We ventured deeper into Jurra Forest, our steps silent against the mossy ground, eyes alert for any trace of the creature we were sent to find. El led the way, calm and focused, while Matthew and I trailed behind her.
Matt picked up his pace, matching El's stride.
"So… what does this monster look like, anyway?" he asked, brushing a branch out of his way.
El turned her head slightly, still walking. "Have you seen a cat?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Triple its size. Make its fangs longer—much longer."
Matt's face twisted. "Definitely not the kind of cat I'd want in my house."
"Exactly," El replied. "Not that kind."
As they continued their banter, something to the west caught my eye. I stopped walking, gaze locked through a break in the trees. "Uh… is it supposed to look like that?"
El and Matt turned toward me just as I pointed.
Beyond the thicket, nestled in a clearing, was a beast hunched over something dead. Its thick fur gleamed under the morning sun—shaggy and pale like a Persian cat, but massive, the size of a small horse. Its claws dug into flesh, fangs tearing into its kill with gruesome efficiency.
It was the Saberfang.
All three of us dropped low, instinctively ducking behind the nearest cover of bush and trunk.
"What's the plan?" I whispered.
"Ambush. Attack. Kill," Matthew said, his voice low but far too eager.
I shot him a look. "No, seriously. We need a plan. Remember what happened last time? We nearly died, if Old Man Tavon hadn't stepped in."
"That was different!" he whispered back. "That was a beast! This is just a lesser monster!"
I raised a brow, unimpressed.
Beside us, El remained silent, eyes fixed on the Saberfang. Then she knelt and picked up a stick, drawing a rough diagram in the dirt. "Leo's right. Rushing in is suicide. Saberfangs don't always hunt alone. Sometimes they move in packs. And even if this one's alone, they're known for their speed."
"So what do you suggest?" I asked.
She dragged the stick through the dirt, sketching a figure in the center, surrounded by what looked like trees—and… was that a fish?
Matt tilted his head. "A fish? What does that have to do with anything?"
A chill ran down my spine as I understood what she meant.
The Saberfang tore another chunk of flesh from its kill, bone cracking between its jaws. Blood dripped from its mouth. Then—snap—a branch cracked behind it.
Its head jerked toward the sound. Eyes locked. Blood still fresh on its fangs.
Leo stood a few meters away, sword in hand.
The Saberfang growled low, a warning rumble, then loosed a roar that shook the air. It didn't pounce—yet. Maybe it thought he would back down.
But Leo didn't come to back down.
He stepped forward, stance ready. And just as he lunged, so did the Saberfang.
It moved like a blur.
The first swipe came fast, a vertical slash of claws. Leo barely managed to shift his weight and bring his sword up in time. Steel met claw with a jarring clang. He was forced to the side, feet skidding in the dirt.
The Saberfang pivoted, swiping again. This time, Leo shifted his grip, holding the hilt with both hands and angling the blade low to deflect. The impact jarred his arms. Pain vibrated up through his shoulders.
But he didn't retreat.
Using the brief moment of imbalance, Leo surged forward and slashed diagonally—clean and fast. The blade met flesh.
The beast reeled, a furious roar bursting from its throat as blood ran down from a gash over its left eye. It staggered back, snarling, blinded on one side.
Leo's pulse pounded in his ears.
'Crap, now it's mad,' he thought. 'Really mad.'
Before he could react, the Saberfang vanished.
Gone from sight.
His heart stopped.
Then—a shadow.
Leo glanced down and saw it—then looked up just in time to raise his blade.
THUMP!
The beast crashed down on him from above. He barely blocked the blow. The force knocked him flat onto his back, the Saberfang's full weight pressing down.
Its claws slammed against his sword, pushing, grinding metal toward his face. One paw pinned his thigh—its claws pierced deep.
Leo groaned through clenched teeth. Blood welled up from the wound.
'Damnation… why did I agree to this?'
Before that happens…
"A bait?" Matthew whispered. "And who's supposed to be the bait?"
His gaze followed El's. She wasn't looking at him.
She was looking right next to him.
I felt both their stares burn into me. "Me?!" I hissed, nearly too loud. I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, praying the Saberfang didn't hear.
"Why me?!"
"Three reasons," El replied calmly, as if she'd already rehearsed this. "First—you're weak."
Ouch.
"Second, in terms of endurance... you're also weak."
"Okay," I muttered. "Are we planning a strategy or just listing my insecurities?"
"But," she added, eyes sharp with intent, "you're fast. And you think faster. Combine that with your speed and agile—"
"That doesn't explain anything!" I whispered. "Both of you are stronger. You have more experience. Why me?"
El stepped closer, her hand resting firmly on my shoulder. "Because we need time, Leo. And you can buy it."
"I don't get it," Matt said, frowning.
"Same," I added, still trying to ignore the cold sweat pooling at my back.
"Remember what I said earlier?" El asked. "Saberfangs don't hunt alone."
We both nodded.
"They're infamous for having the smallest packs among predators," she continued. "Never more than four. Not because they can't have more—but because they don't need more. Four is efficient. Silent. Lethal."
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.
"So, here's the plan. You're going to distract that one"—she pointed at the creature still feasting just beyond the brush—"and Matt and I are going to find and kill its packmates before they can regroup."
"Wait, wait—why not kill this one first and then go for the others?" I protested. "Or scout first and then deal with them together?"
She held my gaze. "Because this one's already separated. It's feeding. If we strike all at once, its pack will hear. Then we're the ones being hunted."
She crouched down, sketching a quick formation in the dirt. "This—what it's eating—it's not just any prey. It's a Blackravenger. Beast type. Probably Hazard rank, judging by the black patterning."
"So the saberfang is Hazard rank too?" Matt asked, squinting at it through the leaves.
"No," El replied, as she dusted off her hands. "It's a Menace—a rank below. But with its pack? They move like a swarm. Fast. Coordinated. Deadly."
She looked back at the mangled corpse behind the beast.
"The fact that it helped bring down a Hazard-class Blackravenger tells us one thing—these things are no joke."
I stared at the mangled corpse behind the Saberfang. My stomach twisted. That meant... it didn't kill that thing alone.
she continued. "And if something strong enough to kill a Blackravenger is with a pack, then fighting them together isn't just reckless—it's suicide."
"And your plan," I said slowly, "is that I go one-on-one with that thing—just to buy you time to hunt the others?"
"Exactly," she nodded.
"the plan," I sighed, "is me being the chew toy."
El offered a smirk. "Only temporarily."
Matt clapped me on the back. "Cheer up. If you die, I promise to say something nice at your funeral."
"Thanks, Matt. That makes me feel so much better."
El straightened, brushing dirt from her hands with a calmness that didn't match the tension in my chest.
"Wait—wait," I called out, just as she and Matt turned to leave. My voice was hushed, but urgent.
"What if the other jumps us while we're all split? You'll be dealing with one, Matt too, while I'll be dodging for my life—"
Her lips curled into a faint, chilling smile.
"Who said I'll only fight one?"