least touch Peter’s shoulder. Just a little more…
“P-Phe… te…” Wendy weakly tried to utter her husband’s name before more blood gushed out of her mouth and throat. She was just barely out of reach of Peter when her arm fell powerlessly to the ground. Before she could reach her husband, before she could manage to properly say her husband’s name one last time, Wendy died.
Level up!
Additional Skill Point available!
Level up!
Additional Skill Point available!
Woah! Two levels in one go!? Beatrice was surprised but welcomed the reward for the unexpected challenge. The four thugs in the forest netted me a single level all the way back when. Whatever that was… What they transformed into. It must’ve really been a greater than average threat, for this city at least.
“Aaand nothingness it is!” Thelicia announced, disgusted with the crowd’s temporary favorite’s unsightly fall from grace. “It looks like trash is trash, no matter how much of it you stick together! What a way to disappoint a crowd!”
“BOOOO!!” The crowds voiced their frustration as more recently invalidated winner prediction tickets flew through the air and down into the abyss.
Beatrice wasn’t sure if the booing was directed toward the couple or the ones who beat them, or all four of them, but Beatrice was past the caring point. Whatever narrative that furball is building, it’s clear that I’m not meant to be the face of these games, Beatrice concluded, noting how easily Thelicia compared her and Number Sixty-six to cockroaches, and that failing to beat them meant the monster was trash. Probably for the best, as I’ll end up drawing less attention until further into the rounds.
“But despite their unexpected victory, neither of our little roaches have the luxury to celebrate!” Thelicia reminded the crowds. “Only one of them will live past the remaining deadline! Perhaps neither of them if they keep standing around idly!”
Just below the giant viewing sphere, the flaming numbers continued counting down the remaining time.
“8:52”