Round 229

The tunnel shuddered around Merrin before the creatures even moved, stone groaning like a beast waking from long sleep. She'd barely braced herself when the ceiling gave way behind her in a cascade of rubble and dust, taking half their pursuers with it—but the other half were already closing the distance, claws clicking on wet stone. The water was up to her knees now, cold enough to make her teeth chatter, and she could feel the current tugging at her legs, trying to sweep them out from under her.

She didn't hesitate—couldn't afford to—but her first swing with the iron bar felt clumsy, heavy, off-balance. The water made everything harder, turned her movements sluggish and uncertain. One of the creatures lunged, teeth bared, and she barely managed to bring the bar up in time, the impact jarring up her arms. It stumbled back but didn't fall, just circled wider with its companions.

The tunnel was narrowing ahead, walls pressing closer together—no good for swinging a heavy weapon in tight quarters. To either side, more of those glowing eyes seemed to be drifting up from the depths of the water, dozens of them now, bobbing like malevolent fireflies. The water was lapping at her thighs, and she could feel the pull getting stronger, the current insistent.

She had maybe three seconds to decide before the creatures closed in again—too many for her to handle alone, especially with the weight of the water slowing her down. She could try to fight her way through, but that felt like a death sentence. Her best option was probably to plunge deeper into this new tunnel and hope it led somewhere better than where she was standing.

But first, she needed to get past these fuckers without becoming their dinner. She planted her feet wide, grip tightening on the bar, and glared at the nearest creature. "Come on then," she muttered, voice barely carrying over the rumble of collapsing stone and rushing water. "Let's see what you're made of."