The serpent wrapped itself around my wrist like a piece of clothing, curling up and up to my shoulder. With my free arm I grabbed my broken, fallen sword and stabbed at the beast, but its skin was too tough to break under the pressure of a cracked weapon. My arm wasn’t, though, and it snapped with the pressure.

I fell to my knees and looked wildly for a weapon. The cave was damp, my eyes were teary from the stench of sulphur, and the darkness made it hard to see. My arm was broken though; it was injured either way …

I slammed my arm with the snake around it on the stone floor. I felt the shock of it, and a faint, numbing pain, and the serpent gently uncoiled itself from my skin before it latched on again. I slammed it again, and again until I felt it moving no longer and I saw irs fanged mouth hang open, wide, immobile.

My arm was no longer an arm. I let the snake fall from the battered flesh onto the ground. It had been a long time coming, but now I felt I could truly call myself the slayer of monsters.