"Fcking bitch..." Ahuli mumbled through gritted teeth.
He couldn't feel any pain, but the weakness from blood loss was a separate matter. With an entire hand missing, things didn't look good for Ahuli as he struggled to get up.
He might have defeated A'Mila, but the price he had to pay wasn't worth the trouble. Once he returned to his feet, Ahuli's eyes scanned the battlefield.
It was obvious his tribe was losing. They had heavily depended on their captured beasts, and with them gone, the soldiers kept falling like a house of cards.
Even Mammoroth was gone, with it, the tribe's final hope of victory. Eventually, Ahuli's eyes fell on the woman lying before him.
A'Mila was unconscious; the poison was working, but she kept breathing, showing her strength. Ahuli couldn't take it. How could the bitch be alive after severing his arm?
"I'll kill you, even if it's the last thing I do," Ahuli snarled, reaching out towards A'Mila's neck.
