Lior hated what he felt.
He was nothing more than dead weight, tossed around in his brother's shadow like a useless sack of flesh. His battered body no longer responded properly, and his mind was sinking into a sea of fear and helplessness. No ground beneath his feet. No clear sounds. Not even a whisper from the system.
Telluric Condition was silent.
Blind. Deaf. Trapped. He was in absolute darkness, cut off from everything that made him a fighter. Dean was sprinting at full speed, guided by his Night Vision, and all Lior could sense was the wind lashing his face and the cold arms of the shadow carrying him.
And that smell… that putrid, metallic, acidic stench. It wasn't from the forest. It was something alive… something rotting.
Dean clenched his teeth. He didn't need confirmation of what he was seeing. Dozens of creatures, each more deformed than the last, were chasing them. Some ran on two legs, others crawled, but they all had one thing in common: gaping maws, yellow fangs dripping with saliva, and claws capable of shredding tree trunks like paper.
They were starving. And they wanted to eat them alive.
A silhouette leapt over Dean, landing hard behind him, barely missing his spine. He dodged at the last second, plunged into a crevice between two rocks, and hurled himself into a natural pit. The place was narrow, dark, and damp, but he had no choice.
As soon as he touched the ground, Dean released Lior from the shadow's grip and gently set him against the cold stone.
Silence reigned for a moment. Then…
> [Passive Skill – Telluric Condition: Activated]
Lior froze.
Suddenly, it all came rushing back. He felt. He sensed the ground… shifting. Vibrating. Dozens of clawed feet scraping the dirt, pounding the stone, scaling the walls. The weight… the mass… the frenzy.
Then his system, at last, spoke:
> [Special Quest: ABSOLUTE SURVIVAL]
Objective: Survive the horde until dawn.
Time remaining: 3h45min.
Reward: ??? / Failure: Certain death.
Lior felt his breath catch in his throat.
He slowly turned his head toward Dean, his neck stiff with a primal fear. A fear he had never known this deeply. Not even against the previous monster.
Dean stared into the void, sweat dripping from his face, his violet eyes glowing with the floating numbers of the interface.
He read them aloud in a broken voice:
— "…Three hours… forty-five minutes…"
His voice trembled slightly.
Lior took a deep breath, but the air that filled his lungs was cold, foul, unbreathable. He shook. His entire body responded to the panic. His fingers clenched against the rock. His heart raced. He wanted to scream. To cry. To vanish.
But he didn't have that luxury.
He placed his palms on the ground, reactivating his skill to track the movements. He sensed the beasts climbing, crawling, closing in on the pit. One brushed against the wall, and Lior felt its claws scrape the rock, leaving behind a sticky, warm, almost organic trail.
They were surrounded.
One of the creatures let out a scream. Not a simple howl… a death rattle. As if something dead was trying to speak through a rotten throat. Then another answered. Then a third. A chorus of agony.
— "Dean…" Lior whispered, barely audible. "They're everywhere…"
Dean straightened up, gripping his sword tightly. He stepped closer to Lior, his expression grave.
And in a whisper:
— "We're not dying here."
But even he didn't fully believe it.
A crash echoed.
A guttural, animal roar. The ground shook. Something had landed at the entrance of the pit. A huge mass. A creature. Bigger. Different.
> [System Alert – Alpha Werewolf detected]
Dean instinctively stepped back.
The thing broke through the stone wall with a single strike, ramming its paw inside. A clawed hand the size of a human head. The rock split, cracked. The beast growled, a deep, funeral-like warning.
It wouldn't wait until dawn.
Lior, terrified, felt his stomach twist. His hands were clammy. He prayed silently for the night to end. But he knew... the true trial had only just begun.