Hope moved like a shadow, his twin daggers flashing as he weaved between the Centaur's devastating attacks.
Kelvin had taken the lead, acting as the spearhead of their assault force, drawing the abomination's attention while Hope and Walker attempted to flank it.
But it wasn't enough.
Hope had tried to land a Phantom Strike, A precise, lightning-fast lunge meant to bypass defenses—
Yet—
He hadn't even scratched the Centaur.
The abomination's movements were too sharp, too calculated.
It could see through him.
Each time he lunged, the Centaur shifted, its unnatural reflexes allowing it to dodge at the last possible second.
Hope gritted his teeth, narrowly ducking under a wide sweep of the creature's spear.
The wind pressure alone cut through his sleeve, leaving a shallow red line on his arm.
Too fast.
Too strong.
And the worst part—
Kelvin wasn't fairing much better.
Kelvin's Desperate Struggle
Kelvin was exhausted.
His armor, as durable as it was, had taken a severe beating.
Dents, cracks, scorch marks— every inch of it bore the evidence of their desperate struggle.
His shield, the last thing keeping him alive, was barely holding together.
Each time the Centaur's spear clashed against it, it sent tremors up his arm, his muscles screaming in protest.
He had blocked, parried, deflected—
But it wasn't enough.
The Centaur was playing with them.
Kelvin knew it.
It had yet to go all out.
That realization sent a chill down his spine.
And then—
CRACK.
The final spear strike shattered his shield.
Kelvin felt the impact blast through his body, sending him reeling backward.
His vision blurred, his ears rang, and for a moment—
He couldn't breathe.
His arm, the one that had held the shield—
Useless.
A deep, searing pain spread from his wrist to his shoulder.
He tried to move it—
Nothing.
The Centaur had broken something.
Kelvin forced himself to his feet, his greatsword dragging against the dirt, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.
His mind was screaming at him—
Move! Get up! Fight!
But his body was slowing down.
If he took one more direct hit…
That would be it.
Hope's Realization – They Had Underestimated It
Hope's breath came ragged as he watched Kelvin struggle to rise.
Damn it.
They had underestimated this thing.
The Centaur wasn't just some mindless abomination.
It was intelligent.
Every move it made was measured, precise, and tactical—
It was studying them.
It had read their attacks, adjusted, adapted.
And now—
It was time to finish them.
Hope's eyes darted to Walker, who was barely holding himself together.
Blood dripped from his side, staining the ground beneath him.
He was still standing, still clutching his cutlass, but it was obvious—
He wouldn't last much longer.
Kelvin—
Was already on his last legs.
And Hope—
Was the only one left uninjured.
Which meant—
If they wanted to survive this fight—
It was up to him.
The Centaur's helmeted gaze locked onto him, its red eyes burning like twin embers in the darkness.
Hope's grip tightened around his daggers.
No more hesitation.
No more wasted movements.
If they had any chance at winning—
He would have to bet everything.
The Fight Wasn't Over Yet.