The trees grew taller and thicker as the traveler pushed deeper into the woods. Every snapping twig and whisper of wind set his senses on edge. He was close to the ruins—he could feel it.
The ground beneath his boots turned soft, littered with fallen leaves. Then he spotted them—fresh tracks. Deep imprints that looked like they belonged to some beast, but they were far too large and uneven to be natural.
"Not alone after all…" he muttered, unsheathing his scimitar.
A low growl echoed through the trees, followed by a sudden movement in the corner of his eye. He turned just in time.
The creature lunged.
It was grotesque—its body shaped like a wolf but covered in black, scaly hide. Its eyes burned a sickly yellow, and its jagged teeth dripped with thick venom.
The beast stared at him, unmoving. A moment passed. Then it charged with terrifying speed for something its size.
The traveler sidestepped the first attack, twisting away, but the creature was fast. It spun and swiped at him with a claw. Steel met fang as the scimitar caught the blow, and he shifted back a step, creating space.
"You're not as dumb as you look," he said coldly.
The creature growled, tail slamming the ground.
Without hesitation, the man surged forward, slicing clean through its flank. Scales parted with a shriek of pain—but the beast didn't retreat.
It lunged again. He dropped into a roll, narrowly evading the snapping jaws. As he rose, he stretched out a hand—and a shadow burst from his palm like a whip, wrapping around the creature's hind leg and yanking it off its feet.
The beast hit the ground hard but scrambled up, limping. It charged again.
This time, he was ready.
The man slid beneath its bulk and drove his scimitar deep into its belly. The creature froze. Its glowing eyes dimmed as it collapsed, lifeless.
"Too loud," he muttered, wiping the blade clean.
Then he heard it—a scream. Sharp, panicked, and far off to the east.
He turned instantly and sprinted toward the sound.
Branches whipped past. Roots threatened to trip him. But he didn't stop.
The ruins appeared between the trees, blanketed in moss, looming like ancient bones.
Inside, the scream echoed again.
"A kid…" he muttered, gritting his teeth as he entered the dark.
Whatever was in there—he'd face it.
***
The morning chill wrapped around Aray as he stepped through the trees. Every movement reminded him he wasn't fully healed—his left arm, still wrapped in bandages, throbbed with a dull ache.
But none of that mattered.
He needed to go back. Back to the ruins.
Birdsong filled the air, annoyingly peaceful after the chaos he had faced there just days ago. He couldn't stop thinking about the creature—the pain, the venom, the way it nearly ended him.
If it's still there… what am I supposed to do?
He shoved the thought aside and kept walking. There was something more behind all of this. Something darker. And he had to understand it—before it was too late.
The forest opened, revealing the ruins once more. Moss-covered stone blocks stood silent and menacing. Aray paused in front of the same crumbled archway.
"Here we go again…"
The air inside was heavy. Humid. A shiver ran down his spine as he descended the worn steps—but it wasn't just fear. It was something else.
A presence. Watching.
He moved deeper into the ruins, each step louder than the last. The runes carved into the walls hadn't changed—still unreadable, still pulsing like they were alive.
"Just take a look and get out," he whispered, his own voice failing to comfort him.
The floor bore the marks of battle—deep gashes left by claws. But something else caught his eye.
New footprints.
He crouched to inspect them—smaller than the serpent's. Animal-like. But there were too many.
A sudden sound made him spin around.
Something moved in the shadows.
"Who's there?"
Before he got an answer, the creature stepped into view. About the size of a large dog, covered in black scales, with glowing yellow eyes. It had four stubby legs and a thick, twitching tail.
Aray backed against the wall instinctively. The thing hissed, revealing small, needle-sharp teeth.
Then two more emerged behind it.
"This is bad…"
The first one lunged.
He dodged—barely. Pain flared in his injured arm as he hit the ground with a groan.
The other two circled him, fast and coordinated. Their eyes gleamed with a predator's focus.
"Stay back!" he shouted, grabbing a nearby stone and hurling it.
The rock struck one squarely in the face—but it only staggered back a step. The three charged at once.
This is it.
Then a blur streaked past him.
A blade sang through the air.
The nearest creature let out a screech as it was sliced clean in half.
Aray stared, stunned.
A man now stood between him and the monsters, scimitar raised, his dark cloak half-hiding his face. Calm. Effortless.
"What are you doing here, kid?" the man asked without turning.
Aray tried to speak—but nothing came out.
The stranger raised his free hand. A shadow burst from it—long and fast. It struck another beast, wrapping tight and snapping its body with a horrible crunch.
The last one hesitated.
But the man gave it no chance. He dashed forward and cleaved it in two with a single, fluid strike.
Silence returned.
Aray was frozen in place.
"You shouldn't be here," the man said, sheathing his blade. "Not unless you've got a death wish."
He didn't get a chance to say more.
A deep, rumbling growl echoed from the dark.
More footsteps. Dozens of them.
"Fantastic," the man muttered, gripping his sword again.
Aray stepped back, panicked—but the man stopped him with a quick motion.
"Stay behind me. If you can't fight, don't get in the way."
"I wasn't planning to!" Aray snapped, both afraid and offended.
Then they came—creatures pouring from the dark like a flood of black oil. At least a dozen. Their yellow eyes gleamed with pure malice.
"This just got interesting," the man said, smirking.
He swung his scimitar in a wide arc—and the shadows obeyed. They surged around him, coating the blade in living darkness.
The beasts leapt.
He moved like a dancer—graceful, precise. One by one, the monsters fell. The ground was soon littered with twitching bodies.
Aray watched, breathless. The man's movements were perfect—he knew exactly where to strike. But it wasn't just skill. The shadows obeyed him. They coiled around his hands, his blade—alive.
"What… is this?" Aray whispered.
One creature slipped past—charged him.
Aray froze.
A shadow spike speared it midair.
"Didn't I say don't be in the way?" the man grunted.
The battle ended as quickly as it began.
Silence.
The man lowered his sword.
"We're leaving."
"Leaving?" Aray echoed, still reeling.
"Unless you want round two."
Before Aray could argue, the man grabbed his good arm and pushed him toward the exit. Aray stumbled but followed. He didn't dare argue.
They emerged into the sunlight. Aray sucked in fresh air, heart pounding.
But there was no time to breathe.
A new sound rumbled through the forest—low, guttural, and far deeper than before. The trees ahead rustled as something massive pushed its way forward, slow but deliberate.
The birds stopped singing.
The wind held its breath.
Then it stepped into view.
The Alpha.
It was larger than the rest—easily the size of a full-grown bear, with black-scaled skin stretched over sinewy muscle. Thick ridges ran down its spine like jagged blades, and from its maw dripped thick, greenish venom. Its eyes weren't yellow like the others—they were a burning crimson, filled with something close to intelligence. Hatred.
Its claws sank into the soil with each step, carving trenches in the earth as it stalked toward them.
Aray froze again.
The traveler, however, didn't.
He moved forward.
Without a word.
Just steel versus claws.
The Alpha snarled and charged.
The traveler dashed to meet it.
They collided in a blur of motion—claws and fangs against raw, human skill.
The beast lashed with one massive paw, swiping horizontally. The traveler ducked, the claw missing his head by inches. He twisted low, dragging his scimitar upward across the creature's underbelly—but its hide was thicker than expected. The blade scratched, but didn't cut deep.
The Alpha roared.
It spun, tail whipping out. It caught the traveler in the ribs, sending him skidding across the dirt. He rolled, coughing, but came to his feet in an instant. His eyes locked on the beast. Calm. Calculating.
The Alpha pounced, jaws wide.
He didn't flinch.
He stepped into the leap, sliding beneath the snapping maw, and drove the hilt of his blade upward into the beast's throat. It choked and reeled, backing off with a snarl, blood seeping from its mouth—but still, it wasn't enough.
The traveler's scimitar flicked out again, this time carving across the Alpha's foreleg. It bled—but it didn't falter.
The beast responded with fury.
It lunged again, slamming its front paws down. The traveler dodged left, then right, moving like water around the attacks. But the Alpha was adapting. Its next swipe nearly clipped him—and the second grazed his shoulder, tearing his cloak.
Aray watched, stunned. It was like a dance, but one where death waited at every misstep.
Still, the traveler never hesitated.
No fear. No doubts.
Only relentless precision.
He drew the Alpha away from Aray, circling to keep open ground between them. He ducked under another strike, then leapt onto the creature's back. His blade slashed again—this time deep into its shoulder.
The Alpha howled.
But instead of shaking him off—it reared up, and fell backward.
It slammed into the ground with crushing force, pinning the traveler beneath its bulk. Aray gasped, heart lurching.
For a second, the world held still.
Then—movement.
From beneath the beast, a flicker of darkness pulsed.
The Alpha reared its head in confusion—too late.
A black spear erupted from its skull, forged of pure shadow, driving through flesh and bone with a sharp, sickening crack. The creature spasmed—once, twice—then collapsed, limbs twitching, eyes dimming.
Dead.
The body rolled to the side, revealing the traveler beneath, bloodied and breathing hard. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, retrieving his scimitar with a grunt.
The shadow-spear evaporated into mist behind him.
He didn't speak.
He didn't boast.
He simply turned away from the corpse and walked back toward Aray, as if nothing had happened.
"Who are you?!" he asked.
The man didn't reply. He knelt beside one of the dead creatures, inspecting it.
Aray pressed on. He stood frozen, nerves frayed and knees buckling, as if the ground itself had betrayed him. The world spun in a dizzying blur, tilting and folding like a dream on the verge of breaking.
"Thanks for saving me. But… what were those things?! Why did they attack me?! And you—"
"You talk too much for someone who almost died."
The sharp tone shut Aray up—for a second.
"You used... magic? The shadows—how did you do that?"
"It's not magic," the man snapped. "It's something a lot more complicated."
"Complicated how?"
He turned, steel eyes locking onto Aray.
"It means it's none of your business."
A long silence followed, broken only by birdsong.
Finally, the man pointed to Aray's wrapped arm.
"That wound. Let me see it."
Aray stepped back instinctively.
"Why?"
"Because if I'm right—you're in more trouble than you realize."
He hesitated, but something in the man's gaze made him comply. He slowly unwrapped the bandage, revealing the blackened veins stretching out from the bite.
The man sighed, eyes narrowing.
"What does this mean?" Aray asked, voice shaking.
"It means you're not the only one."
Before Aray could speak, the man undid his own shirt, revealing a twisted mark across his chest—dark lines, like roots, crawling up his neck and down his arms.
Aray's breath caught.
"That's… the same?"
"Not exactly," the man said quietly. "But close enough to know... your life just got a whole lot more complicated."