Ryan studied Hank, trying to figure out how to bring up the topic of the Lumin Cores. He cleared his throat and tentatively asked, "So, these Lumin Cor—"
CLANG!
A sharp, metallic ring cut through the night.
The watchman had struck the alarm bell, its urgent peal echoing over the city walls. Every guard turned as one, their gazes snapping toward the darkness beyond the fortifications.
One of them narrowed his eyes, scanning the horizon. "Galebeast's back."
Ryan spun toward the wall's edge, heart pounding. A dark blur was racing toward them, too fast, too fluid. He squinted, struggling to make out its form. A sleek, panther-like silhouette took shape—a Galebeast, its obsidian-scaled body rippling with unnatural speed.
Was it the same one that had attacked him earlier?
The tension on the battlements thickened as the guards swiftly took position. Bows creaked, arrows notched and drawn.
"Loose!"A storm of arrows sliced through the air—only to whistle harmlessly past the creature. The Galebeast surged forward, moving like liquid shadow, twisting mid-stride to evade every shot. Too fast.
The guards' expressions hardened into tense grimaces, their arrows flying in rapid succession—a stark contrast to their relaxed demeanor when facing the Crimson Lizards just moments before.
The Galebeast surged forward, its powerful hind legs propelling it to the base of the wall in a single bound. Razor-sharp claws found perfect purchase between the stonework, sending fragments of mortar scattering as it began scaling the vertical surface with terrifying ease. What should have been an impossible climb became effortless - the sheer wall might as well have been level ground to this predator.
The Galebeast scaled the wall with terrifying speed. Guards leaned over the battlements, bows drawn taut—yet arrow after arrow whistled past the streaking shadow. Every shot, no matter how perfectly aimed or fiercely loosed, failed to find purchase in that blur of obsidian scales.
"Damn it!" A guard hurled his bow aside and drew a longsword. Steel gleamed cold in the torchlight as others followed suit.
The Galebeast flowed onto the parapet like damned smoke, moonlight slithering across its obsidian scales to catch the cunning, wrong glint in its eyes. This was no natural creature—but a living shadowblade, every movement humming with lethal precision.
Every pair of eyes on the battlements locked onto the Galebeast, hearts pounding in unison. The air was taut as a drawn bowstring, the promise of a brutal clash hanging thick over the stone walls.
The guards struck first—a flurry of steel arcing through the torchlight as longswords came slashing toward the Galebeast from all directions.
Blades flashed, cold and sharp—but the Galebeast was faster. It twisted mid-leap, contorting with inhuman agility, and every strike missed its mark.
Blades shrieked against stone, each missed strike spraying chips of masonry into the night.
The Galebeast launched itself through the air—one moment a coiled shadow, the next a whirlwind of obsidian claws behind the guard's exposed back. The man had barely registered the rush of displaced air before those talons struck like siege weapons, slamming him face-first into the stone with bone-jarring force.
Another lunged from the flank—only to be sent sprawling by the brute force of its whipping tail.
Two men down in as many breaths, their blood already seeping between the cobbles.
The remaining guards lashed out in frantic desperation, their swords carving wild arcs through the air.
Yet the Galebeast wove between the flashing steel like a phantom, untouched and unrelenting.
Its fangs glinted in the torchlight, its claws raking the air, seeking flesh.
What had begun as an ordered defense collapsed into pure chaos: sweat-slicked faces twisted in terror, the air thick with the stink of blood and fear as swordplay dissolved into a frenzied dance of steel and shadow.
Hank dragged Ryan and Jeb behind a crumbling merlon, putting what little distance they could between themselves and the chaos.
Ryan watched the battle unfold with mounting dread—each savage strike from the Galebeast drove the guards closer to collapse.
The battle was growing worse with every passing second.
Ryan glanced down at his forearm.
[Survive to Return – 00:13:44]
A wave of despair crashed over him.
Thirteen fucking minutes.
That was all he needed to survive—then he'd be back in the real world.
But as another guard went down screaming, those minutes felt impossibly far away.
Every instinct screamed at him to run—to put as much distance as possible between himself and the battlefield.
Just survive.Just make it throung.