Narration POV
SNAP
The mouth of the monster snapped shut, yet the boy seemed to react just in time ducking the monster, a few strands of his auburn hair getting cut by the jagged teeth that crashed together with enough force to shatter bone.
The boy didn't stop at just ducking though, he quickly dashed under the beast's hovering leg, opening up his backpack and taking something out, a bronze whip, after which he threw his backpack away, the bag skidding across the ground and crashing against a wall.
"Finally, I get to have some fun," the youth laughed gleefully, cracking the whip against the floor, the sound echoing throughout the corridor like thunder. "It's been seven months since I came out. Way too much time spent there. Either way you caused Julius some distress, I think you deserve a beating in return. It's only fair."
The boy laughed, his voice no longer carrying the fear that Julius had shown. His posture had changed too, more confident, more aggressive, feet planted firmly on the ground in a fighting stance that spoke of years of training.
The monster had stopped whistling, seemingly taken aback by the sudden shift in demeanor from its prey. For a moment, it simply hovered there.
Then it charged, moving incredibly fast for something so bulky, its body cutting through the air with a sickening whoosh. It sent one of its clawed hunts forwards in a sweeping arc aimed at the boy's midsection, but -
SNAP
It got caught by the boy's whip, the supple bronze length wrapping around the bony appendage with unerring precision. The sound of sizzling skin sounded out as the monster for the first time released a scream of its own, one filled with pain. Smoke rose from where the whip made contact, as if the bronze was burning into the creature's flesh.
"Oh? Does that hurt?" Richter taunted, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "The Vampire Killer doesn't like your kind very much. Neither do I."
The whip went loose as the boy recalled it with a practiced flick of his wrist, the bronze length coiling back like a snake returning to its master.
The monster screeched, the sound deafening in the enclosed space of the school corridor. It sent out another of its arms, this time faster, aiming directly for the boy's throat.
The boy simply weaved past it, stepping to the side with untethered grace like he wasn't fighting sone kind of eldritch looking monster, lashing out with an attack of his own that struck the monster in the face.
The cracking of the whip reverberated along the corridor, the monster wailed as a mark was left on it's head, the white liquid, the mask, beginning to cover the monster's face once more almost as if in response to the pain.
Richter stared silently a fierce grin forming on his face, circling the creature, the whip trailing behind him.
The monster lunged once more, both arms extended now, claws splayed out to maximize its reach. The right arm got caught by the whip once more, Richter pulling it downward with such force that the rest of the monster's body followed suit and crashed against the wooden floor with a thunderous impact. The floorboards cracked under the weight, splinters flying.
With the whip entangled in the monster's right arm, it took the chance and lunged at the boy with its other arm, the claws a blur of motion.
Richter turned to the side, using the momentum of his own body to minimize the impact, and yet a few drops of blood from his cheek fell to the ground as one of the claws grazed him.
"First blood," he said, wiping the cut with the back of his hand. "You should be proud. Most don't get that far."
Not wanting to stay too close to the monster, the boy loosened his whip, letting it drag along the ground as he created distance between himself and the creature. The monster rose back up, its body hovering once more, the mask now cycling through faces so rapidly it was almost a blur of white.
It charged again, this time zigzagging across the corridor, making it harder for Richter to predict its movements. The boy stood his ground, whip at the ready, his eyes tracking the creature's erratic path.
At the last moment, the monster feinted left before striking from the right. Richter anticipated this, pivoting on his heel and lashing out with the whip. The bronze length cracked against the monster's side, leaving a smoking gash.
The monster howled but didn't retreat. Instead, it pressed forward, now using short, rapid slashes with its claws rather than wide, sweeping attacks.
The claws of the monster and the end of the bronze whip met clash after clash, in a never-ending struggle that filled the corridor with the sounds of combat. Sparks flew where bronze met claw, the air growing thick with the scent of burning flesh and ozone.
Richter was forced back, step by step, the relentless assault pushing him toward the wall. His expression, however, remained one of excitement rather than fear, Richter only had one though running through his mind.
Yes! Yes! Let's keep dancing!!
With a sudden burst of speed, Richter rolled under the next attack, coming up behind the monster. He flicked his wrist, sending the whip wrapping around one of the creature's stumpy legs. With a powerful tug, he pulled the leg out from under the monster, causing it to lose its hovering balance momentarily.
That moment was all Richter needed. He leaped into the air, higher than should have been possible, and brought his whip down in an overhead arc that caught the monster across what passed for its back. The impact was so powerful that the creature was slammed into the ground once more.
But the monster was far from defeated. As Richter landed, it swept its arm along the ground, catching the boy by surprise and sending him flying into the lockers with a crash.
Richter grunted in pain as his back collided with the metal, denting it inward. He slid to the ground, momentarily stunned. The monster, sensing advantage, surged forward, both arms raised for what would surely be a killing blow.
At the last possible second, Richter's eyes snapped fully open. He rolled to the side as the claws came down, tearing through the lockers like they were made of paper. Books, papers, and personal items spilled onto the floor as the monster's claws became momentarily stuck in the metal.
Richter quickly regained his footing. He flicked his wrist, sending the whip lashing forward. The bronze length wrapped around both of the monster's arms, binding them together.
With a mighty heave, Richter pulled the creature off balance once more. But this time, instead of retreating, he charged forward, leaping into the air and delivering a powerful kick to the monster's torso.
The monster reeled backward, dragging Richter along as the boy refused to let go of his whip.
At one point the boy and the monster were just a few inches from each other, where neither the monster's claws nor the boy's whip could be used at their best. The creature's stench was overwhelming this close, the smell of decay and rotting flesh.
Richter wanted to reel back from the smell but didn't instead headbutting the mask, cracks spreading like a spiderweb across the white surface.
The monster roared, the sound so loud and guttural that it shook dust from the ceiling. It thrashed wildly, trying to free its arms from the whip's binding. In its frenzy, it slammed Richter against the wall, then the floor, then back into the wall.
Each impact forced a grunt of pain from the boy, but he never loosened his grip on the whip. Blood now trickled from his nose and a cut above his eye, but his grin remained defiant.
The monster, in its rage, failed to notice that with each violent movement, the whip was burning deeper into its arms. Smoke now poured from the wounds, and the creature's movements were becoming less coordinated, more desperate.
And yet in one fell swoop, the monster overextended, putting too much force into a lunge that missed Richter by inches. The boy was able to get behind it, make some distance and send his whip forward with a precision that spoke of countless hours of practice... or talent.
The bronze length circled the monster's throat, constricting it like a noose.
"Game over," Richter said, planting his feet firmly on the ground.
The boy pulled back with all his might, sending the monster crashing to the floor with such force that the wooden floorboard cracked. He began to strangle whatever it was he was facing, the whip burning into the creature's neck just as it had burned into its arms.
The monster thrashed wildly, its body contorting in ways that defied anatomy. It tried to claw at the bronze whip but only received more burns in response, its flesh sizzling and smoking where it touched the sacred weapon. It tried to reach for the boy with increasingly desperate swipes, yet it couldn't break free from the burning noose around its neck.
Richter didn't let up, pulling the whip tighter and tighter, his face now red from the amount of effort he was putting in this, though his toothy grin, would have made anyone think otherwise. Sweat poured down his brow, mixing with the blood from his cuts, but his grip remained firm, unrelenting.
"Back to whatever hell spawned you," he growled through clenched teeth.
The monster's struggles grew weaker, its arms flailing with less and less coordination. The mask on its face cycled through faces more slowly now, each transformation taking longer than the last, as if the creature was losing control of even this aspect of itself.
Until one moment.
Where the monster's arms fell at its side, limp and lifeless. The creature's body began to dissolve, starting from the extremities and working inward. First the claws, then the arms, then the stumpy legs and hunched back, all turning into a puff of golden smoke that dissipated into the air of the school corridor.
All that was left was a white mask, now static on the face of the agonized woman, floating momentarily before clattering to the ground.
Richter stood over it, breathing heavily, whip still clutched tightly in his hand. Blood dripped from various cuts across his body, but his posture remained proud, victorious.
"Ha! Take that you shit! I, Richter Belmont, beat you!"
Yet as those words of triumph came out of his mouth, in a blink, Richter was no more. His posture changed, becoming less confident, more reserved. The fierce gleam in his eyes faded, replaced by pain and exhaustion.
Julius was once more in control.