Death is a Girl

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Chapter 66 - Unnatural Predators

A flurry of tendrils erupted from Noir’s body, slicing the air like whips as they lashed at the demon. Tufts of fur and blood were ripped away, but it did nothing to halt the demon’s charge. Sheltered behind Hilda’s protective barrier, Morrigan took a defensive stance, fighting the urge to flee. She had a role to play here. They were relying on her scythe to do what neither Noir or Hilda could.

She gripped the smooth poll tightly. But I’m not a fighter! And that thing’s a frikken monster! Reaping’s one thing, but I’m not prepared for this!

The demon leapt through Noir’s tendrils, its claws severing many of the shadowy strands as it aimed for the comparatively small feline. However, a pool of shadows expanded around Noir, swallowing him just as the demon’s massive bear claw smashed down.

The creature let out a cackling sound as it lifted its gigantic paw, expecting to see a squished mound of fur where Noir had been a moment ago. When it discovered only solid ground, it growled in confusion and swiveled its massive head, searching for Noir.

When its gaze settled back on the three girls, it seemed particularly drawn to Morrigan. Perhaps it sensed her hesitation or recognized the potential threat of her scythe. Its yellow eyes narrowed, and a deep, menacing growl rumbled from its throat as it readied itself to charge.

Morrigan’s heart raced, her grip on the scythe tightening. She could see the demon’s muscles coiling under its patchwork fur, poised to strike. But before it could pounce, Hilda stepped forward, her staff raised high. The gem glowed a brilliant blue, casting eerie shadows through the trees.

“Stay back, Morrigan!” Hilda shouted, slamming her staff into the ground. A wave of energy rippled outwards, forming a shimmering barrier in an arc before them. The demon charged with terrifying speed, but upon colliding with the barrier, the impact produced a thunderous crash but stopped its advance. The demon recoiled with a frustrated howl.

Morrigan glanced down, noticing the ground had been upturned in a skid from Hilda’s back foot. Although the barrier held, the force of the impact had pushed her back. She panted as she lowered her staff, and the barrier flickered until she uttered a grunt of determination and raised her staff again.

The demon retreated briefly, granting itself space for a running start. Hilda braced herself, her heels digging into the soft forest floor. The gem atop her staff pulsed with increasing intensity, casting long, dancing shadows around them. Morrigan felt the thrum of power in the air, a tangible sense of energy that tingled against her skin.

Now at a distance, the demon gathered itself like a storm cloud on the verge of bursting. Its muscles coiled tightly, and it let out a guttural snarl that reverberated through the trees. With a ferocious leap, it charged again, a blur of matted fur and bared teeth hurtling towards them.

“HELL CAT!?” Hilda shouted, steeling herself for the impending onslaught.

Suddenly, from beneath the earth, a mass of Noir’s dark, fluid-like shadow surged upward, coalescing into a curtain of swirling darkness. It undulated as if alive, stretching and contracting as if breathing, absorbing light, and emitting a subtle, eerie glow along its edges.

As the demon’s fist connected with Hilda’s barrier, sending a rippling shockwave over the domed surface, the shadow curtain responded by unleashing a barrage of sharp, spike-like tendrils. Hilda grunted with the effort of holding back the beast, her feet sliding backward, but she didn’t need to hold out for long. Noir’s attacks ripped at the demon’s body, bit by bit, until it let out a scream that resonated deep in Morrigan’s bones, then turned and retreated once more.

The curtain dissolved, swirling toward a singular point and there sat Noir on his haunches, his tail swishing as if he were a cat calmly toying with a mouse.

“Holy crap,” Hilda exhaled, lowering her staff. “I had no idea voidlings were that powerful.”

Noir glanced over his shoulder, his typically yellow eyes now glowing red, his fangs exposed in what could only be described as a smug grin. “Let’s just say I’m a little more… attuned, as you witches might call it, than most of my kind.”

Morrigan stared at him, taken aback. She recalled every other time she’d seen him in combat. Something was different now, though she couldn’t readily explain what. Then it struck her. She didn’t see any of his bones. Previously, even unleashing a single tendril slightly dissolved his body and exposed the skeletal structure underneath. The process would leave him fatigued, and when he was finished, his flesh would have to knit back together. He typically seemed exhausted after such expenditures… but now… he grinned smugly at them in his cat-like way, a glint in his eye showing a thrill within him.

“Ha!” Hilda chuckled, steadying her staff as the demon hesitated, deliberating on its next move. “Well, I take back everything I ever said about you, cat. Just glad you’re on our side.”

Noir’s tail flicked nonchalantly as he accepted the praise. The creature, meanwhile, shook its massive head, trying to recalibrate after the barrage. It’s stomach had ripped open, spilling globs of flesh—not entrails—but if Morrigan had to describe it was more like meatballs encased in a tough, furry shell.

“Now then, witch,” Noir said, refocusing on the battle. “I believe we can bring this to a swift end. I’ll launch another assault; I need you to focus solely on protecting Morrigan as she moves in with her scythe.”

Morrigan tensed. “R-right!” she replied, the adrenaline coursing through her, dampening the fear and anxiety. Or, maybe Noir’s powerful display boosted her confidence. She didn’t understand how he had changed so drastically in just the short weeks since she’d last seen him in action, but she supposed that didn’t matter now.

Hilda nodded firmly, turning to Morrigan. “Think you got this?”

Morrigan nodded back. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

The older witch glanced over her shoulder to her cousin. “How you holding up back there, Emma?”

“I’m good! Just be careful!” Emma replied, trying to mask the tremble in her voice. She had found a relatively safe spot behind a thick tree, her eyes wide as she observed the ongoing battle from a distance.

Noir didn’t wait for any further cues. With a fluid, predatory grace, he launched himself forward. Shadows pooled and surged around him, forming into countless tendrils that lashed out with deadly precision. The air filled with the sounds of ripping and tearing as the tendrils struck, battering the demon from all sides.

The demon roared in fury and pain, its movements growing increasingly desperate as it swiped wildly, like an animal trying to fend off a swarm of bees. But Noir was relentless, his attacks a dark blur that kept the demon off balance and increasingly wounded.

Morrigan watched, her nerves steeling with each passing moment. As Noir continued his assault, she tightened her grip on her scythe, readying herself. She could see the toll each hit took on the demon, how its body struggled to hold itself together.

“Ready, Morrigan?” Hilda’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and clear.

Morrigan tensed. Ready? Well, she was probably about as ready as she could be. She tried not to focus on what the demon was. That is, if she could reduce it to basic shapes and potential threats, perhaps she could suppress the instinctive warnings inside her head. Those natural reactions that stop you from doing things like… jumping from a far height, or putting your hand on a hot stove, or giving yourself a piercing, or jumping in front of a monster that could rip you to shreds in seconds and then turn you into a meatball to use as stuffing and fix its own leaking stomach!

“I’m ready,” Morrigan lied. The foreign flesh that was fused in her back had built itself up into a tantrum that she couldn’t silence. It banged against the seal, occasionally hard, but other times frustrated and defeated. Had she not been wearing her hoodie, whatever else she was wearing would probably have been ripped to shreds by now while she curled up on the ground screaming.

Hilda began to advance slowly, and Morrigan matched her pace. Hilda held her staff high, the gem at its tip glowing, encasing them in a protective bubble. Ahead, Noir’s small form darted between the demon’s feet with a shadowy pool around him that continued the relentless assault of tendrils. More blood and fur were torn from the monstrous form, and occasionally, large globs of flesh would drop with a sickening plop to the ground.

“When you attack, make it quick,” Hilda instructed. “You’ll have to step right to the edge of my barrier. It’s less effective the closer you get, but I can cover you with offensive magic.”

“Got it.”

Morrigan gripped her scythe. She figured cutting along the surface of its flesh would do no good. Its flesh was not really its own; those body parts belonged to its victims. If she wanted to end it in one blow, she’d need to drive her scythe deep into the core of its body.

Taking a deep breath, she felt the demon flesh on her back stir, reacting to the proximity of its kin. The beast was overwhelmed, unable to focus as Noir’s relentless assault continued. In theory, Morrigan could easily approach without resistance, but the wildly flailing limbs posed a real danger of striking her accidentally. Worst case, a stray bear claw could permanently scar her face or neck—areas she couldn’t simply cover with clothing. No, actually, that wasn’t the worst-case scenario. The real worst-case would be having her head batted off… Considering she couldn’t really die, what would that experience be like? Could they simply plop her head back on her shoulders, or—

STOP THINKING LIKE THAT!

“Focus Morrigan” she muttered to herself, cutting off the bad thoughts.

“Hey, you got this kid,” Hilda said to her, her voice steady but tense. They were now just a short sprint away. “Go for it when you’re ready, and I’ll follow your lead.”

Morrigan nodded, tightening her grip on the scythe’s poll. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she anchored herself in the moment.

Morrigan closed her eyes briefly to gather her resolve.

As soon as I open my eyes, I’ll run. No, wait, that’s stupid. Keep your eyes open, you idiot! Don’t just throw a hail-mary to trick yourself into moving. Watch its movements. It’s thrashing around wildly but… it keeps its arms above its waist. So, stay low, and throw an underhand swing with the scythe—EASY!

Noir’s attacks seemed to slow, and while the damage to the creature’s patchworked body was immense, it didn’t seem to be slowing down. It was more akin to stripping off armor than truly wounding it. Despite all the ichor and flesh, it shed around the battlefield, the creature showed no signs of faltering.

Morrigan’s eyes snapped open, searching its body for an opening. As the demon reared up, she spotted its underbelly—a less protected area that might just be the weak spot she needed. If she could arc her scythe upward, driving the blade into that soft spot and up into the demon’s chest, perhaps that would be enough to end it.

She braced herself, waiting for the right moment. As the demon raised its arms to shield its face, Morrigan finally made her move. Her legs sprang into action, driven by that instinctive rush akin to the moment before a dive—hesitation one second, unstoppable momentum the next.

Don’t scream—this isn’t the time for a war cry! You’re not a Viking charging into battle. Slip in unnoticed and finish it!

She dropped low, her feet sliding on the slick ichor coating the ground. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted the disgust and the urgent need to change her clothes and shower once this was over.

Once this is over—

The monster seemed to loom even larger as she slid between its legs. As she pivoted, raising the scythe upward, light from Hilda’s magic encircled her. Hilda and Noir had set the stage; all she needed was to land this one crucial blow!

The scythe’s pole slid through her gloved palms, extending as she arced it upward. Her target was in sight, but—

Just as she was about to drive the blade through the demon’s soft underbelly, a sudden, violent twist of its body changed everything. Its thick tail, moving like a whiplash, swept low and fast directly at Morrigan.

The impact was sudden and brutal. It smacked into her midsection, the force knocking the wind out of her as she was flung aside like a ragdoll. Her scythe bounced dully against the gore-slicked ground, its blade dissolving into blue flames. She hit the forest floor much hard herself, struggling to catch her breath and fighting the tunneling vision brought on by intense pain.

As she looked up, masses of fur and meat descended upon her. She couldn’t make sense of it. Wait… it was disintegrating. Because it was dying? No—this was a conscious decision! It had abandoned maintaining its solid form, now seemingly intent on burying her alive with its dismembering parts.

But just before the debris could engulf her, Hilda came to her side. Dropping to her knees, the witch drove her staff into the ground. A flash of light erupted, and a protective barrier encircled them. Moments later, they were plunged into darkness, encased within Hilda’s magic bubble but buried under the remnants of the demon—or rather, the bodies of its victims.

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