The predators had been fast, upscaling the bar with every second that passed. But the bar broke the moment Khalifa felt the pang signalling low spirit reserves and had to disable her distortion ability. Without the drag of the thickened air weighing on their limbs, they were almost impossible to track. And combined with the dim light that filtered through the crevices, they seemed like embodiments of paranoia whizzing by.
Soon, they realised that being out in the open would get them killed if they had to second guess their strikes when they threw it. With seconds they cornered themselves into an edge, taking stances that covered their sides.
Ronan took the role of arrowhead, standing in front, ready to brace the onslaught. Something definitely foolish, but Khalifa wouldn't warn him. It was his way of putting his ego to rest by convincing himself that he had taken up a responsibility that a woman couldn't, and if in the course of that he gambled with his life, it was his cross to carry.
Khalifa stood arm's length behind him, watching for openings between his attacks so as to be able to input hers. Without space behind them, the predators could only come from ahead, and that would do wonders in predicting their movements. Hopefully.
Ronan and Khalifa dropped back into high octane. Their rhythm was different this time. They had already seen that trying to account for all attacks made any they countered with subpar. So this time, they wouldn't play offense alone.
One block, one blade.
The first predator was too predictable. These beasts may have not been dumb, but they weren't innovative. They simply followed what had worked best for them, and failed to consider the fact that fights weren't rewind scenes. The predator lunged along the floor, scraping against metal as it shot forward. Ronan didn't flinch. He took a step forward and dragged the pickaxe down in a brutal arc. The pointed part of it collided with the predator's skull, shattering it with a sickening crunch moments before it could slam into his knee.
Before its blood had streamed into the air completely, another one had taken its place, lunging with greater force. The same technique, but less time for Ronan to react.
"Move!" Khalifa roared.
Ronan pushed off air, putting all his extra weight to use. But he had taken a bit over an instant to start moving. The predator's claws caught something, but neither had time to know what. All he knew was that it stung, badly. It tried to compensate for the missed attempt, but investing all its attention on Ronan had turned out not to be the best idea since Khalifa was just ahead.
She stepped forward, flashing her blade across its neck with as much force as she could muster. If not for Ronan's quick block, it wouldn't have stopped at one neck.
"What the hell, Khalifa?"
She didn't apologize, there wasn't enough time for that. Another pair was already on them, and anything, even as much as a sideways glance, was too much time wasted.
They slipped back into the corner, falling back into rhythm. When Ronan struck, Khalifa blocked whatever came next because Ronan's reaction time was insufficient to do both, and vice versa.
The next one leapt high, aiming to topple Ronan over. Khalifa stepped forward, briefly letting a wave of distortion wash over their muscles. Her blade struck horizontally, holding it firm as the impact drove her back. In the next second, Ronan's pickaxe came from below, mutilating the creature spine.
The moment it dropped, another had taken its place. He had barely gotten the time to reset his muscles when dripping canines headed for his chest. He turned the pickaxe to its butt, wedging in-between the open maw to prevent it from clamping shut. The force of the attempted bite reverberated through his arms, forcing a clench out of his teeth before Khalifa cut through its forelimb, forcing it to recoil.
The duo was against the world, drowning in fatigue as they struggled to repel the beasts. Metal rang against hardened bark, leaving each clash with a dull echo swimming in the background.
A predator scurried in, feinting right and left in-between lunging and falling bodies. Ronan took a step back, giving his weapon momentum to thrust into its body with power fatal in the very least. But the unnatural turn the beast made at the last second, but his weapon on collision course with the metal ground. It shrieked, raked its claws along Ronan's thighs before he pinned it to the ground with the spear he had just summoned.
He staggered back, giving the stage to Khalifa again. Her machete lashed out, sending blood flying and a few bodies reeling back. Luckily, her blade came short of Ronan this time.
His arms had begun to feel heavy. Swinging a forty-five kilogramme weapon like a baseball bat was too athletic to go unpunished. Each misses' inertia needed energy to correct mid-battle, and each clash sent a dull lasting impression into the depths of his bones.
He had just steadied as another predator rushed for him. The distance was too short for the pickaxe, so he abandoned the attempt and kicked it away. His leg protested the moment he retracted it, angry that Ronan had treated it like a piece of wood.
The beast wasn't shaken much by the kick, so it got up and rushed for him again. He watched it approach with a solemn expression, seemingly unperturbed by its murderous dash. Khalifa caught it with her blade a few feet from his neck, unzipping its skin with a quick slash.
The numbers had not thinned much, both in sheer amount and in proportion with their endurance. Ronan knew he would break first, but he'd rather not think about it now.
Another predator took yanked him out of his thoughts, smashing through his guard and toppling him over. The pickaxe slipped out of his reach and then, he knew he would be done for.
"Argh! Khalifa!" he barked, catching the head of the beast with his bare hands.
Khalifa moved with the urgency the situation demanded. Her knee sank into the creature's side, distracting it for a brief moment. With that window, Ronan pushed the thing off him, sending it to the ground for Khalifa to impale its head with her machete.
It didn't die immediately, it swept its leg across to floor, reliving Khalifa off her balance. A moment later it no longer had life, but it had set Khalifa up for a quick dispatch.
Ronan stood, feeling his heart beat shutter. He was soaked in sweat from top to bottom, breathing harder with each step he took towards Khalifa's fallen figure.
He caught the claw with the side of his pickaxe, but the impact pushed him down too. For a spilt second there was no more rhythm, and no one to hold on until the flow regained definition.
And that was all the predators needed. Three surged forward at once, but Khalifa had already reacted. Distortion flared in thick layers, slightly pushing them back for a brief moment. When the air cleared, they crashed into each other because their motion seemed to have lagged.
Ronan capitalised, sweeping his pickaxe across the metal ground, smashing them away. Khalifa followed through, thrusting her blade through throats and underbellies before they regained footing.
Ronan and Khalifa had been looking for the exit route, but every time they shifted in hopes of clearing a path, the predators adjusted too. They weren't smart as to know that their prey was planning an escape. But they were hungry enough to know that lunging head first got them closer to food. They was all that protected the duo.
And time, as the owl had said, was insufficient.
Ronan gripped his pickaxe with a tighter grasp, smashing its head its the chest of the predator that had filled in the gap faster than it had been emptied. It didn't collapse immediately. Its motor coordination shut down, but it still remained as feverish as it was, worming towards him with outstretched claws. Wincing, he brought his weapon down on its head a few times over.
Ronan shoved it away, then glanced around. They were an island, drowning in a raging storm of relentless desire. A desire to kill. He contemplated using his trump card. If he ignited the last spear containing the properties of the flammable beast, the opening created might be enough to escape.
He could see the outline: throw the spear, ignite it, splatter cooked bodies everywhere and run!
The plan was reasonable, but deterred him for one reason. If it failed to work in the way he had expected, he would not have any spirit left to continue fighting. And that was death in stark words.
Another attack came. He blocked, but without a foot planted behind to resist impact travelling through his bones. It forced him down on one knee, and when he forced himself back up, he felt like he had sack bags for shoulders.
Each blow he took made him see more reason in his plan. But till his breaking point was reached, he was unsure whether he would actually do it.
Khalifa had now taken the arrowhead role from him. Her distortion ability was an invaluable asset to fighting the hordes of predators that swarmed her. When a predator lunged, she distorted the travel space and it would fall short of its leap.
And she had noticed another thing, that the more localised the bubble was, the thicker the distortion bloomed within it. She could not dictate how far it went, so the best she could do was turn it off before it spread too far.
Stronger, but shorter.
Maybe that was the strategy. Or maybe it was something else:
Time, endurance or Ronan's decision.