When the smoke and ice crystals cleared, Cu Chulainn stood where he was, leaning on his spear. The ground beneath his feet had caved in over a large area, his right arm hung limply, and his lower body had been hammered into the earth.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Cu Chulainn vomited a large mouthful of blood with a retch and gave a bitter laugh. The Servant energy he had previously been devoured by was simply too lethal, causing his combat ability to plummet. Otherwise, faced with a heavily wounded enemy, he would never have lost so miserably. Of course, Cu Chulainn would never say any of that. A loss was a loss, and no excuse could erase the word "defeat."
Heavy footsteps approached. Cu Chulainn looked ahead and saw a pair of blood-red eyes through the hazy icy mist.
In fact, Gilgamesh and Cu Chulainn had both underestimated Am's abilities. What they considered a serious injury was merely a minor inconvenience to Am. Even if an enemy crushed his skull, Am could still turn around and smash them with a hammer, let alone having more than a dozen bloody holes stabbed through his body.
Thud, thud, thud.
Am charged several steps to Cu Chulainn and reached out with a hand wreathed in cold air.
Two minutes later, Am bent over and gasped for breath. A blood spear had pierced through his chest, while in his hands he held Cu Chulainn, whose face was covered in blood.
Am tossed Cu Chulainn into the air, caught him precisely by the right leg, and lowered his waist as he gathered his strength.
Bang!
Am slammed Cu Chulainn onto the ground. That was not the end of it. Gripping Cu Chulainn by the right calf, Am began wildly smashing him around in front of himself.