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Desmond didn’t delude himself into believing that he was blessed by the goddess Artemis and that every enemy would eventually succumb to his all-powerful bow, especially considering that his bow is a weapon for novices. Knowing that expecting to kill the ape with his last arrows was just a fool’s dream, he drew his dagger and engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

One might think that getting into close combat with a beast, especially one that seems to specialize in it, is highly reckless, but Desmond quickly proved how wrong that line of thought was.

Approaching from a low boxing stance, the steel dagger in a firm grip in his right hand, he prepared to risk his life in the battle that threatened to begin any second.

The ape’s feeling was provoked by the attacks made with the bow earlier and by this weak-looking hairless little monkey that dared to approach itself and confront it in a posture that the monkey recognized as a challenge to its superiority.

All its life, the Swift Fist Monkey has depended on its fists for survival, the number of times it has been close to death is too many to count, and over time it has developed great pride; the monkey believed that once it got in range to use its fists, the fight was over with just itself as the victor.

How could the monkey know that its rival was similar to itself? Desmond could be quite a laid-back person and give the impression of being harmless. Still, anyone who had seen him practice martial arts would know that this was the biggest deception regarding Desmond, even more than that pure, innocent smile he used to give the women he seduced.

.....

When Claire first saw her dear and kind brother at his first martial arts tournament, she could only describe him as follows: He fought as possessed by a beast.

The strength, speed, and aggressiveness when fighting was only compounded by a predatory smile that added a bloody charm to his image. Those who came to train with him similarly describe him, but for a different reason; for them, Desmond was a monster not because of his aggressiveness; they thought that way because Desmond learned too quickly. He could master movements or concepts in days when it took others weeks or months to master the same things.

If not for the new reality that Desmond was facing, he probably could have had a good life depending only on his athletic prowess. But the fact that things changed didn’t mean that all his efforts had been in vain; quite the contrary, now, at this very moment, he would use everything he had learned so far to extinguish the creature’s life in front of him.

Without knowing what it was getting into, the monkey launched a simple but powerful forehand aimed directly at the little hairless monkey’s face. Desmond slightly lowered his center of gravity, calmly avoiding the potentially lethal blow, performing a quick turn, and gathering all the force that the twisting genre; he provided his opponent with a powerful left hook. He didn’t wait a second before he lowered his posture even more and made a quick retreat, feeling the pressure of the wind pass over his head, a vicious smile formed on Desmond’s face before he lunged with a leap that seemed to mimic a jaguar that it pounces on its prey.

Passing through the gap in the left-wing defense generated during the Swift Monkey’s last counterattack, Desmond managed to perform a quick right swing using the edge of his steel dagger to open a large laceration to the side of the monkey’s torso.

Landing with his hands, Desmond performed a small cartwheel followed by a twist to come face-to-face with his furious adversary.

The monkey was furious; it never thought that the little boy who challenged itself managed to dodge its first blow. At that moment, the monkey did not overthink it; after feeling the impact on its ribs, although it felt some pain, it wasn’t enough for it to think Desmond was a threat. And soon, the monkey regretted that thought; its subsequent counterattack was also dodged but what followed was not a slightly painful blow. The agonizing pain it felt made the monkey realize that the creature it had deemed harmless possessed the capabilities to kill it.

But it was too late; the cut on the lateral side of its torso was long and deep, tearing enough muscles to strongly affect the twisting movement the monkey needed to fight; if that wasn’t enough, it was bleeding heavily.

Desmond, utterly oblivious to the inner thoughts of the swift fist monkey, was considering his next course of action; the safest option would be to buy time and wait for the loss of blood to weaken his enemy enough to finish him off with ease. Still, he was also aware that if he waited too long, he ran the risk of having to fight other beasts that would pass through the area.

Having made his decision, Desmond readjusted his posture, with the steel dagger in his right hand and an arrow in his left hand; he sped up with a full-power sprint. Desmond gained more confidence in his next move by observing how his opponent started to panic, either from the heavy wound he had just inflicted or from his sudden attack.

Running with a higher posture than the previous one gave the impression that he planned to give the final blow, making the monkey believe it was necessary to prepare for a brutal counterattack, preferring to die doing as much damage as possible.

Desmond thought that reaction was natural, but the smile on his face grew wider for precisely that reason. Without any attempt to carry out an offensive, Desmond ultimately lowered his stance from one moment to the next and slipped underneath the swift monkey fist; before the monkey could react, it felt a paralyzing pain in its left leg.

With fluid movements, Desmond turned after stabbing the ape with an arrow in the left calf, jumping on his victim’s back, hugging its torso, and managing to cause more pain by aggravating the previous cut made. Having found a foothold, Desmond stabbed his steel dagger into the monkey’s neck.

GAAARRRRK !!! COF.

A roar emitted from Desmond’s prey was interrupted by the blood now flooding its throat; without wasting a moment, Desmond tried to stab the creature he was now clinging to once more. But he underestimated the Swift Fist Monkey’s last attempt, whether from its wounded pride or the violence born of fear of death; the monkey manages to get enough strength to perform a powerful lateral jump.

Desmond did not take long to realize the intention of the swift fist monkey when he felt the impact on his back. The blow almost knocked Desmond unconscious; Even when he managed to hold onto his consciousness, he released his grip on the monkey’s bleeding torso.

Desmond thought things were going to get deadly dangerous for a second, but soon he heard the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground. Looking up from him, with a still blurred sight, Desmond managed to distinguish the corpse of the swift fist monkey just a couple of meters in from of him. Despite his pain and how unclear his consciousness remained, Desmond still knew that he had to get out here; he was in no condition to put up another fight.

Enduring the torment he felt on his back, he staggered out of place, choosing to go in the direction from which the swift-fist monkey came; he guessed that other predators were unlikely to be found in that direction. He advanced a few tens of meters before stopping by the image in front of him.

A small clearing rested quietly a few meters from him, traces of light brown fur scattered around it, proving that this place was probably the abode of the swift-fist monkey he had just killed.

In the middle of the clearing lay a small fruit tree with blue leaves and green Fruit with golden details. On instinct, Desmond used the Hunter book to point to the fruits and used analysis.

At this moment, only one thing passed through Desmond’s troubled mind, something he had heard countless times but was never as accurate as now.

“The winner takes it all.”