The blunt claws dug straight through his heavy leather bracers. The squeeze was catastrophic; Mestin could feel his thick radius bone bending under the creature’s suffocating, vice-like grip.

"Fierce heart!" Mestin roared, his voice a deep, gravelly boom that echoed through the trees. He refused to let the agonizing strain break his iron focus.

Instead of trying to pull away, Mestin surged his Vitre directly into the trapped limb. The veins in his arm flared blindingly hot, forcing his muscles to swell and harden, pushing back against the crush. With a sudden, explosive burst of raw, enhanced physical output, he ripped his arm free from the hold, tearing the beast’s leather-padded grip away.

In a seamless transition, Mestin spun on his heel, using the full rotation of his massive frame to bring his warhammer around in a vicious, low-slung sweep. The heavy iron head caught the side of the dread ape’s jaw with a deafening thud.

The impact sent the nine-hundred-pound monster skidding sideways across the forest trails, its massive claws tearing deep, jagged trenches into the dark earth and tangled roots as it fought to keep its balance.

The beast slammed its fists against its chest, its war-paint tattoos glowing an angry red as its phantom snarled overhead, while Mestin stood his ground, he raised his warhammer in an attacking stance. "Come filthy beast!" he shouted with all his might. His thundering voice boomed in the air.

The dread ape answered with a roar that shook the pine needles from the upper canopy, its ice-blue eyes fixed with lethal intent on the massive enforcer.

It vaulted forward from its crouch, a blur of coarse silver fur and pulsating crimson war paint. The towering phantom behind it mirrored the trajectory, its shadowy, fractured form tearing through the branches of the Black-Spine pines.

Mestin didn’t flinch. He planted his massive boots, using his Vitre to lock his weight to the earth like an unyielding root. He braced the shaft of his monolithic warhammer horizontally just as the beast came crashing down.

The ape slammed its massive forearms onto the weapon with a deafening clang of iron against bone. Mestin’s knees buckled slightly under the force, his boots sinking inches into the damp loam, but his enhanced musculature held the line.

Seeing its strike blocked, the beast’s jaws unhinged with a sickening wet pop, snapping viciously at Mestin’s face. Mestin lunged his head backward, the flat, chisel-shaped canines missing his nose by a hair’s breadth. He channeled a sudden surge of Vitre straight into his torso, expanding his chest muscles to forcefully shove the ape back a step, breaking the deadlock.

The beast immediately spun, using its long, gibbon-like arm span to deliver a savage, low-slung sweep aimed at Mestin’s ankles. Mestin leaped over the rushing arm—a feat of terrifying agility for a man of his colossal stature. While mid-air, he gripped the very end of his hammer’s haft and brought the massive iron head down in a devastating overhead executioner’s strike.

The ape, possessing a fierce, prideful intelligence, anticipated the aerial move. It rolled frantically to the side. Mestin’s hammer smashed directly into the forest trail, completely pulverizing a massive boulder and sending a violent spray of jagged stone shrapnel flying through the clearing. A sharp piece of rock caught Mestin across the left cheek, slicing a shallow line that immediately began to bleed down his jaw.

Before Mestin could recover the momentum of his heavy weapon, the dread ape scrambled inside his guard. It swung a massive, fist-like leather pad upward, catching Mestin squarely in the ribs. The raw, unmitigated impact lifted the giant of a man off his feet and sent him crashing backward through a thicket of briars.

Mestin hit the ground hard, rolling backward to absorb the force, and bounded instantly back to his feet. He spat a mouthful of dark blood into the moss, his amber eyes burning hotter. His ribs throbbed fiercely under his leather armor—likely bruised, but his Vitre-hardened bone density had kept them from snapping.

"My turn," Mestin growled, a feral grin splitting his bearded face.

He rushed forward. The beast lunged to meet him, arms wide to trap him in another vice grip. But Mestin wasn’t swinging blindly anymore. He faked a massive overhead swing, drawing the ape’s arms upward in a cross-block, then suddenly aborted the motion. Sliding low through the damp dirt, he passed right beneath the beast’s raised guard.

As he slid past, Mestin drove the solid iron butt-spike of his warhammer upward, driving it deep into the ape’s thigh. The beast roared in agony, its balance completely shattering.

Wasting no time, Mestin used the momentum of his slide to pop back to his feet behind the creature. He spun his body like a hurricane, channeling every ounce of his remaining strength into his shoulders and arms.

The dread ape turned its head just in time to see the blow coming. It raised its massive forearms in a desperate attempt to shield itself, its crimson phantom shrieking overhead.

Mestin’s hammer connected with the ape’s defensive block. The sheer, overwhelming kinetic force of the impact shattered the beast’s arm bones with a sound like a snapping tree trunk. The hammer didn’t stop, tearing through the broken guard and striking the dread ape squarely in the center of its massive chest.

The impact produced a horizontal shockwave that blasted the surrounding dried leaves and pine needles fifty yards backward. The brilliant crimson war-paint tattoos across the beast’s shoulders flared violently for one final fraction of a second, then shattered like glass, turning completely dark. The towering phantom behind it evaporated into nothingness.

Mestin stood perfectly still in the center of the clearing, his hammer resting head-down on the earth. He let out a long, ragged exhale, watching the beast’s chest rise weakly once, twice, and then go completely still. The ice-blue eyes glazed over.

The nine-hundred-pound monster went airborne, flying twenty feet across the forest trails before crashing heavily into the dirt. It skidded through the turf, leaving a deep trench in the mossy ground, and finally came to a complete, motionless rest beneath the bright, unfiltered highland sun.