as the knife approached his nick Zolma defended with his left hand allowing the knife to stab into his palm,hand clenched around the knife's blade as he moved his other hand near the girl's face and activated his [fire] spell.
'TAKE THIS B**ch!'
Alya's twisted smile morphed into a grimace of pain. The searing heat from his activated fire spell licked at her face, singeing her hair and scorching her skin. She screamed, releasing the knife, but the damage was done.
Zolma grimaced even more as he pulled the knife from his palm and used it to stab her in the nick, making sure that her screams wouldn't attract the attention of monsters and mutated beasts, but it was too late.
ominous sound filled the air—the distant rumble of a monster drawn by the commotion. Zolma's heart raced, his senses heightened as he knew he had little time before the creature arrived.
Ignoring the pain in his hand and the throbbing ache in his lower back, Zolma turned and fled into the darkness of the forest. Each step was a battle against exhaustion, his breaths ragged and labored. The wounds throbbed, sapping his strength with every stride. He knew that fighting a monster, regardless of how weak it was, was suicide with his current condition.
Branches whipped at his face, tearing at his clothes as he pushed deeper into the foliage. The forest seemed to close in around him, shadows dancing with malevolent glee, as if reveling in his torment.
But there was no time to dwell on the pain or the suffocating darkness. The distant growls of the approaching monster urged him onward, driving him to run faster, to push himself beyond his limits.
After what felt like an eternity of relentless pursuit, Zolma found himself standing at the edge of a small valley, its depths shrouded in the shadowy embrace of the forest. The sloping terrain offered both peril and opportunity—an increased speed for escape, but also the risk of losing control and colliding with the unforgiving obstacles that dotted the landscape.
Grim determination etched into his features, Zolma made a split-second decision. Instead of continuing his flight, he resolved to face the terror that pursued him, to confront it head-on and end the chase once and for all.
His grip tightened around the hilt of the knife, his knuckles white with tension, as he turned to confront his adversary. In the distance, the creature emerged from the darkness, a grotesque amalgamation of bull and wolf, its form twisted and malformed, its presence a testament to the horrors lurking within the depths of the forest.
Zolma's heart thundered in his chest as he assessed his foe. Despite its lumbering gait and short stature, the creature exuded an aura of primal strength, its massive maw and sinewy arms promising devastation to any who dared to stand in its path.
With a primal roar, the creature launched itself at Zolma, its movements fueled by savage instinct and hunger. Time seemed to slow as Zolma's training kicked in, his body moving on instinct.
In a desperate bid to evade the creature's charge, Zolma leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding its outstretched claws. As the creature hurtled past him, Zolma seized the opportunity, reaching out to grab one of its massive arms.
With a fierce determination born of desperation, Zolma drove the knife into the creature's neck. The creature didn't have a chance to respond to the stabs as it slipped into the valley, each thrust fueled by the primal instinct to survive. Despite its demise, the creature's dying spasms continued, thrashing wildly as Zolma clung to its fur, his grip unyielding even as they tumbled down the steep incline of the valley.
As they rolled and tumbled, locked in a deadly embrace, Zolma's world narrowed to the relentless rhythm of blade meeting flesh. Each strike sent shockwaves of pain reverberating through his body, but still he persisted, his will unbroken even in the face of overwhelming odds.
By the time they reached the bottom of the valley, the creature lay lifeless, its massive form crushed against a looming rock. Zolma released his hold on the beast's arms and attempted to stand.
"ughg cough cough cough!"
Pain surged through his entire body as he staggered to his feet, his vision blurred with agony. With one eye scanning his surroundings and the other blocked with dirt and blood, he knew he had to find shelter quickly before another predator arrived, drawn by the scent of blood.
Grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground, Zolma mixed it with water conjured from his [water] spell, using the makeshift paste to mask his wounds and conceal the scent of blood. Limping toward a small cave in the distance, he prayed for strength to reach it before collapsing.
Each step was a torment, every movement sending waves of agony rippling through his battered body. He could already hear the roars of monsters heading in the direction of the noise. With labored breaths and faltering steps, he pressed onward, driven by sheer determination. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of suffering, he stumbled into the shelter of the tiny cave and collapsed in exhaustion.
'Never give your back to a b*tch!' was the last thought that crossed his mind before closing his eyes.