Branches whipped past them. The scent of blood-stirred earth and torn bark thickened in the air. Oliver's hand tightened around the hilt—his jade blade pulsed once, a faint golden thread trailing into the soil, pulled taut by a massive force moving underground.
The thread jerked suddenly. "It's coming back up," he muttered, wrapping the thread around the blade's edge. His free hand grabbed the Qi filament, pulling with all his strength.
"There!" Luna hissed.
The underbrush exploded.
A guttural roar ripped through the clearing as the bear burst into view—a great beast cloaked in spiritual fur, thick as armor, its maw caked with soil and the scent of meat.
Its eyes locked onto them—one brutally slashed, the other crackling with residual Qi. It bit down on the golden string looped around its forearm. When it failed to tear it off, it turned and charged.
"Imagine a sword and cut into it!" Oliver shouted—for the tenth time—at the busty deer-girl he rode astride, his hands locked tight around her waist, anchoring the bear with the thread while she kept sprinting toward the impact.
"Die!!!" Luna screamed, swinging both arms at the bear's charging skull. The beast reared back, claws slashing toward her face. Only then did she realize meeting it head-on might've been a terrible idea.
Oliver grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back just in time. "You forgot to cut into it," he snapped, slashing the space before her. The bear flinched. He jerked her head to the left again—just as its claws swept by, narrowly missing.
The bear roared, a knot balling in its throat—Qi condensing.
Before it could release whatever it had built up, a string of Qi lashed around its neck and limbs.
"Imagine a sword—and cut into it!!" Oliver yelled again, leaning back and pulling the threads taut.
Luna shifted her stance into a heavy thrust. She imagined one of his blades between her palms and drove it into the beast's chest. "…It's not working," she gasped, burying her imaginary sword into its heart.
"Then back off and try again—!"
Snap!
The golden thread around its left arm broke, overwhelmed by raw earth Qi. Luna backed off instinctively. The bear growled low, grabbed the remaining thread around its arm, and tore it loose with a snarl.
Unbound, it charged.
Luna sidestepped and slashed at its face.
Clink!
The sharp clang of impact echoed—claws blocked by jade.
"This is taking longer than I thought," Oliver grimaced, sending two jade swords whirling into its shoulders. Then he jumped off Luna's back and strung more threads so that it broke off.
The bear bellowed in pain—its dense fur half-deflecting the blades, preventing them from sinking deep.
Branches bent and snapped beneath the bear's weight as it lunged, furious now, all instincts flaring with bloodlust. Its roar shook the clearing—roots tore free, stones cracked. Oliver's arms crossed as the claws came down again, his jade blade rising with a screech of mineral against beast-hide.
The impact sent a ringing pulse through his bones.
"Hold it off!" He barked, eyes locked to the glowing threads still clinging to its other limbs. "Focus, Luna. Let go of your body—cut with your will!"
Luna's hooves dug into the ground beneath. Her breath trembled, chest rising and falling as panic tried to claw its way up her throat. But she swallowed it.
She wasn't going to fail this time.
She exhaled sharply and flung out her hands.
In her mind, she pictured the blade—not as metal, but as intent. Weightless, but sharp. Invisible, but heavy. Not something she held… something she was.
"I am the sword…"
The air shimmered faintly in front of her.
The bear swung. Oliver parried—barely. His footing slipped a half-step back, and a claw raked across his shoulder, scoring the skin with three streaks.
"Luna—now!"
She stepped in, thrusting forward—her arms still empty, but her focus burning with intensity. The Qi around her spiraled, just a flicker—and then the bear's hide parted at the shoulder.
A clean line. Not deep, but enough to draw blood.
The bear howled, staggering back—its legs digging furrows in the earth.
"I—I did it?" She whispered, staring at the blood painted on the tip of her imagined sword.
Oliver didn't let her bask in it. "Again!"
But the bear had tasted danger. Smart, not rabid. It spun, half-crouched, and slammed its body into the earth. Dust and debris exploded outward as its form shimmered, then vanished beneath the ground with a tearing crash.
"It's burrowing again—!"
"No, it's retreating,' Oliver growled, pushing himself upright, blood still trickling down his arm.
The golden threads snapped one by one, buried as the bear disappeared deeper. Only a faint rumble remained—followed by a silence thick with tension.
Luna sagged to her knees. "We almost had it…"
"It's fine you finally cut it," Oliver said, stepping beside her, eyes still narrowed on the shattered dirt. "And that's all that matters, so congrats on making your first technique~"
She looked up, panting. His hand extended to her head, "So how do you want to celebrate?"
Luna's chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, eyes alight with a gleam far wilder than before. The last sparks of intent still danced around her, flickering like invisible embers in the air.
Her lips parted in a grin—not the soft, relieved smile of someone who'd survived, but the feral, reckless expression of someone who'd just tasted power for the first time and wanted more.
"Let's kill the bear," she said, voice bright with feverish joy. "And then..." she stepped closer, her breath warm against his ear, "…we mate on its territory.'
Oliver blinked at her, reading the raw exhilaration in her face—the way triumph and desire had tangled into something primal.
He glanced toward the treeline where the wounded beast had fled, leaving behind torn earth and the scent of blood. The air between them seemed to hum, thick with tension—and yet a single golden line glinted as it was dragged from below.
The forest, still trembling from their clash, felt as though it was holding its breath.
He smiled. "Sure… let's do it."
Luna's laughter spilled into the trees, sharp and wild, carrying over the quiet. The last remaining Qi thread clung stubbornly to the prey that had sunk beneath the soil in a desperate attempt to vanish.
"Run all you want," she purred, eyes gleaming, "we'll dig you out, rip you open, and crown your den with our scent."
—
The wind shifted. It carried more than the smell of smoke now—something faint, human, and raw.
Kaede paused mid-bite, her jaw stilling as her head tilted slightly. Takara's eyes narrowed, following the same instinct. Sana was already glancing toward the darkness beyond the clearing, her fingers brushing the haft of her blade.
There was movement again—not the slow, calculated rustle of a predator circling, but an uneven, stumbling shuffle. The sound of branches snapping under careless feet.
A shape emerged from between the trees.
She came into the firelight all at once, as if the shadows had been holding her back until now—wild-eyed, clothes torn in jagged strips that barely clung to her frame, pale skin showing through dirt and scratches. Her breath hitched in sharp bursts, her legs trembling with each step. The tears on her face caught the light in glistening tracks.
Kaede's gaze flicked down. Mud streaked her calves, but higher up, the stains told a different story—white smears on the inside of her thighs, half-washed by sweat and dirt.
She didn't slow until she nearly collapsed onto her knees in the dirt by the fire.
"Please—" Her voice broke, raw and frantic. "Please… help me."
Takara's hand didn't leave her weapon. "From what?"
The woman shook her head sharply, as though the question itself was unbearable. "They'll come back—he'll—" Her words tangled and died in her throat.
Sana rose, stepping between her and the treeline, scanning the dark.
Kaede put her food down slowly. Hunger was forgotten. "You need to breathe. Start from the beginning."
But the woman only clutched at Kaede's arm, her nails digging in. "Don't let them find me."
In the stillness between her breaths, the night seemed suddenly louder—too loud.
Somewhere out there, in the brush beyond the firelight, something was moving again—its figure hidden as it peered into the small campsite. Its lips glistened with spit, eyes narrowing to a yellowish glint.