The three of them fled through the undergrowth, roots screaming beneath their feet, branches lashing at their faces.
Behind them—
Chaos.
The Overdrawn.
A nightmarish copy of Kael, faster, sharper, closing the distance with every breath.
Kael shouted, out of breath but lucid:
“It adapted to being killed!”
Lucanis glanced back, gasping:
“What?!”
“We don’t stand a chance of beating it like this!
It let us believe it was dead for good.
It waited until we reached this place—dense terrain, limited visibility…
It chose the moment.
It calculated!”
Althéa understood immediately. She clenched her teeth and accelerated.
She knew what that meant.
This was no longer just an Overdrawn.
It was a tactic.
An ambush.
A mind behind the fangs.
Kael went on, breath ragged, fury burning in his gut:
“It’s not a monster anymore.
It’s a fucking hunter.”
They veered into a narrow passage. Brambles snagged at their cloaks.
Lucanis stumbled, cursed, pushed himself back up.
The sound behind them was getting closer.
No roars.
No screams.
The mechanical, relentless rhythm of footsteps that never slowed.
Althéa shot Kael a look—a silent question in her eyes.
Kael met her gaze.
He had no answer.
Only fear.
And the certainty that it would catch them soon.
Still running, Althéa shouted without turning around:
“No strategy will work on it anymore!
It’s been watching us for too long…
It knows exactly what to do
to hunt us efficiently.”
The ground blurred beneath their feet, branches parting just in time.
Behind them, the footsteps were closing in.
A terrifying regularity.
A perfect cadence.
And then—suddenly—the forest opened up.
They burst into a low meadow, short grass flattening beneath their frantic strides.
The beacon was there.
Standing at the center of the field, less than a kilometer away.
Kael was spent.
His legs were on fire.
Adrenaline was carrying him—but for how much longer?
“Come on… come on…!” he rasped under his breath.
Two hundred meters.
He glanced back.
The Overdrawn.
Still there.
Still him.
But different.
Its hair was black as obsidian.
Its expression completely neutral—focused, inhuman.
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No trace of joy.
No rage.
Only the hunt.
Lucanis shouted:
“Speed up!
The circle’s right there!”
Fifty meters.
The Overdrawn stopped dead.
Its skin warped.
A bow emerged from its arm.
It drew an arrow in one smooth motion and fired—
the arrow flew wide.
Althéa screamed, eyes wide:
“It’s adapting!
The next one won’t miss its target!”
Ten meters.
Kael felt the vibration ripple through the air.
A second arrow.
This time, it was true.
He dove—
But the arrow sliced across his cheek from end to end.
A line of fire.
A rush of blood.
He crashed to the ground, two meters from the circle.
Lucanis and Althéa saw nothing.
They crossed the beacon—
And vanished in a white flash.
Kael groaned, tried to push himself up.
He looked up.
The Overdrawn was there.
Only a few steps away.
Its rictus had returned.
A strained, twisted smile.
“There it is. At last.
You can’t run anymore.”
It stepped forward.
Kael, limping, forced his legs to obey like a madman.
He charged straight for the circle.
The Overdrawn lunged at that exact moment—arms outstretched, ready to tear him apart—
But Kael jumped.
Just in time.
And everything vanished.
Althéa reappeared in the Grove of Springs in a clean roll, despite the urgency of the moment.
Lucanis emerged on her heels and immediately turned back toward the teleportation circle.
Guards were posted all around it. Some looked half-asleep, but one of them snapped out of his stupor and rushed toward Althéa.
He didn’t have time to say a word.
“Where is Kael?!”
Urgency bled through Althéa’s voice.
She swept her gaze across the grove, unable to spot him.
Lucanis did the same, his jaw clenched.
“He was right behind me… he should already be here!”
Then the teleportation circle flared again with a white light.
A young man with chestnut hair reappeared without the slightest grace.
He slid along the grove’s path, his face smeared with blood.
Kael.
He immediately turned back toward the portal, staring at it with one eye wide in terror.
The Overdrawn emerged in turn.
Its face.
Its body.
Identical to Kael.
It was bare-chested, wearing only thick black fur as trousers.
Its hair, black as night, framed a cruel smile.
Without waiting a single second, the creature hurled itself toward Kael at inhuman speed, seized him by the collar, and dragged him along in its charge.
Lucanis didn’t hesitate.
His hunter’s gaze locked onto the Overdrawn, he immediately launched himself after them.
Althéa clicked her tongue.
She tore the spear from the hands of the guard who was still trying to speak to her and barked sharply:
“You are under strict orders not to attack the two who share the same face.
Is that clear?”
The guard opened his mouth, probably to protest.
“Is that clear?!”
He nodded vigorously.
“Pass the order to everyone!”
Then, with a swift stride, Althéa sprinted after Lucanis.
The Overdrawn, having taken enough pleasure in dragging Kael through the dust, cocked its arm.
With a sigh more satisfied than anything else, it hurled him away.
Kael’s vision filled with spinning earth and blood flooding his eyelids.
He crashed heavily in front of the entrance to the Dawn Acropolis, half-conscious.
Trame Bearers stared at him, shocked, unable to understand what could have reduced someone to such a state.
The Overdrawn, meanwhile, was elated.
It approached slowly, savoring each step, as if relishing the idea of finally putting an end to its hunt.
“Get the fuck out of here!”
Kael’s voice cracked through the air.
He didn’t need to repeat himself.
The Trame Bearers fled en masse into the Dawn Acropolis, panic exploding through the crowd.
Kael tried to get back up, spat blood…
then dropped back to his knees.
The Overdrawn kept advancing.
Lucanis was still running.
He hadn’t slowed down even once.
Each stride was another acceleration.
Althéa followed close behind, spear in hand.
They reached the edge of the Grove.
Lucanis’s eyes locked onto his target.
He reached his hand back.
Without a word, Althéa placed the spear into it.
Lucanis took a few more steps, then stopped abruptly, sliding across the packed earth.
He drew in a deep breath, chest and cheeks swelling as his muscles contracted violently.
He extended his arm.
With a guttural grunt of effort, he hurled the spear at terrifying speed.
The air itself seemed to tear.
The Overdrawn, which had turned to face them, simply reached out toward the projectile.
Still smiling.
The spear collided with its palm.
It exploded.
The impact tore away half of its face.
But it remained standing.
Half of its smile was still clinging to its lips.
Kael tried to retreat discreetly, attempting to slip out of its attention.
The Overdrawn turned toward him as if nothing had happened.
Its missing face and hand reformed in an amalgam of flesh, wet cracking sounds, and sickening, blood-soaked noises.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
It seized Kael by the collar once more and hurled him again—this time into the avenue leading to the Acropolis.
Kael hit the ground limply.
Althéa and Lucanis rushed to Kael’s side.
Althéa managed to retrieve her spear, deeply embedded in the earth, while Lucanis struggled to help Kael back to his feet.
Despite the urgency—and the blows he had taken—Kael still held his Needle-Blade tightly.
Althéa immediately took position, spear in hand, her gaze hard and icy.
Which only widened the Overdrawn’s smile.
“I can’t have him as long as you’re here, can I?”
It raised its hands, mockingly conciliatory.
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll just kill all three of you.”
Lucanis drew his sword and took his stance without a word.
Kael did the same—slower, with more difficulty—
—but he straightened nonetheless.
The three of them faced the monster.
And the final battle—the one that would bring the survival course to an end—
could finally begin.
