23 #2
The monster turns around; I don’t have time to escape.
Its rough hand reaches for me. The air escapes me as it grabs me.
But before it can crush me with its thick fingers, I pull my sword from its sheath.
It presses against me so hard it almost snaps.
My ribs crack. I writhe, screaming in burning pain.
My vision blurs. I can barely breathe. I drop the sword and the blade lands in the sand.
I hear Kripot’s words again: You’ll have time to scream when you’re dying. Until then, act!
One of my arms is free. As much as it hurts me, I pull a knife from the belt attached to my chest. I throw it straight into the single yellow eye of the monster. It immediately drops me, clutching its injury.
I fall to the ground. Gasping for air. My teacher’s voice still echoes in my head. You’ll have time to suffer when you’re dead .
I stand up. Breathing heavily. The creature holds its eye, screaming of pain. But the fight is far from over. I watch the cyclops, but in the background, I notice the orange hair. Its owner leans over the railing, cheering.
“Come on, my love, don’t let her stab you!”
I’m stunned. Nárs isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to the monster.
My jaw drops. Bluish-gray skin, red veins, a large, yellow eye. Cyclopes don’t have wings…
“Kripot?” I ask in amazement. I take a step closer. He’ll listen to me; he has to listen to me. “Kripot, is that you?”
At the mention of its name, the monster awakens and looks into my eyes. I don’t understand how I didn’t notice before. The yellow eye belongs to Kripot. He looked at me every day with that gaze. I take a step forward.
“Kripot, it’s me…”
The monster roars and charges. I barely manage to dive into my cell when it strikes where I was. It gropes at the doorway, but its hand is too big to fit through. I retreat as much as I can. It pounds the entrance with its fist, and the ceiling collapses.
“No!” I scream as the mud wall falls on my leg. I already have broken ribs, and now a wounded ankle too. I won’t survive this.
I’m completely desperate. Please! I pray to myself because I no longer believe that any god will help me. Another blow comes.
Weapons scatter. Only my scream is heard. It’s going to kill me. It’s going to…
I scrabble along the ground until my hand touches something rough. It’s a rope. Another idea forms in my mind.
I kick the pieces of the wall off my leg, but I can’t stand up. I lean on the other leg as the ceiling falls around me. I have only one chance.
I tie one end of the rope to my waist, the other to a thick arrow whose tip is like a knife.
I just need to get out of here. I need a distraction.
I cut off my hair at the neck, twisting the curls around another arrow.
Meanwhile, the giant bellows, watching intently, waiting for me to emerge. Waiting for its next meal.
I hoist the bundle of long hair onto the bow and aim for Kripot’s side. As I release, the creature ceases its rampage. The purple hair caught its attention – it thinks it’s me.
I leap out from the rubble on the other side of the monster, aiming the arrow tied to my waist at its neck. It catches in the flesh, causing the monster to roar in pain. I don’t wait for it to react.
I pull myself up on the rope as stoops down, conveniently giving me a foothold on its back. I grip its tattered clothes. As it removes the arrow from its neck, I kick the rope off myself, too.
I reach for one last knife in my belt. The monster flails its hand behind its back, but it can’t reach me. Its arms are too short.
I have to climb up to plunge the knife into its neck. But the monster staggers, trying to shake me off. I don’t have time to climb up any further, I have to throw the knife to…
Everything happens too fast for me to comprehend.
I’m falling. The monster has thrown itself backward, burying me beneath him.
I hit everything. The impact is so great it makes my head spin. I hear the break of my bones. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
The beast rises, confused. It licks at its own wounds. The crowd is roaring. I lost.
I lie here broken, staring blankly at the starry sky.
In the distance, I hear Darya shouting for the monster to be captured.
He’ll get everything he wanted. Eventually, he’ll break me.
I clutch the knife tightly. I’m helpless.
But I’ve been here before. I’ve been tied down.
I won’t go back there again. I’d rather die.
And I will. I won’t become a demon. I won’t be a monster.
With what little strength I have left, I turn my head to the side. My gaze meets the Demon King’s. Tense, smooth features now break on his face. He spreads his massive wings.
No. I can’t let him have everything. He’s playing with my life.
He throws monsters at me. The demon and angel blood pulsing through your veins must tell you what to do .
Pandora was right. Now I know what I must do, for my blood paints the entire space around me red.
I have no more strength. I’m done. I have only one reserve left, revenge against the Kraldem.
He who took my life from me. Well then, let’s see what he’ll do about this.
I try to push myself up, but my arm is broken. Only the one with the knife can move. I’m too tired. I see them trying to restrain the cyclops. The battle is clearly over. But I can still take something from them.
From all of them. I look deeply into Darya’s eyes, placing the knife above my heart. The Demon King’s eyes widen.
“No!” he screams, leaping from the ledge. But it’s too late.
I plunge the knife into my heart.
The pain is so intense I would scream, but only blood comes up my throat. I cough up red bubbles from deep within. Darya appears beside me. Too late. He can’t bring me back.
“Lotte, Lotte, stay with me!” he shouts, then bites into his wrist, pressing it to my mouth.
I don’t know what he hopes to achieve. I’ve won. There will be no one to open the gate for him. With this, I’ve sealed his fate.
I feel warmth in my throat. Darya’s blood trickles into it. The Demon King cradles me, and as I can no longer control my eyes, he positions himself so I can look at him. His gaze is desperate. But it’s too late. I know it is. I smile as his face freezes.
And so the weak human defeats the Demon King. Strange. I thought when the end came, I would be afraid. But everything hurts so much, I just want to escape from hell. I already feel my soul isn’t here. It’s as if it’s floating on a beach.
The pain fades; not a single muscle moves anymore. With a penetrating stare, I look at the demon, conveying my wordless final message to him. You’ve broken my body. But you’ll never break my soul.
His face pales, and his hand falls beside his body, just as lost as I was in these past few months.
Perhaps he understands. That’s good. Very good. I sink away.