A Creature's Weakness

Slayer groaned, a sound torn from deep in his chest, but then, with a grit-toothed grimace, pushed himself back to his feet. He swayed for a moment, proving his earlier words true: the rewards, the strange surges of power from fallen monsters, were real.

They were the only reason he wasn't pulp. But this creature… this Minotaur… it was on a different level, hitting harder than anything he'd faced before. He was already weak.

The Minotaur, as if sensing the greater challenge, seemed to ignore Raven, its massive head swiveling to focus entirely on Slayer.

"Ooohhh, love the strong ones, do we? I'm cool with it… no hard feelings," Raven muttered, pushing himself up, every muscle screaming in protest from the recent blow that had sent him flying. He knew he couldn't just remain a burden, a terrified spectator. He had to do something, and fast.

The Minotaur charged, its hooves thundering on the shattered ground, engaging Slayer in a tense, brutal ballet of power and evasion.

"Think, Raven… think…" His mind raced, frantically searching for an answer.

He paused his desperate mental scramble for a moment, forcing himself to truly observe the fight. It was a terrifying, almost beautiful, display of raw power against desperate agility. The Minotaur landed most of the attacks, each blow capable of crushing rock, but Slayer, managed most of the dodges.

'He really likes somersaulting and rolling, huh?' Raven thought, a detached observation in the midst of the chaos, watching Slayer's almost acrobatic fighting style.

'Where the hell did he learn all this from?'

Finally, his gaze snapped to a half-fallen tree nearby. It was ancient, towering, its trunk thick as a barrel, its upper half already cracked and leaning precariously, a testament to Riftworld's constant tremors. If it fell, it could crush even a creature as immense as the Minotaur in an instant.

An idea, wild and desperate, struck him. He sprinted away from the fight, a sudden blur of motion across the lavender grass.

Slayer, mid-roll, caught a glimpse of Raven bolting.

'Running away… typical,' he hissed, a bitter thought.

Five more rolls and three somersaults later, as Slayer danced on the precipice of exhaustion, Raven came tearing back. In his hands, he held a long, thick branch, roughly shaped like a fighting staff, broken clean from a nearby tree of the same ancient, towering kind he'd eyed. He ran directly towards the Minotaur, ignoring its terrifying presence, and swung the rough wood, hitting its leg. It was a pitiful blow, leaving just a scratch that looked like a mosquito's bite.

Just as expected.

But that wasn't the only result he was expecting.

His prediction was correct: the wood did not break. It was incredibly dense, hard as stone. The same kind of wood that made up the tall tree. If the Minotaur had lived in these surroundings, or wherever it came from had these kinds of trees, Raven hypothesized, it would have adapted. And the things found in the surroundings would define the creature, shaping its defenses. The wood's unyielding nature implied the Minotaur's skin couldn't withstand such impact.

The Minotaur roared, its massive head swiveling, and tried to bring a foot down on Raven. But Raven, surprisingly agile, jumped away, then with a powerful heave, threw the wooden staff at Slayer.

"Throw me the axe!" Raven yelled, his voice hoarse but clear.

Without a moment's hesitation, Slayer threw the gleaming axe, catching the sturdy wooden staff that Raven had just thrown to him. He then called the attention of the Minotaur back to him, dancing back into range.

"Hey, we aren't done yet, big guy!" Slayer yelled at the minotaur.

Raven scrambled towards the half-fallen tree, adrenaline coursing through him. The next phase of his reckless plan relied on Slayer. Slayer had boasted of killing ten creatures, but this Minotaur was clearly far superior to any of those. It wouldn't take long for Slayer to be completely worn out, or worse.

Raven had considered luring the Minotaur directly to the tree himself. But that would have been useless. He knew, from Slayer's earlier explanation of monster 'steps' and distances, that the Minotaur's single stride covered five of Raven's. He would be crushed before he got halfway. So his only hope was for the Minotaur to defeat Slayer, to focus its killing intent on the stronger target.

'C'mon Slayer just fall or die ....or whatever... what's wrong with me..'

His morbid prayers were answered.

The Minotaur, with a final, brutal surge of power, landed a devastating blow on Slayer, sending him sprawling into a dense shrub beside Raven. The Minotaur, its red eyes blazing, immediately sighted Raven, its previous annoyance turning into lethal intent. It lunged at him.

Just one hit of the axe on the tree. That's all Raven needed to finally execute his plan.

He really didn't care about the rewards and strange things Slayer talked about. He just wants to get out of this nightmare.

'Earth is way more cooler.'

'Closer bullshit!'

'Five.' He studied the Minotaur's steps.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One–

'Goodnight buffalo!'

Immediately, as the Minotaur got closer, its shadow falling over him, Raven summoned every ounce of his strength, every last reserve of his seventeen years of desperate survival.

He gripped Slayer's heavy axe, feeling its surprising weight and balance, and swung it at the massive, groaning trunk of the half-fallen tree with all his might. The impact vibrated through his arms, but the tree, already weakened, broke free from its remaining anchors with a splintering crack and a groaning sigh.

It crashed down, a colossal, timber avalanche, landing squarely on the Minotaur before the beast could make any further move. A thunderous impact shook the ground, followed by a sickening crunch of bone and wood. Then, That same unusual silence but this time it carried something Raven had never achieved or felt in his life.

Victory.

And then, the cool, detached voice resonated directly in his mind:

[You've defeated a Sacred-Blood Class Rift Monster]