Chapter 35: The First Kill Is the Hardest
Chapter 35: The First Kill Is the Hardest
Liora entered the courtyard from the front and made certain the monster saw her.
It raised a wedge-shaped head and screamed. She let it charge, stepped past its jaws, and cut the good rear leg deeply enough to slow it. Two shallow lines opened across its shoulder. She could have killed it during either pass. Instead, she withdrew and left it turning clumsily in the debris.
"Behind the shoulder," she called. "Both hands. Put your weight through the blade."
I approached from its damaged side.
The creature smelled me. Its nostrils flared and its front claws scraped for purchase. Liora shifted with it, always holding the center of its attention until I came within reach.
Every lesson from the day seemed to arrive at once. Find the exit. Keep breathing. Watch the shoulders. Put the edge of the foot down first.
I could identify what I should do. Making my body do it remained harder.
My first strike barely counted. The monster twisted, I flinched, and the knife opened a shallow gash across muscle. Blood welled. Its head snapped toward me.
Then it came for me.
I had prepared for killing. I had not prepared for the instant a living thing selected me as the problem it intended to solve.
I stumbled backward. My heel struck a brick and my balance vanished. Liora hooked her foot against the creature’s shoulder and redirected it past me. She could have ended the fight. She only bought me enough time to stand.
"Again."
The monster wheeled. I stepped in before fear could finish explaining why that was a terrible idea.
This strike went deep. Resistance held for an instant, gave way, then returned as the blade scraped bone. Hot blood poured over my hand. The creature thrashed and nearly tore the knife from my grip.
"Under the jaw," Liora said. Her voice reached me through everything. "Drive toward the spine."
I seized the handle with both hands and pushed my whole body behind it.
The screaming stopped.
I sat in the rubble, blood running to my wrist, and shook until my teeth clicked.
[Class-Assisted Kill Confirmed.]
[Combat contribution verified.]
[Experience transferred.]
The System gave me a receipt. It made no distinction between this kill and the ones Aria had made at the gate.
Liora crouched in front of me. She waited until I raised my head.
"You flinched," she said.
"I noticed."
"Everyone does the first time. You went back in." She cleaned my hand with a strip of cloth and checked my fingers for cuts. "That matters more."
"You could have killed it at any point."
"Yes."
"You enjoyed making me do it."
"A little," she admitted. "I also need you to know what the blade feels like when I am absent."
She did not tell me to feel proud. She gave me water, waited for the nausea to pass, and let the shaking run its course. When I apologized for it, her ears tilted back.
"Fear empties itself through the body," she said. "Let it. The danger is over. Pretending otherwise teaches you to ignore when it is not."
I breathed until I could hold the knife without the tip drawing circles.
She made me stand and inspect the body before touching it. We checked the mouth, claws, skin, and abdomen for disease or parasites. Its liver was dark but unspotted when she opened it.
"The liver tells you whether the rest is worth trusting," she said. "We still avoid the organs until you know the species."
Butchering disturbed me more slowly than the kill. There was time to understand every cut. Liora guided my hands along the heavy muscles of the back and rear legs, showing me where connective tissue separated one section from another. My movements were clumsy, and twice I punctured something that released a smell neither of us wanted.
"Shallower," she said. "Let the edge work. Strength without control wastes meat."
We carried the usable portions to an empty upper room two streets away. Liora chose it because it had two exits, a narrow fireplace, and a view of both approaches. She made me identify each advantage before we settled.
I built the fire from the ember sealed in my pot. Liora watched me arrange splinters and thin wood, then gave a small approving hum when the flame caught.
"Four hours," I reminded her.
"And now four minutes."
We cooked a portion each. The rest she cut into thin strips and hung above a low, smoky fire on wire from my pack.
The cooked meat was stringy and sour near the fat. Liora ate without complaint. I managed half my portion, wrapped the rest, then cleaned the knife before the blood dried along the hinge of the handle.
She made me wash my hands with boiled water and ash after butchering. "Blood carries things too small to see," she said. Her world’s medicine had reached far enough to understand infection, though she knew nothing of microbes by Earth’s scientific names.
"Drying takes time," she said. "Turn them often. If the outside cooks while the inside stays wet, they will spoil where you cannot see."
Darkness settled outside while the meat tightened over the smoke.
Liora drilled me even while we ate. What direction had we entered from? Where was the nearest water? Which exit would I use if something blocked the stairs? I answered until exhaustion blurred the room.
Before sleep, the relationship display changed.
Desire: 98 → 99
Trust: 35 → 42
Resonance: 7% → 10%
Liora could not see the numbers. She sat by the doorway with one knife across her knees, listening to the street.
"Sleep," she said. "I will wake you for the second watch."
"You don’t need me guarding you."
"No. You need practice guarding me."
I lay down near the dying fire, sore in places I had not known could ache.
The fear of the courtyard remained. So did the feel of the knife entering. Liora had kept the danger controlled, yet she had left enough of it to teach me.
In less than three days, she would return home.
Everything she forced me to do now was meant for the hours after that.