They say I'm a dangerous man, better run fast as you can
He thinks they’ve done it as the last blows crack into the behemoth, bird sailing wide and the griffin diving toward the beast with claws and fury. He waits with bated breath, already activating a bit of his haunt, the shadows wrapping and warping around him and the arm that’s becoming more and more limp and slick with blood. The rain stings as it hits the open carved portions of his skin, but adrenaline and pure confidence flares in the butcher’s mind, shadows enveloping portions of his body and streaking out from under him, almost ready to try and keep him hidden.
And then it explodes.
Clumps of mud fly out in a speed far more intense than what Asta can prepare for. The heat doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t sting in the way that the pressure of which the clumps nail him with. It’s battering after battering, nailing him in the face and his ruined arm, his side in rapid succession. A snarl leaves him in a dissonant sound as he’s brought down, pulling himself up from the mud in the rain with a hiss of pain to take in his injuries and knowing it’s really fucking bad.
Adrenaline keeps him going, though, despite the thundering of his heart. The call to Maea – whom he realizes must have been that dragon above – is a minor distraction as he forces himself to find it in him to pick himself up from the ground, and when he does he takes a few rattling breaths, looking to the destruction left behind to spy a bundle of eggs.
Some claimed, some not, the butcher staggers toward it with his ruined arm clenched to his chest, jaw set tight as he ignores everyone else there to take the rest of the eggs and leave so he can work on fixing his wounds himself to make it the rest of the trek back home, wreathed and cloaked in shadows that follow him like ghouls.
Asta takes the rest of the eggs! (5 I think?) And goes to leave
~FIN
And then it explodes.
Clumps of mud fly out in a speed far more intense than what Asta can prepare for. The heat doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t sting in the way that the pressure of which the clumps nail him with. It’s battering after battering, nailing him in the face and his ruined arm, his side in rapid succession. A snarl leaves him in a dissonant sound as he’s brought down, pulling himself up from the mud in the rain with a hiss of pain to take in his injuries and knowing it’s really fucking bad.
Adrenaline keeps him going, though, despite the thundering of his heart. The call to Maea – whom he realizes must have been that dragon above – is a minor distraction as he forces himself to find it in him to pick himself up from the ground, and when he does he takes a few rattling breaths, looking to the destruction left behind to spy a bundle of eggs.
Some claimed, some not, the butcher staggers toward it with his ruined arm clenched to his chest, jaw set tight as he ignores everyone else there to take the rest of the eggs and leave so he can work on fixing his wounds himself to make it the rest of the trek back home, wreathed and cloaked in shadows that follow him like ghouls.
Asta takes the rest of the eggs! (5 I think?) And goes to leave
~FIN
Astaroth
Don't you look back, every bone in my body's bad
