Chapter 15: Edge of Death
It wasn’t that Azrael wasn’t afraid, he was. But in moments like this, when death loomed close, fear was a deadly mistake. Panic and hesitation were fatal.
So he did neither.
He swung his scythe once more, the blade cleaving deep into the monster’s skull.
A stench fouler than rotting eggs flooded his nostrils as the creature’s wound opened wider. But the beast didn’t falter. Azrael’s strike hadn’t reached the brain, his foe remained alive and dangerous.
He barely managed to put the scythe between himself and the Molgrin before taking its massive claw.
The surroundings blurred, his eyes narrowed as he was hurled to the side like a ragdoll.
By pure chance, the force of the hit flung him into the nearby river, water crashing into his lungs.
’Troublesome,’ he thought, trying not to give in to the panic. He forced himself upright, coughing violently, trying to clear his lungs.
’If we were inside a Rift, this would’ve been my end,’ he thought grimly. The water there would’ve been toxic, poisonous to the touch let alone the lungs.
Letting that cold realization sink in, he didn’t waste another second. He sprinted toward the abomination, hoping he wasn’t too late to support his companion.
"You are one annoying dog," Victor cursed out loud, axe raised in a defensive stance, barely managing to block the attacks.
’He really is a born tank,’ Azrael thought, positioning himself beside the deep injury Victor had carved into the monster’s rear leg.