An Extra's Rise in a Romance Fantasy Novel-Chapter 33: Into the Bead [3]

The pressure didn’t ease. If anything, it kept grinding me deeper into myself, like the realm wanted to fold my bones into powder. My lungs burned. My head throbbed so hard the edges of my vision pulsed in and out. Every breath sounded like I was sucking air through broken glass.

I tried to steady my grip on the sword, but the weight working against me grew heavier by the second. My arm shook. My wrist felt like it was hanging by threads. Still, I held on. Letting go didn’t feel like an option.

The mist around me thickened.

At first it only curled across the ground. Then it rose. Swelled. Pulled upward in long, thin columns that stretched into shapes roughly human. Hollow silhouettes. No faces. No expressions. Just outlines carved from shadow, wavering in the dark like smoke trying to pretend it had a body.

Then they moved.

One ran at me from the left, sprinting fast despite having no legs, only a drifting base that slid over the ground. Another broke forward from behind it. Then two more appeared at my right, emerging like they had been hiding behind the mist this whole time.

My pulse jumped.

I tried to shift my stance, but the gravity dragged my limbs like anchors. My knees buckled. The sword dipped.

The first shadow reached me.

I forced my arm up.

The blade cut through with a clean whoosh. The creature split like smoke hit by wind, each half dissolving into mist before it hit the floor.

I didn’t get a second to breathe. Not even half a second.

More shadows charged in from every direction. Hands stretching. Fingers long and thin like claws. Their shapes flickered with each step, never fully solid, never fully smoke. They made no sound except the faint whisper of air they displaced as they moved.

I tightened my grip.

Pain tore across my palm as blisters split open. Warm blood ran down the hilt and dripped off my wrist. My veins throbbed hard enough to sting. But I braced myself anyway.

The second shadow launched itself at my chest.

I swung.

Whoosh.

The blade sheared straight through its torso. The shadow burst apart into a thick wave of fog that washed over my face. Cold. Bitter. My skin prickled. My vision blurred for a second before clearing.

Two more came.

I stepped back, or at least tried to. The gravity yanked me down. My foot barely lifted an inch before slamming back into the ground. My knee buckled again. I caught myself with a rough exhale and pivoted instead.

The sword lashed out in a tight arc.

Whoosh.

Another shadow cut clean through the middle. Then another fell with a sharp flick of my wrist. My arm shook with the effort. My hand felt like it was swelling around the hilt. Each swing tore fresh lines of pain along my forearm, like my tendons were threatening to snap.

And still the shadows kept coming.

They moved in a growing swarm, circling me, shapes overlapping and splitting and merging like mobs in a nightmare. They ran without hesitation. Without fear. Without anything resembling a mind. Just motion. Endless, mindless motion.

One leapt.

I jerked the blade upward, barely catching its form.

Whoosh.

It erased itself in a burst of black smoke.

Another lunged from behind.

I twisted my torso and caught it in a clumsy downward slash. The impact sent a jolt through my shoulder. For a moment my grip almost slipped.

Warm blood dripped down to my elbow. My fingers trembled from the strain.

I forced them tight again.

A harsh breath tore out of me. Sweat mixed with the mist on my skin. Every muscle in my body felt like it was being dragged downward by chains.

But I didn’t stop.

More shadows rushed forward, dozens now, their forms blurring in and out of the thick fog. The ground trembled faintly under their collective movement. The air buzzed with pressure and the faint hiss of their bodies shifting shape.

I swung again.

Whoosh.

A scream ripped out of one of them—a thin, distorted cry that barely sounded human. Then silence as it dissolved.

Another came at my front, its arm stretching into a long blade-like shape.

I ducked under it, teeth clenched, back screaming from the unnatural weight bearing down on me. When I straightened, the sword cut upward in a sharp, clean line.

Whoosh.

The shadow tore open from hip to shoulder, splitting like a sheet of cloth.

But I paid for the move. My knees hit the ground hard. Pain shot up my legs. The gravity crushed down even more, as if punishing the effort.

I tried to stand. My body refused.

More shadows closed in.

No space left to breathe. No space left to think.

I planted the tip of the sword into the ground and pushed myself up, shaking, gasping, teeth grinding so hard my jaw felt ready to crack. Blood ran freely now from my hand, dripping onto the dark sand in steady drops.

The nearest shadow lunged at me with a sharp, jarring scream.

I roared back, lifted the sword, and slashed sideways as hard as the crushing force allowed.

The blade carved through it.

Whoosh.

I kept moving.

No pause. No hesitation.

Swing. Pivot. Cut. Step. Breathe. Swing again.

My body shook with every motion, fighting gravity and its own breaking limits. My mind narrowed to one simple truth: keep going. Don’t stop. If I stop, I die here.

Another shadow fell.

Then another.

And another.

The mist thickened with each one I cut down. It wrapped around my legs, clung to my clothes, seeped into my skin like cold ink. Every breath felt a little heavier. Every swing slower. Every heartbeat louder.

But I refused to let the sword drop.

Even as the pain carved into my arms.

Even as blood ran down my fingers like ink.

Even as the shadows closed in tighter, their forms stretching into sharper, faster shapes.

I kept swinging.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

Blood sprayed from the veins on my fingers as the skin tore open from the strain. Pain shot through my wrist each time the blade connected. My arm burned so badly I couldn’t tell where the heat ended and the agony began.

But I swung anyway.

More shadows fell.

More mist exploded around me.

My breath came ragged. My chest tightened like someone had wrapped ropes around my lungs.

Still, I didn’t stop.

A final scream rose from the swarm as they pressed in from every side, a single, warped howl that made the air tremble around me.

I tightened my grip one last time.

Lifted the blade.

And cut forward into the dark.

Whoosh.

The mist swallowed the pieces.

The shadows collapsed around me.

And I stood there, shaking, bleeding, half-crushed by gravity, sword still in my hand, refusing to fall.