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Eli lay sprawled on the grass, one arm behind his head as he lazily bit into a skewer of roasted at.
The juices dripped down his fingers, sizzling slightly as they t the smoldering embers of the fire beside him.
He chewed slowly, watching with mild amusent as Ian squared off against another vermin-rank mana beast.
The creature was a disgusting mix of limbs—its body an off putting blend of matted fur and cracked, chitinous plating. Its six legs moved with eerie coordination, and the two hooked mandibles that protruded from its elongated face clicked together with anticipation.
The glow of its beady, reddish eyes locked onto Ian, sizing him up as food.
Eli exhaled, his golden eyes gleaming in the firelight.
"Rember," he called lazily, flicking a bone into the flas. "For every ti you get hit, it's one more ti you'll have to do this."
Ian rolled his shoulders, gripping his dagger tight. "Hard to forget that," he muttered, his focus unwavering from the beast in front of him.
The creature lunged.
Ian moved.
A blur of claws raked the empty air where he had stood a second ago. He had sidestepped effortlessly, his body already twisting with the motion.
Before the creature could recover, he drove his dagger into its side, feeling the resistance of its flesh give way under the sharp steel.
A shriek tore from the beast's throat, high-pitched and raw. Ian didn't linger—he tore the blade free and retreated in the sa motion, putting distance between them before it could retaliate.
The creature spun, its six legs skittering against the dirt as it tracked his movent. It lunged again, but this ti Ian didn't just dodge—he anticipated.
His eyes caught the subtle shift in its stance, the way its muscles tensed a split second before it moved.
He reacted before it even fully launched itself, ducking under its swipe and retaliating with another precise thrust into its exposed flank.
The beast reeled back, wounded and wary now. Blood—dark and thick—dripped from its wounds. Its breathing was ragged.
Ian felt it now. The difference.
Three days ago, he wouldn't have seen that attack coming. Three days ago, he would have been too slow to avoid it, too sluggish to counter.
But now?
Now, his body responded before his mind even had to command it.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Co on, then."
The vermin shrieked and lunged one last ti.
Ian t it precisely.
He weaved past its desperate swipe, his blade finding its mark one final ti. The dagger plunged into the creature's skull, slipping between the cracks in its carapace.
A violent shudder ran through the beast before its body went limp.
Ian wrenched his dagger free, breathing hard. He wiped the blood from the blade before tossing the corpse into the growing pile of vermin he had slain over the past day.
The sight of it filled him with sothing unfamiliar—pride, maybe.
"Finally," Eli drawled from his spot by the fire. "Now we can move on to—"
He stopped.
Ian frowned, turning toward him.
"What?"
Eli's body had gone completely still.
Ian's confusion deepened, but then—he felt it.
A force. A presence.
It crashed over him like a wave, an oppressing weight that made his knees weak and his breath hitch.
His body froze on instinct, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger, though he knew—knew with absolute certainty—that no weapon he held could do anything against whatever was coming.
And then, from the darkness of the forest, it erged.
The mana beast was far from anything Ian had seen. It dwarfed any of the vermin he had fought.
Its body was thick with sinewy muscle, its hide dark and ridged with jagged, bone-like protrusions. Its eyes burned with unnatural hunger, glowing slits of deep crimson. Saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling as it hit the ground.
Ian could not move.
Not out of fear—no, fear was too small a word for what he felt. This was sothing deeper, sothing instinctive. His soul scread at him to run, but his body would not obey.
Fight it?
What a joke. That wasn't an option.
Run?
Futile. This thing—whatever it was—could end his life in a heartbeat.
This was death.
This was the mont where his life should have ended.
And then, it happened.
One mont, the beast stood there, hunger dripping from its every breath. The next, its head was gone.
Ian didn't see the strike. Didn't even see the movent.
One second, the creature was whole, and the next, its severed head hit the forest floor with a heavy, wet thud.
And standing beside it—sword drawn, expression unreadable—was Eli.
Ian's breath caught in his throat.
Eli exhaled, flicking the blood from his blade. His golden eyes, usually filled with amusent or apathy, were sharp now. Focused.
"This shouldn't be here," he muttered.
Ian swallowed, his heart still hamring in his chest.
Eli wasn't just confused.
He was worried.
And that scared Ian more than anything else.
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