CH56 - The First Salvo

The fight began similarly to the way it had in the past.

The manticore's core strategy seemed to be centred around suppressive fire. The aim was to overwhelm the enemy with so many attacks that some would eventually get through the cracks. Once weakened enough, Moros would strike, ending the battle with a single blow.

As such, the shrake and the graphorn immediately got to work again. Unfortunately for them, Edmund was no longer so bothered by their mediocre capabilities. When he had tangled with the beast last, Edmund had just completed the world anchor and the mind sense ritual. Now, his enhancements were a much more encompassing part of the broad spectrum that made up his fighting prowess—most notable of them was his danger sense.

Previously, the shrake's water volleys had barely missed him, even with his demiguise cloak and prodigious dodging abilities. Presently, its attempts to hit Edmund seemed like a joke. With a note of warning ringing in his head whenever the magical fish was close to striking him, he was able to evade the boiling bolts with little effort.

Instead, the majority of his focus was dedicated to the graphorn: the creature that had knocked him down the last time, inevitably leading to his defeat. He could not give the graphorn time to prepare and encircle its tentacles around the cave, for its threat would only grow the longer the battle continued. With each flick of his wand, one of the beast's tentacles was struck with a different spell. Although the graphorn was renowned for its magical resistance, as Edmund had discovered in the past, its tentacles were not nearly as protected. Directly hitting the appendages with four or five sharp force spells like the severing charm or tens of blunt force spells like the Bombarda would eventually lay waste to them.

And that was precisely what Edmund did.

Rolling under a tentacle hoping to wrap around his wand hand, Edmund hit it with a close-up cutter, causing blood to explode in a burst.

As he jumped over another ropy appendage trying to restrain his ankles, he struck the root of it near the graphorn's face with a blasting charm.

Closing his eyes, Edmund cast the brightest Lumos charm he could manage, temporarily blinding the heads. Seizing the momentary reprieve, he launched a series of hexes at the frozen graphorn's feelers, damaging them further.

Slowly, as he continued to weave around the manticore's vain attempts to blitz through his defences, he destroyed the graphorn's tentacles one by one until they were all gone.

With the temporary pause in the battle, Edmund wiped his forehead of all the sweat that had accumulated upon it. Bending side to side, he made a show of stretching languidly.

'Oh, wait... He can't even see me,' Edmund thought with an embarrassed wince.

Sure enough, the manticore was staring at him confusedly, wondering why Edmund was making straining noises for no reason.

*Cough*

"One down, six to go?" Edmund moved on shamelessly with a smile as though he were asking about the weather forecast.

"Hardly," Moros scoffed derisively. "They will regrow, just as strong as ever. Your measures are temporary, as is your presence on this earth."

Edmund shrugged. "You will be dead long before that—"

A bloody appendage shot out from behind him, eerily indistinguishable from the one that had surprised him all those months ago. Pivoting 180 degrees around, Edmund hit it with another curse, ending its threat once and for all.

"You thought I didn't know about that?" Edmund asked with a genuine chuckle. "Distracting me with a conversation for a sneak attack, huh? I'm almost impress—"

Moros interrupted him once more, this time with a lunge. Its claws sliced through the demiguise cloak, sending scraps of it flying through the air. Peculiarly, its nails had a greenish glow to them.

'Venom,' Edmund realized quickly. 'Acromantula venom. Not something I expected from someone of Moros' character.'

He voiced as much as well. "Trickery? A new low for someone who holds themself to such high standards?"

Moros growled in response, refusing to say anything else.

That was alright with Edmund.

'Pride means nothing when life is on the line,' he mused.

With that thought, he leapt back into the fray.

The graphorn was still functional as a meat shield, but it could hinder Edmund no longer beyond that. Moros clearly understood this as well. Noting the shrake's ineffectiveness, he had decided to turn the ranged battle into a melee one.

As the two danced around one another more closely, their varied combat styles became more distinguishable. Edmund was graceful and acrobatic, incredibly precise with his movements. Moros was more of a powerhouse, taking hits without any issue and aiming to strike strong and true.

And yet, something was odd...

The manticore would have been doubly effective with its attacks if only it tried to stick to Edmund more closely. Although the beast was clunky in the enclosed space, it did not explain its reluctance to move from the end of the cavern where it was situated. As Edmund retreated, Moros followed for a while before drawing back again.

Something strange was afoot.

'It's almost like he's scared to leave that end of the tunnel. But why?' Edmund wondered.

He could feel in his gut that the answer to the question was important, but he could not give himself much time to deliberate on it for now. Moros' self-imposed restriction was a boon for him, and one he would take full advantage of.

It was time for another head to go.

Objectively, the acromantula was the most useless out of the seven. Its venom was potent, and its paralytic qualities were astonishing, but it simply did not serve a purpose in this setting. Located at the outermost edge of the heads, it never truly got a chance to shine, considering it needed to get up close to do so.

As he persisted in engaging Moros, Edmund sneakily transfigured the silt from the riverbed into tens of tiny worms, each independent and mobile. The magic was both easy and challenging in different ways. It was uncomplicated because each individual worm was easy to transfigure, and its motions were easy to animate. Collectively, it was difficult trying to manage multiple constructs at once without using the entirety of his focus.

Still, Edmund was not known as a Transfiguration prodigy without reason.

Slowly, the fingerlike helminths crawled up the sides of the walls before they were directly overtop the acromantula's head.

'Wait...'

'Wait...'

'Now!'

The worms detached from the ceiling, falling onto the acromantula's face. The spider startled, shaking itself uselessly to get rid of the unwanted parasites. It was of no use. Like a scene from a horror movie, they crawled into orifices relentlessly. Those that found themselves in the beast's mouth were swiftly 'killed' by its pincers and untransfigured into soil automatically. However, those who successfully made their way into the eight eyes could not be so easily stopped. Wriggling around incessantly, they invaded the internal nervous system, wreaking havoc. The acromantula screeched and wailed in pain as Moros watched helplessly before going completely limp. With his mind sense, Edmund could detect that its branch of the manticore had gone entirely dim.

Moros roared with impotent rage, battling more fiercely than ever. However, its anger did not make it a better fighter, and Edmund continued to move unhindered, just as he had before.

'That's it!' he cheered himself on. 'Which one next?'

His eyes turned to the erumpent, narrowing slightly as the gears in his mind began to turn. Not much was known about the magical rhinoceros indigenous to Africa. Firstly, they were sacred to the tribes there, who defended them fiercely against would-be poachers and unethical magical experimentation. Secondly, they were so incredibly rare. Their small numbers could largely be blamed on their mating habits. Erumpments only gave birth to one calf at a time, making their reproduction process relatively slow compared to other creatures. Furthermore, Newt Scamander had noted that male Erumpents frequently blew themselves up during mating season.

How?

The erumpent attacked through its explosive fluid, injected via its horn. When searching for a mate, males of the species had a tendency to pierce themselves during their self-grooming habits accidentally.

It was an amusing image and one Edmund would take inspiration from.

Taking a deep breath, Edmund channelled the most significant amount of magic he had needed since the beginning of the bout. With his wand in hand, he rotated it slightly, bringing it downwards from up in the air to a location perpendicular to his body.

As he did so, an invisible pressure began to press down on the erumpent's head, making it bend down. The spell was the same that Voldemort would use against Harry Potter to make him bow during their duel after the dark lord's resurrection. Edmund was nowhere near as competent with it, but he could get away with substituting technique with raw power in this instance.

Even so, the process was exhaustive to him, requiring the utmost focus. Belatedly, he could hear Moros snarling at the occurring events, but he paid him the barest of minds. With one final push, the horn finally reached the creature's neck, penetrating it decisively. A huge splat resounded throughout the echoey passage, followed by a tremendous shower of gore.

Using a quick scouring charm on his person, Edmund was as good as ever. He was on a roll, and he would be damned if he stopped now.

'The acromantula and the erumpent are out on the right. The graphorn and the horned serpent are no threat to me on the left,' he summarized to himself.

Moros howled to the heavens, having no other source to relieve his pent-up frustration.

Watching with cold eyes, Edmund grinned wickedly. 'Only three left.'