The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

The Refinement of the Forest (Críngu) - Part IV

ACT V

"It's just you and me now, Bucu," I announce, slowly getting up from the ground where Gálidus lies unconscious, an additional weight on the broken and bloodied orchids and roses around him.

Bucu stares at me, his eyes narrowing for the confrontation. Skillfully, he makes the kurasi and whip dance in his hands. "Don't forget that you're still without your weapon."

I respond with a defiant smile, despite the piercing pain coursing through my body. "Do you really think a weapon will make a difference now?" I retort, slipping Gálidus's gauntlets onto my wounded fists.

An urgent thought invades my mind as blood seeps between my fingers. "I need to end this quickly." Every second of hesitation, every movement, could be my last. Exhaustion looms threateningly, a reminder that my time is running out. "I can't fail now," I think, fixing my gaze on Bucu, prepared for the final showdown.

I advance towards Bucu, my muscles tensing, ready for action, while channeling my remaining energy into my legs. Bucu, sensing my charge, begins to spin the whip in a dizzying whirlwind, each movement a barrier challenging my advance.

I watch, calculating each movement. "He's on the defensive. I need to find a way through his guard." I think, analyzing the cadence and rhythm of his attacks. I feel a twinge of frustration mixed with the urgency to break his defense. "Are you going to stay there forever?" I provoke, hoping my voice reveals more confidence than I actually feel, trying to shake Bucu's concentration.

Bucu reacts to my challenge with a sardonic smile - "No, Críngu. Just until you pass out" - he responds, intensifying the rhythm of his movements, challenging my approach. He is fully aware of my weakened condition, watching the blood that incessantly flows through the wounds in my torso, and this only encourages him. "With those wounds, it certainly won't take long."

In a quick and precise movement, Bucu extends the spear of the Kurasi, its diagonal strike cutting through the air with deadly efficiency. I feel the blade pass by my face, a sharp and hot pain exploding beside my left eye. Blood starts to flow, staining my skin and partially obscuring my vision. The surprise and pain of the cut make me take a step back.

"I can't give in now," I think, wiping the blood from my face with the palm of my hand, throwing it to the ground in a symbolic gesture of challenge. "Focus, Críngu!" the voice in my head shouts, seeking to ward off the chaos of pains and distractions. I stare at Bucu, determined. "Using it in this training is outrageous," aware of the audacity of using the forbidden technique in this training, formulating a desperate strategy, feeling Bucu's pressure cutting the roses of my vanguard with precision. "Just once," I promise myself, retracting as the whips expand.

In an attempt to advance, Bucu manipulates the trajectory of the kurasi and grazes my leg.

"You won't get through, Críngu," he declares, the movements of his arms increasing in speed and strength. "No matter how many times you try. Your time is running out. Give up! You've already lost. You're just delaying our rest," he insists, oscillating his hands tirelessly. "I can keep doing this for a long time, I trained for it, and you know it," stiffening his forearm.

His provocation echoes in my ears, but I don't let his words shake me. The pain intensifies, but I remain firm. "Bucu is right, he can keep this up for hours," I think, analyzing the situation with a critical eye. I see the tension in his forearms, the determination in his eyes. But despite the pain and fatigue, something in me refuses to give up. "I can't fall now," I mutter to myself.

On the brink of being hit, I quicken my reflexes and duck, letting Bucu's whip cut through the air above my head. Quickly, with an almost instinctive movement, I tear off two sharp claws from the right gauntlet. One of them I firmly plant in the ground, the other, with precision, I throw towards Bucu. He, with surprising dexterity, strikes the claw in mid-air with his whip, deflecting it from its target with a sharp snap.