“Spread out!”

  Vincent took his own advice.

  Ayame, for a change, backed off, heeding him. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t going to lunge with the same usual violence and total lack of fear. But for the moment, she was willing to examine the opponent, to judge what they were facing. And Tara, well, Tara needed to keep her distance anyway.

  She even climbed a tree, aiming at the armored giant, squatting on a branch. Very agile. Well, all of them were quite agile, out of necessity.

  The giant took a step forward. It held the third sword between its teeth. But, however intimidating that made it, it wasn’t practical at all. It was as if it only had two swords. Then, as if in response to his stupid thoughts, the third sword flew out of the monster’s mouth. Floating around it, the blade shining with an energy as blue as the sky. Ultramarine blue. A color that almost got lost on a day like this.

  I haven't even opened my big mouth, Vincent thought, but I've still screwed up.

  The monster crouched, gathering strength, and leaped straight at him, brandishing its swords.

  The third one continued to move on its own, cutting through the air as it approached.

  Vincent threw himself to the side, rolling on the ground to dodge.

  The giant landed where his head had been a second ago, and immediately brandished its swords. All of them, the three of them. But only the ones in its hands went for Vincent’s neck. The third one flew to intercept Ayame, who was running towards him. Ayame raised her arms, crossing them to defend herself.

  Still, that only meant the weapon blades tore at her arms. They didn't manage to penetrate her skin or her clothes, not yet. It would hurt her quite a bit anyway, but she swallowed the pain and kept running without even slowing down.

  Vincent stood up, parrying the attacks of both swords with his own. Immediately after, the giant attacked him with each of the swords, flying in a different direction. But Vincent was able to react in time. Sword against sword, shield against sword. Wham! The point was, he had gotten away, at least for the moment. The flying sword suddenly plunged into the ground and shot forward, sending a cloud of dirt and dust flying towards Ayame.

  This blinded her, made her cough. What a son of a bitch! So it had at least enough brains to make the most of its terrain. The giant changed targets, trying to make the most of its advantage, but Vincent got in the way just in time and went flying. He flew like a rag doll. Only hitting a tree stopped his fall, and even then he heard the trunk crack.

  Vincent got up as quickly as he could, coughing hard, half-choking, trying to ignore the pain. He knew it was a fleeting sensation, like an illusion. If he so desperately wanted the pain to stop, he just had to finish this thing off. Then he would recover his hit points and wouldn't be at one hundred percent, wouldn't be pain-free, but it would be a big change for the better, as always. So, if he had time to complain, he should redirect his energy to absolutely annihilating his enemy.

  Tara’s arrows didn’t seem to do much, simply bouncing off the giant’s armor. She shot him a couple of times inside the helm, but the darkness swallowed the arrows and there seemed to be no effect.

  As for Ayame’s efforts, she was losing ground. She had finally gotten close enough to the son of a bitch to punch him, to slash him with her claws, but she was paying for it. Every advantage, every piece of flesh and drop of blood, she was paying for it. Her forearms were covered in cuts. He could smell her blood in the air, he could see the dozens of small cuts oozing blood that slithered like snakes. He had never seen her so pressured; bleeding, okay, but not like this.

  Damn, I have to help her, Vincent thought. But what the hell can I do?

  They were fighting in a damn meadow. The strategy of simply breaking the ground and setting a trap where it could fall, as he had done with the giant lizard in the dungeon, wouldn't work. They were in the middle of a forest, so Ayame could take advantage of the terrain by ripping up trees, hitting the son of a bitch. But as for what he could do, he couldn't think of a damn thing.

  Finally, Ayame recognized she had to change tactics, as she suddenly leaped back and landed in a crouch. Despite the pain and blood loss, her expression seemed unperturbed. She wiped the blood that had splattered her cheek with an absurdly casual gesture, as if she did it every day. When she dropped her hands, there were suddenly swords in them, both made of blood, naturally.

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  “It’s more annoying than I thought,” Ayame said, taking a step forward, as a storm of blood swords rose around her.

  So that was enough, something made of blood, to activate the essential ability of a Knight. It was good to know, Vincent supposed, though it was useless to him, one way or another.

  “Any bright ideas?” Tara asked. “Because I’ll keep shooting him as long as it takes, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything to him.”

  “No,” Ayame admitted, “I don’t have any, but let’s keep trying.”

  Then, she and her bloody storm shot off to crush the enemy.

  We’ll think of something, Vincent thought, rejoining the charge. No, I’ll think of something.

  Despite his reputation, he wasn’t special, he wasn’t particularly strong. He knew it, Ayame was stronger than him. And depending on the judge, Tara could easily be more useful than him. What limited her was being an archer. Not her effort, nor her power, nor her skills. Just the fact that she was an archer. Therefore, Vincent believed he only had one way to stand out: take up the mantle, as he had done in the dungeon, lead the charge. Something that fit perfectly with the image of a knight. If he wasn't able to find the answer always, well, nobody was perfect. But at least, most of the time, he had to be the one to think of something. Because if not, someday he might lose his place.

  And I'm thinking about that, he told himself, while crossing swords with the giant in shining armor. In mortal danger. I'm messed up in the head.

  Actually, the enemy's size was a disadvantage, on closer inspection. It was impossible not to see its attacks coming. That was mainly what allowed him to keep up. Otherwise, the great strength it had, despite its size, would have overwhelmed him by now. Well, that and Ayame's help, with whom he could now fight side-by-side as swordsmen.

  Though I don't have the slightest idea about fencing, haha, he thought. Well, he did have a minimal idea, of course, some training. But he wasn't a swordsman yet, he thought, jumping over one of the swords to dodge the attack. The second and third almost caught him and tore him to pieces. Because the jump had been a very, very, tremendously stupid decision.

  However, Tara deflected the flying sword with her arrows and Ayame deflected the other, taking the blow with her own body. It didn’t tear her, but it did leave her breathless, weakened, disoriented, enough for the giant to grab her by the neck and lift her a few inches off the ground, squeezing, then throwing her at him like a cannonball. The impact knocked the wind out of him and he fell to the ground, with the vampiress on top of him.

  “Fuck,” Tara muttered. “They should increase our damn reward.”

  He couldn't agree more, Vincent thought, crawling out from under Ayame and doing his best not to waste time, getting to his feet again. Damn, how everything hurt, damn it. But he had a son of a bitch to annihilate. No more distractions, he thought.

  The monster suddenly leaped again, landing near Tara. It kicked the tree trunk from where she had been shooting. From the first minute, the tree trembled from its roots to its crown. Leaves fell, describing slow circles. But Tara herself did not. It was close, but she managed to grab on and stay where she was. At least, that's how it seemed, for now. She was there, halfway, who knew if she could get back to the branch.

  He and Ayame were running to intercept the monster, of course. But that didn't mean they were going to be fast enough to avoid another kick, to prevent it from knocking her to the ground. Leaving her at its feet, at its mercy. His heart raced. He wasn't going to lose anyone, especially not over a stupid issue like this.

  “At least, we have to take its swords!” Vincent shouted. “That’s a start!”

  Ayame nodded firmly. He saw her out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them made it in time to prevent a second kick to the trunk from unbalancing Tara, leaving her lying on the ground, at the giant's feet, as he had feared. That monster was capable of crushing her fucking head.

  No, no, no, I refuse.

  Vincent threw himself in the creature's path just in time, crossing his sword and shield to form an X. The shield flew from his hand, and his feet lifted off the ground as he flew backward. Vincent, however, had enough presence of mind to grab one of those damn swords by the hilt of the blade, activating Hot Hands. The heat, like the inside of a forge, was instantaneous. It spread from the blade to the hilt, and from the hilt to the armor, so the sword flew with him. He couldn't grab it with his free hand. It slipped away, but at least he had snatched it from it.

  Vincent landed hard. He gasped, spinning on the grass. He felt like an elephant had run him over, but it had been worth it. It had given Tara time to get up, and to regain some distance, putting a respectable distance between herself and the giant, about ten meters, maybe more.

  Damn, he wasn't good at estimating distances, especially not now. Unsteady on his feet, his ears were ringing.

  The monster immediately forgot about them and ran towards the fallen sword, even though two were more than enough to kill them. It was common sense. The monster had appeared when they put the hilts together, as if it were some kind of specter tied to the broken swords, to those broken, discarded swords. So they were important, because getting rid of the swords by snatching them away wasn't going to work.

  Tara shot an arrow with a rope, tying it to the flying sword, pulling it back. But it was the archer who was losing ground. Her feet dragged through the earth, forming furrows.

  The sword could overpower her, whatever force moved it.

  With her alone, at least.