The morning before the hunt was still. Mal, Leo, and Medea gathered for breakfast, sipping tea in silence. Mal felt that he ought to be afraid. A grueling struggle awaited them, and in these ruins, one never possessed the certainty of survival. Yet Mal was calm—perhaps too much so. He had proven he could nearly match the mutated soldier alone, so he harbored no doubt that the three of them together could strike the monster down. Moreover, it would be a vital trial for Medea. During their first encounter, she hadn't truly fought at all; this would be her baptism by fire. It was an occasion almost worthy of a glass of wine and a proper toast. Except there was no wine, and Mal did not drink it anyway—partly due to the taste, and partly due to the conflict with his medication, which he was naturally no longer taking, as he had none here.
They now had ample time to dissect their strategy. Mal was the swiftest, the most lethal in direct combat, and currently possessed the greatest strength, even if his physical frame remained inferior to Leonard's. For this reason, he was chosen—or rather, he chose himself—to face the monster head-on once more. He had also devised an excellent position for Medea. He did not believe it wise to thrust her into her first true battle through a direct physical confrontation with a mutated soldier an entire rank above her own. Given her talent for shaping, it was decided she would hold the middle ground, supporting Mal with her ice magic—a craft she had greatly refined after two weeks of rigorous training. Leonard, as in their previous skirmishes, would lie in wait in a nearby house, sniping at the creature from a window. His role was not to slay, but to wound, distract, and ensnare. The burden of ending the abomination's life rested upon Mal's shoulders.
It would also fall to him to lure the creature out. They expected it to be lurking somewhere within the ruins of the fencing school. Mal and the creature would play a game of hide-and-seek. This would likely be the most harrowing phase, as he would be entirely alone. Medea and Leo would remain poised outside; within those walls, no one could aid him should matters turn foul.
It was time to commence the action that would bring them one step closer to departing this cursed place. At least, that was what they all dared to hope.
The journey to the site was long and restless—at least for Leo and Medea. Mal's thoughts remained fixed upon the moss. Naturally, he had long ago entwined further vines of that red moss around his blade, but he kept wondering why there was so little of it here. It was as if something were disrupting its power to expand and kill all living things like a creeping death.
Once they reached the armory, they split up swiftly. Leo found a vantage point high in a house, while Medea took her position nearby. Now, it was up to him.
Mal entered the building slowly. In his mind, he replayed the duel from two weeks prior, preparing himself to drive the creature out of the armory. He had long tried to forge a precise plan, but the situation was so volatile that he eventually conceded it was futile.
'If it fails, will I fight or flee? Would I even have a chance to win?'
These thoughts raced through his mind as he descended the stairs to that small room where he had last been with Medea. Above the palm of his left hand, red electricity already danced, ready to hurl itself at the monster upon his command. However, that moment did not come. The room was utterly empty. It appeared the creature had relocated.
There was a possibility it was on the second floor, or it might have fled elsewhere entirely. That would be most unfortunate and would demand a great deal of labor. Mal proceeded slowly to the second floor of the building. He moved with caution and silence, yet even that did not suffice. The moment he spotted the soldier in the corner of one of the rooms, it spotted him in return.
The two figures now locked eyes. Mal was calm—surprisingly so. He was certain, given his prior experiences, that he could escape if necessary. Which was, in essence, all he had to do now. He had already secured the monster's attention.
He began to step backward slowly, never averting his gaze from the creature crouching in the corner before him. He noticed that the swords with which he had achieved his small victory during their last meeting were no longer embedded in its body. Clearly, it had pulled them out, or they had fallen out over time. That was not all. Mal now gained another useful insight: the wounds that should have remained from those two ancient blades were healed. This meant the mutated soldier, as a monster of the second rank, possessed some form of limited shaping ability. Mal could not tell if this ability was learned or intuitive, but the creature did not seem particularly intelligent. If he had to guess, he would estimate its intellect matched that of a three-year-old child. It certainly felt a malicious joy when it caused injury, anger when its prey escaped thanks to Mal, and a primitive response to pain.
The monster watched him for a moment, then straightened up and smiled. It looked as though it recognized him.
'The intelligence of a three-year-old fits better and better.'
With that thought, the monster lunged at him. Its broken sword was not wreathed in deep red flames, so the ability to shape was indeed likely intuitive. Mal readied himself and parried a linear slash of the broken sword aimed at his chest, binding it with his own and performing a deft thrust that knocked the opponent's arm and blade aside. The monster was stronger, but he held the advantage of physics and the application of leverage. His sword then hissed through the air, slashing across the creature's chest. At such close range, it could not evade and was punished by the agonizing pain inflicted by the red moss. Yet his attempt did not go unpunished; the creature's leg collided with his chest before Mal could block.
Had he not possessed the first circle and as many knots as he did, the monster's leg would likely have shattered his ribs. As it was, they held, and Mal was merely kicked five meters back into the corridor. Both rose at the same time, and the monster charged again. Mal was forced to dodge into an adjacent room, and their positions swapped. The monster now had its back to where Mal needed it to be. He had to force it out now, somehow.
As he ran toward the monster, he began to call upon the signs of wind and forward motion, and a small vortex of air formed around his blade. Monster and man clashed once more. The creature clearly had the upper hand, yet it was not winning. Mal evaded all its movements. Then came time for his favorite trick—a ploy that no seasoned swordsman would ever fall for, but his opponent was no seasoned swordsman; it was a monster with the intellect of a toddler. Mal suddenly drew himself up, and the sword in his hand dropped toward his feet. His upper body appeared entirely unguarded and open to attack. At least, so it seemed to the mutated soldier, who immediately swung its broken sword at Mal's chest.
The attack was so transparent, however, that Mal saw it coming, allowing him to dodge elegantly and, with a long and rapid thrust, bury his sword into his opponent's now-defenseless chest. Though his blade slipped only a few centimeters inside and thus caused no vital injury, Mal did not mind. It certainly inflicted pain magnified by the red moss. But now, the wind vortex from his sword expanded, striking from the blade into the monster's chest with the force of a speeding motor car.
The beast was undoubtedly heavier than any ordinary man, despite its semblance to a common soldier. Mal would have estimated at least two hundred kilograms. Yet the vortex from his blade was infused with his bloodthirsty, iron will. The two forces collided, and in the end, they met as equals. Mal was thrown back several meters, but the same held true for the mutated soldier. It let out a piercing shriek as it was hurled backward, crashing through a wall and landing near the stairs. It had come so close to being cast through the final barrier and out into the open where Mal desired it, but alas, it was not to be. The first phase of the battle still lay before him. He would need to repeat this gambit once more, yet Mal was no longer certain the monster would fall for his trick. He would have to achieve it by some other means.