The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

The Refinement of the Forest (Críngu) - Part III

ACT III

After that training on the green field, the shadows of the trees stretch out, silently accompanying the advance of the seasons. The grass, once marked by fierce combat, has now regenerated, a subtle metaphor for the transformation that has occurred in us.

In the fresh mornings that follow, Bucu and Gálidus emerge from the mists of dawn with a new posture. In their eyes, the youthful impetuosity has given way to a maturity forged in the furnace of hard training days.

Our daily battlefield has become a place of silent understanding, where every movement is a dialogue, every blow a lesson. Bucu, who once wielded his whip with untamed fury, now articulates strategies with the tranquility of a river that knows its bed. Gálidus, whose anger was his fuel, found calmness as a new ally, becoming a contained storm, ready to burst with precision.

The flowers that witnessed our first confrontation are now witnesses to our evolution. In this cycle of training and reflection, nature around us has subtly changed, following the rhythm of the seasons. The roses and orchids, which were once the stage of our brutality, now embrace our journey with the softness of their petals and the fragrance of their flowers.

With a mix of determination and humility, Bucu and Gálidus prepare for the imminent battle. They know they have much to prove, not only to me but to themselves, having learned the lesson. Adrenaline envelops us as the battlefield becomes the stage for the final confrontation.

I assume an imposing stance. My confidence is evident in my penetrating gaze. I am ready to face my opponents again, eager to witness if they will be able to overcome their previous flaws.

Bucu and Gálidus, aware of my strength, exchange a determined look, ready to face whatever comes next.

With an explosion of violence, I initiate combat, unleashing a series of powerful attacks with the kurasi, testing the resilience and cunning of my opponents.

Bucu and Gálidus, now more refined in their techniques, dodge with impressive dexterity. Bucu, in particular, wields his whip masterfully, launching it in my direction. This time, the speed is accompanied by precision, and I can't dodge.

The whip wraps around my arm, the ebony shell tearing the armor and skin, taking some of my blood along with the torn pieces of armor.

On the other side, Gálidus, observing my moment of vulnerability, prepares to advance. His gauntlets transformed into deadly claws, aiming at my torso. Each blow is delivered with controlled fury. I manage to dodge most, but one hits me squarely in the flank. I feel the claws tear my skin, a warm, sticky heat spreading quickly across my waist, blood flowing freely, a red signature of violence.

With a grunt of pain and fury, I react instinctively, launching a devastating punch towards Gálidus. My fist meets his face. The impact is so brutal that Gálidus's facial bones crack, his eyes rolling back as his body is thrown into the air, spinning uncontrollably before falling heavily to the ground.

I turn to Bucu, breathing heavily. Without delay, he attacks me with a series of whip lashes, each faster and more lethal than the previous. I dodge, spin, jump, but I am surprised by Gálidus who resumes aiming a punch at my chest. The blow is fast, but I dodge by deflecting his hand, however, this fraction of a second of distraction is all Bucu needs, hitting me in the back with the whip, leaving a burning trail of blood and torn flesh.

The scream that escapes my throat is not of pain, but of challenge, and I advance. Bucu and Gálidus, however, present a perfect synchrony between them. Their abilities, once crude and undisciplined, now intertwine in a unique way, allowing them to predict my movements and coordinate their attacks impeccably. Bucu, with his whip, draws deadly arcs in the air, while Gálidus, with calculated movements, seeks gaps in my defense.