Knowing that breaching the forest bordering their settlement at night was tantamount to courting death, Co sought out the burly man who led their group.
"Brandon, Mel went into the woods all by himself to look for the old man. We have to go after him right now!"
Brandon was the strongest man in the village. Even if he did not make every decision himself, he never had trouble rallying men to his side, just as he had for this grim endeavor.
"Have you lost your mind? Just because wild beasts haven't attacked the village in a few years doesn't mean you can just forget the past. Nothing in this world could drag me in there!"
Following the large man's lead, the rest of the group backed down one by one.
"The roars of the beasts have been echoing louder than ever lately!"
"Every beast in those woods is at least as strong as a normal martial artist. There's no way simple villagers like us can set foot in there!"
If they intended to throw the ancient man into the forest to die, how could they possibly brave that inferno themselves? The desperate pleas etched across the frantic father's face meant nothing to them now.
"This is all his fault. My son... my little boy is going to die because of him. I'll kill him... I'll kill that filthy old wretch with my own bare hands!"
Consumed by searing agony, Co screamed, out of his mind. Lacking the courage to march into the woodland depths and chase his son, he sought to quench his rage by murdering the defenseless old man.
Storming toward the door to the old man's underground prison, Co, blinded by wrath, snatched a rusted sickle nearby.
Even though Brandon tried to hide it, a smirk lingered on his face—until the earth shook, and his smug expression was instantly replaced by sheer terror. A moment later, a deafening crash echoed from the basement, loud enough for everyone to hear. This was followed by the heavy wooden door flying off its hinges and smashing against the stone wall, leaving Co paralyzed just a few strides away.
Reeling from the shock of seeing the man they had starved and deprived of water for days standing tall before them, the five bewildered men watched in horror as the ancient man practically tore the front door from its frame and stepped out.
While chaos consumed the settlement, an eleven-year-old boy treaded slowly through the forest. Enveloped by the oppressive veil of night, the branches of the ancient trees lashed against one another like swordsmen locked in a duel.
"He must have gone to that valley he was always talking about. I'm going to find him, no matter what. He wouldn't just leave me; they're all lying. Something really bad must have happened to him."
Muttering to himself to ward off the illusions the shadows cast upon his mind, Mel spoke almost unceasingly, merely to drown out the roars of the savage beasts ringing in his ears.
Blissfully unaware of his peril, multiple pairs of piercing gazes had been tailing him for the past half hour—four-legged monstrosities drooling with predatory hunger.
Under normal circumstances, they could have swallowed the frail boy whole in a single bite; yet, as though seeking to confirm something, they settled for merely stalking his shadow. The situation remained unchanged as the boy ventured deeper into the woods; the only difference was that the beasts trailing him had long since surpassed a mere handful.
Finally realizing his predicament, Mel quickened his pace, heading straight for the small cavern his grandfather had shown him as an emergency refuge.
The moment the narrow entrance of the cavern came into view, the boy burst into a desperate sprint. This sudden motion incited the hunting pack, sparking a relentless chase.
The beasts were certain their prey was out of options. Unwilling to let the prize that had fallen into their laps slip away, they surged forward with full force.
Mel was a physically frail child, but the terror of death forced him to draw out every last drop of strength in his body. With each step, his pursuers closed the gap, and now barely fifteen paces remained between him and the cavern's entrance.
"I can't die here! I have to find Grandpa!"
Even in this dire predicament, the little boy did not lose sight of his goal. He simply wanted to survive this nightmare as swiftly as possible and save the ancient man—whom he firmly believed had not abandoned him—from whatever peril he faced.
The beasts, closing in at top speed on all fours, had other intentions. Using the advantage of their powerful bodies, they were now barely a breath away from their target.
BOOM!
In a split second, practically the span of a single breath, Mel managed to throw himself through the cavern entrance. When the ravenous pack right on his heels attempted to follow, a massive shockwave erupted.
A Spirit barrier, manifesting seemingly from the void, completely sealed the entrance—an opening only wide enough for a grown adult to pass through. The beasts that recklessly slammed into it sustained minor injuries at first, but were soon crushed into a bloody pulp by the impact of their own packmates ramming into them from behind.
His heart pounded furiously against his ribs. The death that had just grazed him had not hesitated to ruthlessly repel those who followed. The grotesque crimson smears left on the shield by their pulverized bodies were enough to chill anyone to the bone.
As the boy retreated into the deepest corner of the cavern to observe what would happen next, the savage beasts first sniffed the barrier, then swiped at it a few times with their claws to test its endurance.
The result favored them; they quickly deduced that the obstacle before them was solely a defensive formation. Immediately, the strongest of the pack took their positions for an assault. Strikes began to rain down upon the shield, battered by at most ten beasts clawing at it at any given moment.
Mel's pursuers were vicious monstrosities, with lean torsos perched on four sturdy legs.
Although the massive, jagged fangs in their protruding maws posed a lethal threat to their enemies, their scythe-like claws appeared to be their most dangerous weapons.
With every claw strike descending upon the barrier in a bid to reach the boy inside the tiny cavern, bright sparks scattered into the air.
The wild beasts' assault was relentless, and even as they cycled out when fatigue set in, the shield held its ground. Of course, it was no longer in its pristine state; its radiant golden hue grew a shade duller with every impact.
About half an hour passed like this. While Mel kept his head buried deep between his knees, the onslaught of the beasts fighting to devour him never ceased for a moment.
The more they failed to reach their prey, the more aggressive the beasts became. By now, slaughtering this morsel of a human had transcended mere hunger—it had evolved into a desperate struggle to shatter the very shield that mocked them.
Right at that moment, all the beasts parted to the sides. A bloodcurdling roar echoed from the depths of the dense woods.
The nearly forty beasts that had been taking turns slashing at the barrier were now staring at the ground, bowing their heads as if in reverence. The weaker ones around them had long lost control of their bodies, dropping to their knees in submission.
The newcomer was a beast at least twice the size of the surrounding predators, sporting a radiant crimson coat, a massive torso, and four sturdy legs. It stood taller, more majestic, and far more ferocious than anything else around. It appeared infuriated that the others had forced it to intervene.
Thanks to the shield absorbing the damage, Mel was originally fortunate enough to have a chance at seeing the sunrise, but the arrival of this creature thrust him into a living nightmare.
The crimson beast did not hesitate. It brought a claw three times the size of a normal human hand crashing down upon the barrier, the little boy's final line of defense.
The Crimson-Coated Predator was truly enraged. Holding nothing back, it unleashed its full might against the shield that dared to toy with the pride of its pack.
One strike, then two—soon, fractures began to spiderweb across the faded shield. The pack of predators howled with sadistic glee, while young Mel wept in terror, awaiting his grim fate.
With one final swipe of its claw, the barrier shattered into fragments. Now, with the Crimson-Coated Predator thrusting its massive head into the cavern, nothing stood between the sovereign beast and its prey.
"Please don't let it hurt too much... please don't let it hurt too much!"
This was far too much for an eleven-year-old child to endure. Squeezing his eyes shut, Mel could only pray for a painless death.
It was painfully clear that his wish would not be granted when the pack leader, saliva dripping from its bared fangs, lunged straight for his legs. The Crimson-Coated Predator intended to devour the little boy alive.