The monstrous buffalo stood there, massive and imposing, its hooves firmly planted in the mist-soaked earth, as if it had been born from the very ground—or worse, as if it were its guardian.
Its ragged breath escaped in slow, powerful bursts, making the surrounding bamboo tremble. A tense silence hung in the air, thick like a rope stretched to its limit.
Maggie didn’t move. She stared at the creature, standing tall, arms ready to strike again despite the shock of their first clash.
Dylan, crouched behind his rock, caught his breath, his gaze fixed on the red veins pulsing softly along the beast’s flanks. That was the spot. That’s where they needed to strike. But first, they had to reach it.
anwhile, Élisa was already slipping around the periter, using the shadows and ruins to reposition herself. She said nothing, but her eyes glead. She was just waiting for the right mont.
The creature slowly turned its head, as if counting them. It didn’t charge. Not yet. It was waiting.
As if this were a ga.
A ga where the first one to attack would have to face the consequences.
All this hesitation was just a test—to see which of them would be bold enough to strike first.
"It knows," Maggie muttered without looking away. "It knows we’re not just passing through."
"It knows we’re here to kill it," Dylan replied, rising slightly, his breath short. "And it doesn’t like that."
At once, a deep growl rumbled from the creature. Not a threat—more like an answer.
Then it struck.
Not with a charge this ti.
But with a swing of its head.
Its horns split the air, slicing clean through two bamboo stalks that shot toward Élisa like javelins. She leaped aside, rolled into the damp moss, and sprang back up, her cheek scratched by a splinter of wood.
"It’s sniping at us now?!" she shouted, half-terrified, half-fascinated.
Maggie frowned, bent low, then lunged—once, twice—
Her axe struck again, this ti lower, aiming for its legs. But the beast pivoted just before impact—the blade bit into its scales without piercing deep.
And it retaliated instantly.
Its hoof slamd into Maggie’s side. A dull thud, followed by a crack. Maggie flew several ters, crashing against a stone slab, the wind knocked out of her.
"Commander!" Dylan roared.
He leaped forward.
But the beast was waiting.
Its tail—a bony mass studded with spikes—shot from the mist and slamd into Dylan’s chest. He tumbled into the mud, his machete skidding away. His breath was ripped from him, as if the earth itself had swallowed it.
He tried to rise. Planting one hand in the wet soil, then the other. His chest scread in pain, several spikes piercing him—but none had hit anything vital.
Yet the buffalo slowly turned toward him. Without rushing. Almost lazily. As if Dylan were an obstacle it had already neutralized.
It was going to finish the job.
And in that mont, Dylan understood—if he stayed there, if he waited for an opening, for help, for a miracle... he would die.
So he stood back up.
Not entirely straight—he couldn’t manage that yet—but still upright. He lifted his eyes in that brief mont.
And his gaze locked with the creature’s.
He saw no hatred there.
Only weight. Brutal force. A will imbued with savage intelligence.
The beast was an abomination, a mistake of the world. Its two red orbs fixed on Dylan with that sa lazy gleam.
And Dylan gritted his teeth.
"You’re underestimating , bastard."
Normally, Dylan would have liked being underestimated—an opponent who underestimated another was dood to fail. But with this other will inside him, the one that thrilled at the sight of blood, he felt insulted.
Especially because the beast was right—why fear an enemy who could no longer even wound it?
Dylan clenched his jaw harder.
The taste of iron filled his mouth. His vision wavered. But he had no choice now. If he fell here, he fell alone. And there would be no second chance.
At the sa mont, Élisa appeared behind the creature. Wielding her twin daggers, she struck twice, precisely at the joints. Then she slid beneath its belly, dodging a hoof-strike that nearly crushed her.
The monster roared at last.
A true roar this ti. Brutal. Visceral. It made the ground tremble.
And Maggie, on her side, was getting back up.
Blood ran from her temple. Her breath was ragged. But her hands... still gripped her axe.
She stepped forward slowly. And shouted, her eyes burning:
"We take it down together. Now!"
Dylan grabbed his machete.
And ran.
The ground shook beneath their steps.
Dylan sprinted, machete raised, teeth clenched. His breath scorched his throat. He wasn’t waiting for an opening—the beast was too cunning to give one.
So he would make one.
Élisa was already darting from side to side, her daggers glinting in the mist. She struck, dodged, taunted the beast like a serpent provoking a giant.
But how much did it take for a giant to get annoyed enough to finally crush the snake under its heavy hooves?
Not much, apparently...
And then there was Maggie... Maggie charged head-on.
Like she always did.
She didn’t slow down. She scread, axe in hand, and struck with full force, driven by muscle and fury.
The axe hit.
This ti, it didn’t slide. It bit deep—though the blade was stopped by bone.
A dull impact rang out, followed by a distorted shriek from the creature.
It took a single step back.
But that was enough.
Dylan finally lunged, ducked under a raised hoof, and drove his machete into the wound Maggie had opened. The tal sank in with a wet sound, widening the gash.
The beast roared in anger—a raw, almost pained sound. Its tallic voice seed to shatter the air.
And its tail lashed out.
But Élisa had anticipated it.
She jumped, twisted midair, landed on the creature’s back, and drove her blade into its neck.
But the beast reared. Its entire spine bristled, hurling Élisa backward. She rolled violently into the mud, her ribs taking the brunt of the fall.
Maggie tried to press the attack, but this ti, the buffalo struck first. Its head slamd into the ground, a shockwave splitting the stone and hurling her back several ters. She landed hard, arms splayed, breath gone.
Dylan was the only one left standing.
The monster turned its red eyes on him, brighter now. As if it were warming up. As if it were starting to enjoy this.
Dylan snarled. His hand was bloody. His machete barely stayed in his grip.
"Still not enough for you, huh..."
He ran like he had nothing left to lose.
He scread like he was tearing his own throat apart.
And struck again.
The blade sliced into its flank with a wet hiss—but not deep enough. Still, it was enough to anger it. The beast retaliated, sweeping its horns through the air. Dylan barely dodged, but his leg betrayed him. He stumbled.
The tail shot toward him.
But this ti, it didn’t hit.
A stone? A dagger? It was hard to tell—but sothing streaked through the air at high speed, striking the base of the tail just in ti.
It was clearly Élisa’s doing—the golden-eyed elf was back.
And Maggie, too, was rising again.
Blood covered her face, but her axe still glead in her hand.
"One more ti!" she roared.
They struck together.
Dylan from the right. Maggie head-on. Élisa from above, leaping off a broken pillar.
Three strikes. Three angles.
Three wills.
For the first ti, the beast stepped back.
Not out of strategy—but out of pain, so sharp that it struggled to react under their relentless assault.
And it growled. But this ti, the sound was deeper, as if pain, rage, and irritation had fused into a single outburst.
Like a promise.
A threat.
It crouched low. Its four horns grazed the ground. Its back arched. Its hide cracked.
And then... sothing changed.
The red veins pulsed harder.
Faster.
As if the beast... was unleashing itself.
As if the real fight was only beginning now.
Dylan felt his heart clench.
And murmured:
"We pissed it off."
They had pissed it off.
And that was good.
Because from the start, they hadn’t just been trying to kill it. All three of them knew none of them could take it down in this state... They had tried, but in the end, they had been guiding it.
Step by step.
Blow by blow.
Like luring a colossus into a trapped arena.
They hadn’t moved randomly. Every dodged charge, every attack angle, every tactical retreat... had pushed it in a precise direction. And now, the creature stood exactly where they wanted it.
Right there.
At the center of what they had prepared.
Élisa slipped through the mist toward one of the ancient stone pillars. Discreet. Cracked at its base. And yet... connected by an almost invisible line to two other steles arranged in a triangle.
The ground seed stable.
But beneath... it was hollow. Fragile. Weakened by moisture, by the roots they had cut with their blades. They had even dampened the earth further, hours before, so that at the right mont...
It would collapse.
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