Chapter 23: Basilisk Hunt - Part 2
The arrow struck flesh.
Not deep enough. The basilisk's scales deflected most of the impact, the broadhead barely penetrating the neck joint I'd targeted. But the pain was enough to break its focus on the mirrors.
The creature screamed—a sound like metal tearing, high and awful—and the partial petrification shattered. Cracks spread across its grey-turning hide, pieces of stone flaking away to reveal raw flesh beneath. Damaged, yes. Weakened, certainly.
But not dead.
And now it knew where I was.
The basilisk's head snapped toward my position. I threw myself sideways as the gaze swept past—close enough that my arm went numb, nerves firing randomly from proximity to the petrification field.
[WARNING: PARTIAL GAZE EXPOSURE]
[Effect: Temporary paralysis, left arm]
[Duration: Approximately 2 minutes]
"Move. MOVE."
I rolled off the shelf, dropping twenty feet to the marshy ground below. The impact drove air from my lungs, but I kept moving—scrambling through dead reeds as the basilisk launched itself from the outcropping.
The creature moved faster than something that large should move. Its body flowed down the rocks like liquid, claws finding purchase where boots would slip. I had seconds before it reached ground level.
Shadow Step.
Reality folded. One moment I was running through the marsh, the next I was thirty feet away, behind a stand of petrified trees. The disorientation hit—stomach lurching, vision swimming—but I'd practiced enough that it didn't stop me from notching another arrow.
[ENERGY: 450/500]
The basilisk crashed into the space I'd occupied, jaws snapping on empty air. It spun, seeking me, rage overwhelming whatever intelligence the creature possessed.
I fired. The arrow caught it in the shoulder joint—deeper this time, the angle better. The basilisk screamed again and charged toward my new position.
Shadow Step.
[ENERGY: 400/500]
Another displacement. Another arrow. This one found the creature's flank, sliding between damaged scales where the self-petrification had weakened its armor.
Three arrows in the beast now. It was slowing, blood—thick and greenish—flowing from multiple wounds. But it wasn't stopping. The rage kept it moving, kept it hunting.
"The eyes. I need to blind it or this won't end."
The thought crystallized into action. I drew my silver sword—the same blade that had killed the wraith—and charged toward the basilisk instead of away.
It wasn't expecting aggression. The creature had been chasing a fleeing prey; suddenly that prey was running toward it, blade gleaming in the failing light.
I aimed for the face. For the eyes that had turned so many to stone.
The basilisk lunged. I Shadow Stepped at the last instant—
[ENERGY: 350/500]
—appearing behind its head, sword already swinging. The silver bit deep into the creature's neck, severing something vital. The basilisk's scream cut off in a wet gurgle.
But the tail.
I'd forgotten about the tail.
Eight feet of muscled serpent whipped around, barbed spines catching my left leg mid-thigh. The impact threw me sideways. Pain exploded—hot, immediate, wrong in ways that went beyond simple injury.
[WARNING: VENOMOUS ATTACK]
[Toxin Type: Basilisk Venom (Necrotizing)]
[Effect: Tissue death, spreading]
[Recommended Action: Immediate excision of affected area]
I hit the ground hard, sword flying from my grip. The basilisk was dying—thrashing in its death throes, blood pooling beneath it—but so was I. The venom burned through my leg like acid, flesh blackening around the puncture wounds.
"Cut it out. NOW."
The combat knife came to my hand without conscious thought. I pressed the blade against my own thigh, where healthy flesh met dying tissue, and cut.
The pain was beyond anything I'd experienced. Beyond the drowner claws, beyond the wraith's touch, beyond every injury this world had given me. I screamed as I carved away the infected muscle, throwing chunks of my own flesh into the marsh water.
Blood flowed freely. Too much blood. My vision grayed at the edges.
[HEALTH: 34%]
[Toxin Status: Contained (excised)]
[Blood Loss: Critical]
[Regeneration: Activating...]
Wait.
The bleeding was slowing. The wound—a ragged crater in my thigh that should have killed me—was closing. Not fast, not dramatically, but visibly. Flesh knitting together, new tissue forming over exposed muscle.
I watched, shocked beyond pain, as my body healed itself.
[PASSIVE ABILITY: BASIC REGENERATION]
[Effect: Accelerated natural healing (50% above baseline)]
[Current Application: Major wound recovery]
[Estimated Time to Full Recovery: 6-8 hours]
"The regeneration. I purchased it after the wraith fight. I forgot it was active."
The drowner wounds that healed suspiciously fast. The rib lacerations that confused the healer. All of it—the system protecting me without my conscious awareness.
The basilisk had stopped moving. Death had finally claimed it, body sprawled in the marsh like a fallen monument. I lay beside it, watching my leg rebuild itself, and laughed.
Not humor. Something closer to hysteria. The absurdity of surviving by cutting off pieces of yourself. The relief of not dying alone in a swamp for fifty crowns.
The harvest took two hours.
My leg was functional by the time I started—not healed, but capable of bearing weight. The Scanner guided my cuts, identifying valuable materials with precision that would have taken an alchemist years to develop.
[RESOURCE SCAN: BASILISK CORPSE]
[Eyes (2): Alchemical reagent - 10 crowns each]
[Venom Sacs (2): Poison crafting - 15 crowns each]
[Scales (Damaged): Armor materials - 15 crowns total]
[Heart: Potion ingredient - 15 crowns]
[Total Harvestable Value: 80 crowns]
Eighty crowns in materials. Plus fifty for the contract. One hundred and thirty crowns total—more than enough to solve every financial problem the guild faced.
I worked methodically despite the pain. Eyes first—delicate organs requiring careful extraction. Then venom sacs—dangerous work, one puncture meaning another dose of the toxin I'd barely survived. Scales where they weren't too damaged. Heart last, still warm from recently-stopped circulation.
By the time I finished, night had fallen completely. The marsh was pitch black, sounds of nocturnal predators beginning to stir. I bundled the materials in oilcloth, strapped them to my pack, and began the long walk back to Oxenfurt.
My leg strengthened with each mile. By dawn, the wound had closed to a thick scar. By noon, even the scar was fading.
[HEALTH: 78%]
[Regeneration: Continuing]
[Estimated Full Recovery: 4 hours remaining]
The guards at Oxenfurt's gate stared as I approached—blood-soaked, limping slightly, carrying a pack that smelled of dead monster. One of them was Sergeant Mikkel, Tom's contact from the guard corps.
"The basilisk contract?" he asked.
"Complete." I pulled the creature's severed head from my pack—I'd taken it as proof, though the weight had been miserable to carry. "Where do I claim the reward?"
Mikkel's expression shifted from skepticism to something approaching awe.
"City hall. The merchant consortium posted it." He stepped aside to let me pass. "Finn... how did you kill that thing alone?"
"Very carefully."
I walked into the city, monster head in hand, already calculating how to distribute the windfall.
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