Chapter 03: Price for Survival

  Extremely sharp nails deeply rip my back open.

  As I yell in indescribable pain, my target turns and rapidly reacts, also clawing me in the torso. I dash as fast as I possibly can to the side trying to escape being outflanked.

  Securing a safe gap, I turn to see that together with my previous mark there is another Lizardling, with blood dripping from his long metallic like claws, glaring at me.

  Where in hell did this other guy come from? Both lizards seem to target me but do not charge as they are also aware of each other. Shit! I’m now in the worst situation I aimed to avoid, and my injuries are on a whole other level this time, leaving me completely covered in blood.

  Breaking the stillness this new Lizardling starts walking in my direction while flexing his bloodied fingers in a threatening way and I step back trying to maintain some distance. For my utter relief the other Lizardling, now with his meal secured, decides to step aside from the fight.

  God, what happens now? This crazed Lizardling has definitely some kind of grudge with me because I do not carry any kind food nor present any direct threat. He keeps coming at the same steady pace and I tightly grab the stones as my only advantage against his weaponized nails.

  Suddenly he lowers his posture and explodes forward, catching me by surprise. I jolt, barely twisting away and only suffering a set of scratches in my chin.

  Damn it! If this keeps up, I will soon be minced meat. Again, the creature shifts back into that deliberate prowl, but at least I’ve seen his pattern now. As soon as our distance shortens to a few paces he once more breaks into a dash, but predicting this, I hurl one of my stones directly into his head.

  Displaying an almost impossible reaction speed, he ducks even lower and manages to dodge the incoming stone. In a second he’s on my face again, swinging his deadly claws all around.

  My heart hammers intensely against my ribs as I twist desperately to avoid his strikes. The cave around us blurs with movement and somehow, by only focusing on defense, I’m coping with these various strikes. But for every narrow escape, another slash finds its mark, leaving shallow but painful cuts across my scales.

  Blood now drips from a dozen wounds and the stone beneath me is already soaked in it. If some attack opportunity does not appear soon, I’ll surely faint from accumulated blood loss.

  And to my relief it happens, exactly like the first fight I had in this damned place. My adversary takes some distance and prepares a leap to finish me off with a single strike.

  You also opened up stupid!

  But as I am about to dive again aiming a head-butt on the bastard's jaw, a full-body chill, like a sixth sense, immediately warns me to stop. Right in front of my eyes his claws slash with unmatched violence giving me a glimpse of the demise I would face if I had not followed this strange instinct.

  Unprepared for my survival against his full-powered blow, the bastard flinches and I seized the opportunity to bring the stone down with all my strength on the left side of his head. Stunned, the creature wildly swings at the air to keep me away.

  From a safe distance, I finally understand why this bastard is specifically targeting me. Given that he knows my likely response to his ambush, this must be the same lizard I beat in our first encounter, and who clearly harbors a deep grudge from that loss.

  Luckily, I made a huge mess in the bastard’s face, and it seems his left eye will be tightly shut for a long time. The wounded Lizardling screams in rage and charges me again, but I keep rotating to be on his blind side and he misses every blow. The regeneration is already working and some of the superficial wounds are already healed but I sense that all this healing also consumes lots of my stamina.

  I stay weathering the storm a while longer until his speed finally drops but by now, I’m also at the edge of my strength.

  We both stand completely exhausted facing each other and I see that we are the only ones left still fighting. “You die now”! I’m surprised when my opponent unexpectedly talks to me.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You can spe…” I try to respond but am cut short when he once more takes the leaping assault posture. What will he do now, will it be a feint again or a true attack?

  Not in a position to gamble I hurl my final stone directly at his damned face and fortunately he’s now too slow to evade it. The stone strikes him heavily on the nostril making him instantly recoil, clutching his face in pain. I rush in front of him and tackle, taking him down.

  Without hesitation, I charge forward and tackle him to the ground, immediately climbing on top of him and seizing his arms.

  “Give up, you shhshh”! I scream at the restrained lizard.

  He struggles violently, his hips bucking in an attempt to throw me off. I tighten my grip, holding his arms in an iron grip. I bring my knee up with all my force, driving it directly into his elbow. The sickening crack of bone against my kneecap echoes through the cave, a sound that sends a jolt through my own body. He screams in pain, his arm bending at an impossible angle as his fingers go slack.

  Still the broken Lizardling refuses to yield and uses his sharp claws to pierce between my ribs, tearing inward. The blinding pain makes me roar in a voice I barely recognize as my own. His attack strikes something vital, and I feel a hot gush of blood welling up inside me.

  Before he completely guts me, I take hold of his last arm with both hands and start mercilessly battering it in a rock protrusion until it also snaps.

  He lets out an indescribable shriek of pain, his other arm now clearly useless too. But the vicious look in his eyes tells me this isn't over.

  Despite his useless upper limbs, the bastard attempts one last, desperate bite which I respond in a furious barrage of punches. Something within me snaps; the scientist, the human, recedes, replaced by something more primal. So I unleash punch after punch after punch upon his face until I can no longer feel my knuckles.

  His struggling weakens with each hit, but I don't stop.

  Can't stop.

  Won't stop.

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  I don’t know how long it took though both my hands are now completely broken, my body, torn and battered, barely responds. But on the other end, the result is a heinous mess of blood, bones and brain matter where the Lizardling head used to be.

  The last of my strength fades and like a ragdoll I fall into my opponent’s corpse. Once dulled by the anger, pain now comes back, and it feels way worse than the time when I died. How much rage could I have hidden inside to make me snap like this? The guy was way past dead, and I just kept hitting him and only hurting myself.

  My knuckles are split to the bone, strips of my own flesh hanging loose. The wounds in my ribs throb with each labored breath, blood seeping around the edges. My vision swims, reality flickering in and out of focus.

  I cannot think clearly anymore. I lost too much blood and do not have any nourishment to replace it. My throat is completely dry, and my stomach is empty. If I do not consume anything now, I’ll definitely die.

  A salty metallic taste reaches my tongue, and I start to lick it like a stray cat given milk. When the liquid from the floor is gone, I reach for its source and start sucking on it. Somewhere in the cave, other Lizardlings still stir, but I can barely move.

  Time slips away in strange intervals. My wounds close, my breath steadies, but my thoughts grow heavier. I do not know how long I remain sprawled atop my fallen opponent’s corpse, only that when I am finally satiated, the cave is quieter. The air reeks of rot and drying blood. The bodies are fewer. The living, even fewer still. Our numbers are thinning.

  I now relive the horrible things that happened, each moment replaying in excruciating detail. My fists pounding into his skull long after he stopped moving. The wet crunch of bone giving way. The sensation of his life slipping away, not as an abstract concept, but as something I could feel under my grip.

  The realization churns my stomach. At some point, I stopped fighting to survive and started fighting for something else, a rage that surged within me, demanding his complete and utter annihilation. And in that frenzy, I lost something too. Something I might never get back.

  I roll off the body, staring at the ceiling. In the dim blue light of the cave, I can see spatters of blood decorating the rocks all around me. The violence of our struggle written across the stone like some primitive cave painting.

  I can tell myself I had no choice. That hesitation would’ve meant death. But is that really true? Couldn’t I have just run? Couldn’t I have spared him? Would he have spared me?

  And then came the hunger. Primal, consuming. My body moved on instinct, dragging me toward his warmth and fresh blood. And then I drank. Like an animal. Like something that belonged in this world. Like something that was no longer human, much less a scientist.

  Remorse gnaws at me, but what does it matter? My hands are still stained, my lungs still draw breaths, these are the stark realities. As I stare at my trembling fingers, slick with dried blood, the chilling truth settles. Had I hesitated, even for a moment, I would’ve been just another broken and forgotten corpse in this forsaken cave.

  As my gaze sweeps across the carnage all around and the steep price for survival, I find myself wondering how long before there's no humanity left in me?