The spiked beast charged with a rattling roar that vibrated through Philippa's chest. Its heavy limbs tore up the blood-soaked street, sending chunks of asphalt and gore flying.
She raised the dripping kitchen knife, the next sacrifice already burning on her tongue. "Take the fear," she whispered fiercely. "All the fear I felt when Mom left."
The System accepted it instantly. A cold clarity washed over her, sharpening her senses. The burning pain in her cracked rib and torn leg dulled to a distant throb. For one brief, ironic second she almost smirked at how neatly the System had packaged her childhood abandonment into usable power.
The beast was on her. She dodged the first spiked limb, but the second grazed her shoulder, ripping through fabric and skin. Hot blood sprayed in a fine mist as the spike tore a shallow groove across her collarbone. The metallic scent mixed with the creature's foul, rotting breath made her eyes sting.
Philippa countered low, driving the serrated blade into the beast's side with all her enhanced strength. The knife sank deep with a wet, grinding crunch, scraping against bone and splitting muscle. Thick, dark blood erupted from the wound in pressurized jets, soaking her arm and chest. She twisted the blade viciously, feeling the resistance of tearing tissue before yanking it free with a grotesque sucking sound.
The creature screamed — a high, wet sound that ended in a gurgle as more blood poured from its mouth. It swung again, spiked tail whipping toward her head. She dropped into a crouch at the last moment. The tail passed overhead with a whoosh, close enough that she felt the displaced air ruffle her blood-matted hair.
Behind her, Sylcath's voice cut through the chaos, calm and mocking as ever.
"Trading away your fear now? Bold choice. Let's see how long that lasts when you actually need it."
She didn't have time to snap back. The beast recovered and lunged again, mandibles clicking open to reveal rows of jagged teeth dripping with saliva and blood. Philippa rolled sideways, came up on one knee, and stabbed upward into the soft joint where a spiked limb met the body. The blade punched through with a juicy pop, severing something vital. Black ichor and arterial blood sprayed in a wide arc, splattering across her face and into her mouth. The coppery taste was overwhelming.
The beast staggered, one limb hanging uselessly, dark fluid pumping onto the ground in heavy pulses. Philippa pushed to her feet, breathing hard, her own blood mixing with the creature's in sticky rivulets down her arms and legs.
The Echo Ripple from her earlier vitality boost was definitely spreading farther now. She saw a nearby survivor clutch his shoulder suddenly, mirroring her fresh wound, before shaking it off with a confused curse. The ripple brushed against Sylcath too — she caught the way his jaw tightened for a split second as a ghost of her pain flickered across his expression.
He stepped closer, crimson energy already swirling around his fingers. "You're leaking weakness everywhere, trader. Keep this up and I won't even need to steal from you. The world will do it for me."
Philippa wiped blood from her eyes with the back of her wrist, leaving another smear. "Then stop watching and do something useful," she shot back, voice rough from exhaustion and pain. "Or are you just here to collect scraps?"
Sylcath's smirk deepened, but there was a new edge to it — something almost like intrigue mixed with irritation. He raised his hand toward the wounded beast. Crimson light flared. The creature froze mid-lunge, body convulsing violently as invisible force tore into its chest. There was a sickening wet ripping sound, like wet meat being pulled apart. A glowing chunk of essence ripped free through the beast's ruptured side, trailing strands of muscle and dark blood. The beast let out one final gurgling scream before collapsing in a twitching heap, its opened body leaking heavily onto the pavement.
Sylcath absorbed the essence with a slow breath, his posture straightening. He turned his gaze fully on Philippa, eyes narrowing as another wave of her Echo Ripple hit him — this time carrying the dull throb of her cracked rib and the sting of multiple cuts.
"You're dangerous," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Not because of the power you gain… but because of what you're willing to throw away."
More rifts were opening nearby. The air crackled again with that glassy, wrong sound. Smaller skitterers poured out in a fresh wave, drawn by the heavy scent of slaughter. One of them darted straight toward Philippa's injured leg, barbs glinting.
She kicked it away hard, then brought the knife down in a savage arc. The blade split its carapace with a crunch, pale pus and dark blood exploding outward, splattering her already ruined jeans. Another two skitterers leaped at her from the side as the larger spiked beast's corpse continued to leak thick fluid in the background.
Philippa spun to face them, knife raised, fresh sacrifice ready on her lips, muscles burning and blood still flowing freely from her wounds, as Sylcath took another deliberate step closer, his crimson energy beginning to gather once more with clear intent