Chapter 21

The fire slowly died down as the night hit its peak.

Red's breath stabilized, leaving only the sound of the crackling embers.

A wooden stick not far away broke in half, gathering no attention. A low growl turned into a full dash.

Its steps rocked the ground, breaking everything in its path. One stomp extinguished the embers with the goal of taking a life.

One meter. Red opened his eyes as he saw those scarlet red eyes reflecting his own silhouette. Sword in hand, he thrust it inside its throat.

The Beowolf growled in pain, but didn't let go.

Its huge body squashed Red, almost breaking his left arm, so close to crippling him. He kept stabbing with whatever he had left.

No technique or thought, just pure power that wished for survival. The sound of the sword entering its flesh accompanied by its roars. A test of endurance.

It wiggled and stomped on his ribs.

The searing pain didn't stop him. He kept trying to pierce the skull of the Beowolf.

When it was about to stomp again, the sword finally made it through. It pierced its brain, turning the Beowolf into black smoke.

Absolute relief washed over him.

He survived.

However, the agonizing pain flooded his nerves, and the fight wasn't over.

Underneath the moonlight, he saw it.

His death.

A pack of dozens of beowolves. He couldn't count them, nor did he have the energy to. His limp hand couldn't even hold the staff.

The right hand held his sword.

His eyes witnessed the negative emotions dance inside the Grimm, forcing them to attack. They rushed at him.

The entire body of his trembled. Each breath brought in piercing sharp pain, and his body bled from numerous places. He took a step forward, waiting for its attack.

First Beowolf arrived, lunging at him.

He side stepped and made a diagonal cut. Second later another Beowolf arrived. This time it encircled him alongside with the injured one.

Then, the third plunged at him. He met its bite with the staff on his back. It deformed, but held on.

The sheer weight brought Red to the ground. He cut apart the straps that held the spear on his back and rolled over just to see those scarlet eyes again.

This time, he kicked its jaw. With his right hand, he forcefully got up.

The dance resumed. An endless tide of beowolves from all sides lunging at him, trying to bite off any piece of him.

Red brought his body to its utmost limits.

Blood, energy, pain, injuries. None of that mattered. Only the power to kill one more took precedence.

He felt his body break down.

Each slash took a part of him away. The excitement in the Beowolves' eyes multiplied.

Red managed to find and take his staff into his left hand. It shouldn't have any strength, but he moved it.

An illusion of strength flooded his mind.

Although his heart threatened to jump out of his throat. It never stopped beating. It got stronger and more powerful, and he felt a rush of strength.

Like a madman, he kept swinging.

His staff landed on a Beowolf, shattering his skull. The sword that needed multiple stabs to break the hide cleanly chopped off a head.

This time, the entire pack flinched.

Yet, the target in their eyes became much more fragrant. It smelled like a delicacy, turning their negative emotions into a frenzy. Excited, they jumped to their deaths.

Red's mind became blank.

He couldn't think, and attacks occupied his entire mind.

Somehow, the strength kept surging, never receding, and he used it. A fighting chance woke him up from the pits of despair.

The battle kept getting louder and louder.

Some experienced beowolves began to howl, attracting even more attention from the surrounding Grimm.

Red didn't waver, his mind gradually became clear.

Each swing became more refined, wasting less of the seemingly infinite energy.

Yet, no matter how many swings killed the numerous Grimm, he could only see the black silhouettes underneath the moonlight.

Endless and bloodthirsty.

The dance continued for hours. He stood in one place and kept killing Grimm, but no matter how much he killed, they didn't dwindle at all.

He tried to get away, but they had him encircled with no way to escape.

Gradually, even the infinite energy waned. He couldn't breathe properly, the blood in his throat and the unknown status of his lungs.

After what seemed to be another hour of slaughter. One Beowolf finally managed to take a bite.

It got denied as red light flashed on his body. Just then, he realized what had happened.

'Aura'

He didn't know how it kept him on his own two feet for so long.

But the ride was coming to a close. Although he finally saw the end of the Grimm horde, the fun didn't end at all.

From the reckless and juvenile Beowolves and Ursai.

He now faced the experienced alphas and beyond. They slowly integrated alongside the smaller Beowolves, using them as shields.

Red knocked a major Ursai with his staff, briefly staggering it.

During this time, he stabbed the weaker Beowolf, ending its life. Without delay, he combined his sword and staff.

He swung around himself the weight of the spear, gathering momentum.

Whenever one Grimm got closer, he exploded. But even with the powerful blows, most of the Ursai didn't go down in a few hits. Especially the major variant.

He repeatedly knocked them down and stabbing a few whenever he got the breathing window.

Nevertheless, their thick hide, huge spikes and armour made it impossible to kill in a few stabs and they weren't alone. Alpha Beowolf accompanied the huge major Ursa alongside many minor Ursai.

They were relentless.

Even their teamwork improved during the fight.

The moment one entangled Red, the other would come to his blind spot for an attack. This deprived him of the opportunity to truly fight back.

His body began to slow down.

The injuries that the aura temporarily healed began to open up.

Even under the care of an aura, his body began to gradually breakdown. Left without an option, he mustered his strength.

The moment an alpha beowolf got close, he exploded.

At full speed, he got near, stabbed it in its throat and kicked it away with much strength as he could.

The sound of the spear tearing through it gave him some hope.

Without looking back, he dashed to the side. The massive major almost pinned him down.

Time ticked.

The alpha behind him didn't die and began to get up.

Red used the huge major as a stepping point. With a kick, he slammed its head to the ground and jumped a few meters in the air.

He threw his spear. The brute force of the spear managed to pierce its thick skull's protection. His body followed as he kicked the shaft. The air reverberated thanks to the sheer force.

Its skull cracked apart.

He ignored the small Ursai and dashed towards the Beowolf alpha.

It had long recovered and already closed the distance. This time, he threw his spear ahead of the time.

The beowolf barely dodged, but that was enough.

He got close under its mouth and threw a power hook to its chin. The force brought its body into the air.

Red retrieved the spear and positioned himself just right. It fell trying to control its body, but he was one step further. The moment it got close to the ground, he sprung up and inserted it inside his target.

It howled in agony.

The spear traveled through its entire body as the tip of the spear appeared inside its mouth.

The entire body turned into mist.

Red looked around. What remained were a few Ursai and two Beowolves.

He got ready to fight, but his leg gave up first.

'So close.' He thought, the infinity power finally ran out. He exerted too much power in the last few attacks.

Not only did it take away energy.

But he couldn't breathe at all. As if his body turned into a rock, rigid and hard. It all caught up. He didn't want to.

Finally, after so much time, a tear trickled down his eye.

So many what ifs, regrets and possible redo.

Even a brief flash of hatred.

His facade finally collapsed. The one thing that he promised her was now broken.

'Stoicism, right? I failed even that.'

The proposed idea. She talked about stoicism and although she didn't know much about it, she knew what it represented.

Or at least she told him so.

Calmness, collected calmness, almost on a level of uncaring indifference.

But at the same time, something different entirely. Apparently uncaring indifference is a failure in front of a real stoic.

He didn't understand. He might not even find out.

His right hand finally let go. The spear fell down as he felt the last drop of his aura leave him. It shattered to pieces and vanished like mist.