Bloated and Tipsy

Vital lunged again, but this time Eli, despite the burning pain in his side, was ready. He sidestepped, gritting his teeth as the movement pulled at his wound, and slashed with his knife, catching Vital's arm.

The Nightwalker hissed in pain, his eyes flaring with fury. Blood dripped from Eli's side, staining his clothes, but he couldn't afford to slow down.

Vital's rage intensified, his attacks relentless. Eli barely managed to stay one step ahead, his reflexes slowing with each passing second. Every step sent sharp pangs of agony through his body, and his vision blurred momentarily, but he forced himself to focus.

Vital swung his clawed hand, aiming for Eli's head. Eli ducked in time, but he stumbled, his weakened body betraying him. Vital seized the opportunity and smashed his fist into Eli's chest, knocking him back. Eli hit the ground hard with a grunt, his bones rattling from the impact.

"Never... drink... before a fight," Eli gasped, struggling to breathe.

His wound burned, blood soaking into his clothes. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his knife still clenched tightly in his hand. Vital loomed over him, eyes gleaming with cruel triumph.

"You're slowing down," Vital sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "You won't last much longer."

Eli groaned, staggering to his feet. "Nah... I'm just too full," he mumbled, though he wasn't sure if Vital heard him. 'If I had known I would have to fight, I wouldn't have eaten so much.'

Vital lunged again, aiming for Eli's throat. Eli deflected the attack with his knife, but the force of the blow sent him reeling. He stumbled backward, barely managing to stay on his feet. His chest heaved with each painful breath.

With a roar, Vital charged, claws extended. Eli ducked low and lashed out with a desperate kick, catching Vital in the knee. The Nightwalker faltered, but only for a moment.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Eli surged forward, slamming his shoulder into Vital's chest. The impact knocked the Nightwalker off balance, and Eli used the momentum to drive his knife deep into Vital's side. Vital howled in agony, staggering backward, but Eli collapsed to the ground, barely able to stay upright.

Gasping for air, Eli pressed a hand to his bleeding side. He couldn't keep this up; the pain was overwhelming. He forced himself to stand, using the tree for support, his body trembling with exhaustion.

Though bloodied and staggering, Vital wasn't finished. He snarled and charged again. Eli managed to sidestep, but Vital's claws grazed his shoulder, tearing through muscle. Eli cried out, nearly falling to his knees again, but he refused to give up.

In a final, desperate move, Eli swung his knife upward, driving it into Vital's chest. The Nightwalker's roar as he collapsed, blood pouring from his wounds.

Breathing heavily, Eli stood over his fallen opponent, feeling like his stomach was about to explode. Blood dripped from his side and shoulder, but he knew the real battle was fighting the effects of the feast and the alcohol.

"Now," Eli panted, clutching his stomach, "tell me... where your creator is."

Vital, barely able to speak through the blood in his mouth, let out a weak laugh. "You think you've won?"

Eli gritted his teeth, wiping sweat from his brow. "Tell me," he growled, his body trembling from both the pain and the bloating.

Vital coughed, a smirk still on his lips despite his agony. "Drakulon... our kingdom. That's where you'll find your answers. But you won't survive the journey."

Eli's vision swam, and his stomach churned, but he didn't care. With a pained grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of Vital, grabbed the back of his head, and yanked him forward, pulling their faces inches apart.

"Tell your king, Belga," Eli said, his voice dangerously low, "to leave the princess alone. If he dares harm her, I'll kill more than just you and your demon creator."

He tightened his grip on Vital's head, his breath hot against the Nightwalker's face. "I'll make sure Belga feels my blade. And when I'm done, I'll kill anyone who stands with him."

Vital's cruel smirk faltered, a flicker of fear passing through his eyes.

Eli shoved Vital's head back roughly, standing up with a shaky breath. Without another word, he turned and staggered away, his body aching, his stomach still churning. 

"Next time," he muttered to himself, "no more feasts before a fight."

Eli walked slowly, each step painful as he made his way back to the palace. His side ached badly, and dizziness clouded his vision. His legs grew weak, and just as he neared the palace, his body could no longer take it. He collapsed to the ground.

He lay there, unable to move, his breath shallow. He didn't know if the dizziness was from his injuries or from drinking too much beer. As his mind started to fade, he heard a soft voice nearby.

Mikhaela, who had seen him fall, rushed over with her friend. She knelt beside him and gently touched his arm. "Can you hear me?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

The moment Mikhaela touched him, something strange happened. She suddenly saw a bright light surrounding her. Everything around her seemed to disappear. She looked around, confused. Then, she noticed a gray feather slowly falling from above, floating gently toward her.

She stood still, watching the feather come closer. The world around her was silent, and she could only focus on the feather as it fell. Then, everything stopped.

After the strange vision, Mikhaela blinked, and suddenly, everything was back to normal. She was back in the real world, kneeling next to Eli. She quickly shook off the confusion and looked over to her companion, a fellow woman who was standing nearby.

"Help me!" Mikhaela called out urgently. "We need to get him somewhere safe and treat his wounds."

Her companion rushed over, and together, they carefully lifted Eli. Despite his size, they managed to support his weight as they hurried to find a place where they could tend to his injuries. Mikhaela's mind was still spinning from the vision, but for now, she focused on saving Eli.