Aldric extended his fingers.
The air around his hand warped, bending inward as gravitational force gathered between his fingertips. Pale threads formed, not of light, but of pressure, weaving themselves into a tightening net that pressed down over the distorted space around the Howling. The forest groaned softly as leaves and fog were dragged downward, caught in the pull.
The creature writhed violently.
Its many legs slammed against the compressed air, each impact sending ripples through the invisible field. The sound was wrong, muffled and strained, as though the Howling were trapped beneath deep water. The pressure did not crush it outright. It constrained it, forcing its mass inward, forcing its movements to fight against their own weight.
Clyde opened his Hollow Star eyes.
The world dimmed.
Colors bled away as space itself thinned before his gaze. The centipede's massive body became translucent, layers of chitin and flesh peeling back under his sight. Inside, he saw it.
The heart.
It pulsed weakly, a dull, uneven glow like a dying lantern buried in pitch. Each beat was slower than the last, struggling against the unnatural gravity compressing it.
Clyde drew the Hollow Edge.
The blade felt colder than before, its weight unfamiliar in his trembling grip. The violet sheen along its surface deepened faintly, responding to the agitation of his ichor. He did not shout. He did not rush forward with confidence.
He ran because standing still meant fear would overtake him.
His charge was uneven. His footing slipped on damp leaves. When he swung, it was clumsy, driven by instinct rather than skill. The blade struck true, but only barely, biting into the exposed heart halfway before resistance stopped it cold.
The Howling screamed.
The sound tore through the compressed space, vibrating violently against Clyde's bones. The gravitational field shuddered. Pain exploded through his body as pressure rebounded inward. His skin split at the edges of his arms. Muscles seized and burned as if pulled taut from within.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Clyde dropped to one knee, vision doubling, ears ringing with the echo of the creature's agony. The heart thrashed against the embedded blade, still beating, still refusing to die.
The Howling shrieked, its body thrashing violently within the distorted space. The gravitational field wavered under the strain, pressure rippling outward in uneven waves.
Before the creature could recover, a sharp crack split the air.
Marlowe had already moved.
He stood several paces back, feet planted wide, Echo Gun raised and steady. The weapon hummed as lunar sigils along its barrel brightened, not flaring, but tightening inward as compressed sound built up.
He fired.
The shot struck the centipede's midsection, detonating inside its body as a contained sonic burst. The impact did not tear through flesh. Instead, the vibration traveled inward, rattling organs and joints, disrupting the creature's coordination.
The Howling convulsed.
Its legs spasmed out of rhythm, scraping wildly against the compressed air as the echo reverberated through its massive form. The heart faltered for a brief moment, its pulse stuttering as the internal vibrations clashed with Aldric's crushing gravity.
Marlowe adjusted his aim and fired again.
This shot was lower, angled deliberately. The echo wave slammed into the creature's underside, forcing its body to twist unnaturally under the combined stress. Cracks spidered across its chitin as pressure and vibration worked against each other.
Marlowe exhaled sharply.
He did not fire a third time.
The recoil had already sunk into his shoulders, his grip tightening as the strain caught up with him. Echo at this phase could disrupt, restrain, and weaken. It could not finish something this large alone.
But it had created an opening.
The heart pulsed again, exposed longer now, struggling to stabilize.
That was when Aldric moved.
The pressure shifted instantly, collapsing inward along a single vector. Aldric drove himself forward through the Howling's flank, using a focused gravitational surge to tear a path through compressed flesh. Chitin ruptured. Organs burst under sudden weight. Steam and dark ichor hissed into the night as his passage carved a tunnel straight through the creature's body.
He emerged on the other side, boots striking the ground with controlled force.
His breathing was steady.
Behind him, the heart continued to pulse.
Clyde forced himself upright.
His eyes darkened to a deeper violet, the fractured starlight within them stabilizing. The Hollow Edge responded, its metal darkening as a faint purple sheen spread across the blade like frost creeping over glass.
He stepped forward.
One breath.
Then another.
No hesitation this time.
Clyde drove the blade fully into the heart.
The creature convulsed violently. Its legs curled inward as the glow within its body flickered and collapsed. A final tremor rippled through the forest floor, shaking loose dirt and leaves, before the Howling sagged in on itself.
The massive body deteriorated rapidly.
Flesh broke down first, dissolving into dark residue. Chitin cracked and collapsed inward. In moments, only the heart and scattered organs remained, steaming softly against the forest floor.
Silence returned.
Aldric wiped ichor from his coat, his expression unreadable.
Marlowe lowered his control with quiet precision, the oppressive pressure lifting as the forest slowly reclaimed its natural stillness.
Clyde stood motionless, hand trembling around the hilt of the Hollow Edge. The violet glow along the blade faded gradually, leaving cold steel behind. His eyes returned to blue.
He exhaled slowly.
"I did it," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
He glanced down at the sword in his hand. "What happened to my blade?"
Aldric stepped closer, studying it with open interest."You infused it with your lunar ichor," he said calmly. "The color reflects its nature. Yours happens to be violet."
Then, for the first time, a hint of pride crossed his face.
"You did well," Aldric continued. "You were afraid, but you moved forward anyway. For a first kill, that matters more than strength."
Clyde tightened his grip on the Hollow Edge, the weight of what he had done finally settling into his chest.