It’s heavier than I expected. I consider myself strong, but this is an impossible weight to lift. I have to roll to avoid being caged in by its horns piercing the ground. My body gets scratched up by sharp rocks. The distinct pain of broken glass pierces my arms, but I can’t dwell on it for long.
I get up.
I need it to get close to me one more time, and then the real fun can start. The muki snarls and lunges with its claw-like hands. I underestimate its reach, and it slices the armor covering my stomach. That’s another good data point, but it’s not the one I need. Looking at how low to the ground the creature is, I need to test its balance.
I dodge another attack and see my opening. I run around the muki, narrowly missing its claws again. When I see it prepare to lunge, I jump up and push myself off the wall to the other side. The motion requires the type of agility I excel at, intense and sharp.
It tries to redirect its attack and loses its balance in the process, tripping over its own feet and falling on its back. It gets up too fast for me to take advantage, but it’s too late. I saw the way it struggled to get up. Lack of strength, body too heavy to easily move.
I won’t kill this creature, but I won’t let it kill me either. I’ve seen all I need of its strengths and weaknesses. Now the fight really begins.
My opportunity comes when they charge at me again. My moves are frantic. I know I look disorganized and unpredictable. I fight with instinct and a shred of forethought, which makes it hard enough for me to plan out my moves and impossible for the muki to predict. They’re smart creatures, probably smarter than me.
But I want something, and that’s a pretty powerful thing.
I’m aiming my mace at the same place with every swing, and it only hits about half the time. I don’t feel any frustration. That helps hide my purpose. The muki’s skin and horns are so tough that my mace gets duller and duller with each hit.
It charges at me with its claws and slashes at my side. I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed.
I’m battered, feeling bruises forming on every inch of my skin, but the rush in my veins cools the pain. As the muki charges at me, I know it’s for the last time.
Because I’m going to let it hit me.
I brace for it, prepare myself both physically and mentally, but when the pain comes, it still shocks my body. I keep myself from instinctively pulling away, and then force myself to do more. To go harder.
I push forward, and its horn stabs deeper into my shoulder.
I don’t know when it’s enough. I just know when I’m at my limit, and then I take my chance. With its horn stuck in me, I’m able to twist my mace and flip it over, and I get lucky. I hit the tip enough times to weaken it, and with that final movement, the tip of its horn cracks, leaving a piece inside my shoulder.
Someone screams, whether it was me, the muki, or both, I don’t care.
Because I did it.
The muki’s horn oozes a deep black fluid that mixes with my blood. I know it’s samay despite not feeling anything special from it. It’s pure black divinity.
I don’t even need their stone anymore. There’s nothing else that would be a better offering. A muki’s horn. Guardians be damned. My breath echoes in the cave and sounds like a windstorm, mixing with the muki’s guttural screams to create a wretched symphony.
Suyai always says I don’t know when to quit, and Suyai is often right.
I walk behind the muki and step on their non-broken horn to make sure it doesn’t get up. It howls, defeated and powerless with the pain they must feel.
“It’s nothing personal,” I say.
We don’t need the stone for the plan to work, but I want it anyway.
No one takesit very well when I get back to the house, despite all my best efforts to wash my major wounds and show up as the light fades to hide the blood.
“You’re kidding me. You fought it?” Muna shouts.
Out of all the exclamations as I came through the door, that’s the one that catches me off guard.
“Was I not supposed to?” I say, breathless from the pain coursing through my body.
“I told you,” the princess says to Muna, and I feel lost. “I told you she would confront it rather than sneak around, but you swore to me–”
“No sane person would fight it if they could help it!”
“She’s insane!” the princess shouts, and I try my best to hide my smile, I really do. But it’s a little hard when I have one hand full of treasure and the other immobile from searing pain.
