Its body didn't erupt in a spectacular fireball, but the flames did slither down its throat, scorching everything they touched. The Manticore's face was no longer contorted in that mocking grin; genuine fear flickered there now as it realized the damage I'd inflicted. But I had no intention of letting it recover, so I rushed forward, legs pumping hard.
I brought my hammer down on its face, blow after blow. Its eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to protect them. Snarling, I tossed my buckler aside and plunged my left hand into its left eye. My nails dug in, scraping away the gelatinous mass in its socket.
Something clicked inside me, like a wild urge finally unleashed. After tearing out a particularly large chunk of its eye, I held the gore in view of its other eye and crushed it in my fist. A mad thrill coursed through me, pushing aside all else. I let out a small, unhinged giggle.
"Who's the prey now?" I taunted. Its massive body still faced me, but for some reason, I felt bigger—stronger than it. "I'm going to break you into little pieces."
It backpedaled, trying to recover, but I let it. Logically, I should have pressed my advantage, yet the rush of power was too addictive. I needed this to last.
It managed about nine or ten paces, moving slowly—likely from its injuries. During that time, I strode to the brazier's flame and pressed my hammer head into it. I watched it glow red-hot without even looking at the Manticore. Let it try me.
Eventually, it did. I knew the moment it charged by the sudden roar of the crowd—and I felt the beast hurtling toward me. It wasn't the same desperate rush as before, but enough time had passed for it to gather itself. Maybe it thought it had a chance now.
Deciding the hammer was hot enough, I waited until the looming shadow signaled it was almost upon me. Then I turned, diving to the right. Its tail twisted, catching me in the shoulder, but instead of pain, I felt only a rush of excitement. I barely registered the harm it might've done.
In a single fluid motion, I swung my hammer into its hindquarters. The red-hot metal seared flesh on impact, and the Manticore let out a piercing shriek—so loud, half the men in the crowd screamed with it. A faint smell of roasted meat drifted in the air.
I didn't realize then how severe its hit on me had been—my chest and shoulder were torn open, exposing muscle to the open air. Blood trailed behind me wherever I moved. The Manticore stared at me with its one bloodshot eye, issuing a rage-filled roar. I heard part of it before my hearing cut out; I didn't even feel the blood trickling from my ears because I was bracing for its next attacks.
It lashed its tail again. I raised my arm and managed to catch it under my armpit. Even as I clamped down, one of its paws raked my side, knocking me off-balance. I still managed to hook the pick-side of the hammer onto the base of its tail. Another paw-swipe tore away the battered breastplate I wore, finishing what earlier blows had started.
Refusing to let go, I lurched at its flank and scrambled up, ending astride its back like some demented rider. Hammer raised high, I slammed it down repeatedly, aiming to shatter its spine. After maybe four blows, it bucked me off, slamming me hard into the dirt. The impact tore the hammer from my grip and sent my helmet tumbling.
Something felt wrong in my body as I stood—dizzy, unsteady—yet I forced myself to move. The Manticore and I locked eyes, both of us looking half-dead. But I started forward anyway, thoughts of retrieving my hammer forgotten. It limped toward me in turn, unsteady from its torn tail and battered back.
We met in a brutal clash. I lunged for its face with bloodied hands; it opened its maw wide enough to tear huge chunks from me. Unnoticed by me, the blood on my back formed the symbol I'd received so long ago from that cloaked woman. Likewise, the fire—despite having little fuel—seemed to crawl closer as if drawn to me. The crowd was screaming, but I couldn't hear them. My vision was red as I drove a fist at its contorted face. I barely felt it bite down on my left arm; it yanked me off-balance, but while it chewed on that limb, I aimed to finish its remaining eye.
I plunged my hand deeper into that socket than before, until my fingers caught on something like a cord. Gritting my teeth, I yanked outward with every ounce of strength. My prize was more shredded eye matter and a gray lump tethered by a red cord. The Manticore's jaw slackened, and it began pacing aimlessly, as though its body had lost any sense of purpose.
I scanned the ground for my hammer, flinging the gruesome chunk aside in the process. Once I spotted my weapon, I walked over to the still-wandering husk of a beast. It took several heavy blows to finally bring it down for good. Its body collapsed, sprawled on the sand, but I found I couldn't even lift my head to look around.
It wasn't guilt—I simply felt too dizzy. Every movement rattled my senses. I barely noticed the men rushing in, dressed like clinic workers, nor did I register the roar of the crowd. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, my vision bleeding into a deeper red, teetering on the edge of blackness.