Fril retreated. He was injured, his speed significantly limited. But his opponent was also hurt. He limped, and his face was scratched. He bled from dozens of wounds, and Fril could feel how the man was slowing down as well. He's going to die!
This realization immediately frightened Fril. The man would die one way or another. In the eyes of his opponent, Fril saw that he had also understood this. What was terrifying was that the man had lost all caution. His only goal now was to drag Fril with him into death.
He was like a wild animal, trying to drag its killer into the grave with its final breath. Fril knew this state well. Almost every Polykenas was the same. Just before death, when they lost all caution and restraint, they became the most dangerous.
But Fril didn't intend to die now. Not because he feared death, but because he had to complete the task of the Duce.
The man swung his broadsword. The hallway was far too narrow, but the man simply ignored it. His sword crashed through the ceiling and walls, smashing grids and doors as he attacked Fril over and over again. Fril couldn't find a single opening in these maddened attacks. He attempted to leap toward the ceiling, but in the next moment, it cracked and splintered apart. Fril quickly scanned his surroundings—there was only one way out that didn't involve getting past the man: deeper into the dungeon.
Fril cast a swift, wary glance behind him. A dark, twisting tunnel stretched out, its depths swallowing the light. It was narrow, suffocating, and eerie, likely the place where prisoners were forced to toil in the darkness. But he couldn't just run blindly into its shadows.
No, Fril had a far better plan, one that would make the man regret ever pursuing him.
He dodged the next strike from the man and jumped to the side. The man immediately closed the gap, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
He destroyed the wall Fril had aimed for and tore a hole through the prison cell on the other side.
But Fril swiftly dodged the strike, and instead of retreating, he charged straight at the man. The man, caught off guard by Fril's boldness, lunged with his sword—but it was sloppy, a wild and unrefined attack. Fril danced out of its reach effortlessly, his movements precise and fluid, leaving the man flailing in frustration.
While running, Fril pulled a small stone from his pocket. A tiny symbol was etched into its surface.
Fril pressed his claw onto it and gave the stone a taste of his magic
Immediately, the symbol glowed in a bright blue light, illuminating everything around him.
Pain coursed through Fril's body.
Symbols written by Symbolics could be incredibly powerful, but it was very difficult for others to activate them.
The more powerful the effect, the harder it was for foreign magic to activate it. The Duce could use the Fortress's symbols because he had the support of millions of Polykenas. Additionally, Ramor had added thousands of symbols to the fortress, making it easier for the Duce to use them.
Fril faced an even bigger problem. His magic was bound within his body. Mages like Xersies or Ester could easily release their magic, but for both Fril and Shire, it was a difficult task. That's why Fril usually avoided using symbols, but he had to try!
Fril jumped at the man, aiming to hop past him, but the man was furious.
He ignored everything, but he wasn't stupid. His sword was too large to block Fril, so he raised his fist and struck Fril with full force. The hallway was just too narrow to dodge his hit.
Fril hissed and raised his claws into the air. The man's blow hit him directly. It struck with the force of a comet.
The stone in his hand glowed and shattered as it absorbed nearly the full force of the blow.
Still, Fril was thrown back. He crashed through the grate door, blocking the entrance to the tunnel behind him.
There, he tumbled down a steep slope, rolling as he went. Fril drove his claw into the archway and stopped himself. Slowly, he sat up and waited.
The man sprinted into the tunnel and looked at Fril. His eyes widened in surprise; he had expected Fril to be nothing but a pile of broken bones.
The human hadn't realized that he had blocked the blow with the power of the stone. But Fril also had his regrets.
The Stone had been the only one he possessed. All five generals had one. Ramor had explained that only an incredibly rare mineral could have this symbol etched onto it. They owned a very small amount of it.
Symbols couldn't simply be drawn anywhere. Each symbol had its criteria. Some symbols could only be drawn on certain surfaces, while others could only be painted on specific resources or at a certain time.
That was why Ramor researched new ways to create and craft symbols every day. It was an art like no other. Every symbol was unique. A single line, even a tiny dot, could completely change the nature of a symbol.
Only Symbolics could understand how to alter a symbol to create a new or better effect. Fril's understanding of this power was vast, but he still knew only the tip of the iceberg of the most complicated and extensive form of magic.
The man was already charging at Fril. Fril stumbled back, but the man noticed that he wasn't putting proper weight on one of his claws.
The man felt he was very close to victory. He laughed as he ran toward Fril again.
Fril widened his eyes, turned, and ran. He was just slightly faster than the man. He limped on his front claw, and one of his hind legs was paralyzed, dragging uselessly behind him.
Fril heard the man running behind him. He saw a passage ahead that branched off the main tunnel and immediately sprinted into it, the man close on his heels.
Fril hissed in frustration and desperation, which only spurred the man on more. He forced all his muscles to their maximum as he pursued Fril.
He began to catch up. Fril didn't distract himself but ran into another passage. He ran madly. The man grew more and more frustrated.
With every passing second, he lost more blood. He felt his muscles weakening, his heart raced, desperately trying to renew his blood, but his wounds were too deep. Even his enhanced body, which had accelerated regeneration, couldn't heal them so easily. But he was so close to victory. He needed to push just a little bit more!
Finally, the passage opened into a large cavern. Everywhere in it were outcroppings where slaves had mined ore. The man laughed in glee when he saw there was no exit from the cave.
Fril realized this too. He sprinted and tried to leap at the wall, but with only two functioning claws, he couldn't find any holding, and gravity pulled him back down to the floor.
He turned around and saw the man slowly and casually approaching.
He let his sword drag lazily along the floor behind him. He grinned at Fril. "You fought bravely, little rat, but this is where it ends. There's no escape! Your biggest mistake was attacking me, Kile Fredin, and my family. That's why I'll slaughter you here in the dark! After that, I can die with a smile, knowing I've avenged them!"
Fril looked at Kile with fearful eyes. He had lost! As Kile trotted toward him, he slowly raised his sword into the air. Fril looked at him, not even attempting to dodge. This only strengthened the feeling of victory in the man. His grin widened. "This is going to feel so good!"
With that, the man swung his sword down at Fril.
Suddenly, Fril's eyes flashed, a dangerous glow appearing in them. Immediately, the man felt something was wrong, but by then, it was too late.
Fril raised his claw, which Kile had thought was broken. He knocked the sword aside, and in the next moment, he was in front of the man. He jumped at his chest and, with two quick strikes, severed the nerves and tendons in his arms. The man screamed and staggered backward. He hadn't had time to react. Fril was simply too fast!
The sword fell from his hand as he lost all feeling in his arms and hands. Fril didn't give him a chance to react; instead, he jumped behind him and severed the nerves in his feet. The man fell forward onto his knees.
Slowly, Fril walked around him. His rear leg also seemed to be fully functional again.
"W…What?" the man stammered.
Fril smiled at him, baring his sharp teeth. "Oh, Kile Fredin, I must say, you were the most exciting opponent I've faced in decades. I was caught off guard, I never expected to encounter such a strong opponent in a human world. My skills had gotten rusty, and I have to thank you for showing me how slow I've become."
He approached Kile on all fours, sitting leisurely in front of him, and shoved him in the chest. Kile fell backward, and Fril slowly walked around his body.
"But the same was true for you. You were too overconfident. From the start, you thought you would win. If you had been a bit more observant, you might have noticed sooner that the paralysis in my hind leg had disappeared. But all you could think of was killing me. You were led by your anger and sorrow. They kept you going and made you stronger, but they also made you stupid. You never thought about what might happen if I wasn't actually injured and was just luring you into a trap."
Now, Fril looked down at him. He was right next to his head, his glowing yellow eyes staring into Kile's. Kile understood immediately. He knew he had lost, there was nothing more he could do. He had been an idiot, so convinced of his superiority that he had underestimated his opponent.
That had cost him his life. He sighed, "I accept my death." his voice was weak and had nothing of the strong aura from before. Now that his anger had faded, all that remained was the feeling of death steadily approaching.
Fril looked deeply into his eyes. Respect was in his gaze. It was his nature as a Polykenas to respect strength. "Thank you for the good fight!" he said and then bit into the man's throat.
Kile convulsed, and then Fril tore his throat out and swallowed it down. The man felt his lungs filling with blood. A final tear rolled down his cheek as the light of life faded from him. He was dead…