The Secondary Saga

[Gildarts]

Spider guts. In her hair.

The hot splash of blood crawled on her skin. Christa had de-throned the giant goblin Grobdum, who rode into the bloody massacre with the wave of primitive orcs on a huge freakin' arachnid. Blast after shuddering blast, the insect of war went down, finally collapsing at her feet, too close to the flash of her gun. Even with its life taken, the threat of death lingered in the air, hanging within the shaggy folds of tethered pain.

The blaze of eternal war rushed all of her senses at once. The veteran gathered herself, ringing ears and all, as she was able to take a rare glimpse at the battle that surrounded her. With a steadied sip of air, she drank it all in. Over her shoulder she traced the blurred lines of war-hardened faces and noticed her target was missing.

Within the throes of battle the distinguished pale-skinned enemy had been swept away and slipped under her radar. He had escaped.

The steely glint of her eyes flashed with cold analysis as it swooped over the group and sliced through the hellfire like a sharpened blade.

With a single breath she called her will back into the raging battle.

Three freshly planted darts stung at her arms. The needles pricked at her skin while she gave them nothing but a fleeting glance. This was probably about the time where she was expected to fall over, collapsing to a kneel from the poison's efficiently. Another orc charged her after seeing he had hit his target; confidence surged in his chest as he knew the venom would take but a second to take effect.

It rushed into her bloodstream and the orc took a cheap swing, prematurely assuming that her limbs would be too heavy to dodge. With the flick of her wrist, the three feathered darts implanted in her forearm fell to the ground. A flummoxed expression creased the creature's brow, he has hadn't expected the girl to be impervious to his poison. A challenge cackled in the air while her pale eyes met the creature's hollow depths of thick black.

Too close in proximity now, she surprised the orc by charging straight for him. There was now no room for error and her pistol was thrown to the ground in a fatal collision that would have broken a normal human's bones. With the tackle's impact, air was knocked from her lungs in an unclaimed gust. Her head pounded like a whip as it bounced off the uprooted ground. In her adrenaline-flooded cognizant state, the rich scent of soil and fresh grass itched her nose as the brute used all of his forced weight to crush her.

The screaming lungs ached in her chest as they fought to stretch outward. Meanwhile, her arms struggled still, pinned at her narrow wrists, clutched like steel shackles by the beast's meaty green hands. It was nearly impossible to escape, perhaps she had acted in error by rushing apart from the rest. The beast saw an opening as he stared down at the feeble doubt in her eyes, it was then when the orc took this chance of weakness and bashed his thick forehead into hers. With the sting of impact, her skull spun while the doubled gravity shifted and the dizzy 'pair' of orcs throttled her neck.

Within its blood-thirsty rage, Christa plainly saw the ruthless monster that it was. Past her freshly crimson cheeks and within her deprived muscles, something broke.

A wave of shock hit her, as though an epiphany from long ago arose to the surface of her mind. Like a sinking sailboat, cast under the dark waves of an unforgiving storm. Death closed around her neck. Christa, however, had found something much more fearful than the natural order of surrender.

The consequence of a hunter's failure, was dying at the hands of such a monster. Her utter trepidation christened the moment as the chill crept to the corners of her soul. The fresh fire of determination was lit by the retaliation that shouted from within and with a single weak hand, Christa faced the fear that chased her as she promised the vain death of her sister would not become her own.

...


Following her drowning choke was the crackling sounds of the air as it clung to the pipes of her throat. A slow, deep wheeze caved in her chest as her bruised arm reached out to her side as she grasped for an empty hope.

Blades of grass pricked at her palm as her hand patted the earth, searching for the touch of cold metal. Her head shifted, while her mind fought to stay focused. The woman's fleeting vision clouded as the rain of blood around her never ceased.

Another slap against empty earth and her irises sunk to the side and Christa attempted one last reach for the misplaced gun. Numbed pallid fingertips fumbled against the smooth ridge of metal and her thoughts strained to stay active, awake as she fought the welcoming shadows of death.

Trigger..

The inner resolution she had used as a momentary store of strength evaporated like the lost breath in her lungs. Her purple lips coiled into a smile as it only took the eased crook of her elbow to align her sights on the orc strangling her and at the touch of the trigger, her survival was ensured her survival once more.

Heavy gasps filled her lungs with air as the slowed thrum of her heartbeat that had drummed in her ears sped up with new life.

Another breath was taken as she shoved the orc's body off of her. Blood had splattered on her lips, which she wiped off with the back of her hand with a scowl of disgust. A contemplating expression touched the corners of her features with frustration. This triumph had been too close and while she was the one standing over the corpse, Christa couldn't help but to feel the nagging claw at the back of her mind. One that tempted her with doubt. One that told her even Omni wasn't enough to save her.

Another dart slid by her ear and she rolled her weary bloodshot eyes. Oh not again.