Lament of the Slave

Chapter 61: Struggle

"Never again!" I growled through gritted teeth.

Surprisingly, even without a saddle or rope and with a wing in the beast's mouth, I didn't have so much of a problem holding on to its head. My concern was the antlers behind me, which, if I wasn't careful, threatened to dig into my haunches. And, of course, I couldn't forget the shoots sprouting from the moss growing on the beast. Those buggers were back, pestering me.

Though I could allow myself to think that as this was probably the first time, I was able to rely on my shield in a fight. The power behind the shoots was not something I could afford just to laugh off, but it wasn't enough to break through, let alone shatter the shield. Something to marvel at.

Although not right now.

For some reason, the beast refused to let go of the wing. To force it, I moved Sage to its nose and squeezed the last of the venom from his glands, hoping the young mossbear wouldn't like it.

And I wasn't wrong. It didn't.

Yet the beast didn't let go of my wing either. It just swung its paws at my tail to chase it away, sneezing. When that didn't disperse the venom hovering around its nose, the beast took off. Its frantic dash got rid of the poison, not me on its head.

I could, so I used [Tail of Poison Empress] again, this time not caring about the gasps that came out of my throat when Sage took another chunk of my mana and aimed my claws at the mossbear's eyes, which were mere centimeters away from my feet.

Though, to hold on to the running beast and accurately hit were two completely different things. That's what I learned when I missed the eye again. After that, all the beast had to do was toss its head at the right time. Worse, right after my failed attack, I watched in my domain as the moss covered his eyebrows.

"Tss," I hissed when the shoots shooting out of that moss deflected my hand, and I missed for the third time. Not wasting my energy with more attempts, I changed my target to the beast's snout, especially its nose. It was not a part of the mossbear's body protected by fur and tough skin. The only thing I had to worry about was its mouth full of sharp teeth. Teeth that were currently sunk into my wing and why I was doing this in the first place.

This time when I swept my hand, I felt my claws dig deeper into the flesh than usual. The blood that stained my face and the painful howl of the beast were proof of that. What's more, my wing was finally free. Torn, bleeding, limp but not stuck in the jaws of mossbear.

I saw an opportunity, so I attacked this delicate part of the beast again. Mossbear stopped, howling in pain, tossing his head in an attempt to shake me off. Then to prevent me from turning its nose into mincemeat, the beast resorted to something it hadn't done before. It rolled over.

Not wanting to get crushed under the massive beast, I jumped. Soaring high, and surprisingly, despite a limp wing, keeping my balance so well that I landed smoothly in a crouch on the ash-covered forest floor.

The young mossbear may have been my rival, yet my eyes fell to my left, where, from the ashes raised by my landing, a man stared at me. His gaze, distorted with pain, almost made me scream.

One of the Shadowbreakers archers. Except that the bow and the hand that held it, which I found lying in the ash, were unnaturally far from the rest of the body, and the expression on his face was deathly stiff. I quickly averted my eyes from the fallen Shadow who had lost his battle, glad the sight didn't turn my stomach inside out.

Still, it left a nasty taste in my mouth.

Glancing back at the mossbear, which was already on all fours, I stood up, spat, and dreaded another round. The odds were not in my favor.