Vivian bolted forward, her rapier mid-swing toward the beast's side. The strike was precise and swift, just as always. The beast reduced its momentum and arched its body to the side, causing the blade to miss.
But in a split second, a broad blade was already upon it. The weapon whistled through the air, heading for the beast's neck. Using its muscular arms, it pushed back and avoided that as well.
The beast paused, its violet eyes absorbing the information that came with their first clash. It couldn't underestimate the humans. It kicked off the ground with enough force to leave a crater behind; its target was Vivian.
Its instincts told it that, of the two, it shouldn't turn its back to the woman.
Vivian more or less expected it, but she knew she couldn't face the beast head-on. The difference in their physicality wasn't something to laugh about. She turned her gaze toward One Eye; out of the two of them, he was the best suited for a head-on collision.
One Eye, getting the message, switched positions with her and swung his blade at the approaching beast. The sovereign-class beast used one of its arms to deflect the blade, redirecting the force behind it at the cost of a few drops of blood.
But with that, it had covered the small distance that separated it from its prey. Its remaining arms shot forward in a flash and struck its target.
One Eye braced himself for impact and prayed to the heavens that his armor would be able to hold, but when struck with the force behind the beast's attack, his body was flung backward like a ragdoll.
The force rattled his bones, and he was very sure some of them might have been broken. He slid backward on the bloodied terrain before finally being able to stop himself.
He knelt, chest aching with unbearable pain, and tried to take in a breath. The piercing sting in his side made him regret it. He coughed out a mouthful of blood; with his mouth tasting like iron, he raised his head to take in the battlefield.
He could see Vivian maneuvering around the great beast. Her movements were stuck between trying to avoid a direct hit and dealing an attack to it. The beast's body had already been riddled with cuts, but none of them were fatal.
He attempted to stand, but his knees buckled. The grip on his broadsword tightened as he pushed himself up. Wiping the blood from his lips, he snickered.
But before long, that snicker turned into a full-blown maniacal laugh. His gaze locked on the War Grade, and a stubborn smile split across his face. His body ached all over; all he wanted to do was lie down and rest. But the adrenaline in his blood dulled the pain, and every fiber of his aching body wanted to kill the bastard beast.
He dashed forward, his broad blade mid-swing toward the beast's neck.
The War Grade, whose focus had been solely on Vivian, failed to react for a split second. It bent its head low to avoid the blade, and the weapon cut the air above it. Vivian, salvaging the moment, skillfully used her rapier to create a gash under one of the beast's arms.
She moved back after the attack, she and One Eye standing side-by-side once more.
The furry coat of the beast was bloodied, riddled with shallow cuts and soaked in its own defiled blood. But the ferociousness behind its sharp violet eyes was far from dead.
Prometheus watched, the insectoid maw of the dark butterfly inches away from ending his life. All he needed was a second, a brief moment of respite to complete the arrow.
And like an answered prayer, it came. The winged War Grade, inches away from him, felt locked in place—as if the sky it had reigned over mere moments ago had made it immobile. This was what he needed. The last of his mana flowed into the pale blue arrow.
A breath he never knew he had held escaped his lips, and his fingers released the bowstring.
In that split second, the arrow roared into the maw of the beast like a raging constellation. The beast could once again move, but it was already too late.
The arrow detonated. The world was blinded by a rush of bright white light, as if a star had descended upon it. Then came the sound—a sonic explosion that plagued the battlefield, washing over man and beast like the wrath of a supreme deity.
An agonizing ring followed in its wake; slowly, the light began to retreat into itself until it no longer existed. The night sky had been painted a light blue, and the beast was gone.
Prometheus stood, bow still outstretched. His body was covered in dark blood and pieces of the monstrosity's flesh. The bow slipped from his grip and fell to the ground. His body felt weak—weak enough that remaining on his feet had become a chore.
This was the setback for draining all his mana. The ground below him quaked, then crumbled. The anxious shouts of the adventurers around him were the only things that allowed his mind to register that he was falling.
The world had become a blur of images; his eyes were shutting fast, and his consciousness had already begun to fade.
But before it did, he felt a pair of strong, yet delicate arms catch his small frame.
His closing eyelids parted slightly to take in the figure of who it was.
The bright golden eyes that stared back at him already confirmed his suspicions.
"Thank you," he muttered.
The Sword Saint looked at the sleeping Prometheus in her arms. She had never seen him shoot an arrow of this magnitude; his mind and mana were drained.
But the price of it all was the death of a War Grade.