They plunged into the overgrowth.
The terrain ahead was rugged—a jagged sea of roots, collapsed beams, and slick moss. But the Tarnak'hul moved like wolves bred for this land. Their enormous frames weaved through the foliage with unsettling grace. The trio followed, falling into stride.
The warlord led the charge, his massive shoulders parting the green like a plow through mud. "Keep low. Move fast. Stay loud—we're not hiding. We're warning."
Ethan and Dianna took naturally to the pace, years of athleticism kicking in. They leapt, ducked, and twisted through the obstacles without slowing.
Ethan and Dianna fell into pace with ease, years of athleticism kicking in. They leapt, ducked, and twisted through obstacles without missing a step.
Sid, despite appearances, kept pace effortlessly. His body was lean but deceptively honed—a perfect balance of agility and strength. His coat fluttered behind him like a shadow.
He sighed lightly and adjusted the strap of his bag. "Guess cardio's still a thing in fantasy worlds."
Even as he grumbled, his stride was smooth and practiced. Beneath his laid-back air, he moved like a machine. Ethan glanced at him, surprised. "The hell… Sid, how are you keeping up?"
"I've always been fit," Sid replied casually. "Just didn't like sweating much."
Despite the heavy terrain—roots like coiled serpents, broken steel beams, and moss-slick stone—only a few of the larger Tarnak'hul lagged behind. Even Ethan, proud of his athleticism, found himself pacing near the middle pack.
They ran hard for ten minutes, lungs burning and boots scraping stone, before entering a darker patch of jungle. The trees arched like watchful giants, and the sound of the wind shifted.
A Cervari Shrike cut through the air.
Dozens of them. Sharp. Unmistakable.
"Trouble!" someone yelled.
From the canopy above, a horde of beasts dropped.
They were wiry, long-limbed predators with gnarled, scale-covered skin—perfect for tree-hopping ambush. Their beady eyes gleamed; froth dripped from their jaws. They shrieked as they descended.
The forest exploded with chaos.
Sid ducked between Tarnak'hul warriors. "I need more time!" he shouted. "No puppet—can't fight yet!"
Ethan was already in motion. His cleaver spun low, carving through bark-flesh and sinew. His void ability was on cooldown, but he didn't need it.
Each strike left wounds that refused to heal. Shadows clung to every gash, slowing regeneration—corrosive parasites that ate away at flesh. The beasts thrashed, but their bodies unraveled with every blow.
Dianna moved like a tempest. Without using a skill, Her broadsword didn't burst into hellfire—yet the air shimmered around it with oppressive heat. Like a blade straight from a forge, it hissed through monster hides. Each swing grew faster, more precise, as her trait fueled her momentum and restored her stamina.
The Tarnak'hul turned to engage as well.
The warlord bellowed a wordless cry and crashed into the swarm like a god of war. His massive sword cleaved skulls and shattered ribcages. The weapon, heavy and rune-etched, glowed with furious light.
"Don't let them flank!" he roared.
What followed wasn't a battle—it was a stampede.
They crushed everything. Limbs, skulls, ambushes. The forest blurred into blood and momentum. The Tarnak'hul ravaged the terrain, grinning wildly. Thrilled. Frenzied.
Sid kept weaving, searching. He kicked over a corpse, peeled off a horned plate, and pocketed it.
"Give me ten more of these and I'll build something worthy of nightmares," he muttered.
"Less talking, more dodging!" Dianna shouted, cleaving a beast mid-air.
"I'm multitasking!"
Then they hit the buried city again.
Cracked streets coiled beneath collapsed towers and root-covered ruins. The terrain twisted, but it offered movement. They vaulted buses, dashed along broken rails, sidestepped falling debris.
"Head east!" the warlord bellowed.
Ethan leapt from a rusted scaffold, landed on a cracked truck, and kicked forward. "WOOHOO—!"
A beast lunged behind him—only to be met by Dianna's sweeping blade.
The deeper they went, the denser the enemy became.
The deeper they ran, the more monsters emerged. Bigger ones. Some oozing acid. Some armored in bone. But the Tarnak'hul crushed them with brute momentum, forming a brutal vanguard that made space for all behind.
The trio felt it—an energy rising in their blood. Not fear. Not even survival.
Challenge.
Excitement.
A competitive blaze.
"Try to keep up!" Ethan shouted, grinning.
Dianna barked a laugh. "I'm leading this parade, cleaver-boy."
Then—rising like a mirage ahead:
An ancient bridge.
It towered above a wide, roaring river. Half reclaimed by moss, half swallowed by gnarled roots. Stone balustrades jutted out like shattered teeth. Whole sections had crumbled into air.
Below—the river snarled and swept past, hungry.
"Cross it! Now!" the warlord shouted. He charged forward with titanic strides. "Don't stop! Let the old stone test its luck!"
The Tarnak'hul followed—twenty-eight warriors in a thundering stampede that rattled the very framework of the bridge. And behind them, with eager steps and half-grins painted on sweat-drenched faces, came Ethan, Sid and Dianna.
Dianna muttered, wind slicing her face as she sprinted, "I swear, if this bridge falls, I'm dragging one of those giants with me."
Ethan laughed between breaths. "Just one? I'm taking three. Souvenirs."
Behind them, the Cervari Shrikes surged. Their claws clanged as they leapt onto the bridge—mantis limbs flashing.
"Don't stop!" the warlord roared again.
Ethan threw a glance behind him. One of the Shrikes lunged.
Dianna reacted instantly. She pivoted mid-sprint, slid on one leg, and cleaved upward. Her broadsword glowed a hot orange, like iron pulled from a forge. It tore through the air like a comet, melting through the Shrike's torso like butter.
The carcass didn't fall—it sizzled, crumbled, and burst into black smoke before it even touched the bridge.
Dianna exhaled, grip steady. "This blade's hotter than it was before."
"It's the swings," Ethan said, noticing the faint pulsing glow. "That trait of yours—it's stacking up."
Dianna grinned, her eyes fiery. "I know."
Onward they ran.
More Shrikes tried to converge on the bridge—some dropping from the trees above—but the Tarnak'hul warriors were relentless. A hammer rose and crushed one mid-descent. Another warrior spun a polearm with blades on both ends, cutting down two in a single sweep.
Even without active abilities, Ethan and Dianna kept pace. Dianna's swings grew faster, her blade blurring in arcs of orange heat, her steps almost rhythmic like a war dance. Ethan moved with raw instinct, slicing just enough to let the corrosion take over. His cleaver purred softly with approval, as if enjoying the taste of battle.
And still—Sid ran. Focused. Watching.
The bridge neared its end.
The ground ahead sloped into cracked stone streets, where vines broke through old pavement and rusted cars lay crushed beneath trees that had eaten the city's skeleton. The sun dipped behind heavy clouds, casting an eerie orange twilight across the ruin. But the moment they touched soil again—
"Collapse!" shouted a rear scout.
The Shrikes behind them shrieked in chaos—not from rage, but confusion.
Stone groaned. The middle segment of the bridge gave in.
Dozens of the chasing beasts, too frenzied to notice, tumbled off the sides or crashed into the yawning chasm now splitting the bridge. Others leapt, scrambling at the edge—but the Tarnak'hul and the trio had already made it to safety.
Ethan stopped, panting, and looked back. "Lucky."
"Calculated," the warlord growled, wiping blood off his shoulder. "Bridge couldn't handle two-way cross anyway."
They all regrouped. The Tarnak'hul formed a loose circle, their weapons ready, scanning the jungle ahead. The Shrikes' screeches faded slowly, echoing far down the canyon of overgrowth.
Silence returned.
but not for long.