The wyvern thrashed, shaking its claws and fangs, desperate to rid itself of the foul thing lodged in its mouth. Its powerful neck swung in half moon curves sending bits of carapace flying with every swing.
It was heavy.
Heavier than the winged beast expected at first glance and it wasn't used to its prey taking so long to dissolve beneath its acidic bites.
In truth, the bite of the wyvern didn't hold much strength. It relied mostly on its acid to corrode away most of its prey's defenses.
As the wyvern continued to pummel the last bits of carapace out of its mouth, one slow bubble plopped its way onto the surface of the mud where it had first dove in—then another, following a few seconds later. The mud stirred, bubbling as a mound slowly rose from its murky depths.
After one last exaggerated motion of its neck finally dislodged the bulk of what was stuck in its teeth, the wyvern took a moment to study its victim. What the wyvern had spat out wasn't flesh. Just the thick, deadened husk Shakti had carried for years—a second skin. Layers upon layers of it condensed into what most—including Shakti—assumed was its own flesh.
Confused, the wyvern began to nudge the pseudo-corpse, trying to identify flesh from mud. In its confusion, it screeched angrily at the inanimate mass, thrashing at it as if it were the real body.
All the while, the mound of mud stood taller behind the wyvern. A shape began to form—arms, a spear, a slit across its face. Shakti inhaled its first breath of open air—labored but steady.. From the dripping clay, Shakti's spear point slowly exposed itself– mud sloughing off its form.
Shakti stood there a moment, adjusting its stance to prepare for another round. Globs of mud melted off its body. The plopping sound as they hit the ground brought the wyvern's attention back to its real prey.
Pivoting awkwardly, it lunged toward Shakti. Debris scattered as each flap of its wings increased the wyvern's momentum, closing the distance between predator and prey.
Shakti wasted no time and lunged forward after one last exhale.
The mud stripped away from its green skin, exposing puncture wounds laced around its shoulders like a beaded necklace, remnants of the male's earlier attack. Shakti's mud carapace had taken the brunt of the damage, but the wyvern's claws had still found their way through to flesh.
The initial wound from the first wyvern sat squarely over Shakti's right shoulder, pulsing with every moment that passed. Each step was agony that radiated throughout its entire body.
If Shakti had eyes, it might have seen the discoloration spreading deeper into its flesh—but Shakti did not need to see to feel the acid's slow descent.
And yet, Shakti was moving faster than it was used to. The weight of the mud carapace was no longer a burden it needed to carry. Whether it realized it or not.
The troglodyte covered thirty paces toward the wyvern in a handful of heartbeats.
Neither creature was ready for their second collision to be as sudden as it was.
Shakti jammed its spearhead deep into the wyvern's chest. So deep, its hand disappeared inside as well. Its arm slid further in and tore a ragged line through the beast's torso before the wyvern could react.
Blood splashed over Shakti, burning through its skin instantly. The arm inside boiled, flesh sloughing off in sheets. For a half-second, Shakti registered the damage—then shoved deeper
The wyvern let out a blood-freezing screech that silenced the surrounding jungle in an instant. Even Shakti couldn't overcome the overwhelming auditory shock that reverberated through its form as it hung off the wyvern's chest.
The winged beast surged into the air, snatching Shakti by the leg with its fangs and whipping it away with a violent twist of its neck. Its intent was to devour the foul thing at once, but in its haste—and a flicker of fear—it only managed to clamp down on the leg.
The bone snapped quickly.
The pain was faster.
Shakti barely registered it beneath the burning agony already searing its flesh and bones.
The wyvern made quick work of the detached leg as it got more distance away from the ground. Watching the trog with more reservation now.
'Get up.'
Shakti kept telling itself as it lay there.
Hands empty.
Well… at least one hand was empty. The other just didn't exist anymore.
The spear point stayed lodged in the wyvern's open chest, where its organs spilled out and blood splashed onto the ground, sizzling as it hit the earth.
'Get up. This beast is nothing to Shakti.' The arm that had plunged into the wyvern was barely a limb now—skin oozing from bone as the acid stripped it away.
'GET UP!' It kept repeating to itself as it forced itself upright, balancing on its one remaining leg.
The new wound from the bite amplified everything it was already feeling from the initial infection from the wyvern's deceased mate. The pain no longer pulsated but screamed as it affected every nerve in Shakit's body.
It was almost a relief to Shakti.
Almost.
The stump of its leg sizzled, cauterized as the acid slowly devoured its way up Shakti's thigh.
The scent of burnt flesh stirred hunger deep within Shakti's ruined body, though whether it was hunger or delirium, not even Shakti could tell.
'What a pathetic creature. It doesn't even know it's already dead.'
Shakti's body swayed as it glared up at the beast.
The wyvern hovered, blotting out the sun. With each flap of its leathery wings, rays of light escaped to dance around Shakti's battered frame. Yet its shadow, constantly present over the troglodyte.
Shakti wanted to move, but it couldn't—not without falling.
So it waited, swaying in place. Daring the beast to come
'Come'
As if listening to its silent arrogance the wyvern dove for the kill.
Shakti was ready.
A toothy grin split its ruined face.
It didn't register the whistling barrage of arrows that struck the beast mid-dive, driving it into the ground before Shakti's feet.
Or the four Lacetilla who leapt down from the trees to inspect the wyvern, weapons at the ready.
Nor did it notice when its remaining leg gave out, the world spinning sideways, and its body slumped into the dirt.
The last thing Shakti felt before darkness took it was the urge to find its runaway master.