Awakening

21: Immunity

As sore as he was, Blake crawled forward a little and swiped the scythe with both hands. He then stood, albeit slowly and with very shaky legs. And even then Puter still stared at his own hand.

Blake slowly walked around, searching for some kind of angle or point of attack. It was then that he noticed some blood on Puter's fingers, but no cuts or wounds. The skin on his hands and arms still remained black, and the veil swirled around the hand upon which Puter stared. The shroud darkened, and thickened, but the shocked expression did not leave his face.

Some seconds after Blake actually stood, the shroud around Puter's hand disappeared, and he clenched his fist. Now he looked in Blake's direction; his now creased brows and pulled lips carried nothing but pure contempt.

"There's more to you than meets the eye," said Puter as he slowly advanced forward. "If your very blood is granted protection from my blight, you are more deeply marked than I initially anticipated."

His own blood protected him? How did that even work, and what did that even mean? And this blight...did he refer to whatever power he had to make people sick?

No, there wasn't time to think about that! Luckily Puter did not take advantage of Blake's distractedness in that moment, which gave the latter a second to brace and prepare.

"You could become a legitimate threat. Meaning I must deal with you at once."

The menacing tone behind those words was unmistakable. But Puter focused on him more intensely this time. Blake bent his legs, ready to charge when the moment was right.

Fight back.

The voice threw him off, for it was not his own inner conscience. It was...something else.

If you can gravely wound him, you have a chance to protect them all.

Blake fought the desire to look around in confusion. But something, or someone, was trying to communicate with him. But who, and why?

Puter charged forward without warning. Suddenly, he disappeared. Blake didn't think and allowed his body to move in it's own way, which at that time was to the left. The man appeared on his left in a fraction of a second, and a panicked Blake jumped back just before Puter's claws could graze his skin. Blake swung the scythe out and around, with as much force as he could without losing his balance. He couldn't blindly attack the way he did earlier. If he did, he would be in trouble.

The voice had told him to injure his aggressor. Did that mean it was possible?

Puter quickly made the next move by reaching forward with his claws, and Blake managed to jump back out of the way. The moment Puter charged in for another swipe, Blake could not dodge in time and about yelped as a sharp stinging overcame his left upper arm. A tiny bit of warmth trickled down his skin, and Puter pulled back in preparation of another attack.

Instinctively and with all his determination before him, Blake pushed with all his might and jumped backwards away from Puter.

When he stopped he realized he was at least ten feet away from his assailant. Surprised, he stared down at his feet with wide eyes. How did I do that?

A small grunt later Blake returned to the fight. He stepped back as Luter reached out with an open hand, sharp fingertips targeted at the teen's face. Blake gripped the scythe with both hands and pushed it out and forward, stopping his attacker by blocking his abdomen from moving any closer. But Puter's dark fingers immediately wrapped themselves around the middle of the staff, and proceeded to pull.

Blake was yanked along with the weapon in one moment, and a tightened fist plunged into his abdomen in the next. Despite his breathe being all but gone for a few seconds, he would not let go.