The air shifted.
One moment, the ruins were eerily silent, the next—a blur of motion and snarling fury.
The corrupted beasts surged forward in unison, their glowing red eyes locked onto us. They moved unnaturally, their limbs twitching, their mouths twisted into something that resembled a snarl—but felt more like a grotesque attempt at a grin.
They were hunting us.
And I would not be their prey.
The First Strike
Time seemed to slow as my instincts roared to life. My grip tightened around my dagger, mana surging through my veins, crackling beneath my skin like fire waiting to be unleashed.
The first beast lunged, a monstrous wolf-like creature, its fur matted with dark ichor, its fangs dripping with something unnatural. I barely had time to dodge as it swiped at me with jagged claws, the air whistling as they narrowly missed my throat.
I pivoted, my movements enhanced by mana, and slashed my dagger upward. The blade met flesh, slicing deep across its chest. But instead of blood, thick black fluid seeped from the wound, sizzling as it hit the ground.
The wolf did not falter.
It should have been dead.
Instead, it twisted its body unnaturally, its head jerking toward me as if it had no bones to limit its movement.
The realization hit me.
These things did not follow the rules of life.
And I had just angered it.
A Battle of Instincts
Before I could react, a second beast barreled into me from the side, knocking the air from my lungs. My body hit the cold stone, and for a moment, my vision blurred. Pain flared in my ribs, but I rolled instinctively, barely avoiding a clawed paw that shattered the stone where I had just been lying.
Too strong. Too fast.
I forced my breathing steady. I couldn't fight these creatures the way I fought my father in training. I couldn't treat them like normal animals or warriors.
They weren't alive in the same way.
Which meant I needed to change my strategy.
I let my mana flow, but this time, instead of reinforcing my limbs, I focused it into my dagger.
A familiar hum vibrated through the blade, a faint blue glow trailing along its edge.
The next time the wolf lunged, I didn't dodge.
I stepped into the attack.
The creature's eyes widened, startled, but it was too late to react. I drove my dagger straight into its throat, twisting the blade and forcing every bit of mana I could into it.
This time, the reaction was different.
The beast let out an inhuman shriek, its body convulsing violently. The black ichor that had once dripped harmlessly began to burn, its veins pulsing with unstable energy.
Then, in a violent shudder, it collapsed.
Gone.
I had found the weakness.
My Father's Fight
A snarl from behind snapped my focus back to reality.
My father stood a few feet away, his movements calculated, precise. He wasn't fighting wildly like I was—he was fighting like a hunter.
Each of his strikes had purpose. A cut to a joint, a slash to an exposed vein, a well-timed dodge that sent his opponent tumbling into its own pack.
He moved like he had done this before.
But even he was struggling.
One of the larger beasts lunged at his blind spot, its massive claws raised for a killing blow.
My body moved before my mind had even fully processed the danger.
I threw my dagger—not at the beast's head, but at its leg.
The blade sank deep, and the creature let out a startled yelp as its balance crumbled beneath it. My father didn't waste the opening. He drove his hunting knife into its skull, pushing mana into the strike.
The beast went still.
A second kill.
We were learning.
The Unnatural Corruption
But the fight wasn't over.
More of them lurked in the shadows of the ruins. Watching. Waiting.
"Something's wrong," I panted, gripping my second dagger. "They aren't attacking all at once."
My father nodded grimly, stepping back so we were side by side. "They're testing us."
I swallowed hard. "Testing us for what?"
He exhaled. "To see if we're worth the effort."
That sent a chill down my spine.
These things—these Aberrations—weren't just mindless monsters. They were thinking.
But before we could react, the ground shifted beneath us.
A new presence emerged from the ruins.
And it was far worse than the beasts we had just fought.
The Horror in the Ruins
From the darkness of the crumbling temple ahead, something massive stirred.
A low, guttural growl resonated through the air, so deep it vibrated in my chest. The smaller beasts fell silent, stepping back as something much larger emerged.
A creature twice the size of the direwolf I had fought before, its body covered in jagged, bony protrusions. Unlike the others, its body was intact—not bloated, not rotting.
It was controlled.
Its glowing crimson eyes locked onto us with something that could only be described as intelligent malice.
It wasn't like the others.
And it was hungry.
A Desperate Gamble
I felt my father shift beside me. "This one is different."
I nodded, gripping my weapon. "We take it together."
He smirked. "Finally learning to listen?"
I didn't answer.
Because the creature moved.
It rushed us with unnatural speed, its claws tearing through the stone as if it were mere sand. My father and I split apart, dodging in opposite directions.
I barely managed to avoid the swipe aimed at me, feeling the rush of wind as it passed dangerously close.
This thing was faster. Stronger. Smarter.
And it was relentless.
I pivoted mid-air, channeling every ounce of mana I had left into my dagger. I had to hit it somewhere vital—but as I moved, the creature anticipated me.
It turned sharply, its massive tail slamming into my ribs with the force of a battering ram.
Pain exploded through my body as I was sent flying.
The Edge of Death
I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. My vision blurred, my limbs refusing to respond.
Move. MOVE!
The beast turned toward me, its fangs bared. It knew I was the weaker target.
A deep growl. A step closer.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't fight.
I was going to die.
Then—
A blur of steel and motion.
My father appeared between us, his hunting knife glowing with mana as he slashed at the creature's throat.
The beast recoiled, hissing in pain—but it wasn't dead.
My father turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Sylas. Get up."
I coughed, my body screaming in protest. "I—"
"Sylas." His voice was firm. "You want to survive? Then get up."
I grit my teeth. He was right.
I forced myself to my feet, the pain still radiating through my ribs, but I didn't let it stop me. My father stood ready, his stance unwavering.
And as the creature growled, preparing to strike again—
We charged together.