The sun was just beginning to rise, its first rays sweeping away the darkness like a gentle but unstoppable tide. A cool breeze brushed against the damp leaves, carrying the scent of wet wood—tainted by the acrid, nauseating stench of hobgoblin corpses piled up from the previous day's carnage.
And Dylan... hadn't closed his eyes all night.
Not just because of the bodies around him. But because of the meditation. His mind on high alert, his body in constant tension, he'd spent hours purging himself, filament by filament, of every trace of negative energy lodged deep inside him. An inner battle—slow, demanding.
As the first light of dawn finally touched his face, the last dark thread slipped out of his body. He felt it like a shadow leaving his gut. He let out a trembling sigh of relief… but then came a strange sensation, like fingers tiptoeing across his shoulders.
He gave a weak smile, thinking it was Élisa messing with him. He was about to tell her to quit it—when he opened his eyes.
Élisa was fast asleep, her head resting on his leg.
His heart jumped into his throat.
A flash of clarity. A spike of danger. In one swift, almost instinctive motion, he grabbed his knife and stabbed whatever was crawling up his back.
Élisa jolted awake as Dylan shot up.
A spider. Massive. As big as a human head, its legs flailing in the air, twitching as it flipped onto its back from the impact. But it wasn't dead. The blade hadn't sunk deep enough.
Dylan grimaced, drawing his pistol in one fluid motion, ready to fire—
When a shadow darted forward.
Maggie. Silent as a blade in the dark.
With a single, surgical stomp, she crushed the creature beneath her boot, driving the knife deeper into its body.
A sickening crack echoed through the clearing. The spider twitched for a second, then went limp.
Dylan stepped back, still buzzing with adrenaline.
"Always so quick on the trigger," Maggie sniped with a scornful glance.
Élisa, still half-asleep, muttered as she watched the scene unfold:
"That's why I always sleep on someone. Can never be too careful…"
Dylan pulled his knife from the spider's limp body, the movement steady despite the tremor in his fingers. A strange texture clung to the blade. He tilted his head, curious. An anima gem—translucent and softly pulsing—was lodged deep in the creature's flesh, like a magical tick rooted in its guts.
He ripped it out in one swift move, wiped his knife on his sleeve, and slipped the gem into his pocket without a word. Not the time for poetry.
Maggie spoke, her voice colder than the morning air:
"We can't stay here."
Élisa stretched lazily, rubbed her eyes, and nodded, still hazy from sleep but sharp enough:
"She's right. The stench of the bodies… it's gonna attract something. Big, curious, or hungry."
But Maggie didn't let her finish. Her voice cracked like a whip—low, dry, urgent:
"It already has."
A cold shiver rippled through them, silent and sharp.
"We're surrounded."
Dylan stood up in a flash. His eyes scanned beyond the trees, where the sunlight barely filtered through. The leaves were rustling… too much. And that sure as hell wasn't the wind.
Élisa, now fully awake, grabbed her staff, her fingers wrapping around it like a silent oath.
"How many?" she asked, her voice almost breaking.
Maggie didn't answer right away. Her dark eyes combed the treeline, analyzing every sound.
Then she spat between her teeth:
"Three groups, minimum. Slow. Coordinated. They're getting into position."
Dylan grimaced, then asked calmly:
"Hobgoblins?"
"I don't know how… but this time, it's hyenas," she said, reloading her assault rifle with practiced precision.
A heavy silence fell over them, thick and choking. Dylan glanced at Élisa, then at Maggie. No need for words. They all understood.
A single paw stepped out from the shadows, followed by a red gleam—eyes burning with hunger. A guttural, distorted laugh echoed through the brush, and soon, more hyenas emerged, drooling, cackling, circling them like vultures over a meal already lost.
"They're not even supposed to live in forests! What the hell are these scavenging bastards doing here?!" Dylan spat, backing up while shielding Élisa behind him.
"You still think this is our world? Grab the bags. I'll hold them off," Maggie growled, already shouldering her rifle.
"They are the envious bitches. They're the main enemies of my tribe," Elisa said, hidden behind Dylan's arm. "They always come to take the prey we've hunted."
"Why are you telling us this now?!" Dylan snapped, throwing her a disbelieving look without fully taking his eyes off the threat.
"They aren't supposed to be here. They've been tracked by the Hystrix..."
A heavy silence fell. Even more oppressive than the distorted laughter of the hyenas. Even Maggie, who was ready to fire, hesitated for a heartbeat. The barrel of her weapon shivered in her hands.
"The Hystrix?" she repeated, still aiming. "That makes sense... He must not like it when we steal his prey. The one who prefers to leave the meat to rot before coming back to gnaw on the bones."
The foliage rustled again. This time, much closer. The laughs grew more distinct, more... articulated. As if the beasts were trying to speak. Or mimic human words. It was grotesque. It sent chills down the spine.
"In any case," Maggie said, her voice once again cold and determined, "we don't need these bodies."
She took a step back, positioned herself in the center of the makeshift camp, and planted her feet as if she were taking root.
"I'll keep them busy. You, grab the bags. We're leaving."
Dylan hesitated for a second, his gaze still locked on the hyenas, slowly emerging from the shadows, their silhouettes twisted by hunger and hatred.
"How long can you hold them?"
"Long enough. Now move!"
Elisa was already rushing toward the bags, grabbing the heaviest one without a word, while Dylan stuffed the anima gems deeper into his jacket and moved toward the other supplies, his breath short, his nerves on edge.
And behind them... the first gunshot rang out, breaking the silence.