The spear rattled in his hand as Khalifa pushed forward in upped tempo. She had caught him at the exact moment he was shifting his grip along the lines of his spear and chose to abandon defense, throwing all her cards into one final gamble.
Ronan's boots skidded across the metal rust as he fought to keep upright against relentless tempo. Sparks of combat spewed out with each clash of steel.
Then his foot hooked between the decaying ribs of a dead predator. Nothing happened for a microsecond, then he felt the claws of gravity pulling on his edges. His balance toppled and he headed for the ground.
Khalifa didn't play with her food again. Her machete swept down in an arc, catching his weapon inside of him. The strike landed against the cracked point at the weapon's hollow.
A metal crunch later, it was spilt into two jagged shafts. One for each of his trembling hands.
The machete broke through with appreciable speed. It was headed for his abdomen, and something in her eyes said she wasn't planning on stopping. Maybe she would, but he wasn't foolish enough to call her bluff.
At the moment's final, instinct corroded thought. Ink burst forth like an angry geyser, quickly materialising into a black spear.
Clang!
The machete chipped and bounced off the ink spear without leaving a dent.
She stopped, and stared at him as he hung with one leg mid-fall.
"I thought we agreed on not using abilities?"
Ronan looked back at her with a nervous grin. "Come on, it's still a spear. Nothing new."
She blinked, unamused.
"Fine."
He had known Khalifa to be an aggressive lawyer, so having her agree so easily, was surprising to say the least. As he tried to straighten him back up, distortion exploded into him.
Like a wall crashing into an elderly lady, the pressure slammed him into the floor. Then it receded, but his limbs already felt like pretzels.
She walked over casually and placed the tip of her blade against his chest.
"Now," she said in heavy breaths, "that's a touch."
Ronan groaned lightly as he wriggled to make sure he still had the ability to. "That's the pinnacle of unfairness."
Khalifa shrugged. "You used your ability, I used mine."
She watched his frown grow deeper, then turned and started towards the stairs. A few steps later, she stopped.
"... need a hand?"
***
Six of them trudged forward with blank expressions. They were only six because their relocation had gone poorly. And strangely enough, the concluded battle had not influenced the uncoordinated movement.
"We should head west," one suggested.
"Based on what compass?"
"The terrain, it's easy to navigate through."
"That's not solid reasoning. The forest is constantly changing, that terrain might look nice, but could be covered in twigs and popping roots in the next second."
"So what do you propose?"
"That we head back."
"To square one?"
"It's the only landmark that we all know."
A third member ended the argument when he raised his hand to ask for silence. Something was moving ahead, and such petty talk already labelled them as free food.
The group fell into formation immediately.
Through the mist, they spotted figures moving between the trees. Not predators, but some worse.
Five armed humans. Five armed hostiles. These weren't ushers, so conflict was ensured.
The two groups noticed each other almost simultaneously. Nobody spoke, but the agreement was already there. Neither was small enough to bully or convince to join the other. And with those criteria unable to be met, they would have to follow the sacred laws of the forest; kill or be killed.
The clash erupted with vigor and without warning. An usher swung his axe against the approaching formation, forcing them to draw back and go around him. As they broke their locks, the other Ushers rushed around and lunged into them. The blades of the ushers flashed, ripping apart flesh in quick beats.
They struck first, but the hostiles struck harder. One of them spun, and flooded the sphere she had made with spirit, rendering the two men who were in it, blind for a few seconds. Another woman rushed in from the back of the crowd, lashing her twin blades out at the neck of the usher on the left.
His groan was the last of him, and he collapsed to the ground with a slit throat.
The woman barely finishing the motion when the female on her side rammed into her, but not out of her own will. The usher on the right had struck her with his shield, tossing her aside with the air current that mantled his weapon.
To the side, two men exchanged frantic blows, hoping to end the other before the other ended them. The hostile ducked under the usher's next blow and ended him in a rain of attacks. As he stood off him, a thrown knife caught him in the spine, sending him to the afterlife to continue his scuffle with the dead body beneath him.
Four versus four now, but the ushers had lost more men. Besides, one of theirs had only one arm left.
The hostiles pushed forward confidently, they could smell victory in the air. Alongside the rotting parts of the unfortunate.
Suddenly–
"Get down!" echoed a voice beyond the surrounding trees.
Then something sizzled through the air like hot eggs at supersonic speed.
A translucent string knocked through one of the hostile, before ghosting away behind the trees again. The man's steps instantly shook. He stumbled, then broke apart like glass.
They turned, and welcome the two newcomers into the battle with the same expression as someone who found out they were cancer positive.
One held a curved blade, one held her hands. That was enough for the hostiles to set priority. Two fighters charged for the woman, but they were too upfront about it. She flicked her fingers and more translucent strings shot out.
The second dodged, but the first wasn't as lucky. Within seconds, she was nothing more than organic shattered glass.
Then the one holding the curved blade whipped out. He wasn't as deadly as the woman was, but he was still a cause for fear. The second man intercepted him, gripping unto his weapon and wriggling it out of his hand, then planting a headbutt to his nose. He staggered, then jumped back, avoiding the vertical slice. The second hostile rushed for him, waving his blade out wildly. The curved blade wielder kept retreating, but with the expression of someone who was in control. Just as the second hostile committed to the strike, he stretched his hand out and recalled his blade back to him. In fluid movement, he spun and decapitated the hostile.
One remained, but didn't remain for much longer. They all swarmed him, and ripping him about collectively like birds pecking at meat. They should have realised how much they started to resemble cannibals, but victory blurred that detail for now.
Not because it was too potent, but because they had another matter to attend to...
...One that would determine how the count would drop from then on.