The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

Dawn: The Refinament of The Florest (Críngu) - Part II

ACT II

Bucu, assuming a combative stance, advances with the whip in his hands, ripping through the air with a fierce crack. With each movement, he leaves deep marks in the grass, like scars in the earth. His features are taut in an expression of pure concentration, emerald eyes entirely focused on me.

My reflexes sharpen to the extreme, dodging the blows with feline agility, leaping nimbly to the side. I feel the wind generated by the whip pass dangerously close, almost kissing my skin. In response, I spin the Kurasi, the black crystal blade cutting through the air, sending a wave of lethal energy toward Bucu.

He barely blocks the attack with the whip. The sound of the impact is a thunder, the ebony shell trembling under the force of the blow. Bucu is thrown back, the impact making his feet slide on the grass, leaving a trail of upturned earth and small fragments of destroyed vegetation. A trace of surprise marks his features, with a light streak of blood running down the palm of his hands, the result of the violent shock.

The moment Bucu is thrown back, my focus shifts to Gálidus, who prepares to join the fight. The Kurasi staff becomes lightning in my hands, shooting towards him with frightening violence. Gálidus, with eyes widened in surprise and a scream stuck in his throat, barely manages to raise his defense before being hit squarely in the abdomen. The sound of the impact is a horrible crack, mixing with the snapping of his ribs. He is thrown back with tremendous force, his body colliding against a tree. The violence of the shock makes the tree twist, leaves falling like a green rain around it.

Gálidus falls to the ground, a muffled scream of pain escaping his lips. His body motionless, the abdomen severely wounded and bloodied. The blood stains the grass beneath him, a vivid and shocking red contrasting with the green of nature around. He struggles to breathe, each breath a torment, while he tries in vain to get up, his trembling hands grasping the earth for support.

Bucu, absorbing the shock of seeing Gálidus defeated, finds a new wave of wild determination. He launches himself in my direction, the whip in his hands cutting the air with impressive violence. His movements are so fast they seem like blurs in the air. Pulsating veins under his olive skin reveal the fierce effort he employs in each attack, while drops of sweat shine on his forehead, reflecting the intensity of the combat. His emerald gaze fixed on me, determined to bring me down.

Suddenly, Gálidus, pushing the limits of his pain, emerges from the shadows in a desperate attempt at a stealth attack. His fist, loaded with all the strength he can muster, aims for the back of my neck with the intention of ending the combat with a single brutal blow. However, with reflexes sharpened by battle, I notice the movement and, with an agile twist, dodge at the last moment. My counterattack is a quick but severe slap on the nape of Gálidus, a humiliating blow, reinforcing my superiority.

- "Too slow," I mock, a confident smile appearing on my lips, as my body dodges Bucu's whip with small, but precise steps.

The cracks of the whip are like gunshots, each aiming with lethal intent. Dodge after dodge, in a lapse, a minimal distraction, one of the blows grazes my shoulder, leaving a trail of blood. The cut is superficial, but the pain is a clear warning: any carelessness could be fatal. The blood begins to mix with sweat, running down my arm. The smell of violence mingling with the aroma of the flowers around.

Bucu's smile becomes a grimace of triumph at seeing the blood, his intensity increasing.

Gálidus, spurred by the humiliation of the slap, advances with greater fury. His movements are fast, a blur of attacks seeking to knock me out.

In the midst of evasive combat movements, my concentration is absolute. My movements are automatic, the result of years of hard training. But, behind every battle, there is a focus; this one is: to teach Bucu and Gálidus.