The following week was marked by a succession of battles and constant movement. Every day, the group advanced, fleeing through the forest, setting up makeshift camps where they barely rested. Their days were punctuated by confrontations with new creatures, the Xylorath, which appeared in ever-increasing numbers and variety. Some were as large as bears, others as fast and fierce as giant rodents, but all seemed driven by wild violence.
Their progress only strengthened the group's cohesion. Each of them, though marked by fatigue, knew they were leveling up with each enemy defeated, but it was never enough. One night, after a battle with a fierce bear-like creature, a massive beast with patchy black fur, Janna, exhausted, murmured as she collapsed next to the fire: "We'll never finish, right?"
Romain, always the leader, responded in a tired but determined voice: "We have no choice. As long as we still have energy, we must keep going."
As the days passed, each person found ways to adapt their skills and improve. Marie, the healer of the group, had become an essential figure. Though exhausted, she never stopped offering her care, treating wounds and soothing the pain of everyone. She used homemade remedies, mixing medicinal plants and herbs she found along their path, while focusing on her magical abilities. When an injury was too severe, she concentrated on incantations that eased the pain, regenerating the skin and speeding up the healing process. Her healing powers, though draining for her, grew stronger as the magic became more precise, faster, as if it absorbed the dark energies that ruled the forest.
Lucas, on his side, had remarkably improved his mastery of magic. At first, he struggled to use his powers effectively, his spells being unpredictable and hard to control. But after each battle, each encounter with a Xylorath, he had managed to channel more energy, strengthening the power of his magical bursts. His magic had become smoother, more intense, and he could now create temporary shields or bolts of concentrated energy with much greater precision. This not only allowed him to protect himself but also gave a crucial boost to the others during battles, providing them with tactical advantages.
Jules, the group's archer, had continuously honed his scouting skills. His sense of perception was developing at an impressive, almost supernatural rate. He could now detect the slightest sounds in the forest, spot the faintest movements in the shadows. His accuracy, already formidable, had become even sharper, and he could bring down a creature from an incredible distance, using the terrain to his advantage, blending seamlessly into the natural surroundings of the forest. His ability to anticipate dangers and guide the group without being detected had become essential. During explorations, Jules had become not only a sharpshooter but also the eyes of the group, with his scouting role significantly boosting their effectiveness in every situation.
As for Janna, she had made huge strides in mastering her own body. Each battle made her stronger, more agile. She had learned to exploit every movement with millimetric precision, her strength increasing with each victory. Her reflexes had become faster, her mastery of martial arts more fluid. She now knew how to use her feet and fists with devastating efficiency, managing to block attacks while striking with increased power. Her daily training and combat experiences had forged a formidable fighter, and her progress seemed endless.
As for Romain, he had taken his defense to an unparalleled level. His shield, although still slightly deformed from the first battle, had become an extension of himself. His mastery of the shield had been perfected, and he now knew how to block, parry, and even deflect blows with impressive force. The sword, though secondary to his shield, was no less formidable. He had learned to alternate between defense and attack with a fluidity that made his movements almost inaccessible to the enemy. He was a wall, and no one passed without paying with their life. Romain was no longer just a warrior; he was a protector of his group, his ability to anticipate and react in combat now unmatched.
As for me, my skills in stealth and precision had evolved as I grew accustomed to combat. I had learned to melt into the shadows, using the environment to my advantage to disappear at the perfect moment. My strike timings were now surgically precise, hitting where the enemy never expected. I no longer left room for the unpredictable, each attack designed to be fatal or at least decisive. I had perfected the art of striking quickly and effectively before disappearing back into the shadows. This strategy of silent, yet devastating strikes had become one of my specialties, and one of the group's most valuable assets.
As for Leonard, he had forged a new identity as a fighter, overcoming the loss of his arm with impressive determination. From the first days when he was forced to adapt his combat style, he had invested all his stats into strength, focusing on improving his physical power. He had no other choice: his two-handed sword, heavy and demanding, required colossal strength to be wielded effectively with only one arm. Every stat point earned was another step towards mastering a fighting style that, for many, seemed impossible.
Thus, each of us, in our own way, had become stronger and a major asset to the group's survival. The successive battles had forged our bodies and minds, but it was primarily the complementarity of our talents that had allowed this group to endure and survive in the face of the horror surrounding us. We were much more than simple survivors: we were fighters, united by the need to support each other and continuously push our limits.
No beast we had encountered that week had been on par with the first creature we had faced. That horror, that misshapen chimera, that unbearable monstrosity. Nothing, not the bears, not the giant rodents, not even the other creatures we had battled, came close to what it represented. It was far beyond, an aberration born of twisted magic or nature, and everything we had encountered afterward seemed pale in comparison. It was a nightmare creature, a being of such cruelty that we were still shaken, even after an entire week of battles.
But paradoxically, we were glad about it. Its defeat, as traumatic as it was, left us with a strange sense of relief. It had become evident that this first encounter was the exception, not the norm. It was perhaps due to its species rank, a "evolved" form in an abominable sense, or its superior level that placed it well above anything we could imagine. No other beast we had encountered had exceeded level 8, and none had shown the same complexity or danger. It seemed that this creature was an anomaly, a unique monster among simpler, more primitive beasts.
We had faced a multitude of creatures as we progressed, but none had pushed us to the limit like this monster. It seemed that, despite the harshness of our battles, the true threat was behind us, and with each new encounter, we could breathe a little easier. The forest seemed more... survivable. We hadn't fully understood what awaited us yet, but for now, the strange presence of this first monster seemed to have been a peak, a summit of terror that we had to overcome in order to hope for some peace.
The only thing that wasn't right for me was my sleep. The nights had become trials in themselves, marked by incessant auditory hallucinations, sounds I couldn't separate from reality. My traumas, my fears, everything mixed together in a whirlwind of anxiety that suffocated me. Every strange noise, every crack in the forest, every gust of wind seemed to become a call to terror, plunging me into states of extreme vigilance.
I lived in a constant state of depression, an emptiness into which I allowed myself to be engulfed, like a shipwrecked soul swept away by the sea. Life itself seemed so distant, as if I were nothing but a shadow among others. I no longer lived except to survive. This wasn't life anymore; it was a race. I contented myself with killing and eating, filling this constant emptiness, this inner abyss that deepened with each new battle. Every action became mechanical, a routine imposed by necessity, a reflex to hold on a little longer. I had no other goal than survival in this twisted world. The moments of calm, of respite, seemed almost unreal, like glimpses of another world I could no longer touch.
It wasn't just this time, this madness, this devastated world that had plunged me into this state. No, it had all started long before the horror struck, long before this world became a battlefield. For years already, I had lived in this state of lethargy, in an existence defined by survival rather than life. The anxiety, the hallucinations… it was already my reality before everything changed. This feeling of always being on the edge, this emptiness that grew a little deeper every day, this constant inner struggle, it had all started long before the forest, the creatures, and the battles became my reality.
When I thought back to what I had lived through, I realized that my life had always been about survival, a simple succession of days where I only breathed, faced the day, and kept moving without ever truly living. The situation had only amplified what I had always felt deep down, the feeling of not existing, of not really being here. The violence and fear were just natural extensions of that emptiness within me. It was as though I had always been prepared for this hell, even before it arrived.