LAST STRIKE COUNTS
The Beast rose from the depths of the earth and saw the silhouette passing overhead. Standing close to 10 feet tall with legs as thick as tree trunks and bulging arms which almost touched the earth, he gave an impression of an overgrown gorilla. With his small beady eyes he focused on the passing figure and raised a bit of dirt with his plump fingers. He could almost smell the blood and the anticipation of the kill made a smile to leap onto his lips. His yellowed, jagged teeth saw the world for a while and with a grunt he threw the dirt towards the flying figure. As the distance between the dirt and the figure started decreasing, the dirt started to transform into a spear. The pointed end was tearing the air as it passed through the space and it accelerated at a speed of almost Mach 2. Thirsty for blood the spear made contact with the flying figure causing the Beast to emit a squeal of joy.
Donovan felt the air rushing through his hair when suddenly pain shot through his left side. In a matter of seconds his training kicked in but it was too late for him to control the rush of blood which his heart had kicked into his body, causing him to loose focus and as a result altitude. Clouds, birds, stars rushed past him and the earth came at an alarming speed towards him to give him the kiss of death. In the last moments he composed his mind and pulled up. Three more spears rushed through the spot where he was a few seconds ago. Evasive manoeuvres kicked in automatically and he flew zig-zag in the anticipation of the next wave of attack. He wasn't disappointed when four more spears rushed past him. He finally saw the assailant. An earth demon, smiling every time he threw a new weapon at him.
The rage which was bottled up inside him since ages suddenly flared. With a snarl of fury he flew towards the demon dodging his spears. About 20 feet before reaching him he stopped, straightened up, extended his wings to their full span and flapped them with all the force his muscles would allow.
The sudden gush of wind felt like breeze to the beast. He didn't even staggered but tried to rake his peanut size brains to understand what antics this bird was up to. Suddenly he understood the whole idea of changing the flow of wind towards him. The dirt he had thrown towards the bird was coming back right at him and changing into spears as he thought. He knew no weapon could penetrate his skin but wasn't too sure about the weapons created by his own light. He scooped an amount of earth by his hands, which would've given complex to any modern earth digger machine, and threw it in the path of the projectiles coming towards him.
A small sand storm erupted as a result of this chaos and momentarily he lost the sight of the winged figure he was sent to eliminate. Turning his head in utter disbelief he started looking around him to locate the figure again.
He should've had remembered that Donovan had wings.
Donovan held one of the spears the demon had thrown at him and accelerated towards the figure on the ground, aiming for his head. The wound on his side left a streak of blood in the air behind him but right now the adrenaline rush subdued the pain. His whole focus was to kill this creature and find some outlet for his anger.
The words of his trainer kept echoing in his head.
'Last strike counts'.
In the dieing moments before the impact his anger ridden scream filled the sky.
The demon looked up at the figure coming towards him. The last thing he heard was his own cry mixed with fear and pain. The last thing he saw was the tip of the spear millimeters away from his eyes.