Chapter 16 - Danger
From the brush ahead, a guttural growl echoed, sending a chill through their spines. Then it stepped into view—a beast cloaked in mottled green-and-brown fur that shifted with the trees around it, as though the forest itself had given it form. Its yellow eyes gleamed, sharp fangs bared in a hungry snarl.
"A… Camouflaged Fangmaw," Joren muttered, tightening the straps on his gear. His tone carried both recognition and dread.
"Damn it. Out here?"
The beast was massive, its build squat and muscular like a boar, yet far more savage. Every line of its body screamed of strength and defense—its hide thick like layered armor, tusks curved and jagged, ready to gore through steel.
Dannie's throat went dry. We can't take this thing head-on…
The Fangmaw pawed the earth, leaving deep furrows in the soil as it prepared to charge. The air grew tense, heavy with the promise of violence.
Brent stepped forward, planting his shield into the ground.
"Stay behind me!" he barked
The beast lunged, tusks slamming against steel. Brent grunted as the impact shook his frame, sparks flying. Cally's daggers flashed as she darted around its side, but her blades only left shallow cuts.
Arven was the only one who managed to wound it, his sword—empowered by Dannie's mana harmonization—cutting deeper into the beast's shoulder. Each strike drew a pained roar, though the Fangmaw's movements remained terrifyingly relentless.
Then Joren's voice cut through the chaos.
"More beasts are approaching!" he shouted, panic edging into his tone.
Dannie's heart skipped. She quickly scanned the grove—shadows stirred, the brush trembled, low growls echoing from all sides. Her gut twisted. If they stayed here, they would be surrounded.
Before anyone could even shout a new plan, a sharp gong resounded in the distance.
Dong… Dong…
The sound rolled over the trees like thunder. All eyes turned upward just as streaks of fireworks lit up the sky above Carreon—green and red bursting together in violent blooms.
Dannie's breath hitched. That color combination could only mean one thing.
Monster Raid.
The words sank into everyone's minds like a heavy weight.
"Urgh!" Brent's pained cry snapped their attention back. His shield arm faltered as the Fangmaw slashed with its claws, long nails tearing through the gaps in his armor. Blood splattered the ground.
"Brent!" Cally screamed, eyes wide with horror.
But what came next was even worse.
"I… I can't take this!" Cally stammered, her voice breaking. Fear twisted her features. "I'm leaving!"
Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and sprinted, activating her movement technique. Her figure blurred, growing smaller and smaller until she vanished into the trees—leaving the group behind without a second glance.
The Fangmaw's guttural snarl filled the silence she left behind.
Dannie clenched her fists, her chest pounding with anger and dread. She abandoned us… at a time like this?!
"Dannie, try to find a way to escape!" Joren shouted, snapping her out of her stupor.
Damn! How could I blank out at this situation?
She pressed her palms together, drawing on the faint hum of her soul-based skill. A warm ripple spread from her to Brent and Arven, weaving into their cores. Their bodies didn't knit, and Brent's bleeding wound remained raw—but the heaviness in their spirits lifted. Their eyes cleared, breaths steadied, and for a moment, they felt lighter despite the pain.
It wasn't the body she could mend. Only the soul. Fatigue, fear, despair—all dulled beneath her touch. Enough to keep them standing. Enough to buy time.
I can't stop the bleeding… but I can stop them from breaking.
Then she activated the low skill she'd been practicing: presence-locate. The world around her buzzed as faint signatures aligned in her mind—the scrape of claws to the left, the heavy thud of another pack closing from the east. Shadows shifted in her periphery and the grove's scent sharpened into a map of movement. She swallowed the cold rising in her gut. They were cut off on nearly every side.
Brent was still upright, shield raised, but Dannie saw the truth in the way he tipped—his breath ragged, one hand pressed against his side where the Fangmaw's nails had raked through. No one spoke about that one embarrassing detail that some of them had noticed; Brent had peed through the front of his breeches, and the sight should have been comic if not for the situation. No one laughed. Not when the world felt like it might tear them apart.
"Cally's gone," Joren breathed, voice tight. "We can't count on more people."
"Then we run," Dannie said, and—without debating—she pushed forward. "This way!" Her voice surprised even her; it was steady, an order that left no room for argument.
She moved to the front and led, feet sure despite the screaming in her ears. Joren fell in behind her, crossbow appearing in his hands as if conjured—an odd, practiced motion that spoke of fieldcraft and fast reflexes. Arven and Brent took positions to cover the rear, trading blows and shoving back with desperate thrusts whenever a Fangmaw or a smaller scout lunged close.
They ran hard, the grove whipping past in a blur of trunks and ferns. Dannie kept her eyes on the presence-locate, steering them along the thinnest corridors of foliage, where the predators' signatures thinned. The world narrowed to the map in her head and the rhythm of their feet.
A dark mouth in the hillside opened up ahead—an old cave mouth half-hidden by bracken. The four of them skidded to the lip. They hesitated, the pause long enough for claws to scratch nearer, for hot breath to puff in the evening air.
"We go in, now!" Dannie snapped, and hauled herself inside first. The cave smelled of wet stone and old roots. Light from the fireworks outside leaked in, fractured and green when it hit the damp walls.
They crowded into the shadow, bodies pressed close in the narrow throat. Brent leaned against the rock, breathing shallow, Arven scanning the darkness with a drawn sword, Joren already reloading with a muttered curse. Dannie felt the burn at her wrists from the soul-aid; she kept her jaw clenched and slid down to sit, trying to calm her heartbeat.
"Destroy the entrance," Brent rasped suddenly, voice thin but urgent. "So they can't follow."
"Are you mad?" Arven snapped. "We're not sappers—how would we even—"
"Rockfall," Joren said, voice low. He rubbed his chin the way he always did when sizing a problem. "We can bring down the loose overhang—make a plug. It'll take time, but it's better than being dragged out."
Dannie's mind raced. Time was the one thing they didn't have, but the presence-locate had shown pockets of stillness—small windows where the beasts' attention wasn't fixed. If they could buy even a few minutes…
"Do it," she said. "I'll help where I can. Arven and Brent, cover the entrance while Joren and I bring down the rocks." Her hands were already hovering, reaching for the small pulses of mana she could spare to loosen old stone and crack weakened seams. It was crude work; she could not wield much force. But a subtle loosened fracture could turn into a cascade if someone pushed at the right spot.
They moved like a single organism. Arven placed himself so he could stagger out to slash at any paw that reached the lip. Brent planted the shield and hissed through his teeth when the pain flared. Joren climbed up small ledges and began prying at an overhanging slab with the butt of his crossbow, loosening grit and lichen. Dannie fed tiny, focused pulses into those cracks—nothing to topple mountains, merely to coax and widen the breaks.
The cave breathed around them. Outside, the fireworks faded but the bell kept tolling—urgent, steady. Growls pressed against the rock like heavy paws testing for weakness. Somewhere beyond the trees, more roars joined in, a chorus that turned the grove into a throat of sound.
"Now!" Joren spat, and with coordinated effort they shoved. Stone that hadn't moved in years snarled loose and fell, a grinding crash that shook the cave and sent dust motes sailing through the faint light.
For a breath, it seemed like salvation—the opening darkened as rock tumbled, forming a jagged barrier. But the collapse didn't come perfectly. A narrow gap remained, and through it a yellow eye glinted; something the size of a hand thrust through and tested the stones, then used brute force to push at the newly formed plug.
The beasts didn't give up easily.
Dannie leaned her forehead against cold stone and whispered a prayer to whatever small mercies she kept. She had bought them some protection, maybe minutes, maybe less. Those minutes might be long enough for the city—Carreon—to send aid… or long enough for more beasts to swarm the hillside.
The sound of claws scraping the new rock filled the cave's mouth like a slow, terrible clock.
"We hold," Arven said, voice flat. "We don't leave."
Dannie met his eyes and nodded. Her confidence didn't feel whole—there were too many unknowns—but the map her presence-locate showed had a single, faint signature moving away to the northwest: the distant echo of riders, perhaps, or a patrol. A possibility. A thread of hope.
"Then we hold," she repeated. "And we survive."
Above them, the night answered with a roar. The Fangmaw tested the barrier again, harder this time.
They kept dragging broken rocks, forcing them into the narrow cracks of the barrier until only a little silhouette of light remained. Dannie exhausted herself, finally collapsing to the floor and sucking in a deep breath.
Only when the last hole was sealed did the boys stop as well, dropping against the walls to catch what little breath they had left.
Their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness—shadows taking shape until they could see each other, if barely. Joren unslung his canteen, passing it around without a word. Each took a long gulp.
Brent coughed mid-drink, spattering blood onto the stone.
Joren moved fast, crouching beside him, pressing cloth against the wound and binding it tight. "This'll hold the bleeding. Stay steady."
Dannie's hands curled uselessly in her lap. I'm support, but I can't even help him… not where it matters.
Shame coiled in her chest, heavy and bitter.
"It's not your field to aid his body," Arven's voice cut in, steady and firm. He didn't look at her, only kept his blade angled toward the blocked entrance. "Your gift is for the soul, not flesh. Don't belittle it. We'd already be broken without you."
Her lips trembled, but his words steadied her.
"…Thanks," she whispered.
She folded her hands and drew inward, coaxing the faint threads of mana through her core, forcing her weary body to recover what little she could.
The cave was still dark. The growls outside were still there. But, for the first time since the Fangmaw appeared, Dannie felt a fragile ember of calm settle inside her chest.
They had survived this far.
Now, they only had to keep surviving.