Death loomed over Ymir. A premonition-heavy and inexorable. His side was bleeding profusely, his right thigh burned from the bite, and his left arm throbbed—he figured it was at least fractured.
The Kevlar fabric had served its purpose, but ironically, his bones couldn't handle the weight behind those jaws.
Adrenaline pumped through his system, numbing his aching body. In just one minute, Ymir had been beaten beyond recognition.
The silence was broken by the sound of approaching critters. A new wave of anxiety crashed against his already battered mind.
Ymir waited patiently. All he could do was observe the coming threat and come up with a counter on the spot. He knew pain was inevitable, so trying to avoid it was pointless. The rodent on the left was getting closer, and Ymir knew an attack was coming.
He tilted his body, his injured side facing the creature as he pretended not to be paying attention. In the next moment, both creatures lunged at him. One targeted his thigh, aiming to completely disable his leg, while the other went for the kill.
Since he couldn't face both at the same time, Ymir chose to sacrifice his bleeding thigh—it was somehow cauterized—so he settled for losing his leg and diverted his attention to stopping the one rapidly closing in.
It was easier to defend against, since Ymir had baited it by exposing himself.
He lifted his protected forearm, offering it to the creature as an alternative to his vulnerable neck. The bite came as expected, but this time his bone completely snapped in two, the bump visible and threatening to break through his skin.
His thigh felt ten times worse, however. His blood boiled as it came in contact with fiery smoke leaking from the rodent's mouth. Flesh burned with a hissing sound, the wound closing on its own.
Ymir let out a loud, deafening, desperate scream. His injuries worsened, his strength was waning, and his situation seemed bleak. He couldn't even stand straight. His body was shutting down from anxiety, stress, and blood loss.
He stumbled backward and slumped against the vines, with a pale, ashen complexion, gasping for air through gritted teeth. Tears fell, creating green rivulets on his soaked face.
Exhaustion and a familiar feeling of emptiness overtook Ymir as he clutched his chest and vomited bile directly into the eyes of the creature that had its teeth stuck in the Kevlar fabric.
A painful cry left his mouth when he felt the other rodent trying to rip at nonexistent flesh, only to end up scratching and smoldering his bones. He was being torn to shreds alive.
In a moment of despair, Ymir's mind went into overdrive. He ignored the pain and his depleted condition and hacked at the still-stuck, half-blinded rodent to his left. His knife miraculously hadn't escaped his grasp.
A dying wail sounded, blood painted the ground green-Ymir's muscles burning as he tried to shove the creature away.
The sensation of flesh being ripped from his body sent an agonizing wave of pain through his soul. He turned his head to check his right leg, his eyes widening in fright as he could already see bone sticking out. He was about to completely lose his leg.
Without a moment's hesitation, he strained his core and impaled the last rodent through the head with the flickering blade.
Thankfully, the creature's hide and skeletal frame weren't too tough, allowing the augmented knife to compensate for his lack of strength.
The monster died immediately, and silence finally returned. Ymir's gaze swept over the battlefield, his senses still on alert. His mind refused to calm—not until he made sure all enemies were dead and confirmed the absence of any hidden dangers.
A few seconds passed. Then more.
Ymir's racing heart, which was about to stop, slowed slightly as adrenaline drained from his bloodstream and his mind began functioning again. Fatigue was the only thing that remained—an irrefutable reality.
He lay on his right side, body convulsing in pain. Saliva and stomach acid leaked from his mouth, tears fell from his eyes.
The events of the fight were slowly coming to mind. His earlier battle had been too perilous, and the labyrinth's influence had proved too insidious. He had moved on pure instinct for most of the encounter.
Now aware of what had transpired, Ymir's eyes widened in disbelief. His breath turned shallow and labored as he shuddered, remembering his earlier brush with death.
"I survived that? I killed six of them by myself? What the hell was I thinking..." He felt a mix of pride and dread settle in before his sight landed on his charred and mangled leg, and his bent forearm. His momentary feeling of accomplishment vanished, replaced by utter helplessness.
It was over. His weird, brief, and extremely agonizing adventure had reached its conclusion. He couldn't walk or fight anymore. He was hungry and thirsty beyond reason. Blood still seeped from his wounds, dyeing the ground red amidst white, gray, and emerald.
"It's okay to close my eyes now, right?" A sense of twisted relief, tinged with acceptance for the impending doom, took root as Ymir's eyelids grew heavy.
He couldn't resist the basic need for sleep. His body screamed at him to stop struggling and surrender.
A feeling of calm and deadly peace descended. The dimly lit corridor provided the perfect place for deep slumber.
A mist surrounded the place, as if the labyrinth itself took pity on the poor soul succumbing to his bodily desires due to lack of motivation.
The maze that had nearly taken his life thrice transformed into a sanctuary designed to keep Ymir asleep, his eyelids finally closing.
As the young man dozed off, something amazing occurred.
A large amount of green, invisible, fragmented light left the dead creatures' corpses, heading straight toward Ymir's chest.
While he was unresponsive, his back arched and heaved upward, as if he was being brought back to life.
His gushing and crippling injuries began healing at an incredible speed. His weak, almost nonexistent muscles tensed. The strained, painful expression on his bloodied face relaxed a little.
He was being revitalized—perhaps as a reward for the massacre that had ensued, or a gift born of pity. The symbols on the backs of his hands shifted and reformed.
[You have slain a dormant fiend: Fell Rat.]