"Grab Burtu!" Marichi shouted as he sliced the incoming hands. Some plunged into his shoulders, causing him to stutter and cough up a mouthful of blood, but he ruthlessly sliced them off and pressed onward.
He didn't remove the hands lodged in his shoulders, either for lack of time, or to staunch the blood flow, or perhaps a desperate combination of both.
Jorel, now on his feet, picked up the slowly regenerating Burtu, who was groggily regaining consciousness. Jorel used his meager strength to push forward against the wave of extended hands. He advanced, using Burtu's body as a living shield, cutting and removing the hands that became lodged in Burtu's flesh.
"Wha…" Burtu's eyes snapped open as hands filled his wounds, but his brief awareness was cut short again. Hands dug deep into his gut, getting stuck midway through his continuously healing body.
"Now what?!" Jorel shouted, feeling the sheer force of the hands slamming into his corpse-shield.
"Try to get as many of his hands stuck in there as you can!" Marichi shouted, sidestepping with dizzying speed as the hands curved wildly in his direction, consumed by the singular intent to kill him.
He stabbed the incoming hands in a calculated frenzy, a precise ballet of violence. Then, he ran around Lezschill's monstrous form, trying to get close to Jorel.
How does he expect me to do that? I'm on my last legs here!
Jorel scorned in his mind, gritting his teeth, as he continued using Burtu's continuously reanimating corpse as a shield.
If we could get his hands stuck in Burtu's body, that could buy us enough time to completely cut off his head. Marichi dodged a hand that almost cut deep into him, a near miss that sent a shiver down his spine.
This whole plan might not even work.
But what else can I do?
He thought, his gaze fixed on the fleeing Marichi.
Marichi finally caught up to Jorel, quickly ducking behind him. He reduced his frantic pace, allowing his body a moment of desperate relaxation.
"This your plan…" Jorel groaned, feeling his body weakening, every muscle screaming in protest.
"It will work! Keep pushing on!" Marichi shouted, his hand pushing Jorel's body from behind, forcing each agonizing step forward.
Each forward step was accompanied by a grotesque, harmonious mix of red and black blood, as Burtu's consciousness continuously flickered, coming to and fading away.
Why are you stressing so much for them?
Just kill them?
You know you can do it easily.
What's taking so long?
A chilling voice, ancient and insidious, resounded within Lezschill's mind.
"I-I can…" He groaned, a guttural sound of internal conflict.
Then do it…
Or is it because you're tired?
Or…
…Wait… You want to die?!
The voice became high-pitched, laced with a sudden, shocking realization.
Then keep that man as your seedling.
You already killed him first.
I don't like being here…
A childlike voice, frail and weary, resonated in Lezschill's head, a stark contrast to the dominant, malevolent one.
I'm going to do what I want to do!
And if I die!
Then so be it!
Flashes of a younger version of himself, standing on the edge of a cliff, water raging far below, flickered through Lezschill's mind.
His mind momentarily lapsed, consumed by the vision, by memories rushing in----memories he couldn't physically see but could feel, deeply etched in the folds of his brain.
But I'm not going down without a well-earned fight!
Been here far too long anyway.
He grated his throat, letting out a raw shout, then contorted his hands, forcing them to bypass Burtu's body and strike directly at Jorel.
Jorel's eyes immediately lost all hope, his body devoid of strength, capable of nothing but pushing on. Just as the grasping hands were about to touch him, Marichi stabbed and cut them down, a desperate shield, protecting Jorel.
Burtu, defying all logic, now seemed to possess a stable awareness, no longer truly passing out when he died. He shouted in agony as his body immediately regenerated, his cries merging with the labored grunts of Jorel, pushing his body to its absolute limit.
---The end of chapter 37---