Shattered Line

Chapter 24: Damaged Goods

Her aura wavered on empty. Between the spell casting and the regeneration, the latter lost. Add her exhausted physical and mental state, and her future looked grim. Even if this mercenary group worked to assist, relying on their victories proved daunting. No, more like foolish.

With dusk approaching, they raced through the second ring. Their dramatic fight had drawn contestants for the ring's dominator. They exchanged the King's ultimate power for ferocity and tenacity. These creatures would hunt until they devoured their prey, not a morsel less.

Isla passed a thick tree, slamming her palm into the rough bark, her aura infusing. She paused the spell's release and continued.

Beyond the spot, she snapped her fingers, evoking the magic. The spell ruptured the tree and the upper half crashed upon their pursuers.

She repeated the action. Her palm throbbed with each pulse. The pale white changed to bloody red.

Her breathing quickened and the growls faded. The thumping of her heart overwhelmed her ears. Still, her sight scoured the forest nooks and the encroaching darkness camouflaging the darkened creatures.

One hidden dweller barreled into Slate. A navy-blue smog engulfed the creature. The force launched him, his body tumbling. Fumes funneled from the contact point.

Isla stopped and pooled aura into her hand, compressing the energy. She hurled the magic packet, providing both fuel and direction.

The projectile burst into flames, the pellet soaring and knocking into the creature. A crunch rang as the magic collided with the fur coating. The strength flung the foe backwards, smashing the cloud rendered beast into a tree.

"Hurry, idiot," Varnis shouted as he fended off pursuers.

Slate staggered to his feet, grasping his side. A grimace draped his face. His gaze entrapped hers and the scowl deepened.

"Idiot," she mocked before skirting him and joining Varnis. Only amateurs relinquished their senses in peril. He was hurt. And now a hindrance.

They resumed their retreat, the forest thickening. Isla remained attentive, listening to the fleeting footsteps.

Without delay, she struck the oncoming tree. Again, her aura delved deep. She compelled the magic, warping the energy to her desired shape—an earthen wall.

The creatures stalking their tail dashed headlong into the barrier. No screams or yelps shattered their chase. Their heads smashed the blockade, crushing their skulls and sniffing their life.

Their escape continued but a small respite was granted. Still, their pace slowed and death aggregated the scavengers. How much longer could they last?

Her muscles and bones creaked. One pause and she would collapse. What point did this pain bring? She could stop. She could surrender to calmness and darkness. So why? What purpose did this reckless survival achieve?

"A little right," Ham yelled between hacking coughs. They changed directions based on Ham's information. "There! The door to the third ring."

They rushed the haze. The pursing beasts growled and snapped their tail. Almost there, she had no choice. No other option. The end goal was visible.

The barrier beckoned mere feet away. Varnis sidestepped ahead and pivoted, facing their hunters. His lance guarded the front with determination imprinted upon his stance. His eyes manifested no hesitation and no tenseness. He would protect them.

Ham and Wolfe disappeared across the transition point. Slate followed after, his injured self a stride in front.

She clenched her hands. Forget the comfort she sought within death. Right here, right now, she would lose far more than a paltry respite.