The massive beast charged with a ground-shaking roar, its heavy footsteps spraying blood and debris across the torn street.
Philippa's grip on the slick knife tightened until her knuckles ached. She couldn't outrun something that size, not yet. The Sacrifice System pulsed at the edge of her vision, waiting.
"Fine," she muttered through gritted teeth. "Take the exhaustion from last week's double shift. All of it."
The System accepted without ceremony. A wave of fatigue lifted from her limbs like a weight she hadn't realized she was still carrying. In its place came a surge of raw vitality. Her heartbeat steadied, muscles felt lighter, and for one absurd second she almost smiled at how pathetic the trade was — giving up the memory of sore feet and aching back for a fighting chance against a nightmare.
The beast was almost on her. She dodged left at the last moment. Its clawed hand slammed down where she had stood, cracking the pavement and sending shards flying. One sharp fragment sliced across her thigh, opening a shallow but painful gash. Warm blood immediately soaked through her jeans.
She countered fast, driving the kitchen knife upward into the creature's exposed armpit. The blade sank deep with a wet, resistant squelch, tearing through dense muscle and scraping bone. Thick, dark blood gushed out in a hot torrent, pouring over her hands and arms. The metallic stench mixed with the creature's foul body odor made her eyes water, but she twisted the knife viciously, widening the wound until something inside tore with a sickening rip.
The beast howled and backhanded her. The blow caught her shoulder, lifting her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, rolling through a puddle of mixed blood and ichor. Pain flared along her side, but the fresh vitality kept her moving. She pushed up quickly, knife still in hand, dark fluid dripping from the blade.
From the corner of her eye she saw Sylcath watching. He hadn't moved to help. Instead he leaned against the abandoned car, arms loosely crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips as if the whole scene was entertainment.
"Nice footwork," he called out, voice carrying easily over the chaos. "But you're still bleeding for every inch. How long until you run out of things to trade away?"
Philippa ignored him. She couldn't afford the distraction. The beast recovered and lunged again, its massive jaws snapping. She slipped inside its reach and stabbed upward into the soft underside of its throat. The knife punched through hide and flesh with a juicy crunch. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, painting her face and chest crimson. The hot liquid tasted metallic when some landed on her lips. She yanked the blade free with a grotesque sucking sound and danced back, breathing hard.
The creature staggered, black blood pouring from the neck wound in rhythmic pulses. It wasn't dead yet. Its tail whipped around, catching her across the ribs. She felt something crack — a sharp, bright pain that made her vision flash white for a moment. She gasped, tasting blood in her mouth, but kept her feet.
[Sacrifice System: Vitality Boost stabilizing. Echo Ripple expanding — faint physical feedback may transfer to nearby living beings for the next hour.]
Another mild side effect. Philippa almost laughed bitterly. Now anyone close enough might feel a ghost of her cracked ribs or the burn in her thigh. Perfect. Just what she needed — to share pain with strangers while fighting for her life.
She circled the wounded beast, looking for a killing blow. Across the street, Sylcath finally pushed off the car. He walked forward with casual confidence, stepping through puddles of blood without care. One of the smaller skitterers darted toward him. He didn't even look down. His hand flicked out, crimson energy flaring. The creature froze mid-scuttle. Its body convulsed violently as he ripped a glowing fragment of its Gift straight out through its back. There was a wet tearing sound, like meat being pulled from bone, and the skitterer collapsed in a twitching heap, pale fluid leaking from the fresh cavity in its carapace.
Sylcath absorbed the essence with a small satisfied sigh. His eyes met Philippa's again.
"See? Clean. Efficient. No messy trades. No leaking your weakness all over the street." He gestured at the blood-soaked ground around her. "You're practically advertising how much you're willing to give up."
Philippa's jaw clenched. She could feel the ripple from her vitality boost brushing against him — a faint echo of her pain and adrenaline. For a split second his smirk faltered, as if he'd tasted something sour.
She didn't waste the moment. The beast roared again and charged. She met it head-on, ducking under a sweeping claw and driving the knife upward with all her enhanced strength. The blade sank deep into its chest, piercing something vital. A fountain of dark blood erupted, soaking her from head to waist. The creature's roar turned into a wet, gurgling choke as it thrashed.
She held on, twisting the knife deeper, feeling the blade scrape against ribs and organs. The beast's massive body shuddered, its hot breath washing over her in foul waves.
Behind her, Sylcath's voice came again, closer now.
"Impressive stubbornness. But stubbornness gets people killed. Or worse — turned into resources."
Philippa yanked the knife free with a final gruesome schlick, preparing to deliver the killing strike as the beast reared back for one last desperate attack. Blood continued to pour from its wounds in thick sheets, her own cuts stinging fiercely, the air thick with the stench of death and opened bodies. She raised the dripping blade, muscles burning, heart pounding, as the creature's shadow fell over her and Sylcath took another casual step forward, his crimson energy already beginning to gather in his palm.