Peak-Stone and five others closed in as one.

Their footsteps utterly silent in the massive expanse, three approached from the rear while Peak-Stone and her two protégés attacked from the front. The twirl of her twin daggers leaving behind the faintest shimmering trails.

The visibility of her blade heart a clear sign of her mastery.

The two groups converged, striking out in well trained unison—Peak-Stone bringing down her blades in a diagonal cross, while the rest thrust their own assortment of blades, axes, and spears simultaneously. Boxing the slave in from every conceivable direction.

Just as their weapons were about to pierce the slave’s hide however, the impossible happened.

A sudden eruption of crimson exploded out from its body as if, in that very instant, all of the blood in its veins were violently expelled. Transforming into a series of deadly crystalline shards thereafter. Several foot long jagged blades that quickly began to revolve. To churn around its body at increasingly rapid speeds. His sworn too stunned, too committed to the attack, to respond in a timely manner.

The storm of blades disemboweled those unfortunate enough to own especially close ranged weaponry, shredding any and all weapon forces arrayed against it into little more than faint ripples on the air as it did so.

What in the name of the master was that?!

Before Bright-Burner could fully comprehend it, however, the slave’s relentless assault continued. As Peak-Stone and her chosen staggered back in pained surprise, blood streaming freely from copious wounds, the crimson shards first slowed, then swiftly retracted. Only to be replaced by twelve-inch-long claws made of that same crystalline material.

What could only, in retrospect, be…!

Something Bright-Burner hadn’t known existed or had even thought possible.

Condensed blade force…?!

Yet there they were, sprouting from its knuckles like retractable claws. So impossibly vivid and densely compacted that it physically hurt to lay one's eyes upon. Then, with a twist of its body and sweep of its arms, it brought its claws to bear in a brilliant crescent arc. Gouts of blood trailed on twining ribbons of crimson smoke, as the heads of all six of his sworn were sent flying.

A great bellow echoed throughout the vast space as Silver-Mane was made to witness the death of his mate. A seismic impact rocked the cavern floor a second later—a rippling wave of fractured stone, at least three head heights tall, expanding outwards from the initial point of impact.

The clan-born’s massive hammer strike.

In response the slave, unable to run from, around, or underneath the incoming wave, did the only thing left to it.

It went over.

A mistake on its part, though Bright-Burner was, frankly, still too stunned to fully appreciate it. Knowing the tactic well by now, Bright-Burner could only watch as the slave launched itself into the air, in order to avoid the rippling wall of stone, only to be met with a different kind of wall on the way up. Because the wave had never been intended to wound the slave.

Not initially.

Belying his imposing stature, Mud-Berry didn’t brace himself for impact as one might’ve expected, but instead ran towards the encroaching calamity full tilt.

Then, when the timing was just right, he jumped—the crest of the seismic wave, if anything, helping to propel him even further. The well-practiced maneuver was carried out flawlessly, carrying the male up and over the wave, and directly into the path of the oncoming slave.

In that moment he wished he could’ve seen the surprised look on the slave's face, though its death would simply have to do as consolation. Through main-force alone, Mud-Berry swung his mighty shield around to bat away the slave, as one might swat away a fly. Its airborne privileges abruptly provoked, the slave careened helplessly towards the ground.

And, more specifically, into the path of a hammer already set in motion. Right before its hide was obliterated by the flat of the weapon, however, another explosion of what had to be hundreds of crystalline blades erupted from its body—erasing all of the smashing force imbued into the blow and cutting deep divots into the time-honored relic.

As a result, the almighty swing from that gigantic hammer sent the slave flying, though not nearly as far as it should have.

The slave flipped several times through the air, until it somehow, implausibly, managed to land squarely on its feet. Granted, it wasn’t as if the thing had come away unscathed in the exchange. Staggering, it took several drunken steps before it steadied itself, and even then, its hind legs didn’t appear to be entirely stable.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

So, the thing isn’t invulnerable after all.

In its disorientation, however, the slave failed to react in time. Meanwhile his sworn did not fail to capitalize. Caught flatfooted as both warriors rapidly approached from either side. The thing in no position to step aside or vault away as death loomed ever closer.

From the left, Mud-Berry with his massive shield. And from the right, Silver-Mane with his ancient hammer. The two were drenched in so much smashing force that the floor at their feet didn’t just crack, it crumbled.

For a brief moment, Bright-Burner dared to hope, before the largest eruption of blades he’d seen thus far shrouded all three in a maelstrom of glittering crimson. When, after less than a second had passed, the whirling sphere of crystalline blades finally cleared, it revealed the two clan warriors, slightly worse for wear, undeterred as they barreled towards the impudent enemy.

Although, regardless of how keen they might have been, the damage was apparent for all to see. The terrible force that’d once sheathed them in voluminous strength was now entirely gone. Even still, the raw power of a trained and fully grown warrior caste was not to be underestimated. And here, they had two.

Bright-Burner still held out hope.

Then, a series of things happened in very quick succession. His two sworn reached the surface dweller and struck, the slave held its ground and, implausibly, lashed out to either side. A colossal boom rocked the massive space—picking up bits of stone, dust, and debris and flinging them out and away in concentric rings of grit.

There came a second of complete calm wherein he tried desperately to pierce the dust laden air. When it finally settled enough for him to do so, however, Bright-Burner could barely believe what he saw.

Not only had the slave somehow received the attacks, but it appeared to have rebuffed them as well. Both Mud-Berry and Silver-Mane were sent reeling from the exchange, while the slave appeared winded, though otherwise none the worse for wear. Then, to his utter astonishment, it moved with a speed it hadn’t deigned to display up until now, and in the next moment, the headless corpse of Silver-Mane was falling lifelessly to the ground.

What was happening? How was this happening? What in the burrows was he?

Some sort of demon?!

Bright-Burner moved. Practically flying across the ground. Mere paces from the demon before he’d even made the conscious decision to attack. Now that he was here, however?

With all of the combined might of his superior spearing force, not to mention the hundreds upon hundreds of hours he’d spent honing this singular technique, he thrust—spear tip shining with the blazing green radiance that was his chosen namesake.

With all the pain and frustration he felt in his heart, he struck, fully intent on ending this tragic farce once and for all.

When his spear was mere inches from the demon's throat however, a single hand clamped down onto the shaft of his spear. Where that hand touched, hundreds of crimson flashes sparked in rapid succession—the strobing light show somehow nullifying his spearing force entirely in what felt to him like an instant.

Stunned, Bright-Burner could only watch in helpless confusion as his technique was neatly dismantled, then scattered on an invisible wind.

Done as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Far too incredulous to do anything more, he looked into the demon's eyes briefly, as if to appeal for some semblance of mercy. And yet he was met with neither pity, nor remorse. Only two chilling pits of liquid darkness. Mocking eyes riddled with glittering shards of crimson, entirely devoid of warmth.

The demon’s eyes shifted. Following his- no, it’s attention, Bright-Burner glanced down, only to notice, for the very first time, the extended digit hovering just beneath his snout.

DEATH

Bright-Burner leapt backwards, completely abandoning his spear, just as the space he’d once occupied was consumed by a churning whirlwind of crimson blades. Bright-Burner was under no illusions as to what would’ve befallen him had he found himself still there even a second later.

Demon. Monster!

The abomination slumped. Clearly winded after that massive expenditure.

Had Bright-Burner still held his grandsire’s spear he might’ve used it as an opportunity to attack. Now that he knew what the thing was truly capable of however…? Even with a spear in hand, he was no longer as confident in his chances as he’d once been. In fact, he was beginning to believe he’d made a crucial mistake. An egregious miscalculation.

That they all had, one way or another.

Mud-Berry appeared before him with a crack of cratered stone, standing sentinel like the reliable impasse that he was. Hefting his massive shield in the face of death’s wraith avatar made flesh, the hulking clan-born turned his head and gave Bright-Burner a solemn nod.

Bright-Burner, helpless to do anything more, simply nodded back in response. He would make sure that his sacrifice would not be in vain. The clans needed to be warned of the threat they truly faced before anymore brave warrior caste were sent needlessly to their deaths.

He would make certain that tales of his bravery, of all his sworn’s bravery, were known all throughout the burrows and beyond. By the master he swore it, right before he turned tail, and ran.

The boom of something heavy impacting the ground echoed from behind him, making the earth quake and shift under his rapidly retreating feet.

Against his better judgement, Bright-Burner turned back to see what had happened.

Oddly enough, though he’d initially meant for it to be a brief backwards glance, his head, it would seem, had other ideas. Because, for whatever reason, it just kept on turning. And turning and turning, while everything around him began to fade.

Until eventually, with a dull impact he barely felt, the world as he’d known it, went black.