Kelvin steadied his breath, ignoring the stinging pain in his arm. His shield was gone, but he still had his sword—and more importantly, his mind.
The fiend snarled, its stance slightly uneven. It tried to mask the injury, but Kelvin saw it—the slight hitch in its movements, the way its weight shifted to compensate for the wound.
Good. You're hurt.
Kelvin took a step forward, lifting his broadsword, his gaze locking onto the fiend's glowing red eyes. He could see its instincts warring—attack or retreat? The corrupted beast had taken damage, but it wasn't out of the fight yet.
That was fine.
He wanted it to keep fighting.
With a sudden burst of speed, Kelvin lunged.
His sword arced toward the fiend's head, a seemingly reckless attack aiming to cleave straight through its skull. The fiend reacted instantly, ducking low and twisting its body to avoid the blow—just as he knew it would.
Because it wasn't just avoiding the strike.
It was shifting its weight to the uninjured side.
Right where he wanted it.
Kelvin twisted his grip, abandoning the follow-through on his swing. Instead, he pivoted his entire body, shifting his momentum downward. His blade, instead of overextending past the fiend's head, slashed low—toward the already-wounded section of its side.
The fiend realized the trap too late.
The sword struck deep, carving through the compromised armor plating, digging into flesh. The beast shrieked in agony, its body spasming as it staggered backward—directly into the crumbling ruins behind it.
Kelvin had already positioned himself near a weakened pillar, chipped and fractured from their battle. He slammed his shoulder into it, shoving the structure with all his strength.
With a deafening crack, the stone gave way.
A section of the ruins collapsed, and before the fiend could react, heavy rubble crashed down on it. Dust and debris erupted into the air as jagged stone crushed the creature beneath its weight.
Silence.
Kelvin exhaled heavily, his body tense as he watched the settling dust.
The fight wasn't necessarily over, but if the creature could still move after that, it would be in no condition to fight properly.
Kelvin rolled his shoulder, gripping his bloodstained sword. He had won—at least for now.