Piercing

Steven watched as the troll clutched its head, meaty fingers gripping its skull where his blazing kick had landed. With a sickening snap, it cranked its neck back upright, the vertebrae popping into place. A guttural roar erupted, shaking the mining chamber, dust cascading from the ceiling as the beast’s yellow eyes locked on him—pissed, not broken. That kick had been his all, a golden comet of Feet of Holy Fury, yet it only stoked the troll’s rage. Steven grinned, flames of Fists of Holy Fury, Feet of Holy Fury, and Saiyan Fury still licking his body, his golden vision piercing the gloom. Mana coursed strong—he was alight, unyielding, ready for the fight of his life.

The troll charged, a ten-foot freight train of muscle and malice, claws outstretched. Steven darted left, flames trailing as he dodged a swipe—whoosh—the air whistling past. He countered, a blazing fist slamming its ribs—thud—scales scorching hide, but it barely flinched, swinging a backhand. The blow caught his shoulder—crack—pain flaring as he stumbled, the chitin plates absorbing most but not all. He cast Holy Magic, golden light knitting the bruise fast, and rolled back in, ducking a claw swipe to land a fiery uppercut—crunch—rocking its jaw.

It roared, lunging—Steven leapt, flipping mid-air, aiming a flaming heel at its skull—thwack—but the troll grabbed his leg, hurling him against the wall. Stone cracked, his chest took the hit—oof—breath knocked out, ribs bruised. Healing flared again, light mending him as he sprang up, dodging a stomp that shattered the floor—boom. He danced around it, a blur of gold—punch to the gut, kick to the knee—each hit searing, but the troll’s hide soaked it, its rage unrelenting.

Then—disaster. The troll feinted, claws flashing—Steven twisted, but too late. Its massive hand drove forward, talons piercing his belly between the chitin plates—splugsh—a wet, tearing sound as they punched through to his guts. Blood sprayed, pain exploding, his vision swimming. The troll yanked free, gore dripping, and Steven staggered, clutching the wound—red pooling fast. He cast Holy Magic in a panic, golden light stitching the hole, but it sealed slow, sluggish against the gut-deep tear. The troll lunged again—claws swiping—Steven rolled, agony screaming, dodging by inches as the healing crawled, his focus split.

Enough bashing—he needed an edge. Mid-dodge, he funneled mana to his fingers, picturing the flames as claws, sharp and holy. His hands shimmered—golden talons erupted, Holy Claws of Fury, a new twist born of desperation. He snarled, lunging like a beast—claws raked the troll’s arm, slashing through hide—shrrk—blood sprayed, the first real wound. It howled, swiping; he ducked, slashing its thigh—slice—green ichor flowed. Bashing had dented; slashing cut.

He circled, a golden predator—claws tore its flank, its chest, each shrrk peeling flesh, holy fire cauterizing as it went. The troll roared, slower now, and Steven pounced—claws slashing its throat—shlck—a geyser of blood erupted, its hands clawing its neck, **** on its own ruin. In its panic, Steven saw payback. He lunged, mirroring its gut-stab—his clawed hand plunged into its chest—splugsh—flesh parting, ribs cracking as he gripped its pounding heart. With a yank—rip—he tore it free, dark blood gushing, the troll’s eyes dimming as it slumped, a lifeless heap on the stone.

Steven stood, panting, claws dripping, the heart thudding once in his grip before stilling. His belly ached, the healing near done—slow but enough. The chamber fell silent, his golden fury unbowed.