Shrieeek!

  A high-pitched, agonized cry tore through the air ahead.

  The Gnoll Archer spun around to flee, but my next shot was already flying. It struck home, ending its miserable life before it could take another step.

  Thanks to Enlightenment, the fight had become easier. My Rejuvenation easily countered its venom.

  “The heck? Only stones again?” I groaned, exasperated. A dozen kills and still no rare drops.

  After finishing my business at the Crimson Sepulchre, I’d returned to my previous route on the next day, hunting Gnoll Archers for the last ingredients I needed for the Fleeting Potion.

  “At least I’m getting better at this,” I mumbled, trying to console myself.

  What once felt grueling now bordered on routine. My body had memorized every pattern. Each dodge, counter, and shot flowed without thought. I could read their movements before they happened.

  Wiping the sweat from my brow, I glanced at the Lunaris. “I need to hurry. It’s getting dark.”

  Night meant trouble. Stronger monsters, more of them. I had to reach my safe spot soon, a hidden burrow near the lower ravine I’d always used for rest back in the game.

  “I wish he were here,” I murmured before realizing I’d said it aloud. I could almost picture his grin, bright and reckless, such a contrast to my quiet nature. Without Alwen, everything felt... empty.

  And once again, the guilt crept in. If I hadn’t been careless, if I hadn’t gotten him hurt… things would’ve been different.

  That’s when I felt it.

  Someone was watching me.

  [Windstride cast]

  I bolted forward without hesitation.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I hissed, glancing back. “It’s not even supposed to spawn at this time!”

  A Gnoll Warrior thundered after me, a massive mace gripped in its clawed hand. Despite its hulking frame, its strides were terrifyingly fast.

  The narrow ravine path turned rough, jagged rocks and tangled undergrowth slowing my pace. My steps faltered as Windstride’s effect faded, and the beast began to close in.

  My lungs burned. My legs screamed.

  When I looked back again, it was right there.

  CRAAACK!

  The mace smashed into the rock beside me, spraying stone shards across my arm.

  I spun, pushing back against it with my weight. Mistake.

  The gnoll lunged, slamming me hard into the ground. My back cracked against stone. The world spun.

  Through hazy vision, I saw the mace rising again.

  I rolled aside just in time. The impact shattered the earth where I’d been. My arms and side scraped raw against the rocks.

  “Damn it!” I gasped, casting Rejuvenation. The healing glow mended torn skin, easing the pain just enough to move.

  The gnoll cackled and lunged again, claws flashing. I raised my staff—crack! The wood splintered clean in half.

  But that heartbeat of distraction was all I needed.

  Instead of backing away, I charged in.

  I leapt, clinging to its chest, my hands gripping wiry fur. Then, before doubt could stop me, I bit down hard.

  The taste was revolting. Copper, sweat, and fur filled my mouth. The gnoll shrieked, clawing wildly, its talons tearing into my side.

  I yanked a Flameburst Flask from my pouch and jammed it straight into its open maw.

  The vial burst. Fire tore through its throat.

  I hit the ground as the gnoll staggered backward, thrashing, screeching, clawing at its burning face. It teetered at the ravine’s edge, then fell, a comet of fire and smoke.

  For a long moment, I just lay there, chest heaving, every muscle trembling. The air stank of scorched fur.

  “Fuck… my loot,” I muttered weakly, slamming a fist against the ground.

  ***

  I pushed on before my wounds had even fully healed. The Gnoll Warrior had wasted enough of my time already, and dusk was creeping in fast. The sun bled into the horizon, staining the jagged cliffs in shades of crimson and shadow. Every step sent dull pain rippling through my legs, but stopping now would’ve been worse. Rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not out here.

  Distant monster cries echoed through the ravine, blending with faint sounds of battle somewhere beyond the Gnashfang Warrens. The clash of steel and the growl of monsters formed a grim lullaby, a reminder of how small I really was in this place. I moved carefully, keeping my footsteps light, taking the lesser-used trails where monsters rarely roamed. Every snapped twig made my heart stutter, every whisper of wind like breath on my neck.

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  Eventually, I reached the lower ravine, where the hidden burrow waited. Relief prickled faintly through my exhaustion.

  It didn’t take long to find it. The entrance lay tucked beneath a curtain of vines, shielded by rock formations that formed natural walls. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a patch of moss-covered stone, perfectly concealed and just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I brushed the vines aside and slipped in, their damp tendrils cold against my face.

  “Finally… safe,” I breathed, though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

  The tunnel opened into a small, sheltered cave, barely large enough for one person. Its earthen walls were damp but soft, and the faint scent of wet stone hung in the air. One side of the chamber glowed faintly, lit by patches of bioluminescent moss that bathed everything in an eerie green hue.

  This place was supposed to be safe, at least in Dreadspire. I could only hope no other adventurer stumbled upon it. There was no room to fight here, and nowhere to run.

  I glanced down at my hands. Dirt-streaked, blood-smeared, trembling slightly. The thought made my throat tighten. I was lucky.

  Since my staff had snapped in two, I took Alwen’s instead. My chest constricted as I gripped the familiar carving that spelled his name.

  “Sorry, Alwen… but I can’t waste it now.” My voice cracked, swallowed by the cave’s hush.

  I channeled Mana through it, wincing as warmth spread across torn skin and bruised flesh. The glow faded, leaving only a dull ache, better than before.

  Then I set about cleaning myself and my equipment. My hands moved mechanically, scraping dried blood from my boots and wiping the grime from my leather armor. Guilt clawed at me again, but I forced myself to focus on something else. Counting spoils was a decent distraction.

  With what I’d spent at the Crimson Sepulchre, I didn’t have many Mana Stones left. But the monster parts could fetch a decent price later. If I make it back, I reminded myself grimly.

  Dinner was a cold ration, chewed in silence. The taste was stale and unappetizing, but I didn’t dare light a fire. Flames weren’t ideal inside a cave this small, and smoke would’ve given away my position. I just sat there, chewing, listening for any sound from outside.

  When I finally crawled into my Canopy Pod, exhaustion hit like a wave. The pod’s fabric wrapped around me like a cocoon, muffling the outside world. My body screamed for rest, but my mind wouldn’t stop running. Faces flashed behind my eyelids. Alwen, Pica, the Lich King.

  The night was silent. Too silent.

  Then came a sound. Faint, ragged, carried by the wind. A whimper. Weak, trembling, almost ghostly… and somehow amplified by magic.

  “That’s not my problem,” I thought, rolling over, trying to shut it out.

  The sound came again, closer this time. A desperate, broken plea swallowed by the night.

  Someone was dying.

  I tried to ignore it, but for some reason Alwen kept popping into my head. If he were here, he’d be insisting on helping, no doubt about it.

  I muttered a curse and forced myself toward the sound. A faint flow of Mana accompanied it, familiar yet not quite the same as the druid’s.

  “I hope I won’t regret this,” I whispered as I crawled out of my hiding place.

  I stepped out, hunched over and careful, my eyes scanning the dark as I followed the trail of Mana. Soon, other sounds reached me: the clash of steel, cries, and the low, furious snarl of a monster. The smell of blood hit me hard. Thick and metallic, threaded with the acrid tang of burning flesh.

  Not far ahead, I found the scene of the fight, or rather, the massacre. Body parts littered the ground. One figure was burned to a husk, blackened and blistered. What might have been a face lay mashed and unrecognizable. A dwarf warrior screamed as his torso was split cleanly in two. My stomach roiled, bile rising in my throat. It was worse than anything I had experienced so far.

  When I had steadied myself, I peered again. Only one remained standing. A dwarf, stocky and solid as a mountain, holding his ground against a towering Gnoll with a dented, battle-scarred shield. Blood plastered his thick black beard and smeared his face, but his eyes still burned with stubborn defiance.

  The two-and-a-half-meter beast swung its great axes, metal ringing against the shield. I was amazed that the dwarf held his ground against a Field Boss.

  The Gnoll Chieftain roared, eyes blazing crimson. Its matted fur was slick with the blood of the fallen, and the dark plates of its armor gleamed beneath the light. From its erratic, frenzied movement, I could tell it was in its final phase.

  Then I spotted movement on the ground: an elf, wounded, clutching a bow in one trembling hand. He looked like he’d been the one calling for help using magic.

  I studied the fight for a moment before deciding.

  [Rejuvenation cast]

  A soft green glow enveloped the fallen elf as healing magic took effect. I hurried over and handed him a low-rank potion. His wounds were worse than I’d expected.

  “Take it,” I said flatly.

  The elf blinked weakly, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. His fingers fumbled with the cork before finally managing to drink. “T-Thanks… I owe you—”

  “Save it,” I cut him off. “We’re not done yet.”

  I turned toward the chaos. “Oi, dwarf! Hold the line! Keep it busy until the elf’s back on his feet!”

  “Who the hell are you?!” the dwarf barked without looking back. “I know what I’m doing, dammit!” He blocked another heavy swing from the Gnoll Chieftain.

  “Your elf friend called for help,” I shot back. “I just saved his life.”

  “Then stop babbling and make yourself useful!”

  “Gladly.” I hurled a Flameburst Flask straight at the enemy.

  The vial shattered mid-air, erupting in a burst of searing fire that clung to the Gnoll’s fur like living embers. The beast howled, a deep, guttural sound that made the ground tremble.

  Besides the Berserkers, all Gnolls were weak to fire.

  “Ha! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” the dwarf roared.

  “Watch out!” I warned as the monster’s movements turned wild and erratic, thrashing in pain.

  “Stop ordering me around!” he grunted, parrying another blow. “Just throw another one!”

  “Let me take the scepter,” I said sharply. “Then I will.”

  “Yeah, it’s yours!” he snapped, eyes never leaving the beast.

  “Swear it. On your father’s name.”

  He shot me a furious glare. “Are you serious right now?! I’m a little busy not dying!”

  “Alright then, bye,” I said, turning away.

  “Fine, fine! I swear on Thrain, my father!” he growled. “You can take the damned scepter!”

  “Much better.” I threw another vial, flames bursting across the battlefield, then followed it with a Rejuvenation on the dwarf.

  His posture straightened as the magic mended bruised muscles and cracked bones.

  “Hah!” he barked with a bloody grin. “Now that’s the good stuff.”

  “Eyes up! It’s still moving!” I shouted, firing another shot at the writhing Gnoll.

  Time dragged on, yet the Field Boss refused to fall. Our attacks barely scratched its thick armor and hide. The Gnoll Chieftain raised its axes again and brought them down with terrifying force.

  This time, the dwarf couldn’t block it. His shield fell, torn from his grasp, and he crashed to the ground.

  Then, swoosh!

  A sharp whistle of an arrow cut through the air.

  Finally, reinforcement had arrived.

  It looks like Eryndor has completely lost his mind.

  Gnoll Chieftain too?

  Hit the Next button and find out!

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