Abel's longsword was knocked out of his grip as a thresher emerged from the sand inches in front of him. He saw as its blade spun in the air—watching hopelessly as it was thrown away by the erupting sand beneath.
By some fortunate miracle, he noticed the thresher approaching him from behind before it was too late—dodging practically the moment it pounced on him.
But as a result of his late reaction, his sword slipped from his grip.
Now, he was left without a weapon.
'I'm… fine…'
He glanced around for a moment—observing his surroundings—worried about the cohort.
This was his fault. He called the group to action without seeing the rest of the threshers around the corner. If he had been more hesitant and looked for just a moment longer—they could have avoided this whole scenario entirely.
'I'm not exactly the hesitant type.'
He was worried about Elis, specifically…
And Silque…
And Red…
He was worried about all of them, actually. He always was. They relied on him for many things… most things.
He could do what they asked… most of the time. Sometimes the tasks hurt him… most tasks hurt him—at least, the harder ones.
He should be able to take down two threshers by himself, right?
He could do it, surely.
As he muttered a mantra beneath his breath, a whirlwind of gale began to swirl around his right leg. With a sharp breath out, he released the wound-up gale with a snapping kick in the direction of the threshers.
Whoosh!
The whirlwind of gale shot towards the two threshers in front of him. Upon impact, the stored energy within the ball of wind released—unleashing a blast of air that knocked the two threshers backwards, giving him distance.
In this situation—especially with multiple enemies—distance was key. As long as the threshers didn't get close, Abel would still be able to attack them with long range mantras.
Not wasting a second, he raised his hand preparing to deliver a blade of wind…
But then, he realized that he didn't have a sword anymore.
'Fine.'
His hand released its tense shape of a fist—flattening into a squared shape. Usually, he would cast a wind blade using the help of his sword—using its sharp edge to cast the slicing blades of gale.
He had to improvise.
Well, not necessarily improvise. He had practiced forming gale blades using his fist before but, for the most part, he had only done it for training—and that was back when he still only had a nascent understanding over galebreath.
However, there's things that you'll never forget how to do.
The wind clung to his sweeping hand—forming what resembled an arc as Abel followed through with his swing.
Whoosh!
The cutting wind released from his arm—sending a gust of wind in both directions, forwards and backwards. Abel's green hair fluttered from the temporary surge of air as he watched the blade reach the threshers…
The threshers staggered upon impact from the blade of wind. As the pressured air dissipated, shallow, yet bleeding wounds revealed themselves on the tough hide of the reptilians. One of them let out a shriek, startling Abel.
'This is manageable.'
Looking around, he didn't know where the rest of the cohort was. Had he strayed too far from their original location?
He needed to finish this quickly. He didn't want to burden them with the mess he was in. They had their fights, he had his.
One of the threshers burrowed beneath the ground as he sent another blade of wind towards the pair. He could feel a subtle frigid sensation begin to numb his mind; it wasn't the good kind. Though, having versed himself well in galebreath, he knew his limits.
This was how ether exhaustion felt to Abel.
Abel's attention split as the other thresher dove into the sand as well. The first one was already dangerously close to where he stood.
'Okay…'
Abel relaxed his muscles.
He released the wound up tension within their fibers—tension which he hadn't even noticed beforehand. He felt the air wrap around his body. He felt how it flowed through his legs; how it traveled across the reflectionless surface of his armor.
And then, the moment the thresher was upon him, he disappeared.
For a moment, he was the wind.
Abel appeared behind the thresher and a little to the left—in front of where he stood originally. The air erupted outwards from the sudden movement—a gust blowing in all directions. A familiar frigidness enveloped his mind as ether drained from his soul.
Yes, he could have just dodged the first thresher's attack once it emerged. However, the kicked up sand and the body of the first thresher would make it much more difficult to see the second thresher's pounce.
Even if it took some ether to pull off, blitzing a short distance like this was necessary.
Abel turned so that he would face both of the incoming threshers. The first thresher—the one whose attack he just dodged, turned as fast as it could to face him.
It wasn't very fast.
Abel could have capitalized on its slow rotation if it weren't for the second thresher—which was now upon him.
Abel dodged—this time using only his body—moments before the second thresher erupted from the ground.
Abel raised his sword… Right, he didn't have his sword anymore.
Wait, what?
In the heat of battle, he had forgotten the fact that he lost his sword a few moments ago. Abel watched as the thresher flew into the air above him—raising a hand to send yet another gale blade towards it.
But as the gale began to form around his hand, something happened. Something which Abel wouldn't have expected if he was given a thousand guesses.
A stream of crimson pierced the thresher's skull from the side.
Crimson.