Dancing with the Desert Beast

The desert sun hung like a molten weight above, searing the sand and burning into Aether's skin. His breath came in shallow gasps, his lone hand gripping the hilt of his sword. 

He steadied his footing in the unstable terrain, eyes fixed on the creature before him — a massive faltcid, armored in thick carapace, serrated mandibles clicking with menace.

The beast reared from beneath the sand, mandibles snapping with predatory precision. Aether shifted his weight to his back foot, sword raised in his one good hand. 

The heat bore down relentlessly, and through his assessment, he noticed a weakness — the creature's movements had begun to lag, its hulking body trembling beneath the sun's fury.

"If I want to take you down," Aether murmured, "I need to think fast."

The faltcid shrieked — a sound like grinding stones — and lunged, mandibles gaping. Aether raised his sword just in time to deflect the strike, purple saliva splattering across the sand.

The beast recoiled, then surged forward again with renewed ferocity. Aether gritted his teeth, his mind racing.

"The sensory hairs... a second pair of eyes..."

That was it. Without those hairs, the creature would be fighting blind. He smirked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, slamming his heels into the sand to stir vibrations.

"A hot snack is waiting for you!" he shouted.

The faltcid lunged again, its maw wide enough to swallow him whole.

 Aether pivoted, the phantom pain of his missing arm flaring as he shifted. The swing was awkward — not the clean arc he once managed with two hands — but it struck the creature's face. The blade glanced off the chitin, but the beast shrieked and recoiled.

"Too armored for direct strikes," he muttered, rolling across the scorching sand. "Gotta hit the joints. Soft spots."

He pushed himself up, stumbling slightly as his body overcompensated for the missing limb. The absence felt sharper now, every movement a test of balance and leverage.

"Yes.. follow me." He slid down a dune, half-tumbling, half-running as sand burst around him. Behind, he heard the faltcid's bulk crash forward, hissing as it pursued.

It vanished beneath the sand.

The sand exploded thirty feet to his left. Too far off.

"Vibrations scatter in loose sand," he said under his breath. "Your targeting's off."

He skidded to a halt, chest heaving. The beast crested the dune, clearly slowing. It was struggling in the heat. He wiped sweat from his brow. The thing was cooking inside that armor.

"It's still just an animal in its territory," he muttered, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to the sand. If he could fool it...

He focused. The images came hazy, imperfect — like memories through smoke — but good enough to trick a beast.

"Let's try something—I love dreaming."

Mirages shimmered to life — some near-transparent, others nearly solid. They moved like him, followed his patterns, stirring vibrations in the sand.

The faltcid burst forth again, attack scattered and confused. Its sensory hairs twitched wildly, overwhelmed by the motion. Aether grinned.

"Can't trust your senses if they're giving you different stories, huh?"

The creature reared, snapping at a mirage and lunging into sand. Again and again, it struck false targets.

He couldn't keep this up.

The faltcid's attacks became wild, its stamina draining. Aether's own breath was ragged, his body spent. He had to end it.

He dashed behind the beast, its hairs whipping in panic. He slashed at the nearest cluster — severing them in a clean arc. The beast shrieked, bucking as it lost its sense of direction.

He leapt onto its back, struggling for balance atop the ridged armor. With all the strength he had left, he drove his blade into the joints — wherever the armor didn't fully cover. The creature bellowed, twisting violently. Aether gripped tight with his legs, his hand nearly failing him.

The creature's blood — thick and purple — coated him. Its mandibles slashed close, and he ducked, rolling aside just in time. The strain pulled at his muscles, his hand barely keeping grip.

"Stay still!" he growled, knowing it wouldn't.

The faltcid thrashed, mandibles snapping at the air. Aether felt the sand soften beneath them — the creature's own weight dragging it down. He nearly lost his footing, but stabbed his sword into a joint to anchor himself.

The beast shrieked again. This time, it didn't rise. Its mandibles twitched weakly.

Around them, the air thickened — the sandstorm Aether had feared. Not real, but enough. The illusion picked up grit, stinging his face, blinding his view. The faltcid writhed as coarse particles ground into its wounds.

"Sandstorm..." he muttered. It was his doing. Not true weather, just willpower and image. But the confusion worked.

The creature bucked, flinging him off.

Aether hit the sand hard, rolled to his feet. "Never actually seen one," he muttered, squinting through the swirling grit. "Only read about them. Probably why it looks wrong."

He steadied himself. The false storm grew fiercer, fueled by sheer focus. The faltcid swiped at ghosts, its movements erratic. It was near its breaking point. Just a little more...

He envisioned a second storm — vast and consuming. The image wavered, but he forced it to hold. The creature's frantic clicks weakened, its limbs trembling.

Then it reared one last time, blind and desperate. Aether saw his moment.

He ran, using a dune as a ramp, and leapt. His form twisted — unbalanced — but he turned the fall into a plunge.

The blade found its mark: a gap between head plates he'd memorized earlier.

The sword sank deep. The faltcid's scream echoed through the desert. Blood — blue now, in the fading haze of battle — fountained into the air. The creature thrashed, then began to sink.

Aether jumped clear, landing rough but upright. He watched as the massive body disappeared beneath the sand, leaving only disturbed earth and streaks of blue.

His chest heaved. The phantom ache of his missing arm throbbed.

The storm calmed. Silence returned.

Aether stood over the fading trail of the beast, blue blood clinging to his clothes and skin. He stared at his sword, now coated in ichor.

He tossed it upward. Before it could fall, it dissolved into nothing.

The sun still beat down, but its heat felt different now — not oppressive, just present.

He looked at his phantom limb, imagining two hands gripping the blade. The thought lingered.

Then, with a shake of his head, he let it go.