The Unbroken Spirit
The Minotaur's war cry was a sound ripped from a nightmare, and its charge was an unstoppable force of muscle and rage. I didn't think; I just acted. My body, a blur of battered and bruised reflexes, dove out of the way. The beast slammed into the metal door behind me, the sound of the impact a violent, echoing crack that left the thick steel bent and half-folded like a piece of paper.
I scrambled back, my heart pounding against my ribs, and tried to run for the exit. But the beast was impossibly fast. It turned on a dime, its massive form cutting off my path. My escape route, a wide, open corridor just seconds ago, was now blocked by a wall of golden armor and pure violence. I couldn't outrun it. There was no way to get past it. The only way out was through the beast.
The monster started to engage, its massive fists swinging, each blow a deadly wind that would have crushed my skull if it had connected. I moved like a cat, my instincts, so long dormant, now screaming in every nerve. I ducked and weaved, my body contorting to avoid the killing blows.
But my luck was running out.
I ducked under a wide right hook, and the beast's massive torso caught me with a glancing blow. The impact sent me flying, my body a rag doll tossed across the factory floor. I hit the ground hard, a fresh wave of pain searing through my ribs. I tried to get up, but before I could, a heavy boot connected with my stomach, sending me flopping like a fish. The beast did this two more times, each kick more powerful than the last, until I was a broken, bloodied mess on the floor.
I gasped for air, spitting up blood, the sharp, agonizing pain of broken ribs a constant reminder of my humanity. The beast stood over me, watching with a calm, predatory gaze. I struggled to my feet, my body trembling with the effort. I was beaten. My face was a mask of blood and sweat.
I held my ribs, my voice a broken whisper. "What are you?