Isaac staggered through the ruined streets, carrying his mother's body in one arm, while Helena leaned heavily on him. Smoke and ash choked the air. His hands were still bloody, his chest ached, but his mind was sharp with a single thought: I have to survive… I have to protect what's left.
He glanced at Helena.
Isaac (hoarse, voice trembling): "What about you… Helena? Do you… want to find your family too?"
Helena shook her head, her face pale, lips trembling.
Helena: "I… I don't have any family. Never did. You… you're the first person I'm trying to protect."
Isaac swallowed hard, sadness and frustration warring in his chest, but there was no time for mourning. A familiar shadow fell over the rubble-strewn street. The hunter. Its eyes glimmered with malice, and a wicked grin split its face.
Isaac's heart clenched. Rage coursed through him, sharp and unyielding. His hands clenched the bloody remnants of his mother's shawl. Not again. Not this time.
And then, the flash.
Irithel's memory surged. Twin blades danced in his mind, elemental energy coursing around them, tactical precision flooding his instincts. But all Isaac had was a knife.. crude, small, and barely suited for battle. Yet the memory taught him to move, to anticipate, to strike.
The battle begins…
The hunter lunged, claws slicing the air, aiming directly for Isaac. He ducked instinctively, rolling forward as the knife felt weightless in his hands, guided by flashes of Irithel's agility. Sparks of adrenaline and memory surged… every move precise, every dodge calculated.
Isaac slashed upward, aiming for the hunter's arm. The knife cut shallowly, but the creature hissed in surprise. It retaliated, swinging a jagged claw. Isaac dove under it, rolling to the side, feeling Irithel's reflexes guiding him, and managed to deliver a small counterattack to the hunter's ribs.
Blood spattere, pain seared through Isaac's own side as a grazing blow caught him. He gasped but refused to fall.
Helena stayed back, hidden behind a collapsed wall, trembling as she whispered healing spells. Sparks of magical light flowed weakly from her hands, patching Isaac's wounds just enough to keep him moving.
Isaac ducked another sweeping strike, grabbed a piece of debris, and used it to trip the hunter.
He slashed with the knife, finding the gaps in the hunter's guard. His strikes were jagged, desperate, but guided by Irithel's tactical memory.
The hunter then hissed, lunged, and Isaac countered with a feint, stabbing deep into its shoulder. Both were bleeding, both gasping, wounds burning with every heartbeat.
Finally, with a desperate surge of strength, Isaac drove the hunter back, slashing diagonally across its chest. The creature howled in rage and pain. Isaac's body trembled violently, knife shaking, lungs burning. The hunter glared, snarled, then… successfully retreated, slipping into a rift before Isaac could deliver a finishing blow.
Isaac collapsed, blood and ash caking his face, chest heaving. His hands shook uncontrollably.
Helena rushed to him, laying hands on his wounds, her voice shaking:
Helena: "Isaac… you're alive… thank the gods…"
Isaac (rasping, barely coherent): "I… I… need you… stay hidden… don't come out yet…"
Helena nodded, retreating behind a pile of rubble, her hands glowing faintly as she stabilized his injuries. She watched him, fear etched into every line of her face.
Isaac sat in the street, knife clutched in trembling hands, body bruised and bleeding, chest heaving. Rage still burned in him, and the flashes of Irithel's memory lingered, showing him what he could become: fast, deadly, precise, capable of standing against invaders that once would have killed him without effort.
The hunter had fled for now. But Isaac knew it would return. And next time, he might not run.