Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 74: Fluid Throwing

...and suddenly, there were no more trees.

Just a clearing — or at least, that’s what it looked like: a pocket carved between the tangled trunks, just enough space to turn around, regain footing, breathe for a second... if they even had that luxury.

Élisa skidded to a halt, slipping slightly on the damp moss. She turned around. The others understood without a word.

The bitter truth had hit, once again: they wouldn’t outrun it. Not on terrain this treacherous. Not with that thing chasing them.

She gripped her daggers. The metal nearly slid from her hands — her palms were slick with sweat. And yet, the familiar burn of decision surged through her.

That creature had been hunting them for a while now, relentless, giving them no opening to fight back. No way to close the distance. No chance to strike.

But Élisa... she was the one best suited to face it. Her daggers weren’t made for prolonged close combat, especially not against a beast like that. But she didn’t need to get close. She was a hunter. And among all the techniques she’d learned... throwing daggers was her specialty. Her domain.

The beast burst through the foliage, all black and violet fury. Its tail sliced through the air behind it, a whip of shimmering ink drawn across the wind.

She threw.

The first dagger cut the air with a sharp, whispering hiss — so fast even Élisa was surprised by her own speed.

But the creature snapped up its tail. It whipped the air and intercepted the blade with a clink — almost delicate. A perfect parry, fluid, like choreography practiced a thousand times.

She threw the second. Even if it meant being completely unarmed. This time she aimed lower — trickier, more unpredictable.

The tail hesitated.

A quarter of a second. Almost nothing. But enough for the beast to flinch — it recovered fast, flicking its tail again to parry.

But this time, it wasn’t elegant.

Nor fluid.

Nor effortlessly precise... and that brief hesitation, that tiny misstep — it was all they needed.

A roar tore through the air.

Not the monster’s.

But Maggie’s.

She was already moving, her powerful legs coiled like springs, her axe raised behind her shoulder.

She hurled it in a raw, savage arc — wild and instinctive, as if she had been born for this very moment. The blade ripped through the space between the trees, howling and buzzing like a bolt of fury.

The beast turned its head a fraction too late.

The axe slammed into its chest with a dull, horrible sound — flesh splitting, bone shattering.

The impact knocked it back half a step. Its tail, caught off guard, twitched in the air, confused, lashing blindly but hitting nothing.

A low, guttural groan escaped its twisted lips.

But it was still standing.

And that’s when Dylan struck.

Unlike Maggie, the handsome dark-haired guy didn’t scream. He charged — shoulder down, like a predator hungry for vengeance. He leapt, clung to the creature’s neck, and drove his machete deep into its throat, straight between the vocal cords.

The monster’s cry choked into a wet, awful gargle. Its tail lashed out one last time, slicing a useless branch in a final nervous spasm.

Then it collapsed.

With a sharp thud. Like a sack of disjointed stones.

Dylan stayed on top of it for a moment, panting, his hands soaked in thick, black blood. His face was frozen, eyes vacant, almost disbelieving.

Élisa stepped forward slowly, still trembling. Her breath was ragged. She had no daggers left. Her hands clutched at nothing, so she made fists — just to prove she wasn’t trapped in a waking nightmare.

Maggie grunted as she retrieved her axe, wrenching it free from the creature’s chest with a sickening squelch.

No one said a word for a long time.

Then Élisa, softly:

"Uh... should we go back for the other anima stones?"

First came silence...

Then a sound — followed by a strangled breath from Maggie.

She let out a laugh. Short. Sharp. Barely more than a hiccup.

Then Dylan laughed too. Nervously. Like he’d just understood the joke — or maybe because if he didn’t, he’d fall apart.

Élisa smiled despite herself. Her body was wrecked, empty, but her mind refused to let go. They had to laugh. Otherwise, they’d scream.

They’d just survived what would’ve been impossible for anyone else — and somehow, the only response left was laughter.

Maggie planted her axe in the ground, just to stay upright.

"Fuck, Élisa..." she muttered, shaking her head. "You’re seriously thinking about those damn rocks right now?"

Élisa shrugged, still gasping, her legs barely holding her up.

"Well... yeah. We earned them, didn’t we?"

A quiet hush fell over the clearing, like everyone was holding their breath.

Then all three burst out laughing. A rough, broken, hysterical kind of laugh, tangled in panic and exhaustion. It echoed a little too loudly in the empty clearing — like a wrong note after the song has ended.

Élisa wiped a hand across her face — streaked with sweat, grime, and dried blood.

"Alright... grab what we can. Then we get the hell out. Before this thing draws more of its kind with the scent of blood."

No one objected this time.

Because right now, that was the only sane idea left.

---

Élisa tried to stand — or at least, she tried.

Her legs buckled instantly, limp, drained. Like everything holding her upright had been siphoned away.

She dropped to her knees. The impact was sharp, jarring — but her body, hardened by awakening, didn’t register the pain.

She looked up at the others, pupils blown wide, breath shallow. She didn’t say a word. Just that look — urgent, raw panic.

And weirdly enough... they all got it. At the exact same time.

Core shock.

That damned backlash after pushing their core too far. A creeping dizziness that built slowly — and then took you out like a black wave. The body crumbled. The mind fuzzed. And once it hit... that was it. No more spiritual essence. No more strength. Nothing.

Just a drained puppet, ripe for whatever hellspawn might wander by.

"Shit," Dylan muttered, snapping upright like sheer willpower could chase off the fatigue.

He staggered slightly, gritted his teeth, forced his muscles into motion.

Maggie cursed under her breath, scrambling to gather her gear, hands shaking.

Élisa took a deep breath. Then another. She couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Not in this cursed place.

"Okay... we only take what we can carry," she said hoarsely. "And we move."