Corrin wasn't scared of the water. He was just being cautious.
At least, that's what he told himself as he skirted around the edge of the room, staying as far away from the edge of the pool as possible.
Eventually, he gathered up the courage to get a little closer, tense and ready to sprint for his hidey-hole in the wall at the slightest sign of danger. That sign never came though, the only sound was the somewhat distant roar of cascading water hundreds of yards away.
After what felt like hours of creeping around, getting closer and closer, and moving around the room, he finally decided he was probably alright for now. He retrieved his pack and dragged it over to his new hideout before searching through it and taking stock.
First, he downed some herbal medicine they always kept on them, it was supposed to help relieve some pain, stimulate the healing process, and help prevent infection. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but the doctor in town provided it for the tomb guards, so it was probably fine. The bitter, brown powder was dry in his mouth, and he grabbed the water flask from his pack to wash it down.
Corrin hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he pressed the flask to his lips, tasting the sweet water—warm though it may be. He quickly downed almost half of the flask before forcing himself to stop. He wasn’t sure if the water down here was drinkable or not, and he didn’t intend to find out. Best to ration what he had unless he didn’t have any other choice.
Next, he began to undress his upper body. His cloak and leather armor had taken most of the strikes, but the tunic underneath had still gotten torn significantly, and he needed to examine and bandage what he could. The leather came off easily when he untied the strap, but there was an uncomfortable peeling sensation as the tunic—caked with dried blood—slowly pulled from his skin.
Corrin realized how lucky he’d been in that moment, to have not died from simple blood loss. All the worst cuts had gone into muscled portions of his body. Thus, the bleeding wasn’t as severe as it could’ve been, though that was the point of the armor he supposed. He couldn’t see the wounds on his back, but he knew they were there from the stinging he felt as the shirt had come off, and he remembered the tearing sensation of the bats’ claws slashing across it. When he ran his finger across his back though, it didn’t come back soaked in blood, so that was good at least.
Their packs contained gauze and a medicinal salve from the surgeon as well. The salve was a thick, milky yellow and when he dipped his finger in, it had a distinct feel and smell that reminded him of honey.
Clean the wound, apply the salve, bandage the wound. Basic first aid and medicine were part of his guardian training, and though he hadn’t paid as much attention as he now wished, he was glad to remember at least that.
He looked at his waterskin wistfully. It just felt like such a waste…
Corrin poured the water over the cuts on his arms, then over his back, trying to rinse it with as little water as possible. He hoped that would work, as it was the best he could do with what he had on hand.
He went from cut to cut, applying the salve, and bandaging it tightly. With his back, he just rubbed it all over and bandaged as much as he could, until he was basically covered in gauze. Eventually though, he was sure he’d gotten them all, and moved onto the last step, binding his dislocated shoulder. He ripped apart a blanket in the pack and did his best to create a makeshift sling. It was sloppy–Wyn was the more versed of them in medicine—but it would hopefully get the job done.
Taking note of his surroundings once again, he found a piece of paper left by Wyn saying he’d be back with a longer rope. He must’ve been out for a while if he hadn’t been there during the first attempt. Corrin prayed he hadn’t slept through Wyn’s second rescue attempt, though since there wasn’t a note, he held out hope.
He was a little shocked that he hadn’t run into any more monsters since the thing in the water. He’d set off a firestone, and usually the sound of that would attract all sorts of unwanted company in the dungeon, though perhaps this was that giant creature’s hunting ground, and the rest of the monsters knew to stay away.
Somehow, the thought wasn’t very reassuring. After looking down one of the tunnels and confirming it was safe, Corrin rinsed his blood-soaked tunic and cloak in the stream water, rubbing out the filth as best he could. Once they dried, they’d hopefully be more comfortable to put on that when they were bloody.
He thought about making a fire, but he only had enough supplies to make it once or twice, and he didn’t want to waste them yet while he was still unfamiliar with the cave. The remainder of the blanket he spread on the ground, laying on the soft wool to rest. As much as it felt like he was wasting time, he’d need to save all the strength he could. For the time being, he gazed up towards the ceiling above, a dark black canvas dotted with points of blue and yellow like a strange other-worldly sky.
***
Hours later, his clothes were finally dry enough to wear. Though the tunic wasn’t entirely in one piece, it was still better than nothing, and would prevent his leather armor from rubbing against his skin, which might loosen his wrapping, or even agitate the wounds. Clothed and feeling much better than he had when he woke up, Corrin began to debate whether he should just hold out in the crevice until Wyn got back.
Without the constant pain and looming threat of the monster though, eventually his boredom won out and he began to venture towards one of the nearby tunnels. It was stupid, and it was reckless, but if this was the lowest floor, then any chance to examine some of the creatures at this depth would be useful. If it came to it, he could retreat into the crevice again.
He’d barely gotten even a glimpse at the last creature that attacked him, so if they were all like that, he and Wyn would have to—
A spike of pain shot through Corrin’s chest, and he doubled over on the ground, gasping as his heart beat louder and louder, feeling like it was going to explode. The pain was almost unbearable, some of the worst he’d ever experienced. He shoved down a scream through sheer force of will, until finally the burning began to ease, and his breaths came more freely.
“What… the hell… was that?” Corrin croaked painfully, wiping off the sweat dripping from his forehead. He’d been feeling so good too. Well, relatively speaking.
He staggered back to his feet as the aches receded, the pounding of his heart lessening.
As if the timing couldn’t be better, the sound of clattering stone snapped him back to his senses, and he looked down the tunnel nearest him to see a large figure staring back. It was smaller than the beast in the water, but still larger than a bear. Even hunched over, it was more than twice Corrin’s size. Upon seeing Corrin, it began to approach, and he could make out its form.
Contrasted against its bulky, almost bear-like frame, its arms were thin, and seemed disproportionate to the rest of its body, reaching down its knees. They were tipped with long, curved claws that shimmered like the crescent moon. The beast’s thick fur hung off its body like drapes, making it look even larger than it already was, and no doubt providing significant physical protection.
Corrin reached to his waist and pulled out the dagger, though he desperately wished he had his sword right about now. This small blade was hardly half the length of the monster’s claws, and his grip tightened as he forced his breathing to calm down.
What floor was this? The fifth? The sixth? Was he still technically on the third? He had no way of gauging how strong this monster would be, but it didn’t instill the same fear as the thing in the water. Corrin’s breath stilled as he came to a dangerous realization. With the length of its claws and slender limbs, hiding in the crevice wouldn’t be an option this time, it would be able to reach in and attack him even if he hid. He had to fight. Kill, or be killed.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
After a moment of consideration, the creature tilted its head and began walking towards him, its claws scraping across the ground as it moved.
He took a step back involuntarily, shrinking away from the new threat as his body refused to move how he wanted. All the while, the beast drew closer, unthreatened, until it was only a few yards away.
Damn it! He thought. Move Corrin. Move!
Corrin tensed his legs, adjusting his grip on his knife again. Muscles honed from years of effort contracted, storing energy as he licked his dry lips. The monster raised an arm back, claws ready to strike him down. Corrin sprang forward, swinging his knife to cut open its midsection.
The knife caught nothing but air, and the monster was gone. Corrin was skidding across the ground, quickly losing his balance and falling into a tumble, sending jolts of pain through his body.
What just happened?
His first thought was that he’d gotten attacked. But as his mind caught up, he realized the truth. It had happened so fast he almost missed it, but somehow, he’d run past it in the time it took him to swing his knife. He almost couldn’t believe it, but he’d moved impossibly fast. He’d only ever seen one person move like that before, eight years ago.
The beast turned slowly to look at him, as if it were confused as well. Corrin breathed in, and was filled with a sense of power, his vision sharpening. With a start, he realized it was like the feeling he’d experienced when fighting the bats, like his body was overflowing with energy, but magnified a hundred-fold. It was more than adrenaline, but he hadn’t felt it until the fight, so what was it?
He shot towards the creature, his vision blurring as he attempted to adjust to his newfound strength and speed. It was like trying to contain a storm, his body crackling with too much power for him to control, and it seemed like his legs were affected the most, making his movements lopsided and awkward.
A clumsy swing at the beast’s center of mass was all Corrin was able to manage at that kind of speed, but he didn’t even think it pierced its thick fur.
This time however, he was able to land, his feet sliding across the floor before his momentum was finally brought to a halt. There was no time to hesitate. He cut the sling off and grabbed his arm, popping it back into place, hissing through his teeth as pain flared up in his shoulder. It quickly diminished though, and he rolled it forth and back, confirming he had full range of motion.
Corrin turned back around to face the monster. He would be learning more about this new power after the fight, but for now he only had one thing to focus on. He held the knife out in front of him, forcing himself to smirk in feigned confidence, “You get to be my guinea pig. You should feel honored.”
The beast roared back at him, a deep, throaty trill, and Corrin cast a nervous glance at the water. If that thing showed up now, his fate would be in the hands of the spirits. The water remained unchanged though, and he turned back to the challenge in front of him.
The newfound power inside him seemed to tingle in anticipation, itching to be used. The power felt the strongest in his legs, so he tried to move it away, willing it to obey. It responded sluggishly, and it felt mentally like trying to roll a boulder uphill, but slowly, the feeling of strength in his legs began to fade, spreading to the rest of his body. He took a step forward and found that the visualization had worked, some of the power having moved away. His legs were still stronger than usual, but it was back into a realm he could control.
The beast, now able to track his movement, readied as he approached, drawing back its arms as it prepared to slash him. Since its reach was greater, Corrin would have to get past those claws to land a strike.
As the four claws streaked towards him from the side, he thrust the knife up to meet them, knocking the deadly blades just off-course enough for him to duck under them and spin to the right, traveling along the beast’s outstretched arm and slamming his dagger into its side.
The dagger was almost a foot long, but even driven up to the hilt, it only seemed to aggravate the monster further, and Corrin had to pull it out to avoid a follow up strike. It swung relentlessly at him, claws flashing back and forth as he danced away from it just as quickly.
As he backed away, he tried to weave in strikes against the monster, scoring several flesh wounds even while on the defensive. They fought ferociously, exchanging strikes back and forth as Corrin let his instincts take over completely. But he couldn’t ever land the decisive blow, and eventually his luck ran out, dodging right when he should’ve dodged left. The moment before the claws struck, he was able to bring his knife up and desperately slam it against them. Even still, the force of the blow knocked him away, and amidst the screech of the claws scratching against his steel dagger, their deathly sharp edges cut shallow gashes across his shoulder and forehead.
Corrin staggered up to his feet, no doubt looking like wounded prey, on its last legs in the eyes of the beast, which roared again in triumph. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe he just needed to feel something other than fear, most likely, it was the power surging through him, but in the dire situation he was in, Corrin felt himself grinning like a madman.
The beast roared again, basking in its perceived triumph as it stared him down.
Corrin didn’t bother to wipe the blood as it ran down his face. He gathered his frustration, his anger, and his fear, and roared back at the beast, accepting its challenge. His voice came out strained and hoarse, but he screamed it loud enough to echo off the walls of the cavern. And then, still yelling, he attacked.
The beast was ready to meet him, but Corrin was prepared. He’d gathered up all the power he could into his arm, so when he leapt into the air and swung, that power met the brute strength of the monster. The recoil sent a shockwave through his whole body, but this time, he was able to overpower the creature, knocking its arm aside and driving his knife deep into its neck.
He kicked off its body to avoid a counterattack, launching himself back fast enough that he tumbled into a roll, causing pain to shoot up into his injured shoulder.
Not wasting the time to stand, he shot forwards from a crouch, pushing the pain away as he jumped towards the creature’s neck, trying to hit it in the same spot again. Much of the power had fled his body after the last strike though, and it caused him to misjudge the height of his jump, only managing to hit it on the shoulder. He felt a crushing blow from his side as the power of a creature twice his size cracked against his ribs, sending him hurtling through the air.
As his vision spun, Corrin managed to right himself and land on his feet, greedily sucking air back into his lungs.
His field of view sharpened just in time to see the beast–now on all fours–barreling towards him like a bull. Corrin leapt into the air as it passed, but it caught his foot as it charged past, the sheer force causing him to flip in the air uncontrollably.
Corrin’s back crashed into the ground, but he didn’t have time to lay still. He forced himself to his feet. So far, he’d only scored two minor blows on the beast, if he stayed on the backfoot like this, he was certain he’d run out of strength before it did.
His attention was drawn back to the firestone in his pocket, sealed in its pouch. It could probably bail him out of this situation, but it was a last-resort method, and he wanted to save it unless he truly had no other choice.
He needed a plan; the monster’s range advantage was overwhelming, getting close enough to put him in his own striking range pit him up against its much larger size and weight. Something came to mind.
Oh it was a truly terrible idea. It relied on a skill he’d hardly practiced in years and had only picked up on a whim to begin with. But really, how bad could it go?
Very badly. But only if he messed up. So, he wouldn’t.
He took a deep breath as he drew his focus to a sharp point. The world narrowed until it was just him, and the monster. There was no room for fear, no room for doubt. He would kill it, or he would die. His grip tightened on the knife, and he could hear the crinkle of the leather handle, he saw the twitch of its legs before it began to move.
The beast rushed towards him again, its claws scraping across the ground in a terrible cacophony of screeches. Corrin rushed to meet it; knife held out as he yelled a sort of war cry.
As they drew nearer, he flipped the knife in his hand, grabbing it by the blade and drawing his arm back, trying to pool the energy into the limb. It was hard to tell exactly how well it worked, but the weight of the dagger in his hand seemed to lessen ever so slightly.
Time seemed to crystallize into a single moment as he planted his left foot, aimed right between its beady black eyes, and launched the dagger with every ounce of strength he could muster. For the briefest of moments, as his concentration heightened, he could see it turning end over end as it left his hand.
And then the moment passed, as a flash of silver streaked through the air and collided with the beast's right eye hard enough to knock its head back, sending it tumbling over itself in pain.
The dagger was still relatively small compared to the size of the monster, but Corrin suspected a knife to the eye wouldn't feel good, and the beast's enraged roars proved him right.
Corrin had already started running again, and in the split second of confusion and pain caused by the dagger, he had crossed the distance between them. Dodging wildly flailing claws, he launched himself onto the creature's head and pulled the blade out for another moment before driving it back in again, and again, and again.
There was no grace to it, no beauty in the way he savagely killed the monster which threatened his life, but in the heat of the moment Corrin could hardly think about that, much less care.
He stabbed it over and over, until the body beneath him finally stopped thrashing, and then gave it one more for good measure. In that moment, his strength failed him, and Corrin slid off its fur and collapsed onto the ground, panting like a dog.
As the adrenaline fled him, he realized how much pain he was actually in. His legs throbbed terribly, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t been hit there. But he just needed some rest, some rest would be great.
A moment later, he heard the sound of parting water, and another, familiar roar shook the caverns. Of course, it was coming from the direction he’d expect.
"Motherfu—"