The Devouring Knight

The Viking's roars shook the field, his axe hacking with a fury that split the ground and tore cracks into stone. Sparks leapt every time steel met steel. Yet no matter how hard he pressed, the spear was always there, redirecting, striking, twisting past his guard.

Lumberling's eyes were calm, almost detached. His body moved with frightening precision, his spear a blur of silver arcs that refused to yield an inch. Still, the Warden endured, his spirit animal's blessing pouring strength into every strike, his body refusing to collapse even under the mounting pressure.

Blood streaked his forearms, his breath ragged, but his grin widened. "Hrraahhh!" The Viking bellowed, axe sweeping low then snapping high in a vicious feint. For a moment, his totem's strength shuddered through his entire frame, the air trembling around him.

Lumberling sidestepped, his spear cutting across the Warden's ribs, a clean strike, sinking deep.

The Viking staggered, blood spraying from the wound. His knees wavered. For the first time, death was close.

Desperation twisted across the Warden's face before he roared something in his tongue, words Lumberling didn't understand.

From the corner of his vision, movement flared. The Rúnbringer who had been trading blows with Derrek broke away, sprinting toward them.

"Damn it!" Derrek roared, surging forward to intercept, but a wall of shield-and-axe Vikings slammed into him.

The first swung wild, and Derrek's blade cut clean through his arm. Another came low with a hacking strike, Derrek twisted, drove a knee into the man's gut, and split his skull on the backswing.

A third Viking rammed him with a shield, forcing him back a step. Derrek snarled, slamming his sword down and cleaving through wood and flesh alike. But before he could surge forward, two more axes crashed in from either side.

'Lumberling…' his thought spat out like a curse, but the clash of steel drowned it. He couldn't see his comrade through the crush, only feel the tremors of that monstrous duel beyond.

Steel rang, shields slammed, their war cries drowned his breath. He carved through them, each swing dropping another foe, yet for every one that fell, another shoved into place. They weren't here to kill him. They were here to cage him. And despite his fury, Derrek felt the seconds slipping away, exactly the time they needed to buy time.

The Rúnbringer charged into the fight, his runes igniting in a burst of savage light. Behind him, another Spirit-Bound Viking surged forward, his movements sharp and wolflike, blade darting in swift, unpredictable angles.

For the first time, Lumberling was forced back. His spear spun to meet axe and sword at once, sparks flying in bursts with every impact. The Berserker Warden's wild strength pressed him back, forcing his spear into a whirlwind defense.

Then, as Lumberling braced for the next exchange, his opponent did the unthinkable.

The Warden staggered back, bloodied but alive. He clutched his side, eyes burning with frustration, and with a guttural growl, turned and slipped away into the chaos of battle.

Lumberling froze for half a heartbeat, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

"He's… running?" he muttered, voice low with contempt. His grip tightened on the spear. 'I thought Vikings never fled.'

Vikings he knew were supposed to die with their axes in hand, not stagger off bleeding like beaten dogs.

Before he could pursue, the other two Vikings lunged in with a roar, trying to hold him in place. Their blades went for his chest and shoulder, but Lumberling snarled, driving his spear in a brutal arc. The first warrior's shield cracked in two under the blow, the second staggered back as the spear's butt slammed into his jaw. Both reeled, buying him the space he needed.

He took two quick strides after the fleeing Warden…

And stopped.

A shiver of instinct crawled down his spine. His eyes narrowed, scanning the tree line beyond the battlefield. There it was, a pressure, heavy and suffocating, seeping from the forest's edge. An aura stronger, and more dangerous than anything he had faced tonight. It was waiting and watching.

Lumberling's jaw clenched. His knuckles whitened around the spear shaft. He wanted to chase, to finish what he started, but reason cut through the heat of battle.

'Too uncertain, too dangerous. If I face that thing, I'll need Skitz at my side.'

With a sharp exhale, Lumberling lowered his spear, steadying the storm inside his chest. The Warden had slipped away into the night, leaving the fight unfinished, but the battle itself wasn't done. Rage burned bitter on his tongue, but he forced it down. He'd get his chance another time.

The Rúnbringer and the Spirit-Bound Viking still pressed him, blades flashing in the firelit chaos.

The Rúnbringer struck first, his axe glowing faintly with runes, carving through the air in a downward cleave. Lumberling twisted aside, the edge grazing his shoulder guard with a screech of steel.

His spear whipped back in a snap-thrust, the point punching through the man's thigh. The Viking roared, tried to counter with a rune-carved backhand slash…

…but Lumberling had already stepped inside his guard. His spear shaft cracked against the man's jaw, teeth flying, before the steel tip drove through his chest. The Rúnbringer dropped with a strangled gasp, runes flickering out like dying embers.

(You have devoured the Rúnbringer's essence. 600 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Rúnbringer's memories and experiences.)

The Spirit-Bound Viking howled, totem energy twisting his movements into a wolf's frenzied slashes. His sword came in a blur, every stroke wild but guided by instinct. Lumberling blocked low, sparks scattering, then rammed his spear butt into the Viking's ribs, breaking bone. The man staggered, but lunged again.

Lumberling met him head-on. His spear spun, feinting left before slashing right. The blade sank deep into the Spirit-Bound's side, splitting leather and flesh. The Viking gurgled, clawing at the spear shaft, until Lumberling pulled it free and finished with a thrust through the throat.

(You have devoured the Spirit-Bound's essence. 250 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Spirit-Bound's memories and experiences.)

(You have gained a portion of Odin's Blessing: Odin's Blessing Lv.0 (1/1000))

For a heartbeat, the world shifted. The haze of battle thinned, and Lumberling swore he could hear the scrape of a shield twenty paces away, the quickened pulse of a Viking clutching his weapon too tightly, even the faint whistle of an arrow somewhere beyond the clash. His vision sharpened, then snapped back to normal, leaving only the echo of what might come.

Lumberling straightened, chest heaving, blood dripping from the spearhead. Around him, the remaining Vikings faltered. Their eyes shifted to the corpses of their fallen, then back to the monster standing over them.

One by one, they began to pull back, shields raised in retreat. Whatever fury they had carried into the city was gone now, replaced by grim silence.

As the last of the Vikings broke into a desperate run, the battlefield finally stilled. Only the groans of the dying lingered.

Lumberling stood unmoving, eyes locked on the shadowed woods where that pressure had weighed on him moments before.

And then, like a fist unclenching, the presence faded. The invisible weight slipped away with the retreating warriors, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

Lumberling's grip on his spear tightened. Whoever it was, whatever it was, had been watching.

He let out a slow breath. 'Next time…'