Defiance of the Fall Chapter 3: Battle Tactics

~6 minute read · 1,452 words
Previously on Defiance of the Fall...
Zac awakens in an unfamiliar glade, disoriented and confronted by two suns, one of which appears larger and more intense than the other. Realizing he must return to camp, he races through the forest, feeling an unnatural surge of speed and strength. Upon arrival, he discovers a monstrous creature devouring supplies, a grotesque hybrid with a powerful maw. As it charges at him, Zac manages to inflict a wound before the beast retaliates, inflicting deep gashes on him. Despite the pain and fear, he musters the courage to confront the beast, abandoning thoughts of escape for a chance to outmaneuver it.
Zac stole a quick look behind him, noting the demonling—as he had begun to label the thing in his mind—was still in pursuit. The creature didn’t seem deterred by the chase, though it appeared slightly dazed from its previous impact. Perhaps the bleeding laceration on its neck was finally taking a toll. Its pace had dropped, yet it was still gaining on him with terrifying speed. No longer possessing the luxury of worrying about his injuries, Zac ignored the agony in his mangled leg and sprinted toward the split boulder he had passed earlier. The movement caused his wounds to tear further, completely drenching his left leg in crimson. Every step was a nightmare of pain, but the sheer terror of death forced him to keep moving. He was certain this was his final opportunity. The brief dash had pushed his pain threshold to a breaking point, and the significant blood loss was making his vision swim. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of filth or toxins resided on a demon dog’s talons. Zac could only hope that his newfound supernatural strength included some sort of enhanced immune system. Reaching his destination at last, he sucked in several ragged breaths and spun around to face the beast, which was now roughly forty meters away. Noticing its target had stopped, the monster hesitated and slowed to a halt. The demonling let out a low growl and a hiss, the pitch far deeper than its size suggested. Zac feared the creature might simply wait for him to bleed out or, worse, call for backup. If it did, his narrow window for survival would vanish entirely. This confrontation needed to end immediately; the rhythmic throbbing in his legs was a constant reminder that his time was running out, reinforcements or not. "COME GET IT, YOU PIECE-OF-SHIT DOG!" he bellowed, silently frustrated by his lack of creative insults. He snatched up a stone and hurled it at the demonling with every ounce of strength. The rock traced a high arc through the air, missing the mark by several meters. Fortunately, the demon dog required very little provocation for violence. With a thunderous roar, it began charging directly at him once more. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his white-knuckled grip on the hatchet. It was now or never. As the beast closed the distance to three meters, Zac threw himself to the side with everything he had left. This time, the monster anticipated the move and managed to lash out, catching him in the calf. While the wound didn't feel as deep as the others, it burned like fire. The demonling’s own momentum carried it forward, wedging it deep into the narrow crevice of the split boulder. The gap was barely wide enough for its frame, and it became firmly stuck once its secondary legs hit the stone edges. A heavy thud echoed as the creature slammed into the rock, sending gravel and stone chips flying amidst an angry, pained howl. Knowing he couldn't afford a moment's hesitation, Zac scrambled to his feet. The pain was overwhelming, but the adrenaline surging through his veins kept him upright. This was the opening he had fought to create; if this failed, he was out of options. Offering a silent prayer to some forgotten god of lumberjacks, he gripped the hatchet with both hands and swung with all his might at the base of the creature's spine. He hoped that these hellish spawns shared a similar anatomy with natural animals, where a severed spine would paralyze the nerves or perhaps nick a major artery. The blade struck true, slicing through the spine and burying itself deep. A massive spray of blood erupted followed by a sharp yelp of agony. The creature's powerful hind legs collapsed instantly, and it slumped toward the earth. However, even though it was trapped, the demonling was still dangerous. It thrashed violently in response to the blow, and one of its four remaining legs kicked out, striking Zac squarely in the midsection. The force sent him flying backward, the hatchet slipping from his grasp. He hit the ground hard, the air driven from his lungs. He didn't stop to assess his deteriorating condition, immediately forcing himself back up. The world tilted dangerously as he stood, but he fought to maintain consciousness. The scene before him was more promising than he had dared to imagine. Both of the beast's rear legs were limp, and a pool of dark red blood was rapidly forming beneath it. His strike must have severed a major vessel, as blood was gushing from the spinal wound in far greater volumes than the minor cut on its neck. The monster still had some fight left, however, as it struggled with some success to pull itself free from the rocks. It continued to roar desperately, perhaps calling out for others of its kind. Determined not to let that happen, Zac moved forward cautiously. He grabbed the axe and, with a sharp pull, wrenched it from the monster's lower back. He quickly retreated a few steps to avoid any further thrashing. This time, the beast only managed a faint snarl. Blood poured even faster from the open gash; it seemed unlikely the creature would survive even if he walked away now. Taking no chances, Zac stepped in and delivered a powerful baseball swing, burying the axe into the creature's torso in hopes of hitting the lungs or heart. A sickening thud followed, and more blood flowed out. The beast's movements slowed to a crawl, and its roars faded into weak whimpers. Zac didn't stop, swinging the hatchet repeatedly until he finally collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. A wave of heat washed over his body, likely from the intense exertion. By now, the entire left side of the monster was a gruesome mess of wounds. It had stopped moving entirely, and no further sound came from its maw. Its head and front paws remained wedged between the boulders, the limbs mangled from its frantic attempt to escape. Zac didn't know much about the durability of a demonling, but it looked thoroughly dead. He sat up with great effort, trying to catch his breath. As his heart rate slowed, the grim reality of his situation set in. He was injured—badly. He looked like a madman, covered from head to toe in a mixture of his own blood and the monster's. It felt like a miracle he was still alive given the blood loss, and without medical attention, he knew he wouldn't survive the night. He pushed himself up and began a shaky trek back toward the camp. He considered shouting for help again but quickly dismissed the thought. He couldn't risk attracting another predator when he had no strength left to fight. The walk that usually took thirty seconds felt like an eternity. Finally, he reached the wrecked campsite. The camper remained beside the car, though it was now covered in dents. Their cooler had been overturned, leaving beer and water scattered across the ground. Ignoring the chaos, he limped toward the open door of the camper. They had been smart enough to pack a high-quality first aid kit for the trip. He knew he needed a hospital, but without a driver, that wasn't an option. At the very least, he could clean and bandage his wounds, performing enough field triage to hopefully last until he reached civilization. For the first time since his return, Zac noticed the lack of blood or remains in the camp. While he hadn't wanted to face the thought earlier, he had assumed the demonling had butchered his friends. If an attack had happened here, there should have been signs of a struggle. He doubted the four of them could have escaped such a beast on their own. The hatchet he held was the only real weapon they had, aside from basic kitchen knives. Even with the axe, he had only survived through sheer luck and strategy. His enhanced physical stats had been vital, but they wouldn't have been enough for his friends to face a monster that was faster and stronger than a bear. Unless they had received the same kind of strengthening he had, they would have been nothing more than prey. He looked around cautiously as he reached the camper. The car was empty, and the camper was silent. "Guys? Hannah? Are you in there?" he croaked, his voice low for fear of being heard by something else. Only silence answered him.