Amukelo: The Burdened Path

Amukelo pushed himself harder, his feet barely finding grip on the uneven terrain as he descended toward the valley at full speed. He could hear it behind him, its unnatural gait no longer sluggish, no longer aimless. 

The valley was close now, just below the last steep incline. If he could just get down, if he could just reach the open space, maybe he could find a way to lose it.

But then, he heard a sharp, inhuman shriek tore through the air, sending a chill up his spine. Then it had jumped.

Reacting instinctively he threw himself aside at the last moment.

The Hollow Cutter landed where he had been an instant before, its blade-like arms carving into the air with deadly precision. 

Amukelo skidded to a stop, his breath heavy, his hand flying to his sword. He cursed under his breath, his eyes locking onto the monster as it twisted its head toward him. It was fast. Faster than anything he had expected.

He sighed, heavily, shaking his head. "I can't avoid it anymore."

He drew his sword and a dagger, rolling his shoulders as he steadied his stance. This wasn't like the mountain crawlers—this was a direct fight, and he had no choice but to win.

The Hollow Cutter had landed at the bottom of the valley, its body crouched slightly, as if it were still recovering from the impact. This was his moment. If he struck now, before it had a chance to fully regain its balance, he could gain the upper hand.

He lunged forward, closing the distance between them in a few rapid strides and he swung down at its exposed back.

But just before his blade could cleave into it, it moved.

It twisted around, raising its bladed arm to intercept the attack. Metal met bone with a loud clang, the force of the strike pushing the creature backward several steps. Its feet scraped against the rocky ground, but it didn't fall. It stood its ground.

Amukelo frowned, taking a step back as he quickly reassessed. It was weaker than he had expected. He glanced down at his blade, flexing his fingers around the hilt. The creature wasn't as durable as he thought. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had assumed.

Then, before he could react, it was already in front of him. Its body twisted sharply, and its blade arms shot forward aiming directly for him.

Amukelo barely had time to bring his weapons up in defense. His sword caught one of its bladed arms, his dagger catching the other, but even as he blocked, he felt the sharp pain of something ripping through his side.

A jagged, splintered edge of its bone-blade had grazed his stomach, cutting through the fabric of his makeshift shirt and tearing into his skin. He hissed, his breath sharp, his stance staggering for a brief moment.

Pain flared through his side, hot and stinging. He clenched his jaw. His free hand shot forward, driving his dagger into its chest.

The blade sank deep, cutting through whatever hollow structure made up its body. He expected it to recoil, to show some sign of pain—but it didn't.

It barely reacted at all.

His eyes narrowed, and he clicked his tongue. "Tsk…"

That wasn't good. It was weak, but it wasn't fragile. And, more importantly, it didn't feel pain.

It raised its blade-like arms again, this time preparing to bring them down in a sweeping slash.

He twisted his body, stepping back just as the blades came crashing down. He moved just enough to avoid being gutted, but not enough to get completely out of harm's way.

A sharp pain sliced across his leg.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of the wound as he pushed off his back foot, forcing distance between them.

Then, in a split-second decision, he shifted his weight and threw a powerful kick into its chest.

And to his surprise, it flew backward further than he had anticipated.

The Hollow Cutter hit the ground, skidding several feet before coming to a stop.

Amukelo breathed heavily, shaking out his leg as he felt the sting of the fresh cut. He kept his sword raised, eyes locked onto the creature as it began to rise again.

"So it's fast, but weak… It's also not as maneuverable as I expected," He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. "Maybe I'll be able to deal with it."

Amukelo didn't give the Hollow Cutter a chance to recover. He lunged forward, closing the distance before it could regain its balance. 

It sensed his approach. With a violent jerk, it swung its bladed arms in a wild vertical arc, anticipating that he would run straight into them. But at the very last moment, Amukelo stopped his momentum, shifting his weight to a sudden halt. The jagged bones sliced through empty air, just inches from his body, missing their mark completely.

It reacted immediately, bringing its blades down again in a brutal follow-up strike, trying to catch him off guard. But Amukelo was ready for it.

He swung his sword in a wide, horizontal arc. At the same time, he adjusted his dagger into a reverse grip, raising his left arm defensively. The Hollow Cutter's blades clashed against his dagger, sliding down the metal, grazing his forearm where the dagger's guard ended. The wound wasn't deep, but the sting of the cut burned hot against his skin.

But that didn't matter. Because his sword connected.

The blade sliced through its torso, carving through its hollow body with startling ease. There was a sickening snap, and before Amukelo could fully process it, the creature had been severed in half.

Its upper body hit the ground with a dull thud, its bladed arms twitching. Its lower half collapsed separately, lifeless, unmoving.

For a moment, Amukelo thought it was over.

But then—it moved.

A sharp pain tore through his leg, and he staggered backward, cursing under his breath. His eyes widened as he saw the upper half of the Hollow Cutter still writhing, its arms slashing wildly in the dirt. It was still alive.

He instinctively reached for another dagger at his belt. He ripped it free, adjusted his stance, and before the thing could lunge at him again, he threw it.

The dagger spun through the air, and it struck the Hollow Cutter directly in the head.

The moment the blade embedded itself, the creature jerked violently—then went completely limp.

Amukelo didn't move. His body was still tense, his breath uneven. He remained where he was, watching, waiting.

Was it truly dead? Or would it rise again?

He forced himself to breathe, his fingers gripping his sword tightly as he stepped back, his gaze locked onto the unmoving remains. It had already proven itself unnatural, surviving what should have been a killing blow. He didn't trust that it was truly gone.

Seconds stretched into a minutes, but still nothing. 

Finally, Amukelo exhaled, his body relaxing slightly, but his wariness didn't fade. He needed to retrieve his daggers, but if the thing was still capable of movement, getting close would be a mistake.

He approached slowly, his steps cautious, his stance prepared to react at any moment. His eyes flickered across its body, searching for the slightest twitch, the smallest hint of movement, but there was nothing.

When he was close enough to reach it, he hesitated. He was still outside of its potential range, just in case. One last test. He reached out with his sword and nudged it slightly, but it didn't react.

Amukelo let out a small breath, but he didn't fully relax. Slowly, carefully, he stepped closer. The corpse remained still.

At last, he crouched beside it and turned it over to reveal his daggers. Still, nothing happened.

Finally convinced that it was truly dead, he carefully placed a foot on its torso to steady himself and gripped the hilts of his weapons. With a sharp pull, he retrieved both daggers from its body. He wiped the blood and whatever foul substance coated them against a piece of cloth at his belt before sliding them back into their sheaths. He sighed heavily.

"It was weaker than I expected," he muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders, still feeling the stinging pain from his wounds. "But I wish I could have avoided it altogether."

His side was bleeding, his leg had been slashed, and his arm was marked with another wound. None of them were fatal, but every cut, every drop of blood lost, weakened him bit by bit. He had to be more careful.

He glanced up at the sky.

The sun was already getting lower.

His jaw tightened. Time was running out. If he didn't move fast, he would be stuck in the open when night fell. He wasn't about to let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the remains of the Hollow Cutter and continued his path toward the cave.