Kael and Ethan froze for a split second—their instincts screamed danger. The howl had come from the direction of their cave.
Their hideout had been discovered.
That meant Zarek and Grace might've been ambushed.
And worse, the howl wouldn't go unheard. Any nearby beasts—or even humans—would be drawn to it.
Ethan bolted ahead, his speed almost supernatural. In contrast, Kael was already pushing himself to the limit, yet Ethan's figure continued to shrink in the distance. The stream they had followed earlier had taken nearly twenty minutes to walk—now they had to sprint the entire way back.
Kael's breaths came in sharp gasps as he struggled to close the distance, but something tugged at his attention—footfalls, not his own, echoing alongside him.
He turned his head just slightly, and in the corner of his eye, a shadow flickered.
Then it came into focus.
A beast—fox like at first glance, but wrong in all the ways that mattered. Its sleek, deep crimson fur blended into a white undercoat that shimmered faintly beneath the canopy light. It had a smaller snout than a normal fox, and jagged teeth jutted from its mouth even while closed, glinting like tiny blades.
But the most jarring thing was its size. It stood nearly as tall as Kael, despite being on all fours.
And it had no tail.
Even with its unnatural proportions, the creature ran at a strangely measured pace, almost lazy—but Kael could feel the intent behind it. It was toying with him.
His senses sharpened instantly. If Zarek and Grace were under attack, Ethan would have no choice but to fight whatever threat had found them. If Kael led this creature back to them, it would only compound the danger.
No—this thing couldn't be allowed to follow.
But facing it alone? That was suicide.
He wasn't even strong enough to take on the rabid dogs they had fought before. This... thing was on a completely different level.
Worse, it had already locked onto him. Its pace quickened, and the distance between them began to shrink.
Panic bloomed in his chest. Every step pounded into the earth like a drumbeat of urgency.
And then—he remembered something.
A moment from their earlier travels: the ruin at the center of the four great trees had seemed... closer than before. Subtly, unnaturally close.
None of them had mentioned it out loud, but it had lingered in Kael's mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch.
The forest played tricks on them. Time bent strangely here. And more than once, Kael had felt as if his memories were just out of reach—as if there were things he should know but couldn't grasp.
Now wasn't the time to dwell on it—but the thought gave him an idea.
His lungs burned, legs screaming for rest, but he pushed harder. Then his eyes locked onto a vine hanging from a thick, mossy branch.
Without hesitation, Kael leapt.
His hand latched onto the vine, and it groaned under his weight and momentum. His feet lifted off the ground entirely, and he swung forward, the motion launching him onto a lower branch with a thud.
Just as he was about to recover, the beast surged forward.
It was only meters behind.
Kael didn't hesitate. Instead of fleeing, he twisted mid-swing, feet finding the branch above—and launched himself into a roll that vaulted him clean over the beast's path.
The fox-beast tracked him mid-air, blood-red eyes gleaming with feral intent.
But it was too late.
It couldn't change course fast enough—and it slammed full-force into the tree Kael had just swung from.
The impact sent it tumbling. It rolled across the forest floor before it snarled and scrambled back to its feet, furious and disoriented.
Its gaze swept the surroundings, but Kael was already gone—his body a blur weaving through the trees, his feet barely touching the ground.
He could feel his ankles straining with every explosive push off the earth. The forest blurred around him.
He wasn't going to stop—not until he reached the ruins.
***
Thud.
Zarek slammed against a tree, the bark splintering from the force of impact as he raised his round shield just in time to block a crushing blow meant for Grace. The shield held—barely—but the shockwave rattled through his entire frame. The tree trembled behind him. The pain blooming in his back was sharp and immediate.
He dropped to one knee, teeth clenched, breath ragged.
He wasn't sure how many more hits like that he could take.
Grace rushed to his side, helping him steady himself. Her arms were scraped, bruises littered her skin, and sweat streaked down her dirt-smudged face. Despite it all, she moved quickly, urgently—there wasn't time to rest.
The ambush had been sudden. They hadn't made it far from the cave when the beast descended on them from the treeline—massive, silent, and fast. If Zarek hadn't intercepted that first strike, Grace might already be dead.
"Ugh… how long can you hold out?" Zarek asked, trying to push himself upright, gritting his teeth against the searing pain.
Grace met his eyes with concern but said nothing—her breath was too short to answer. Instead, she turned her gaze to the enemy stalking toward them.
It was monstrous.
A towering creature with the head of a snarling coyote and the body of a gorilla, rippling with raw, unnatural muscle. It loomed over them, easily twice their size, with arms as thick as tree trunks. Black, matted fur clung to its frame, and ropes of drool hung from its jagged maw. A dagger was embedded in its thick neck, and dark blood oozed from a cluster of stab wounds—but it barely seemed to notice.
Zarek's pulse thundered in his ears. This was no ordinary animal. It wasn't just powerful—it was relentless.
He tightened the strap of his shield with a practiced motion and drew his short sword with the other hand. Grace had been the one dealing most of the wounds, darting in and out while he took the brunt of the beast's wrath. Despite the chaos, they had moved with surprising synergy—for their first fight together, they worked like a unit.
"I'll distract it," Zarek said, eyes locked on the beast. "Go for the neck."
Grace nodded once, silent but determined.
Zarek's muscles burned, but he also felt something else—a strange clarity, an edge. Just like Kael, he had noticed the changes in his body over the past few days. He was faster. Stronger. A shield that once took both Kael's hands was now strapped to one of his with ease.
But there was no time to reflect.
The beast charged again.
Zarek surged forward to meet it. Every second stretched. His heartbeat slowed. His senses sharpened.
As the monster reared back and twisted its massive torso to deliver a punch, Zarek dove low, bringing his shield downward to catch himself against the forest floor. The fist tore through the air just above him, the force of it warping the wind.
The beast stumbled, overcommitting to the strike and losing balance for just a breath.
Zarek didn't waste it.
He sprang up and rammed his short sword into the creature's arm. Blood spurted as the blade sank in. Again. And again. Zarek drove the weapon into muscle and tendon, every strike desperate and furious.
At the same time, Grace moved—silent as a whisper and fast as lightning.
While the creature thrashed in pain, she dashed behind it, grabbed a fistful of thick fur, and climbed swiftly onto its back. She scrambled up to its shoulders, inching closer to the dagger still lodged in its neck.
The beast roared, bucking and twisting, but Zarek drew its focus again—his shield slamming into its ribs, drawing another bellow of rage. He didn't let up, battering it with controlled strikes and taunts, keeping its attention locked on him.
They moved like a deadly machine—one attacked, the other slipped through its defenses.
But the monster's stamina was terrifying.
Despite the bleeding wounds and the dagger jutting from its neck, it refused to falter. Its vitality was monstrous, its pain tolerance inhuman. Every strike barely slowed it down. It wasn't just strength—it was endurance that turned it into a nightmare.
Zarek's muscles screamed, his breath burned in his lungs. Grace clung tightly to the beast, trying to reach the dagger and drive it deeper.
But the clock was ticking. They wouldn't last forever.
And the monster wasn't done yet.
The beast roared—its breath hot and foul—and raised its massive fist skyward.
Then it brought it down like a sledgehammer aimed at Zarek's skull.
Zarek didn't try to dodge. He couldn't. His body was already screaming from the last exchange. Instead, he braced himself—both hands locking onto his shield, lifting it just in time above his head.
Boom!
The impact echoed through the clearing like a thunderclap. Zarek's knees nearly buckled. Cracks webbed beneath his feet as the sheer force of the blow pressed down on him like a collapsing mountain. His arms trembled, his bones creaked, and his jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might break.
"Aaargh!!" he roared, every muscle in his body igniting with pain.
Blood welled in his throat, the copper taste sharp on his tongue. His vision blurred, his limbs screamed—but still, he held.
Above him, Grace had climbed the beast's shoulders, clinging with one arm while the other grasped the dagger still lodged in its thick neck.
She didn't pull it out.
Instead, she ripped it sideways with a guttural cry, carving a brutal gash across the beast's throat. Blood erupted from the wound, a high-pressure spray of crimson mist soaking her and the forest floor.
But the beast didn't fall.
It snarled in rage, unfazed by the gaping wound. Its thick hand reached up and snatched Grace mid-strike, flinging her into the air like a rag doll.
Zarek barely had time to register what was happening when the beast's other arm swung toward him.
But he was ready.
Fueled by instinct and desperation, Zarek rolled under the swipe just in time, the wind of it brushing his back. He tumbled across the dirt, spotted his discarded short sword, and lunged for it.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt—
—and then blood exploded from his mouth.
His momentum faltered. His knees hit the ground. The strength drained from his limbs all at once as his body finally caught up with the punishment it had endured. Every muscle spasmed in protest, every breath felt like fire in his lungs.
'Damn… it.' Zarek thought as he looked up—his vision swimming—to see Grace's flailing form suspended above the beast's open maw.
His consciousness slipped. The world tilted.
And then—
Whsshk!
A short sword cut through the air with surgical precision and slammed into the beast's skull. The blade didn't just pierce—it shattered bone and lodged deep into its cranium with a sickening crunch.
The monster froze.
Its limbs twitched once.
Then it collapsed like a felled tree, slamming into the ground as cranial fluid leaked from the grotesque wound in its skull.
Zarek's lips curled slightly.
'Took them long enough…'
And with that, he let go—falling into unconsciousness.
From the trees, Ethan burst onto the scene like a blur. He didn't pause. Didn't hesitate. With fluid, practiced movement, he launched himself onto the beast's hunched back, then leapt again into the air.
At the apex of his jump, he caught Grace mid-fall—her body bloodied and limp in his arms.
He landed hard, cushioning the impact with his legs before setting her gently on her feet.
"Stay close behind me," he said, voice cool, but firm.
Grace didn't argue. She nodded, breath ragged but determined. Her injuries were mostly surface-level—bruises, scrapes, and exhaustion—but she could still move.
She sprinted back to the fallen beast, kneeling to retrieve her dagger and Zarek's short sword.
The creature no longer looked monstrous. With its skull cracked open and body twitching in death, it seemed far less godlike. Far less indestructible.
Just flesh and blood.
Weapons in hand, Grace turned and rushed toward Zarek's crumpled form.
Ethan dropped to his knees beside Zarek, gritting his teeth as his hands worked quickly over the broken man's body. Bruises darkened nearly every inch of skin, and under his fingers, he could feel bones unnaturally shifted—fractures, maybe breaks. But it was the internal damage that truly worried him.
His gut twisted. The kind of trauma Zarek had taken wasn't just brutal—it was final.
Even if he got him to shelter, even if they fed him and cleaned his wounds, it wouldn't be enough. No medicine or treatment available to them could undo this. Not in time. Months—years—of healing wouldn't guarantee a return to strength. Zarek had given everything to shield Grace.
And that guilt burned in Ethan's chest like acid.
He glanced at his sister. Grace stood nearby, her face pale, stained with dirt and blood. Her eyes locked on Zarek with a frozen intensity, guilt and helplessness written all over her.
If Zarek hadn't intervened… she wouldn't be standing.
Then Zarek's body jerked violently.
"Zarek—!" Ethan lunged, but stopped short.
His limbs spasmed, eyes rolling back until only the whites showed. Guttural gasps escaped his throat, strange and wet, like something was shifting inside him. His body twitched and arched, writhing in a way that was more animal than human.
Grace rushed to his side, her hands hovering uselessly above him. She wanted to help. She needed to help. But there was nothing she could do.
Her lip quivered as she bit down, hard. Tears welled in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall.
She'd never felt so powerless in her life.
She'd fought her way out of death before. Broken through impossible odds, clawed her way out of traps meant to kill her. But this? Watching someone suffer, unable to do anything? It was unbearable.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, Zarek's convulsions stopped.
The harsh gasps softened into slow, rhythmic breathing. His muscles relaxed. His eyes closed gently, as though he'd simply drifted to sleep.
Ethan stared, barely able to process what he was seeing. Slowly, he reached down again—checking Zarek's ribs, his pulse, the swelling along his side.
His fingers froze.
He checked again.
And again.
It didn't make sense.
The broken ribs were knitting together. The bruising was fading. The gashes across his torso had already begun to scab over—and the most unbelievable part? His bones felt... stronger. The muscle underneath his skin felt denser, tougher. His entire body was quietly rebuilding itself, healing at a pace no normal human should be capable of.
"...What the hell?" Ethan whispered.
Grace leaned over, hope flickering behind her eyes. "Is he—?"
"He's healing," Ethan muttered, stunned. "Fast. Faster than me. Way faster."
His thoughts raced. There was only one explanation for this.
The Will.
It had to be reacting—awakening—or evolving.
He looked to Grace, then back at Zarek's unconscious form, now strangely calm despite the wreckage he'd just endured.
Whatever was happening to him, it had turned a fatal condition into something miraculous.
They couldn't waste this chance.
"Help me get him on my back," Ethan said. Grace didn't hesitate, hoisting one side as Ethan lifted Zarek and slung him over his shoulder with surprising ease. His weight was still there, but somehow… lighter. Like the worst of the burden had already passed.
But as Ethan stood, one lingering question returned to his mind—like a thorn pricking at his sense of control.
Where's Kael?
He scanned the trees. Still no sign. At first, he'd thought Kael was just behind—maybe slowed down or taking another path. But this long? Kael should have arrived by now. Something wasn't right.
His thoughts were cut short by a sound that cleaved through the air.
A shriek.
No, not a sound. A scream of something unnatural. Inhuman. It cut through the forest like a blade made of sound—razor-sharp and bone-deep.
It didn't echo—it resonated, like it was aimed at the soul.
Ethan winced, staggering as a spike of nausea rolled through him. Grace collapsed, clutching her head, blood trickling from her ears and nose. The forest around them fell deathly silent, as though even nature had recoiled from the sound.
Then, just as quickly as it had come, the shriek vanished.
Silence returned. A silence too still.
Ethan bent down and hauled Grace back to her feet.
"Come on," he said, voice cold and clipped. "We're heading back. Now."
She wiped the blood from her face and nodded weakly, following behind him without protest.
He didn't say it aloud, but the thought weighed heavily in his mind.
Kael wasn't safe.
And neither were they.