Chapter 3: Battle Tactics (1/2)
Zac took a quick glance behind him and noticed the demonling following, as he started calling it in his head. It wasn’t dissuaded at all from continuing its pursuit, though it looked slightly disoriented from the previous charge. Or perhaps the still bleeding gash on the neck was starting to show some effect. Its speed was somewhat slowed, but it was still quickly catching up to him.
No longer being able to afford to care about adages such as not putting weight on a hurt leg, he ignored the pain and started charging towards the split boulder he’d passed earlier. His wounds split open even further, and his left leg was now completely dyed red. The pain was excruciating as he ran, but the fear of death kept him pushing forward.
He was pretty sure that this was his only shot, as the short run managed to up his pain to a terrifying level, and he was starting to get woozy from the blood loss. And who knows what poisons or pathogens a demon dog has on its claws. Zac could only pray that his new superpowers included super-white blood cells as well.
Finally arriving at his goal, he heaved a few raspy breaths and turned around toward the monster now roughly forty meters away from him. Seeing that its prey had stopped moving, it hesitated slightly and stopped. The demonling slightly growled and hissed in a register that sounded much too low for something that size.
Zac was afraid it would wait for his wounds to worsen his condition even further, or even gather reinforcements. If that happened, his small chance of survival would be completely extinguished. He needed to end this fight quickly in any case, as the pulsating wounds on his legs reminded him that time was limited, with or without backup.
“COME GET IT, PIECE-OF-SHIT DOG!” he roared, inwardly cursing his lacking cursing ability. He then picked up a small rock and flung it with all the force he could muster at the demonling. It drew a great arc as it zoomed through the air and missed spectacularly by a few meters. Luckily, it seemed the demon dog needed almost no encouragement for mayhem and slaughter, and with a great roar, it started barreling straight towards him again.
“Come on, come on…” he whispered, once again readjusting his grip on the hatchet. This was it, do or die now. When the monster was just three meters away from him, he once again dove to the side with all his might. This time the monster was somewhat ready for it and managed to swipe him at his calf. It didn’t seem as deep as his last gashes but still burned like hell.
The momentum of the demonling pushed it forward, straight into the cleft of the split boulder. The space was barely wide enough for it to get in, and it got stuck when the second set of legs reached the edge of the rock. The collision caused a massive thump, and gravel and rock chippings flew about, accompanied by an enraged, but pained, snarl.
Zac knew he couldn’t hesitate, and quickly scrambled to his feet. The pain was staggering, but the coursing adrenaline in his system kept him going. This was the small window he created for himself, and if this didn’t work, he had no other recourse.
Mentally praying to long-lost gods of lumberjacking, he took a two-handed grip on the hatchet and swung with all his might at the lower end of the monster’s spine. Hopefully, the anatomy of hell spawns was somewhat similar to normal animals, where a cut on the spine would cut important nerves and maybe even nick an artery.
The axe hit true and severed the spine and even dug a bit further. A great spurt of blood and a pained yelp accompanied it. The thick hind legs completely gave out, and it thumped down onto the ground. But while the demonling was temporarily stuck, it was no sitting duck. It thrashed wildly from the strike, and one of the remaining four legs managed to hit Zac squarely in the stomach. He was thrown backwards and lost his grip on the handle of the axe.
He hit the ground with a thud, losing all the air in his lungs. He didn’t dare take account of his steadily worsening wounds though, and immediately got back up on his feet. The world spun for a second as he scrambled up, but he forced himself to stay awake.
The sight meeting him seemed even more positive than he had dared hope. Both its hind legs uselessly slumped down, and dark red blood was quickly pooling beneath the beast. The wound he had managed to create on the beast must have actually cut a couple of veins, as blood unceasingly poured out of its back wound in far larger quantities compared to the shallow wound on its neck.