Chapter 20 - Final Confrontation Part 2

The clearing lay in eerie silence, illuminated by the pale light of the moon that filtered through the broken canopy. Blood stained the earth, the remnants of the earlier battle etched into the ground like a macabre painting. Max stood several meters away, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. His tattered clothing clung to his small frame, now streaked with blood and dirt. His claws flexed instinctively, a predator assessing its prey.

Opposite him, the leader of the adventurers stood tall and imposing. His armor, scratched and dented, glinted faintly, bearing runes that hummed with latent power. His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his piercing gray eyes locked onto Max with a calculated fury. Beside him, Gorruk leaned heavily against a tree, his massive warhammer resting at his side. The beastfolk's broad chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, blood still seeping from the wounds Max had inflicted.

The clearing was deathly still, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the cool night breeze. The tension in the air was suffocating.

The leader's voice broke the silence. "Gorruk, stand down. I'll deal with this spawn myself."

Gorruk snarled, his golden eyes narrowing as he pushed off the tree. "That little bastard… he deserves worse. Let me rip him apart."

"You've done enough," the leader replied, his tone brooking no argument. "Rest. I'll finish this."

Gorruk gritted his teeth but relented, slumping back against the tree. His glare remained fixed on Max. "You… you're dead," he growled, his voice trembling with rage. "Do you hear me, you little freak? Dead."

Max smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, don't be so mad, big guy. Your friends put up a good fight. Especially that cutie with the runes." His smirk widened into a grin, his tone mockingly cheerful. "Her blood… much better than that beast's. Sweet. Rich. A fine vintage."

Gorruk let out a guttural roar, his hand clutching his side as he lurched forward. The effort reopened his wounds, and he collapsed to his knees, his vision swimming.

"Gorruk, stop!" the leader barked, his voice sharp.

The beastfolk groaned and fell unconscious, his massive frame slumping against the tree. The leader's jaw tightened as he turned back to Max, his gray eyes blazing with fury.

"You're done talking," the leader said, his voice low and dangerous. "I swear, by this time next year, I'll be celebrating the anniversary of your death."

Max's grin didn't falter. "That's cute. Tell me, will there be cake?"

The leader's grip on his sword tightened, and he took a step forward. "You won't live to see it."

The two clashed with the force of a thunderstorm. Max darted forward, his claws slashing in a flurry of strikes aimed at the leader's vital points. But the adventurer's movements were precise and calculated, his sword meeting Max's attacks with a series of ringing parries. Sparks flew with each collision, the runes on the blade glowing brighter as the leader's strikes grew faster and more forceful.

"Name," the leader said, his voice cold as his sword arced toward Max. "I need to know what to carve on your gravestone."

Max sidestepped the attack, his smirk returning. "Max. Just Max for my buddies, but for you worm it`s Maksemilian." He lunged, aiming for the leader's exposed side, but his opponent twisted away at the last moment.

The leader's face contorted into a grimace, but he remained steadfast. In a split second, he calmed down. "Well, Maksimilian," the leader said, his tone mocking, "I'm Dareth, and I'll make sure that your name is forgotten."

The battle raged on, their movements a blur of speed and power. Max's regeneration kept him in the fight, but Dareth's skill and experience were undeniable. The adventurer's armor began to glow, runes activating and spreading across the metal like flowing water. A faint blue aura enveloped him, and his sword was suddenly wreathed in crackling electricity.

Max hissed as the blade nicked his arm, the shock of the electricity coursing through his body and momentarily slowing his movements. Dareth pressed the advantage, his strikes becoming heavier and more relentless.

Max's mind raced. He dodged and weaved, trying to find an opening, but Dareth gave him none. Each attack drove him closer to the edge, his body accumulating wounds faster than his regeneration could handle. Blood dripped from his arms and legs, staining the ground beneath him.

Finally, with a ferocious swing, Dareth's blade connected with Max's forearm. The force of the blow severed it cleanly at the elbow, the limb falling to the ground with a sickening thud. Max screamed in pain as he was thrown backward, his body crashing into another tree. The impact shattered the trunk, sending splinters flying.

Dareth advanced slowly, his sword gleaming with blood and electricity. "You bit off more than you could chew, little monster," he said, his voice calm but laced with disdain. "Did you really think you could win?"

Max struggled to rise, his vision swimming. His remaining hand clutched his bleeding stump as he glared up at Dareth. "You talk too much," he growled through gritted teeth.

Dareth smirked, stepping closer. "Don't worry. I'll make this as painful and as long as possible, so you'll remember it even if you're already in the arms of death."

As Dareth raised his sword for another cruel blow, Max grabbed a handful of dirt and hurled it at his face. The leader reacted instinctively, raising an arm to shield his eyes. The split-second distraction was all Max needed.

He lunged forward, his claws extending as he drove them toward Dareth's neck. The adventurer twisted, his sword plunging into Max's abdomen in reflex, but Max's attack found its mark. His claws pierced Dareth's throat, blood spurting as the leader's eyes widened in shock.

The two stood frozen for a moment, locked in a deadly embrace. Dareth's sword remained embedded in Max's stomach, while Max's claws stayed buried in Dareth's neck. Finally, the leader's grip on his weapon faltered, and he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Max staggered back, pulling the blade from his abdomen with a pained grunt. His regeneration worked frantically to close the wound, but the exertion left him weak. He glanced down at Dareth's body, a mixture of triumph and exhaustion washing over him.

"Guess you won't get that anniversary after all," Max muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned toward the forest, his legs trembling as he prepared to disappear into the night. The battle was over, but the scars it left—both physical and mental—were only beginning to take their toll.