Terms of Fight

Kowalsk was tense, and understandably so, as the terms of the fight had been accepted with some modifications. He now faced not the leader of the dreikis, but a champion, likely the fiercest among them.

"So, this beast is supposed to be my presumptuous executioner?" Kowalsk asked, feeling uneasy with the creature's foul breath in his face, challenging him.

"And are you sure this is just a dreikis? Are you sure it's not a dragon spawn?" There was no answer, as who could confirm such a thing, and what difference did it make at that moment?

"I need a weapon; I can't face such a beast completely unarmed." Immediately, Thilláila communicated with the dreikis leader, who roared in response. One of the beasts among them approached the carcass of a dreikis slain by Kowalsk, deeply biting and retrieving a knife embedded in its fallen comrade. With disdain, it dropped the weapon at Kowalsk's feet.

As Kowalsk bent to pick up the weapon, driven by instinct, the dreikis lunged to bite him. Swiftly, the old soldier rolled, wielding the combat knife to expertly strike just below the creature's jaw. The beast roared in pain, instinctively retreating but unable to move far from Kowalsk.

The executioner dreikis merely shook its head, as if lamenting the audacity of both. Soon, a large circle formed around them with dozens of dreikis eager for the deadly skirmish that awaited.

Standing tall, the old soldier locked eyes with his adversary, seeing only fury and rebellion. It was evident by the number of dreikis slain by their valiant but momentarily cornered team.

As he stared into his opponent's eyes, a flood of memories invaded his mind, bolstering his confidence with each passing moment. Whether through his stance or his disdainful smile facing such a ruthless enemy, Kowalsk was certain this would not be his day of reckoning.

A dense fog seemed to envelop his brain, thoughts flowing endlessly, while time around him slowed. Yet in reality, his movements were swift, reflexes flawless—the perfect moment for combat.

The fierce dreikis struck first, leaping like a leopard, aiming for Kowalsk's head. He deftly dodged and, in a strange twist, drove the knife into the dreikis's skull where it should have guarded.

The beast roared from the single blow, attempting to retreat, but it was too late; blood flowed as Kowalsk struck again on the opposite side of its head. The creature struggled to stand but slipped in its own blood, eventually falling.

Under the incredulous gaze of his comrades, who had never seen such speed in combat, the old soldier advanced confidently, poised to deliver the blow that would end the defenseless dreikis. Before he could strike, a piercing cry from the group's lone woman pleaded:

"Please, don't kill this dreikis. Let it recover, and it will be your slave forever."