The Butcher
POV - PERSEUS MANGAL-GRAH
He cursed under his breath as the K'tharr charged at him. He had been bluffing when he taunted them to come at him all at once. Honestly, he would have preferred them one by one; his right side ached like hell, and he could barely feel his right arm.
He sighed, more of determination than defeat. He couldn't look pathetic in front of his daughter; he had to show her what he was made of.
He knew he'd be shredded to pieces if he waited for them to come to him. So he did what any sane person would do—or at least what he thought any sane person would do—he jumped into their midst, plunging into hell itself.
The move was sheer brilliance, sowing confusion among the K'tharr. They reached for him, but their long arms and claws caught each other instead, their own weapons becoming their downfall.
Perseus noticed a stark lack of intelligence in their movements now, reducing them to nothing more than mundane beasts.
And dealing with mundane beasts was something he knew how to handle easily.
The K'tharr, in their frantic attempts to reach him, tore into each other, limbs falling like rain around him. If any managed to get close, Perseus either evaded or cunningly directed their claws into another of their kind.
He thought this chaos was all he needed to secure victory; whatever K'tharr remained, he'd deal with easily.
But as with all plans that seemed too straightforward, they rarely went accordingly.
A claw dug into his heel from behind, eliciting a scream of pain that seemed to jolt the K'tharr back to their senses.
They ceased their infighting, turning their attention back to him. Perseus counted ten remaining. He cursed under his breath.
They reverted to taking turns. Two K'tharr attacked; one swiped high, the other snapped low, aiming to trap him in a pincer movement.
Bad choice. Perseus slammed the claw of the low attacker into the ground and delivered a devastating kick to the jaw of the high one, its skull shattering into fragments.
Before he could finish off the second, two more K'tharr lunged at him.
He couldn't assume a defensive stance quickly enough; a claw slashed his thigh, parting flesh, blood gushing out. He fell to his knees.
He did a quick assessment of his body. One bad hand, one injured thigh, and a wounded heel. His mobility was severely compromised—not good.
The K'tharr gave him no respite, closing in again. He briefly considered using a forbidden technique but quickly dismissed the idea; the backlash could prove fatal, especially since he was unsure how many more enemies he'd face.
He decided he'd have to do this the old-fashioned way then.
He needed to get in close, knowing it would cost him dearly, but it was just pain. A claw came at him; he didn't evade. Instead, he pivoted, allowing the claw to burrow into his arm. Seizing the K'tharr's wrist, he wrenched it, snapping the bone, separating hand from arm.
The creature howled, but its cry was abruptly silenced as Perseus used the severed claw to slice through its throat.
He tore the four-fingered hand from the K'tharr. Two claws for each hand, now he had weapons, and reach.
The injured K'tharr, its claw broken, attempted to reach for him. Perseus drove two claws from his right hand into its skull. It slumped down instantly; even a K'tharr couldn't withstand its own claws.
Two more lunged at him, but he didn't evade. He waited until the last moment, then sliced off their heads with a swift, precise motion.
He scanned the room. Five remained.
"Come on!" he roared, his voice raw and fierce, no longer bluffing. Let them end this now.
POV - ATHENA MANGAL-GRAH
Athena watched in awe at her father's fighting prowess. She had never witnessed him in such a serious battle before. She knew he was strong; his name was etched in the Warring Archive alongside a select few, including the First Men. He was among the elite.
He had fought in the Ninth Galactic War at just fourteen years old, the third youngest in Martian history. He also held the seventh-longest overtime record in the 'Hundred Days in the Underworld' training, clocking an additional 49 days, 6 hours, 54 minutes, and nineteen seconds. She knew all of her father's history by heart. And she had broken every record of his, except for that one overtime record.
His fighting style stood in stark contrast to hers. She preferred fighting with flair, her movements clean and smooth, almost like a dance.
Her father's technique, however, was grounded, rough, and brutal. But she appreciated the beauty in his approach; it was battle fighting in its most primal form.
He took damage willingly, using it as an opportunity to inflict fatal wounds on the K'tharr. Athena marveled at how he was still standing. No Martian should endure after taking such punishment.
With the new abilities she gained from observing the K'tharr in the Crimson Nexus, Athena could see better, analyze with greater precision.
She watched her father, absorbing each movement, noting how he wasted no motion, every action purposeful and efficient.
Comparing this to her own current style, she recognized a significant gap in efficiency.
She realized she still had a lot of growing to do, but this realization brought her joy. She was nowhere near her prime yet; there was so much more room for growth.
She watched as her father let a K'tharr's claws burrow into his arm, then saw him wrench the hand free from its arm. She observed him fashioning it into a weapon.
Athena mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that strategy when she was fighting.
After that, he took no more risks and sustained no further damage. He wielded the claws with a beauty that surpassed even the K'tharr themselves, a true master of weapons.
Five K'tharr were left, then four, then two, and then there were none.
He'd single-handedly wiped out several of these creatures, and only she had witnessed this feat.
He rested for a minute before making his way towards her, limping, blood seeping from nearly every part of his body.
Eventually, he reached her.
His gaze swept over her, and he said, "You look like shit."
She eyed him from head to toe, giving him a look that clearly said, "Look who's talking."
He laughed, then so did she.
After a hearty laugh, he said it was time to go and meet her mother and younger siblings at the space fort.
As they made to leave, the ground trembled, and shook violently.