Raphael darted through the forest, his breath sharp, muscles burning. The scythe in his hands felt like the only thing keeping him grounded. Behind him, the air tore with the sound of something unnatural tearing through the trees—fast, hungry, closing in.
A roar. A crash. Then a voice.
"Raphael, keep running!"
Stubby. His twin swords flashed as he sprinted forward, eyes wild. Raphael's stomach twisted as he saw the nightmare chasing him—thick, jagged roots bursting from the ground, twisting and snapping like starving beasts.
Stubby leapt, barely dodging as a root speared past his leg. He slashed at another, the blade biting deep, but it kept coming. Raphael's pulse hammered.
No hesitation. He turned and ran, lungs burning, heart pounding.
Ahead, Toru and Gregory stood guard. Gregory, arms crossed, grumbled. "Why the hell are we stuck here? Feels like we're just waiting to—"
"Shut up." Toru's sharp gaze scanned the forest, instincts on fire.
Then—movement.
Toru's eyes locked onto Raphael sprinting through the trees, his grip tight around something.
"It's him!" Toru barked, already moving. "Let's go!"
Gregory barely had time to react before Toru dropped from the branch. He landed in a crouch, eyes locked on Raphael.
"Hey, kid! What's with all the—"
"RUN!" Raphael's voice cut through the air like a blade.
Gregory frowned. "What—"
Then he saw Stubby.
The panic in his eyes. The pure, unfiltered terror.
"RUN!" Stubby's scream was raw, breaking. Behind him, the ground exploded. Roots, thick as limbs, shot up, lashing forward.
Toru froze. The blood drained from his face. "Oh, shit."
Then he bolted.
Gregory hesitated—only for the earth to crack beneath his feet. He barely leapt away as a root snapped up, inches from impaling him.
"Oh, NO!" His scream ripped from his throat, and he ran, lungs straining. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
"You don't wanna die, right? THEN SHUT UP AND RUN!" Stubby's voice shook, breath ragged.
A sickening crack. A body torn apart behind them. Gregory didn't look. He couldn't.
Raphael pushed forward—until a wall of fire exploded in front of him. The heat slammed against his face, forcing him back.
He turned in the other direction, only to see a mage materialize in front of him, blocking his escape.
The mage sneered, eyes gleaming with malice. "Hand over the weapon. There's no point in running."
Raphael's grip tightened around the scythe. The fire behind him roared, but it stayed confined, a trap. Sweat trickled down his face.
Stubby, Gregory, and Toru halted beside him, panting. "We're boxed in," Toru muttered.
A second mage emerged from the shadows, smirking. "Nowhere to go. Give us the scythe, and we'll let you live."
Stubby shifted uneasily. "How about we just talk this out?"
Toru shot him a glare. "That's not working."
The fire mage pointed at Raphael. "Hand it over, boy."
Gregory growled, frustrated. "Just give it to them!"
Toru ignored him. Leaning toward Stubby, he whispered, "Take the fire one. I'll handle the other."
Stubby hesitated. "Never fought a mage before."
"They're weak up close."
"With what weapon?"
"Don't worry."
Toru suddenly shouted, "Raphael, maybe you should just hand it over."
Gregory nodded. "Yeah, you stubborn brat!"
Raphael didn't move. Then, Toru gave the signal. "Now!"
Stubby lunged, swords flashing. Toru scooped up dirt and flung it at the second mage's face. The mage cursed, vines lashing out and smashing Toru into a tree with a sickening crack.
Stubby's blades clashed against the fire mage's barrier, flames roaring. Gregory yelled, "See what you did, kid?!"
Raphael stepped forward, scythe gripped tight. The earth mage smirked. "Hand it over, or your friend dies."
Raphael hesitated, then extended the scythe—before spitting in the mage's face.
The fire mage recoiled. In a blur, Raphael slammed the scythe's blunt end into the earth mage's skull. Blood splattered.
Stubby smirked, but a vine smashed into his chest, launching him into a tree. Gregory, desperate, threw a dagger, only for vines to swat it away. Another strike sent Stubby sprawling.
Raphael leaped—but the ground trembled. Roots shot up, wrapping around him. Midair, a tendril slammed into his ribs. He crashed down, gasping. A sharpened root lunged for him.
Something yanked him back.
Gregory stood in the way, impaled. His body convulsed, then went limp. The root tossed him aside.
Raphael stared. The world blurred, his pulse roaring in his ears.
The earth mage laughed. "Should've just given us the scythe. Your friend died for nothing."
Something snapped.
Raphael's grip on the scythe tightened until his knuckles went white. His breath was ragged, his vision red. The air around him trembled.
Slowly, he rose, muscles taut with fury. His voice, when it came, was guttural, raw, inhuman.
"I'LL KILL YOU."
The mage flinched. Fear twisted his face. "It can't be…"
Raphael took a step forward, his presence suffocating, monstrous. The fire crackled louder, the ground seemed to recoil beneath him.
The mage stammered, voice shaking. "Y-you should be extinct…!"
Raphael was about to strike when the air turned deathly cold. A crushing pressure filled the battlefield, heavier than any pain, more suffocating than drowning. A shadowy figure emerged behind the earth mage, moving like death itself.
The mage's breath hitched. He turned, but before he could react, a blackened hand pierced through his chest. Blood poured from his mouth as his body convulsed, his eyes filled with terror. "N-no—" His words died as his body exploded into a gruesome shower of blood and entrails.
The fire mage's eyes widened in pure horror. His hands trembled as he blasted a desperate wave of fire, sending Stubby crashing into the trees. Then he turned to run.
A deep, bone-chilling laugh echoed through the air.
"Khahahaha… running?" The shadowy figure tilted its head, amusement dripping from its voice. "That's adorable."
The fire mage collapsed to his knees, body trembling beyond control. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His soul felt like it was being crushed, drowning in an abyss of pure terror.
Raphael staggered, his fury momentarily buried under the sheer weight of the being's presence. His heart pounded, but he clenched his fists, refusing to yield.
The figure walked past Raphael, ignoring him as if he were insignificant. It knelt, picking up the scythe from the dirt, its fingers brushing against the dark blade. The cloth fell away, revealing its ethereal, twisted beauty. The air around it darkened.
"You shouldn't be discovered just yet." The figure's voice was calm, yet it sliced deeper than any blade.
Raphael moved to attack, but before he could, a tendril of shadow shot forward, piercing into him. Agony unlike anything he had ever felt exploded through his body. He screamed, his vision blurring as the weight of the figure's presence swallowed him whole. His knees buckled, and darkness consumed him.
Stubby groaned, stumbling from the trees, his body aching from the impact. His heart clenched at the sight of Raphael collapsed on the ground. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move.
The shadowy figure turned its head toward him, smiling.
A smile so unnatural, so filled with something beyond human comprehension, that Stubby's mind whispered a horrifying truth.
Death would be mercy.
"What… what did you do to the kid?" Stubby forced out, his voice weak, barely his own.
The figure chuckled.
"Nothing he won't survive," it mused, its voice almost playful. "Yet."
Then, with a final, echoing laugh—"Khahahaha"—it vanished, the scythe disappearing with it.
Stubby exhaled shakily, barely realizing he had been holding his breath. The crushing weight lifted, but the damage had already been done.
The fire mage was gone. Fled.
Gregory's lifeless body lay in the dirt, his empty eyes staring at nothing.
And Raphael…
Stubby swallowed hard. His hands shook as he knelt beside him, the weight of failure pressing down heavier than the shadow's presence ever had.
The clash of steel rang through the clearing like a death knell. The boss swung his blade with all the force he had left, but his movements were slowing. Blood dripped from the gash in his side, soaking his clothes, but he refused to falter. Zephyr, in contrast, was untouched. He dodged with an ease that bordered on mockery, his sword barely needing to meet the boss's attacks.
Zephyr sidestepped another desperate swing, then drove his fist into the boss's gut. The force sent him staggering back, coughing up blood.
"You're done," Zephyr said, his tone flat. "You can barely stand."
The boss spat blood onto the dirt, eyes burning with defiance. "I… don't care." He wiped his mouth, shifting his stance. "Even if it kills me, I'll cut you down."
Zephyr tilted his head, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes. "Commendable. But foolish."
He moved. The boss barely registered the speed before a boot slammed into his chest, launching him backward. He crashed against a tree, the bark splitting on impact. His vision swam, his grip loosening on his weapon. Zephyr approached, raising his sword.
And then—
Zephyr froze.
His body locked up, his face twisting in something that had never once marred his expression before. His breath caught. His pupils shrank.
No.
No, no, no.
It can't be.
Death himself.
The boss, despite the pain, noticed. He blinked, confused, his heart hammering as he saw Zephyr's entire being recoil at something unseen. The cold, arrogant man—stiff with something dangerously close to fear.
And just as fast as it came, the moment passed. Zephyr exhaled, his body loosening. His mask of control returned, his smirk slipping back into place. He turned to the boss, his voice regaining its unshaken composure.
"It seems my men have failed."
The boss gritted his teeth. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Zephyr's smirk widened. "You've won." He said it like it didn't matter at all. "But not here. Not like this. I've lost interest."
The boss growled, forcing himself to stand. "You're not walking away—"
Zephyr's next words cut into him like a blade.
"Even if my men failed… you won't have time to celebrate." His voice dropped, turning into a whisper that carried more weight than a shout. "Because that beast… it's not done yet."
The boss turned, his breath hitching as the massive form of the minotaur stirred. A beast that should've been dead. A beast that refused to fall.
Zephyr chuckled, his voice laced with dark amusement. "You see? I don't need to kill you myself. You'll be wiped out soon enough."
The boss clenched his fists, seething.
Zephyr stepped toward the minotaur, placing a hand on its thick hide. The beast didn't resist—it obeyed. His eyes flicked back to the boss, the smirk deepening.
"Don't worry," he said, mockingly calm. "If we meet again… try to be stronger. This was boring."
Then, with a snap of his fingers, both Zephyr and the minotaur vanished.
Silence.
The boss stood there, chest rising and falling. His knees buckled, his weapon slipping from his fingers. He clenched his fists against the dirt, shaking with frustration.
The battle was over.
But it didn't feel like a victory.