(AFK WORM) CHAPTER NINETEEN

The moment Lung moved, Corpsemaker understood why people were afraid of him.

He crossed the alley with a speed that had no business belonging to something his size, one clawed hand sweeping toward her head with enough force to make the air itself seem to recoil. She ducked beneath it, feeling the heat rolling from his body as she twisted away, and barely had time to regain her footing before he was already turning toward her.

He was still too fast, and every strike forced her farther across the alley as she tried to stay ahead of him. At least his body was still changing, because whatever strength he possessed now would only become more dangerous once the transformation was complete.

Shemira had seen warriors in Esperia become things barely recognizable as human once their powers took hold, and Lung's transformation carried an unpleasant familiarity. What disturbed her more was the way he seemed to draw strength from the fight itself, growing more dangerous simply because someone had chosen to oppose him. Power that grew with conflict was dangerous enough when wielded by someone disciplined, but Lung seemed to possess an almost instinctive understanding of how to turn violence into sheer momentum.

Fortunately, he had not reached his peak.

Scales covered much of his body now, his hands ending in claws and his features becoming increasingly bestial, but he was still recognizably human. His body had not yet reached the monstrous proportions she had seen in the photographs and reports.

Corpsemaker waited until his next strike came close enough that she could feel the heat of it against her cheek, then twisted aside and caught his wrist with both hands. The contact nearly threw her off balance. He was far heavier than he looked, and the strength behind the motion made her arms ache immediately.

Still, her earlier fights had taught her something about dealing with stronger opponents, and she decided to trust it now. She did not need to overpower him so much as turn that strength against him, which meant waiting for the right moment and using his own momentum to carry him where she wanted him to go.

When his next strike came, she stepped with it rather than away from it, turning her hips as she caught his arm and pulled with everything she had. For one brief moment, his weight shifted exactly as she intended, and Lung's momentum carried him forward far enough that she thought she might actually send him sprawling.

Then his foot slammed into the pavement, cracking the concrete beneath his weight, and Corpsemaker's eyes widened behind her mask as she realized just how badly she had misjudged him.

Lung looked down at her with an expression that was almost amused, and before she could understand what he intended, he pulled hard enough to wrench her completely off her feet. The next thing she knew, she was flying across the alley.

Her back struck the side of the abandoned truck hard enough to buckle the metal, and the impact drove the breath from her lungs as she crumpled to one knee with one hand pressed against the pavement. For a moment, all she could do was drag air back into her chest while pain spread across her back and ribs.

The spirit orb hovered beside her, and through its strange awareness she could see Lung already coming toward her.

She forced herself upright just as he swung.

Corpsemaker threw herself backward, his claws passing within inches of her chest before her hand caught the edge of the truck and she used the momentum to pull herself around it. She landed awkwardly and nearly lost her footing, but managed to recover just as Lung's next strike slammed into the vehicle behind her.

Metal screamed beneath the impact, and the entire truck shifted several inches across the pavement.

For a moment, Shemira stared at the deep impression his claws had left in the side panel, and then she looked back at Lung.

This was the fight where one mistake could end everything, and Shemira had already escaped death once. She had woken in a world that was not hers, carrying memories that did not belong to her and leaving behind a husband and son she would never see again. Somehow, she had been given another life when she had no reason to expect one, and she had no intention of surrendering it to a gang leader in an alley.

Lung charged again, and this time Corpsemaker refused to retreat, running straight toward him instead.

His expression changed, perhaps from surprise or perhaps from amusement, but she was already beneath his reach, driving her shoulder into his middle with enough force to make the impact travel painfully through her entire body. Lung barely moved, and for a moment she had the absurd impression that she had just tried to shove a wall out of her way.

She had managed to get close enough, however, and her hand came up to press against the scales covering his chest as she reached for the strange sensation she had discovered during her fight with the Merchants, searching for that thread of warmth beneath flesh and bone, the intangible current that had answered her instinct and flowed into her when she had taken it before.

There.

For the briefest moment, she felt something vast beneath her palm.

Lung's life.

The sheer magnitude of it nearly overwhelmed her senses, and the sensation was so immense that it felt like trying to cup an ocean in her hands. She recoiled instinctively, and that moment of hesitation was all Lung needed. His clawed hand closed around her arm before she could pull away, and he hurled her across the alley with enough force to send her crashing onto the pavement.

She rolled several times before coming to a stop against a pile of discarded crates, and when she pushed herself upright, the arm Lung had grabbed was throbbing from the pressure of his grip.

She had made a stupid decision, having felt the difference between them and still chosen to meet his strength directly, which was exactly the sort of reckless choice Annette would have condemned and Shemira could hardly defend.

The encounter was becoming an uncomfortable reminder of just how little she understood about her own abilities. She knew what the orb could do, and she knew that she was stronger, faster, and harder to injure than Annette had ever been, yet none of that told her what she was actually capable of with the strange power that had awakened within her.

She could improvise, certainly, but continuing to rely on instinct or guess her way through a fight against Lung was eventually going to get her killed.

She pushed herself to her feet as Lung approached, and the sight of him made the urgency of the situation painfully clear; while she had struggled to recover, more scales had spread across his face and shoulders, his frame had grown broader, and the claws at his fingertips had lengthened. Heat rolled from his body in waves, making the air around him shimmer as his power continued to build.

She could feel the window closing, even if she had no way of knowing precisely how much time remained. Every second she spent fighting defensively gave Lung another opportunity to become stronger, and eventually whatever advantage she had gained from catching him before his transformation was complete would disappear entirely.

Corpsemaker straightened, and the spirit orb drifted back into place above her shoulder as she fixed her attention on Lung.

A smile slowly spread across her face as she considered what she had felt beneath Lung's scales. If she could not overpower him, she would have to find another way, and perhaps the answer had been within reach from the beginning.