He dashed forward, feinting toward the crab's right pincer, but at the last moment, he shifted sharply, propelling himself in the opposite direction. The crab reacted a split second too late, its left pincer slamming shut with a spark that sent a shock through the air. But Alonso was already out of reach, brushing the weaker pulse that reached him.

Keeping his momentum, he leapt up, using the crab's leg as a foothold, then springboarding off the base of its thick, segmented claw arm. A final push launched him near the base of the right antenna.

He planted his feet firmly on the hard shell, bracing himself, and swung his sword in a wide, horizontal arc, slicing through the antenna close to its root with a single, precise stroke.

Immediately, he sensed the left pincer rising toward him, poised to strike. He stepped back, keeping just out of reach, and the pincer snapped shut, releasing a pulse he defended against with ease, after creating an appropriate distance.

Unlike the arthropod he had encountered before, the crustacean didn't thrash in confusion after losing an antenna. It remained calm, almost still as it adjusted its stance. One of its massive pincers hovered close to its head, positioned defensively near its remaining antenna and its large, dark eyes.

It's guarding its weak points.

"Well, that's a good strategy. I suppose not many things could penetrate its shell, so when it's disoriented, it just defaults to covering its smaller vulnerabilities," Alonso observed, keeping himself steady at the rear of the crab's shell. He'd expected it to start thrashing wildly, but this display of defensive intelligence wasn't part of his plan.

After a moment of thought, he made his decision.

Alonso took a deep breath, adjusting his stance, and wound his arm back, angling his body for maximum momentum. With a powerful twist of his torso and shoulders, he launched his sword, putting every ounce of strength into the throw.

The blade spun through the air in a perfect arc, whirling end over end, aimed directly at the crab's remaining antenna.

The sword struck true, slicing cleanly through the antenna and flying past. Alonso had already leapt off the crab's shell, sprinting in the direction his sword had gone.

Behind him, the crab hesitated, its massive body pausing for a brief, telling instant. Then, almost instinctively, it raised both pincers, crossing them over its comparatively smaller head in a tight, defensive stance, staying motionless.

Alonso reached his sword, finding it embedded deep in the thick trunk of a nearby tree. He yanked it free, glancing back at the crustacean as he returned. Now that it couldn't rely on the EM waves to orient itself, tracking his movements would be much more difficult.

That said… it still had eyes, an element that other creatures so far had lacked. Which meant that, while disoriented, it wasn't completely blind.

Now… how to kill it?

His original plan had been straightforward: drive his sword straight through one of its eyes, hoping to reach the brain and end it quickly. But with both pincers covering its head in a solid defense—and the potential for a deadly shock if he got too close—that was no longer an option. At least, not directly.

He studied the creature's anatomy closely, his gaze tracing over each armored plate and joint. The more he observed, the more he realized how well-engineered its defenses were. Even the joints, usually a weak spot, were reinforced and solid. The fact that this creature could move with all that weight and armor almost defied logic, yet it did and pretty swiftly and fluidly.

His eyes fixed on the arms—the segments connecting the massive pincers to the main body. The joints there, while heavily armored, might be vulnerable if he could strike them repeatedly. It would take time, and a lot of precision, but he couldn't think of any other way to get through.

The meat inside better be worth it, he thought, grinning.

He took a deep breath, gripped his sword tightly, and stepped forward.

With Overdrive at 40%, he dashed toward the crab's left pincer, targeting the joint where it connected to the rest of its body. He swung his sword in a powerful chop, slamming it down on the thick exoskeleton with a satisfying crack. The impact echoed, but the joint held firm, only a faint line marking where his blade had struck.

The crab's pincer jerked, sweeping toward him, but Alonso dodged back, narrowly avoiding the massive claw as he sent a wave to counter the shock that followed its snap. The weakened pulse reached his mind, but his defenses absorbed it with ease.

He sidestepped, circling the creature, waiting for the right moment to strike again. The crab turned slowly but then settled back into its defensive stance.

Again.

He lunged in, bringing his sword down hard on the exact same spot once more, feeling the impact reverberate through his arms. A small crack began to spread along the armor, but it wasn't enough.

The crab retaliated, snapping its pincer down with a force that rattled the ground beneath him, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

Alonso leapt back, defending against the shock, then landed smoothly a couple of meters away. Wasting no time, he moved in with relentless precision, targeting the same spot again.

This was going to be a battle of endurance. Each strike chipped away at the armor, bit by bit, but the creature's defenses were resilient, and any misstep on his part could leave him within range of those deadly, electrified pincers.

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He steadied his breathing, focusing all his senses, waiting for each opening before dashing in, striking, and retreating. Minutes passed, and with each successful hit, the cracks in the joints deepened.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he drove his sword down with all his strength, and the joint gave way. The pincer sagged, partially disconnected from the body, now hanging at an awkward angle.

One down.

He shifted his attention to the other pincer, moving swiftly, determined to repeat the process and finally finish off the creature.

Here we go again.

He lunged in, bringing his sword down hard on the second joint, feeling the satisfying give as the blade met the vulnerable spot again and again.

Each strike dug deeper, widening the fracture, forcing the crab to stagger. It raised its remaining pincer to retaliate, but Alonso was faster, dodging smoothly to the side, narrowly avoiding the snap and the surge of energy that followed.

Alonso leapt to one side, his feet leaving the ground, feeling the rush of air as the pincer closed near him. He was mid-air, preparing to strike down, when suddenly—

Everything shifted.

A scream—piercing, raw—rips through my mind. Houston?

What's happening? Overdrive 60%? But… why?

Time grinds to a crawl, every second stretching painfully.

The air around me thickens, every detail sharp and loud.

I can smell the salt from the sea, the faint metallic tang of the crustacean's blood still lingering. Even the dust in the air feels heavy as it clings to my skin. And then I feel it—something coming at me, fast, even in this slowed frame.

A faint, whistling sound cuts through the thick silence—a projectile, small, spherical.

A shot? From a sling?

I don't have solid ground to brace against, no momentum to dodge or deflect. All I can do is flick my sword into its path, grip tight with both hands—top and bottom—and brace for impact, hoping it doesn't splinter on contact. If it does, if it fragments…

This could be it.

Whoever launched that shot had perfect timing.

Those spineless, gutless fuckers.

As the projectile closes in, out of the corner of my eye, I catch the crab's pincer about to snap shut.

I can't help but smile. What an impeccable shot.

Houston warned me not to rely on waves in this state, but… it's that or die. And now…

I'm pissed.

With the projectile and shock barreling toward me, I channel all my mental threads, pouring them into my sword, accelerating it as much as possible to counter the momentum of the projectile. Another set of threads reaches toward the crab's pincer, countering the shockwave before it hits.

The shock hits first, but I shake it off. Too weak.

Then the rock strikes the broad side of my blade. It's strong—damn strong.

The impact jolts me back, my boots sliding over the rough ground. My wrists tense against the vibration, but I keep my grip firm, steadying the blade.

Finally, the projectile ricochets off, clattering to the ground somewhere behind me, leaving my arms aching. I exhale, breath uneven, muscles tense from the effort.

That… was close.

But I don't dwell on it. The moment I regain my footing, I know the danger is over.

I shift to the side quickly, spotting another projectile already in motion. I trace its origin—60 meters from here.

I move around the crab, which remains fixed in its defensive stance. I'll deal with you later.

I sprint forward, no zig-zagging, no hiding behind trees. My only goal is to reach the source of that shot as fast as possible. If another projectile comes? Hah, I could dodge it with my eyes closed, feet on the ground, picking up every shift in the air.

The distance closes with every stride. Whoever's behind that shot better be ready.

Then I see him—a vaguely familiar face from Siddharth's duel, though I can't be bothered to remember the details. All that matters now is the fear in his stance, barely hidden behind his sword and shield.

I take a deep breath, feeling everything sharpen, time itself slowing as I close in.

I'm in melee range before he even registers it. Twisting my feet, I shift to the side, evading his desperate swipe. The blade misses me by inches, passing so close I can feel the air split around it. Leaning back, I slip past the edge, the world frozen as I pivot, raising my leg.

And then—impact.

My kick lands with bone-rattling force, sending him hurtling back.

Blood spurts from his mouth as he tumbles, skidding and rolling across the ground for at least a dozen meters, trailing dust and blood in his wake.

Before he can even gasp, I'm already behind him, appearing in his blind spot as he scrambles to his knees. I drive my fist downward, hammering him into the ground with enough force to crack the earth beneath us.

Dust rises in a thick cloud as he slams into the ground, coughing up more blood, his body crumpling beneath the impact. I hear several bones crack, but I know exactly where I hit—he's still alive.

I pick up his sword and shield, flinging them far out of his reach. His sling… I grab it and snap it into pieces, letting the fragments fall to the ground.

I glance back at him. His face is twisted in pain, blood streaking from his mouth, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He's barely conscious, his chest caved inward, a grotesque sight with shallow, ragged breaths escaping him.

I stare down at him, fingers tightening around my sword. The weight of it feels heavier than usual, the urge to end this lingering in my grip, pulsing through my fingers.

My gaze drifts over his battered face, his shallow, struggling breaths. It would be easy. A simple thrust, and it's over.

But... no. Killing him is useless to me. Let him live as a reminder instead.

I release my hold on the blade, letting the tension seep from my arm as I channel a pulse, raw and unrestrained, flooding his senses with everything I've been holding back.

His body goes slack, falling limp in the dirt, unconscious.

Without another glance, I turn and walk away, the faint sound of his breathing fading into silence behind me.

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