The ground shook under Rayon's boots. The giant snake roared, three heads snapping, its body writhing like a storm of muscle and rage. Black blood sprayed from the stump of its severed head, painting the dirt in a river of gore.
Rayon stood there, strings crawling out from his arms like veins made of shadow. His grin was still on his lips, but behind it—he felt the weight. The artifact on his wrist burned. One use a day. It had already saved him once. If he slipped again, if he hesitated even for a second, this forest would be his grave.
One of the heads lunged. Rayon dodged, threads pulling him sideways. The fangs grazed his ribs, tearing flesh. Pain shot through him, hot and sharp. He could feel the wetness of his own blood running down his side.
He hissed, but he didn't falter. His strings clamped down on the wound, holding it shut like stitches made of shadow. He laughed through clenched teeth. "Closer than last time."
Another head came from above, shadow blotting out the moonlight. Rayon barely moved in time. He rolled across the ground, dirt and blood sticking to his coat. The head slammed into the earth where he had been, crushing stone, sending debris flying.
A near miss. One mistake, and he would be dead again.
Rayon rose slowly, his body screaming with pain. His suit was torn now, his hood knocked back, black hair matted with sweat and gore. He looked almost human for a moment, vulnerable. But then that grin crept back.
"This feeling…" he whispered. His chest rose and fell, fast and uneven. His heart hammered. His blood pumped hot through every vein. "I could get used to this."
The second head came again, striking from the side. Rayon twisted his body, but the fangs scraped across his shoulder, sinking shallow before he forced them out with a burst of threads. Blood poured down his arm. His vision blurred for a moment, his knees nearly buckling.
Another inch deeper, and I'd be gone.
The thought should have shaken him. But instead, he laughed. A hollow, wild laugh. His eyes burned with something sharper than arrogance now. This wasn't just a fight. This was the closest he had come to feeling alive.
The snake hissed, pulling back for another strike. Rayon's strings lashed out, stabbing into its eyes. One head reeled back with a screech, blinded, blood dripping from its ruined sockets.
But the third head was faster than he expected. It came low, jaws snapping around his leg. Rayon screamed—not from fear, but from the pure shock of the pain. The teeth sank deep, crushing bone. He fell to the ground, blood gushing out, the world spinning.
He reached, threads flaring wildly. They wrapped around the head, sawing into its flesh. He pulled harder, harder, the veins on his arms bulging as the beast's jaws clamped tighter.
"LET GO!" he roared, blood spraying from his lips.
With a wet rip, the strings cut deep. Flesh tore. The snake's jaw split open in a spray of black gore, releasing his leg. Rayon tumbled back, coughing, dragging himself across the dirt. His leg was mangled, blood soaking the ground. His chest heaved, vision flickering.
He looked down at his destroyed limb. He should have been panicking. He should have been afraid. Instead, a crooked smile spread across his face.
"If not for you…" he muttered, glancing at the scar on his wrist. "I'd already be a corpse."
He pulled himself up, threads wrapping his leg tight like a crude brace, forcing him to stand. His eyes locked on the three heads still writhing in rage. His body was breaking. His blood was pouring. But his grin never left.
"Come then," he whispered, his voice hoarse, cracked. "Let's see how many times I can almost die before you fall."
And with that, Rayon dragged himself forward, back into the jaws of death, every step slower, heavier, but more certain than the last.
The stakes were clear now. One chance a day. No more. No less. And Rayon was beginning to like it.