Miguel watched from the shadows as Sunny lured the monster into their trap. His left hand trembled—not from fear, but from sheer anticipation. Fear was too pedestrian for him. This... this was excitement.
Sunny leapt from the ridge, rolling as he landed before taking off in a sprint. Behind him, the ridge exploded as a massive silhouette emerged—towering, armored, and furious.
Half a dozen meters ahead, the trap was waiting. The golden rope, strung low between two boulders, was almost invisible in the storm. Sunny ducked under it easily, but the Centurion didn't even register it. Fueled by blind bloodlust, it charged straight into the rope.
If it had been normal, the rope would've snapped. But it wasn't. The golden rope was a Memory—unbreakable and deadly in the right hands.
The creature's legs caught. Its massive body stumbled, momentum too great to halt. It slammed into the ground, sliding face-first across the rain-slicked stone, carving a wide trench behind it.
Sunny dove aside. Nephis, positioned in the heart of the ambush, didn't flinch.
The moment the monster fell, she surged forward—calm, composed, and lethal. With precise timing, she leapt and drove her sword straight into the exposed gap where the creature's thick neck met its armored chest. It wasn't just a strike—it was a calculated thrust, aimed with inhuman precision.
The blow was devastating.
Her sword pierced the monster's weak spot. Normally, it would kill the monster, the near-perfect precision, the length of the blade, and the force of Nephis's thrust, the sword ripped through, piercing the other side of the monster's chest Yet the monster didn't died.
She was already moving before her feet hit the ground again, turning to flank the monster. Behind her, her blade was still lodged deep in its torso.
The Centurion let out a furious screech and began rising.
Sunny's Echo was next. It burst from its false slumber, lunging forward and pinning the Centurion's arms just below the scythes. For a moment, the monster was locked in place.
But it didn't last.
With a vicious twist, the Centurion hurled the Echo aside, claws scraping the stone. Then, it rose to its feet. Thunder cracked above them.
Nephis stood in front of it, swordless.
But she didn't retreat.
Miguel, though barely holding himself together from exhaustion.
"That crab better have some damn good meat, or I'm gonna be seriously pissed."
A heavy rain fall upon the stone around him. His breath burned in his throat. Muscles ached from overexertion. But even in his state, he moved. Space distorted as he became a mirage, appearing between Nephis and the monster, intercepting a scythe with Yamato. Sparks erupted. The impact rattled his bones.
The second scythe came—Miguel barely deflected it. He was sent soaring through the air, his body twisted several time, his head crashed onto the ground, he spinned once more, only stopping himself by slamming his blade into the ground, carving stone with the edge, blood and water soaked his hair, his vision was blurry.
'I hate this damn place,' he thought bitterly, drenched and hurting.
Meanwhile, the Echo wasn't done. It charged again but was swatted aside like a fly.
Sunny wasn't so lucky.
A scythe tore through the darkness toward him. He managed to twist away, but not fast enough. His tunic darkened with blood as he was sent flying.
The Centurion advanced, to harvest Sunny's life like a grim reaper.
Miguel was about to move again—time started to slow down, but before he rushed the sky flashed.
A bolt of lightning crashed from the heavens, striking Nephis's sword—still embedded in the creature's torso.
The chitin flashed white-hot, glowing as electricity tore through the monster's body. It roared in pain, arcs of lightning dancing across its armor.
Nephis moved.
She lunged again and, without hesitation, gripped the molten-hot hilt of her sword. Steam hissed as her hands burned from the heat. She didn't care.
With a powerful twist, she ripped the blade free, creating a massive hole in the Centurion's chest. A scythe retaliated—but she spun out of reach, bringing her blade down in a gleaming arc.
With a sharp hiss of metal, the scythe-arm fell to the ground.
The Centurion reeled back.
Miguel smiled like a mad man.
Turning into a mirage and reappearing in an instant, Yamato slicing through the final scythe in one flawless stroke.
The monster stumbled, disarmed, bleeding, and roaring in agony.
That's when the Echo returned one last time. It barreled forward and plunged its last remaining pincer into the gaping chest wound Nephis had carved. With a bone-crunching twist, it ruptured the Centurion's insides, chitin snapping like glass.
The monster convulsed once. Then, it collapsed.
The storm howled above, and rain continued to fall in thick, heavy sheets—but it was over.
They had survived.
Barely.