The following days were hell.
Every morning, she resud her path.
Tired. Aching. Her back burdened with her hamr, legs heavy with dust and dried sweat.
The black mountains drew closer, slowly, like a terrible promise etched on the horizon.
And I was still there.
In her shadow. Unexpected. Unpredictable.
Sotis, I appeared at night, when she thought she could sleep.
Sotis, during a fight, erging just after a Gorvak, or at the sa ti, pushing her reflexes to the brink of panic.
I spared her nothing.
Not once.
I attacked without warning.
I aid for the cracks. The mistakes. The slightest hesitation.
And when she fell, because she did fall, I disappeared.
Leaving her alone. Out of breath.
To get back up or die.
She never died.
The Gorvak ca at her in twos, sotis threes. At first, she fought them without strategy. By instinct. By rage. But day by day, her movents sharpened. Her breathing steadied. Her body adapted.
She learned to save her strength, not waste a single movent.
She struck fast. Hard. True.
And above all... she no longer stepped back.
Her black kimono was torn, covered in dried blood and dirt. Her face, carved by effort, had lost its last traces of childhood.
She didn’t smile.
She survived.
And sotis, very rarely, I left her a few sips of water.
Without a word.
Like a silent reward.
Then I disappeared again.
One night. Lysara was finally asleep. The campfire had gone out, leaving only a glowing ember between two stones. She breathed slowly, deeply, curled in her cloak like a cocoon, her hamr within reach.
And I... was there. Sitting beside her. In silence. Watching. As I always did.
But this ti... I felt it.
Sothing.
Far. Strong. Fierce.
Not just a wandering monster.
Not another Gorvak.
No...
A presence. Wild. Aggressive. Worthy of the Tiger Sovereign. Maybe even... worse.
My heart beat faster.
Finally.
I rose slowly, reactivating my stealth skill with a controlled breath. My body faded into shadow. My aura went silent.
I left the camp without a word, without a sound.
After all, I needed training too.
I moved through the darkness, diving into the black rocks and basalt crevices of the Ashen Heights.
The closer I got, the denser the air beca, saturated with instinctual adrenaline. A predator’s shiver.
She was there.
And then I saw her.
Crouched between two stone pillars, a monstrous creature, massive, almost unreal in the starlight.
A nightmarish hybrid, a strange fusion of feline, scorpion, and wolf. Her body was long and supple, extrely muscular, covered in black fur, streaked with scales glistening under the moon. Her feline paws ended in sharp claws, capable of slicing through rock. And her tail... long, sinuous, ended in a chitinous stinger as long as a human arm, glistening with barely-contained venom.
One hit, and a prey would be paralyzed in seconds.
Her eyes glowed in the dark. Two golden slits, piercing. Aware.
She knew sothing was prowling.
But she didn’t see yet.
Not yet.
I pressed against the stone, muscles tense.
It was perfect.
A challenge worthy of .
There would be no warm-up.
No introduction.
Only chaos.
A test for , this ti.
I drew my claws.
They vibrated with a deep, almost beastly hum.
Then, without hesitation, I slashed my palms, letting my blood slowly drip over the jagged surface of my weapons.
My blood. Poisoned.
I positioned myself on the ground, like an Olympic runner, clawed fingers brushing the burning rock.
My mind went blank. My na, my mories, my mission... all vanished. Only the predator remained. The one who kills or falls.
I gathered all my power in my legs, muscles taut like bows, then I leapt.
My charge tore through the air.
Faster than a scream.
Faster than the wind itself.
I burst from the shadows, claws forward, a black silhouette rising from darkness...
But the beast reacted before the impact. Her massive, supple tail countered my attack with instinctive, precise motion.
I felt the shock wave in my arms.
Despite the speed.
Despite my newly improved claws.
She had blocked .
But I didn’t flinch.
I bit the inside of my cheek, deeply, and spat a jet of blood into the air. In a split second, I shaped the liquid into a rain of needles, thin, sharp as glass. Fifty red points sliced through the air toward her maw.
The creature flinched, likely shocked by the very nature of the attack, but still, she dodged.
She spun in a leap, supple, powerful.
But I... had already vanished.
A breath, a ripple in the shadow...
And I was there again, appearing in a black flash, claws raised, aiming for her throat.
She parried. Again.
But this ti, I wasn’t alone.
Behind my back, hidden, two blood blades shot forth: One rushed toward her rear leg, the other dived toward her throat at a razor angle.
At the sa mont, I slid my claws along her tail, deflecting it in a fluid motion, closing in...
And I bared my fangs. Aiming for her neck.
Three attacks. Three angles. Three intents.
But this ti...
I saw it.
She wasn’t surprised. Not like I had thought earlier.
She had never been overwheld. She had feigned shock.
And at that precise instant, I understood: This thing could likely perceive attacks one second ahead.
A sixth sense? A skill? Whatever it was.
Her body twisted like a living spiral, at an impossible angle.
She dodged everything.
Then, in a lightning-fast leap, she gained distance, her four paws gouging the rock as she retreated fifteen ters in a single motion.
Our eyes t.
She was sizing up.
And I... I smiled.
And without waiting any longer...
I disappeared.
Again.
I revised my strategy.
Step from the shadows. Strike fast.
Disappear.
Useless.
She read my intentions. One second ahead.
And that was enough.
I felt her desire.
No, her need.
She didn’t want to be hunted.
She wanted a confrontation. Direct. Brutal. No retreat.
Very well.
She would have it.
I reappeared in front of her, no trickery this ti.
Facing her. Head-on.
Muscles taut, gaze locked into hers.
And the fight resud.
But it was no longer a dance.
Nor a tactic.
It was a war between two beasts.
She lunged, maw wide open, fangs gleaming with acidic saliva.
Her whole body vibrated with animal power, every muscle strained to the limit.
Her tail cracked the air like a diamond whip, striking rocks with every motion.
And I...
I answered.
My claws sliced the air, tracing red arcs around .
I parried her strikes with frozen blood blades ford on the fly, breaking the impact just enough to avoid being crushed.
My fangs snapped inches from her throat, my fingers slashed her side.
She struck back instantly.
A duel of speed. Savagery. Will.
The ground beneath us was nothing but a field of dust and shattered stone.
But amid the frenzy, I kept my eye on one thing: The tip of her tail.
I couldn’t let myself get stung.
I knew it.
I felt it.
One mistake. One misstep.
And that venomous barb would drop . Maybe worse.
So I moved just outside her range, sliding, skidding, twisting my footing at the last second.
Each ti she lashed it at , I reshaped a shard of blood to deflect it.
But it was never enough.
She was learning too.
And the fight escalated. Again.
Wilder. Sharper.
Two predators.
Two monsters.
And one of them was going to fall.
She hurt .
Not clumsy strikes.
Clean. Calculated. Precise.
And yet... my blood seeped into her, slowly, with each blow, each impact.
My poison, insidious, tried to slow her reflexes, weaken her breath.
I knew it.
I saw it in the tension of her movents, in the slight buckle of her front leg.
But she held on.
Sharpened.
Aware.
Ready.
And she struck back. Again. Again.
Her paw slashed my shoulder.
Her jaws tore my side.
Her tail, even deflected, grazed my chest so closely the air itself felt like a blade.
Wounds multiplied on my body.
My blood sprayed with every missed dodge, every imperfect parry.
It stained the ground, splattered the rock, drawing a reddish spiral around our duel.
I gritted my teeth.
Every wound burned.
But I didn’t retreat.
She was testing as much as I tested her.
And despite the poison, despite the pain, her eyes never left mine.
It was a primal language, without words.
A dialogue of claws, fangs, and blood.
And at that mont... I understood sothing.
She wasn’t just strong.
She was alive.
Fiercely. Intensely.
And she refused to fall.
So I stopped thinking.
No more plans, no more strategy, no more distance.
Only the fight.
Our bodies clashed, tore, crushed.
Each impact shook the rock, each breath stirred the black dust of the Ashen Heights.
Her claws shredded my sides.
My fangs tore her scaly skin.
The ground cracked beneath us.
She leapt.
I countered.
She spun with her whistling tail.
I twisted, claws forward.
One strike. Another. A third.
We stopped counting.
Our breaths were ragged, cut, dry.
Fatigue no longer existed.
Only fury spoke.
A mont, an opening.
I dove, jaws wide, and I bit.
My jaw closed on her shoulder joint.
Her blood, thick and burning, flooded my tongue.
And I felt the power rise in my veins.
My blood regenerated.
My wounds partially closed.
My stats increased.
Speed. Perception.
I was getting faster.
And I didn’t stop there.
Blood pact.
I offered a part of my own blood in tribute.
A shiver ran down my spine.
My eyes dilated.
The world slowed around .
Every muscle, every nerve, every fiber vibrated with bestial energy.
And I attacked.
I was no longer anything but a red flash in the night.
My claws carved, slashed, tore.
Her blood flew in a rain.
So did mine.
It all blended together.
She struck back, each hit savage, sharp.
Her jaws bit , her paws raked .
But I answered. Faster. Harder.
The ground around us was nothing but a field of craters, gaping crevices, shattered stones.
And blood.
Everywhere.
Hers. Mine.
Thick puddles. Splashes on the walls. Red trails marking each of our movents.
But I only watched one thing: Her tail. The stinger. The needle of death.
I dodged. Evaded. Spun.
But one mistake.
Half a second.
One blink too many.
The stinger hit .
An icy fire. Like my flesh clamped on a burning ice shard.
Right in the side.
Pain struck down.
A cold current climbed up my spine.
My legs gave out.
My breath stopped.
I collapsed to my knees, then face-first, claws buried in the burning earth.
Around ... the apocalypse.
Impacts everywhere.
Chunks of shattered rock.
Gaping holes in the ground.
And blood, blood, blood...
Mine.
The beast approached. Slowly.
Her maw opened slightly, a rough breath escaping.
She was smiling.
She was going to finish .
But she wasn’t looking at the ground.
And I was smiling too.
To bleed is to offer.
To bleed is to trap.
I raised a trembling hand. My fingers barely moved.
And then...
The blood.
All the blood I had spilled.
Rose.
Hundreds of red blades, thin, sharp, trembling like leaves in a storm.
And they fell upon her.
A rain of death.
The creature leapt, tried to dodge, but even she couldn’t foresee and avoid all trajectories at once.
The blades lashed her from all sides.
They tore her fur, slashed her flanks, gashed her neck, pierced her legs.
She scread. A cry of fury, of pain.
She spun, her claws swiping the air, her leaps growing desperate.
And the blades kept coming.
Until silence returned.
Until the blood fell again, like red rain, in silence.
And I... still on the ground.
Broken body.
But still alive.
Ding!
You have defeated [Kzor’k (Huntress) – Level 93]!
Your class [Blood Warrior] has reached Level 88!
I was still there.
Paralyzed.
Breath short, body numb, unable to move... except for a few weak gestures, barely perceptible.
But I knew.
She was there.
She had been for a while.
Lysara.
Silent. Steady. As always.
She, the little student, sidelined while two beasts tore each other apart under the moon.
And it was at that precise mont, while my whole body scread in silence, that the hamr fell.
Speed. Force. Precision.
A flash of tal and stone, aiming directly at my head.
I could only laugh internally.
My face didn’t respond, but my mind was amused.
She had learned well.
She struck at the exact mont she should have.
No rcy. No hesitation. Perfect.
But... I was still there.
And the blood, that sa blood that had fallen from the sky monts earlier, rose again.
In a breath, it ford a shifting shield between my head and the hamr.
Clang.
The impact was absorbed.
The tal didn’t touch .
Lysara didn’t seem surprised.
Not a word.
Not a grimace.
She released the handle...
And in the sa movent, stretched her upper body, her arms twisting with that unique suppleness.
Her fist extended, hardened by her skill.
It was no longer a child who struck.
It was a living blade.
A direct hit. Visceral.
But I was already forcing my body to roll, using the blood beneath my back as leverage, liquefying it, then solidifying just enough to push myself out of the trajectory.
The blow passed close.
Very close.
I breathed hard. Slowly.
And in the sa mont, I made the blood even more fluid, like a living sea.
A red tentacle surged, grabbing her leg.
Like a rabbit caught in a trap.
She found herself suspended, arm still extended, her expression neutral, almost absurd in that pose.
I left her there. A few seconds.
Not long.
Just enough to mark the lesson.
Then, slowly, I set her down, gently, as if laying down a well-sheathed blade.
I stayed a mont lying on my back, gaze lost in the burning stars.
She was truly gifted.
I ant it sincerely.
And for the first ti since the beginning...
I wasn’t sure I was the only monster in this story.
And that certainty, as frightening as it was beautiful, made smile. Because deep down... maybe that’s what I had always wanted. Not to be alone. Even in horror.
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