Chapter 65: Mark Of The Plant Part Two
Artemis and I lock eyes a silent understanding passing between us, sharp and wordless. There's no time for our plan to work, no space for fear. The moment the killer - Weed, I decide, because calling him anything else gives him too much dignity the disgusting parasite of a man, waves us forward, the hallway erupts into chaos.
Artemis lunges left, her feline form blurring in a rush of claws and muscle, her movements faster then I could track accurately. I dart right, sword low, every nerve alive with tension. We move together, circling, weaving in and out, searching for any opening in the shifting wall of roots and vines. Kaizen remains unseen, hidden by Elijah's hand, the two of them pressed back in the shadows, waiting for their moment.
Weed is fast. Too fast. He glides between our attacks, that monstrous plant-sword carving sickly arcs through the air. Every time Artemis slashes, vines snap up to meet her claws, thorns sparking against her nails. I press in, sword feinting high then low, but his blade meets mine with a wet, rubbery thunk each impact bruising my bones, the sword's edge bristling with barbs and oozing that caustic green sap.
He's toying with us. It's obvious in the way he leaves little gaps in his defense, daring us to take the bait. Every time we strike, he counters with an effortless brutality that makes my blood run hot with anger.
A cluster of vines snap out, forcing me to roll to the side. Artemis leaps over them, twisting in midair, but Weed is already there, sword hissing, the tip barely missing her throat. I lunge, driving my blade toward his exposed ribs, but he ignores me, lets the blow glance off a bark-like growth on his side, and brings his sword around in a vicious counter.
Our blades meet with a wet, meaty thunk, and suddenly green sap splatters across my robe. I barely have a moment to process before the spot begins to steam, then sizzle the poison eating through the fabric like fire. "Shit!" I hiss, unlatching the robe and yanking it off, tossing it aside in disgust. The spot where it touched my skin tingles, angry and raw, but not deep enough to scar. I glare at Weed, hate burning behind my eyes.
He's laughing again, the sound echoing off the ruined walls, his teal eyes alive with the arrogance of someone who's never tasted defeat. "You little worms are better than I expected," he taunts, waving his sword like a conductor leading a symphony. "But it's still hopeless."
Artemis and I circle him again, eyeing his stance, calculating. We rush him at the same instant her claws going for his mask, my sword for his legs. He blocks both, plant-blade moving with disturbing speed, then sweeps his free hand. Roots explode up from the tiles, catching my ankle and yanking me off-balance. I slash them away, but more coil around my arm, burning and squeezing.
For every attack we launch, three more come back at us. The struggle is relentless, each exchange more punishing than the last. It's brutal almost beautiful, in its own horrific way. Weed is chuckling beneath his mask, savoring every second. He pauses just long enough to gloat, his mask tilting in a parody of curiosity. "You know, by culling so many of your empire's first years, I've done my organization a great favor. I should get a raise for this."