Kian pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and let it fly. The ooze slithered around the fire, dragging something across the ground as it began rebuilding itself. Though smaller than before, it was still alive. The fragments of ooze that couldn’t reconnect to the main body started searching for a host, twisting and reshaping into grotesque imitations of humans and animals. Kian aimed at the newly formed creatures, picking them off one by one as they scattered. Some dove for cover, others searched for the unseen attacker. I managed to take down three before a few reached the building he was stationed in.

  Then, Rederick stepped into the light.

  He screamed, his voice raw and desperate, as if everything depended on it. The creatures at my door turned toward him. It worked. Almost all of them abandoned their pursuit and charged at him instead.

  All but one. It stepped inside.

  Rederick emerged from the shadows. What had happened? The explosion. Methussun flying past. What did he do? Rederick watched as the dark liquid stopped raining, noticing one blob oozing away from the rest. It seemed to be searching for something. Slowly. Rederick backed away from it, back into the shadows, retreating cautiously. As the newly reconstructed things began standing back up.

  Then movement. Something caught his eye. One of them suddenly dropped. Another creature staggered backward and collapsed. An arrow.

  Kian. He’s still here. A bitter laugh escaped him. Is this how Albaras always feels?he thought. Good lord Necter, save us now

  Another arrow struck true, burying itself deep into the fallen creature’s head as they began their way to find Kian. Without hesitation, Rederick stepped into the open, sword drawn. No ribbons to save me this time, he thought, taking a deep breath. He prepared to shout, then another one fell. Now, only the big one and fourteen others remained, their bodies dripping with thick, inky ooze.

  Rederick smirked. Let’s see if the corruption can take me. Then, he roared.

  A mistake. The moment the sound left his throat, every head snapped toward him. Well, he thought grimly, giving them a small wave before sprinting away. The creatures followed. One by one, they surged after him, their movements unnervingly fast.

  Where can I go? Where is it safe? Where’s a way out?

  The deeper he ran into town, the slower he became.

  His breath was ragged, his strength fading fast. No other way, is there?

  Rederick spun around. The creatures were closer than expected. Instinct took over. His blade flashed as one went down, its throat cut open. They surrounded him.

  And the big one was closing in.

  An arrow flew clean through one creature’s skull, sending it crashing to the ground. The others turned, searching for the shooter finding no one. Instead, they saw something else.

  Morsan emerged from an alley. The moment they spotted him, he surged forward. With a single swing, he cut down two foes, while another collapsed from a well-placed arrow.

  Before any of the creatures could react to Morsan, the arrows or Rederick, or do anything else, the massive creature suddenly convulsed and then burst open. Rederick and Morsan instinctively turned away, hoping the liquid wouldn’t touch their skin.

  Kian didn’t waste time examining what was happening, he just let his arrows fly. Morsan, undeterred by the unknown ahead, charged forward. Even blinded, he struck with precision, cutting down two more. My arrows found their marks, taking down three.

  Rederick watched in awe. How did Morsan remember exactly where the creatures had stood, as if he had seen it all before? And why did those things remain frozen, as if time itself had stopped for them?

  ′How?′ Rederick asked, but before an answer could come, movement stirred within the remains of the largest creature. From the creature’s broken body, Albaras emerged.

  With a whirlwind of strikes, he tore through the remaining foes, leaving none standing.

  ’Is it done?’ Rederick asked, almost whispering.

  Morsan turned to Albaras, his eyes narrowing. ′How do you resist the corruption?′ he asked. ′There are so few of us who can. It should be impossible.′

  Albaras stood silent for a moment, scanning the battlefield before letting out a low chuckle. ′This isn’t my first time fighting it,′ he said. ′Though I’ve never faced one as massive as this. Lucky that Methussun acted when he did, I couldn’t cut it. That liquid, or ooze, whatever you want to call it, held me down. Just the sheer mass and power of it…′ He paused, shaking his head. ′Never before have I faced something stronger than me.′

  Albaras put his axe and sword back at his side. ′How can a man lose another shield?′ he said jokingly. None of us could laugh.

  As Kian prepared to descend, the liquid, once thick and suffocating, slowly began to vanish, revealing what had been hidden beneath. His heart pounded in my chest. I froze.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  What lay before me was beyond anything he could have ever imagined, beyond any nightmare he had dared to picture. Bodies were scattered everywhere, torn apart by the explosion. Limbs and shredded flesh, twisted and mangled, lay in disarray across the village. There was no order to it. No sense. The blast had ensured nothing was left untouched, nothing remained where it once belonged. People. Animals. All lifeless. Unrecognizable. Their faces, their forms, stripped away by the violence.

  The dark liquid that had once masked the horror now receded, like the final veil on a gruesome display. And in its place? Only death. A grotesque, unrelenting sea of blood. Guts. Bone.

  Kian staggered back, his legs weak and unsteady beneath me. his chest tightened, the air heavy in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. The sight... it suffocated me. He couldn’t move. The world around me spun, the weight of it pressing down, stealing the breath from my body.

  He couldn’t control my own body anymore. It felt as if my very soul was being ripped apart, as if the sight of this devastation had drained me of the will to carry on.

  Rederick looked up at the place where I stood. ′Who is going to look for Methussun, and who is going to look for Kian?′ he asked.

  ′You can search for your kid. Albaras and I will find Methussun,′ Morsan replied.

  Rederick walked to a nearby building and climbed to the roof. Meanwhile, Morsan and Albaras slipped through the holes in the walls.

  Each step brought them closer to the wounded Methu—’NO,’ Morsan screamed.

  His halberd clattered to the ground as he ran, all pain and exhaustion forgotten, adrenaline surging through him. He dropped to his knees, placing a hand on Methussun’s chest. The man wasn’t lying down. He was sitting against the wall, as if waiting to be pulled free. His head hung low, motionless, as if he were merely asleep.

  Albaras stepped into the building cautiously, silent as a shadow.

  Morsan pulled the body from the wall. As he did, the blood clung for a moment before tearing away, leaving streaks behind. He set Methussun on his knees, glanced at the wounds on his back, then embraced him.

  ′Goodbye, my friend,′ he whispered.

  Still holding him, Morsan spoke as if to the wall in front of him. ′Did you know? I worked with him for as long as I can remember. Every day, from morning to night, we stood side by side.′ His voice wavered. ′No time to mourn for us, is there, Albaras? We’re doomed to watch the ones closest to us die… or die ourselves. I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long. I heard you’re one of the oldest hunters still alive. How many have you lost?′

  Albaras said just one word, snapping Morsan from his daze.

  ′Everyone.′

  His hand brushed against his axe, almost out of reflex.

  Morsan tried to lift the body, but as he strained, his strength gave out, and he collapsed back to the ground.

  Albaras stepped to the other side of Methussun, gripping his body as if Morsan were helping but in truth, he bore all the weight himself. Morsan, unaware, pushed with all his might, believing he was lifting alongside him.

  Just a few more steps, and they would be outside.

  As Rederick ascended the stairs, he heard weeping—or what sounded like it. It was a sound that didn’t belong in the world they had come to know. The world that had been stripped of innocence. He opened the door and saw me, curled up in the corner, a shadow of myself. Shaking uncontrollably, my body pressed tight against the cold stone as if my life depended on it.

  Kian was a far cry from the person he used to be. Fear and exhaustion had worn me down. There was nothing left of the brave, confident person I once was.

  Rederick kneeled beside me, his armor creaking under his weight. He pulled off his helmet slowly, revealing the wear and tear of too many nights of restless sleep, too many days of eating nothing. His face was gaunt, almost skeletal, but his eyes still held a flicker of something I hadn’t seen in so long. Kindness.

  ′Well, kiddo,′ he paused, his voice rough, the kind of weariness that only time in hell can create. But in that pause, I felt it. Without warning, I lunged toward him, desperate for a hug. The simple comfort of feeling human again, of feeling safe, seemed impossible. A thing for the weak but what am I to not act like that.

  His arms wrapped around me, slow at first, as though he wasn’t sure I’d allow it. But then, he embraced me fully, and for a moment, everything else vanished. The pain, the chaos, the loss, it was all forgotten in that brief, sacred contact.

  He pulled back Kian’s hood. Exposing his face to him. It felt strange. Vulnerable. But as he looked into my eyes, there was no judgment, no pity. Only something that was as pure as it was rare, love perhaps, or just the recognition of shared suffering.

  ‘Kiddo,’ he whispered, his voice a little less heavy now. ‘Keep walking close behind me, and you’ll be fine,’ he said, resting a hand on my head.

  Kian nodded, still shaking, but something in his words steadied me. he stood up, his legs weak, blood spilling from my eyes as the weight of it all crashed back down on me. The gravity of the world pulled me almost back, but somehow, it didn’t seem unbearable with him beside me.

  He wiped away the blood gently, like he was wiping away the last traces of my innocence. ′Come on, kiddo. They’re waiting for us. It’s time for all of us to go home.′

  I wanted to believe him. I needed to.

  But as we moved toward the door, Kian knew that going home wasn’t as simple as he made it sound. There was no true home to return to—not anymore. Not for us. But maybe, just maybe, with him beside me, we could find something that resembled it.

  As we walked back, my body slowly calmed; standing behind Rederick helped. For as we stepped outside the view came back of the splattered villagers and animals everywhere. before Rederick placed a hand over my eyes, gently turning me away from the massacre. ’Wait here for a moment, kiddo,’ he said softly. ’I see the rest up ahead with Methussun they need some help

  As Rederick switched places with Morsan, came Morsan to my side, whispering softly, ′I’m sorry for bringing you here.′

  The journey to the outskirts of the woods was consumed by an unbearable silence, heavy and unbroken. The experience had changed us all, even Albaras, who carried Methussun’s body without a word. Leaving no room for words.

  As the last thing saw us leave, he came outside looking for hosts to spread the plague again, hoping to rebuild itself hidden away before the spread begins.

  Then, from the burning tavern, a man leaped through a window with a book tucked under his arm. His silhouette was barely visible against the fire’s glow, but his eyes burned an eerie orange. Whether they reflected the flames or carried a fire of their own didn’t matter.

  The thing froze.

  The figure stepped forward, unshaken. ′Aren’t you the scared one now?′ His voice was dead calm, almost amused. ′You failed to kill the one you needed to… and look at you now. What a disappointment.′

  With his bare hands, he reached out and placed them on the creature.

  ′I can feel your coldness. Is that supposed to be your fear?′ he mused, pressing his thumb where its mouth should have been. His voice like death itself, a whisper. ′Don’t worry, regret.′

  Then, with a single motion, he clenched his fist and drove it straight through its face. The creature crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

  The man surveyed the burning wreckage around him, his eyes narrowing. ′Everything is so disappointing.′

  He turned away, muttering under his breath, ‘I hope he at least keeps his word.’