Fractured God

(“Your face was so funny, I just couldn't help it.”)

“(Tsk.) Never thought I lived to see an actual demon.”

“Tibaut, trust me, as long as I'm leading the way, we're not gonna see her again.”

As the topic of direction came up something that bugged Tibaut since he saw Kevin down here came to mind.

“I've been wondering, how did you find me?”

gulp “Uh, well, your tracks were obvious to follow, you know with the dust and stuff.” Kevin answered as he did his best to avoid eye contact.

(“He's lying. Can you really trust a comrade who'd lie to your face?”) The voice said in a haughty tone.

(“Shut up, it probably has something to do with his magic. He seemed pretty secretive when Furor was dogging him for it, and if he can't get it out of him, then I probably can't either.”)

Well, all that mattered to him was that he could be of help when the time came to avenge Ezekiel, so he supposed the way it happened didn't matter too much.

“Well, it's good that you found an ally instead of a cultist.”

“Right? (Still, what's so beneficial about this guy that my eyes pointed to him with such confidence?)”

How long is 25 seconds? It's not much, is it? You could probably read, what, maybe a short poem in that time if you don't care for comprehension. There's not much you can get done competently within that time.

But for Daniel, those 25 seconds were a living hell.

He managed to slice the woman who brought her sword down onto him like she was trying to kill an insect with the nearest object she could find.

She didn't manage to cut through his bone, which he attributed to the dungeon’s increased efficacy of the divine powder. He still had problems afoot, however.

The arm he blocked with was rendered useless by the attack and he still needed to put some distance between himself and the blonde woman. He noticed one of her arms was covered in a noticeable amount of blood and started focusing on that with his kicks.

As the black-haired woman screamed in pain while clutching where a foot used to be, he noticed in the coming seconds a quieter sound under her shouts.

5 seconds had passed.

He kept kicking at Elizabeth's arm and managed to free himself of a single hand. Yet the hand with only three fingers dug in his leg further as he struggled to have her left go.

His focus was drawn to his face as he narrowly blocked a kick to his face with his good arm. He tried to retort with another slice of his blade but another kick struck the back of his head and to make matters worse, he couldn't even roll away thanks to the grip the blasted woman had on him.

He wildly swung his blade only to be met but another kick to his, this time far weaker than the last.

15 seconds total had passed.

The two women showed no mercy mobbing the bastard, with Tina kneeling on his good arm to stop his attacks, hammering his head with blows that would leave an elephant sore, and Agatha with a difference in strategy, trying to use her fingers to dig into parts of his body considered weak, such as an eyeball.

And not to be forgotten was Elizabeth using both hands to dig away at the flesh on his legs, though surprisingly, the hand with three fingers hurt him substantially more.

He could feel his eye slowly lose resistance to the dirty fingernail of the woman poking his eye and each punch left him closer to unconsciousness.

20 seconds had passed in total.

The woman poking his eye and had given in and looked for an alternative method.

Tina continued to hammer on his face, and Elizabeth, seemingly wishing to put this battle behind her, reached for the area between his legs, gripped tightly, and started pulling, not caring what she took.

Were it not for the powder, he'd be screaming at the top of his lungs in falsetto.

But a body could only take so much, and he felt his eyes slowly be engulfed by darkness.

The last he could see was the woman who poked his eye coming back with a sword, bringing it down on his eye with force.

25 seconds had passed….

The sword reached his eye but was stopped before it could go any further. The woman pounding his face was also stopped and now the woman at his legs was the only one remaining. She had remained a constant thorn in this battle and if he could get rid of her within these 7 seconds his magic gave him, he'd win.

He batted the sword from his eye and used his magic to stop it permanently before going further.

The magic only momentarily stopped her and the instant she realised what happened, she grabbed his clothing and crawled up to him. It was as though a dreadful spirit of hell had come to claim him.

He brought his blade down but he was caught without so much as a flinch.

He stopped her again but her grip was too strong.

He couldn't afford to have these two other women move before he dealt with her.

He shoved his useless hand into her mouth and tried to drag his blade hand back.

He noticed it was a hand with five fingers and through forcing himself and kneeing it, he managed to get her to let it go. He stopped her once again and realised what he had to do to escape.

One of her hands was still on his robe and he wasted no time cutting the front of it, before using his little legs to kick off her face, tearing the robe clean in half, exposing his pants and the lower half of his torso.

She managed to grab leg but he had no problem with her tearing into his flesh, as he backed away.

She had taken a gash out of his leg with her fingers alone, but he could still comfortably stand, unlike her.

The others had regained their movements but wasted no time going deeper into the darkness of the room taking both their comrades with them.

He allowed them to retreat, his arm may have now been rendered useless for the remainder of the fight but he felt confident the damage his eye was dealt would heal in a few minutes.

(“This darkness is more disadvantageous than I thought.”)