The shuffling grew louder, now accompanied by a wet, unpleasant sound, as if something heavy and sticky were moving among the fallen leaves and earth. My muscles tensed, my hand sweating around the handle of my sword. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling in my hands. We had trained for this, of course. Days and nights of practicing in the courtyard, simulating attacks by nightmarish creatures based on the few reports that reached Lumière and the ancient bestiaries Sciel had managed to decipher. But training in a dusty courtyard didn't compare to the reality lurking in the night.
A shape emerged from the twisted trees. Short, broad, with disproportionately long and thin limbs. The moonlight, though dim, was momentarily reflected in multiple eyes that glowed with a reddish, malevolent light. It was a Ferocious, yes, but different from the more common descriptions. Its skin seemed a mass of rotting bark and flesh, and its body emanated the rancid odor we had noticed upon exiting. Its "luminous points"—the vulnerable areas Maelle had mentioned—glow with a sickening intensity at its joints.
"Fierce wanderer," Gustave whispered, his voice resonating calmly despite the danger. "Remember the strategy. Don't scatter. Maelle, Sciel, stay behind me. Lune, stand ready."
The creature let out a guttural growl and charged at us with surprising speed for its clumsy form. My mind, despite its initial panic, began to process the situation. This wasn't chaotic combat; it was a deadly dance that required precision and timing. I remembered Gustave's lessons: observing the enemy's attack patterns. And my own innate skill: sensing the rhythm, anticipating the exact moment.
The Ferocious lunged first at Gustave, who was at the forefront. With a roar, the Ferocious slashed out with one of its long claws. In that instant, the world seemed to slow down around me. I saw the arc of the attack, the tension in the creature's muscles. My intuition screamed: Now. Gustave, with a fluid movement that belied his heavy armor, raised his shield just in time. Clang! The metallic sound echoed in the night, the force of the impact shaking the air . A perfect parry.
"Its flanks!" Gustave shouted, taking advantage of the creature's brief stun.
Lune, with astonishing speed, already had an arrow nocked to her bow. She released it. The arrow flew true, guided by her expert eye in the darkness, and slammed precisely into one of the Ferocious's luminous points, right into its shoulder. The creature howled in pain, a kind of high-pitched screech that made me flinch.
"My turn!" Maelle wielded a modified heavy tool, a sort of reinforced wrench. She dashed to the Ferocious's opposite flank as it recovered from the impact of Lune's arrow. She wasn't as fast or strong as Gustave, but she was cunning. She aimed for another bright spot on the creature's knee and struck with full force. Crack! The Ferocious staggered, visibly limping.
Sciel, from behind, murmured words in an ancient language, his tome open. He was no frontline warrior, but his knowledge was vital. A faint, bluish aura surrounded Gustave, visible even in the dim light. "Protection," Sciel explained, his voice strained with concentration. "It won't last long."
Now was my moment. The Ferocious One, wounded and furious, was turning clumsily. I sensed the opening, the gap in his defense as he switched targets. I rushed toward him, my sword ready. The Ferocious One saw me and swung his other long claw. My intuition kicked in again, mapping the claw's trajectory. Right, now. I darted to the right at the last instant, the claw passing millimeters from my face. The air moved with it. My evasive movement left me in perfect position. Without losing momentum, my sword moved. Not just a slash, but a quick, fluid series of strikes, my body responding to the internal rhythm guiding me. One, two, three... Aiming for the exposed luminous points on his side and back. (The action of dodging and chaining combos, another gameplay mechanic, is described.)
The creature squealed again, weaker this time. The combination of precise attacks had disoriented it. Gustave took the opportunity to deliver a final powerful blow with his sword against the creature's head. The Ferocious One collapsed with a dull, wet thud, its body inert on the ground.
We stopped, panting, silence returning around us, broken only by our labored breaths. The Feroz's rancid scent grew stronger in the still air. My body trembled slightly with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. The first fight. We'd made it through.
"Good work, team," Gustave said, shelving his sword. There was a newfound respect in his voice, a camaraderie forged in the brief, brutal confrontation.
Maelle cautiously approached the creature's body. "There are... usable parts," she said, her pragmatism intact even after the fight. "Perhaps we can extract something for... well, whatever it's useful for out here."
Sciel examined the Feroz with cautious fascination. "Interesting. The composition of its hide seems resistant to normal decomposition, even with the Painter's mark. We should take note."
Lune remained vigilant, scanning the surroundings. "There could be more nearby. Noise... attracts things."
He was right. The relief of victory was fleeting, quickly replaced by the realization that this was only the beginning. The world outside Lumière wasn't just an empty, dangerous place; it was inhabited by horrors that wouldn't hesitate to attack us. The Belle Époque felt very, very far away.
I looked toward where we knew Lumière was, now invisible in the darkness. We had crossed the threshold. Expedition 33 had truly begun. And the road ahead felt endless and full of shadows. The number 33 still lurked, but now it wasn't the only danger we had to fear. We had survived our first encounter, but how many more awaited us?
With our hearts still pounding but with a new layer of resolve, we prepared to continue. The chapter of our life in Lumière was over. The chapter of Expedition 33 in the fractured lands had just opened its first dangerous page.