Sil slid past two bears, already distracted by other students, and slashed them with her knives. She spotted a group of fighters being pinned down, sprayed by the spit of the bear towering above them. She looped parchment around her knife and imbued it with mana to increase its weight, then whipped the bandage over her head like a lasso, using the momentum to slash the bear from several feet away.

  In the depths of the rotting forest, the students of stealth continued their battle against the horde of vicious, toxic bears. They moved silently through the remains of twisted trees, their senses sharpened, weapons ready. The bears—massive and ferocious—charged through the murky underbrush with blind fury, their eyes locked on the intruders. The students fought with speed and precision, their agility allowing them to dodge and slip past deadly claws and snapping jaws. Though the odds were against them, the hunters of Sharirun refused to back down.

  From the south, Sil heard another fighter cry out—his chest ripped open by a bear’s claw. With a flick of the parchment strips attached to each hand, she secured a grip on the bear’s arms, pulling herself toward her target and slashing with both knives, using her momentum to drive the blows. The bear, knocked back but still balanced, retaliated with a swipe—Sil blocked it with an impromptu clay blade, leaving her other knife free to sever the beast’s hand.

  She exploited the bear’s brief recoil, dropped her weapons, and slapped it with both mana-enhanced palms. The blow landed clean—propelled by magic, it sent the beast staggering backward with ease.

  Sil fell to the ground, now free to tend to her injured comrade. After quickly bandaging a few wounds with parchment, she spotted her captain in the distance—still locked in combat with the Queen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pervoick get knocked down, Plumb at his side, both struggling to hold their ground.

  The Queen rose on two legs, her sheer size now unmistakable. Grotesquely large muscles flexed as she lunged. Plumb sprang into action, his blade slicing through the air. The clash was brutal and unrelenting, but he held firm, determined to protect Pervoick.

  Sil sprinted to help, but even with her tremendous speed, she was momentarily reduced to a spectator. Pervoick stepped from behind Plumb, sword drawn, and executed three elegant slashes, driving the Queen back a few steps. She answered with a glare—bloodshot eyes glowing with rage.

  As Sil neared, it became clear the Queen was gagging, choking on something deep within. All three—Pervoick, Sil, and Plumb—ducked as the Queen vomited torrents of toxic ooze, spewing like a fountain. The stream reached several feet, sizzling as it burned through the forest floor. Pervoick raised a clay wall to shield them as the bear widened the arc of her attack.

  Just as the clay began melting into sludge, the Queen stopped spitting, now coughing violently as the last drops of acid spilled from her throat. Seizing the moment, Pervoick lunged forward and aimed for her head—but not fast enough. The Queen twisted slightly, and the blade struck deep into her shoulder instead.

  It sank easily, but Pervoick didn’t withdraw. The weapon was stuck. As she swung her claws twice in wild retaliation, Pervoick bent backward, sliding across the dirt to avoid the strikes.

  Sil launched a ribbon of parchment, hooking it to Pervoick’s wrist. She yanked him out of danger, pulling him back from the Queen’s chaotic, flailing attacks.

  Pervoick slid to her side. The ground sizzled around them, still melting under the Queen’s acid spit.

  “How many bears have you fought?” Pervoick asked, resting on one knee. His body was a mess—mud and toxin eating through his clothes and even a layer of skin.

  “Me?” Sil asked.

  “Yeah. How many have you fought?”

  “None, really. But I don’t think now is the time to be judgmental. I can go grab the Queen, leave her open for a lethal blow. It doesn’t matter if I get burned. And if worst comes to worst, it doesn’t matter if I—”

  “Never mind that,” Pervoick snapped, clutching his wounded arm. “Just stay back for now—”

  “What? But you just said—”

  “We just need to guard you for—”

  “But I can help!”

  “You are helping!”

  “By doing nothing?”

  “Trust us!” Pervoick said, standing up, a knife held loosely in his hand.

  Sil grit her teeth. “Trust me? You call telling me to stand back trusting me?!”

  Pervoick locked eyes with her—deep, focused. Strong enough to block out the chaos of battle, if only for a moment. There was frustration in his gaze.

  “Sil… trust us when we say you’re valued. Trust us to fight for you, the way you want to fight for us.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  A warmth washed over Sil. A hum of passion coursed through her veins. Those words struck deep, and she didn’t know why. But this feeling—this was all she had ever wanted in life.

  “Don’t get yourself killed for sentiment. There will be none of that today! Today, we put our lives on the line with every intention of making it out. Alive. Together.” He conjured a strip of parchment and wrapped it around his arm to stem the bleeding. “You stay back and keep watch. We’ll get you an opening, and when we do, you strike. Finish this.”

  “But Pervoick, you’re our captain. Our strongest blow should be yours!”

  “No, no. I’ve drained my aura too much. Your output will be stronger—you’ve mostly avoided combat so far. You’re our best shot.”

  Even now, as Pervoick placed the burden on her shoulders, it didn’t feel right. She was supposed to be the stepping stone for something greater—not the one others lifted up. And yet… she needed to trust him. Trust all of them. Why was that so hard?

  “Okay…” Sil said, softer than intended. “I’ll hold back. For now.”

  “Look for the opening,” Pervoick said. “We’ll make one for you.”

  The rest of the team nodded, weapons ready.

  The Queen bared her teeth as she stared down the young men and women. There was a hatred in her that went beyond the instinct to survive. It was bloodthirsty. Blinded by the rage of The Storm.

  Mair and Kacur flanked Pervoick. At his signal, Plumb retreated. The Queen thrashed wildly, her bloodlust fueling spasms of frenzied attacks. But she didn’t move from her nest. Perhaps she couldn’t.

  Pervoick made a hand signal, and his team sprang into action. The Queen’s focus locked onto Mair and Kacur as she began spitting blobs of acid—steaming as they narrowly missed the agile siblings.

  The two Stearna vaulted over the beast, each looping a ribbon of parchment around her shoulders and wrists. As they landed, they pulled back hard, forcing the bear’s arms apart—leaving her chest exposed.

  Sil winced. A pool of acid still surrounded the Queen. Mair and Kacur’s feet were surely burning away.

  But that was it. Sil knew this was the opening. She tensed, ready to charge—when Pervoick reached out his hand, signaling her to fall back.

  “Not yet,” he said, rushing at the Queen himself, with Plumb right behind him.

  Sil stood frustrated, more than slightly confused, wondering what could possibly justify prolonging this skirmish. Mair and Kacur’s feet were about to disintegrate. Although... they didn’t seem bothered. Perhaps she’d underestimated them.

  Maybe they... of course!

  As Pervoick and Plumb leapt into the Queen’s range, they conjured small blocks of clay beneath their feet, keeping them above the bubbling, acidic mud. If the siblings had done the same, that bought them more time—still limited, but time nonetheless.

  Pervoick moved like an acrobat, flipping from one clay step to another, always conjuring the next in time, all while dodging the Queen’s sputtering shots of acid—each one weaker than the last. It was losing steam.

  Suddenly, in a grotesque display, the Queen’s back tore open, revealing what looked like lips—new mouths, likely conjured on the spot. They began spitting at Mair and Kacur, weakening their hold as they were forced to dodge. The two couldn’t move without risking their footing, unless they expended more mana to craft new clay. They would have to—regardless of the toll.

  Pervoick and Plumb vaulted over the Queen, conjuring sharp clay stakes mid-air and hurling them into the new mouths, plugging the grotesque openings. As they landed, they wrapped parchment around the bear’s neck and muzzle. Then, anchoring themselves, they pulled back—holding it as still as they could. The Queen rumbled in protest, tearing open even more mouths across its body, ready to spit again.

  “Close them too!” Pervoick yelled at Plumb.

  Plumb hesitated—but obeyed. He let go of his parchment hold.

  “Sil!” Pervoick called. “Get ready!”

  As Plumb flung more clay at the beast, plugging mouths one by one, Sil made her dash, her feet enhanced by mana.

  The Queen thrashed violently, but clay-crafted prongs protruded all around its body, restricting its movement. It dug its feet into the earth—the last limbs still free. Then, the ground beneath began to sink, bubbling and sizzling as the forest floor melted into a spreading pool of purple sludge. The acid crept outward from the Queen’s bed, fast approaching the surrounding Stearna.

  Sil jumped, doing her best to avoid the encroaching trap. She raised her hand, watching her friends begin to sink into the burning muck, their grunts sharp as the acid gnawed at their bodies. With a scream of resolve, Sil conjured the largest lump of clay she could—and then pushed further. The result was a jagged, cone-shaped mass, sharpened and solid. The parchment around the Queen’s mouth snapped as it let out a roar, blood-red eyes glaring skyward.

  As Sil plummeted, she infused the clay with more aura and forced it to spin—fast. It started slow, then accelerated, a true drill no ordinary strength could match. The Queen roared again—and Sil struck, diving straight into its maw, the drill chewing through teeth, then jaw, then burrowing into its torso.

  The Queen resisted, its whole body tightening against the attack. This wasn’t a normal beast—it didn’t need a brain. Its entire form throbbed with a dark, violent will.

  Sil pulled deeper from a pool of mana she’d thought long dry, draining every last ounce of her strength. She used the already-infused clay to increase the drill’s weight, driving it further until the bear’s bones cracked and crumbled. The snapping echoed through the battlefield as the spinning cone ground downwards, straight through the Queen until it plunged into the earth.

  Sil collapsed, her body limp across the sizzling puddle of acid. The Queen was now just a heap of flesh and shattered bone—its violent gaze somehow still burning, even with a face cleaved in two.

  Pervoick stumbled to her side, reaching to pull her up—but dropped to a knee before he could. Oh, the worlds—he looked so tired. And so deeply sad. Sil opened her mouth to reassure him, to tell him not to worry. But the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t have the energy.

  “You two!” Kacur shouted, rushing toward them. “Move it! Now!”

  Sil’s heart sank. He’d seen something coming. But couldn’t he see they had no way to run? She couldn’t even turn her head to look.

  Pervoick grunted as he lifted her, then tried—unsuccessfully—to rise. Sil’s gaze twisted just enough to catch sight of three more bears rushing toward them. Her breath hitched.

  Plumb landed in front of them with a squelch, sword drawn, aimed at the oncoming threat.

  “Kacur! Mair!” he called. “Fall in beside me!”

  The twins obeyed, flanking him at either side. But Pervoick’s face still held a haunted fear. Likely, they were just as spent as he and Sil.

  Sil shut her eyes, unable to picture anything but the inevitable—gruesome, bloody deaths for her friends.

  Then, like a heartbeat swelling through the mud, a symphony of footsteps rose around her.

  The rest of the Stearna had arrived.