Chapter 84 — The Beast of Spring
Spring had come in full, wrapping Ebon Hollow in warmth and color. Snow had melted away into streams that trickled through the woods, feeding the bursting greenery. Wildflowers painted the meadows beyond the walls, and fruit trees just outside the village's edge were touched with blossoms, their perfume drifting on the breeze.
Kael walked the boardwalk of the southern wall, Umbra shadowing his steps, the sun glinting off his obsidian-black hair. He paused to take in the sight below — farmers turning the thawed earth, children chasing each other with wreaths of petals, and the caravan wagons loaded with seeds and supplies. For a moment, it felt like peace had taken root.
But peace never lasted long.
The first reports came from hunters. A shadow moving through the far woods, massive and deliberate. Tracks like dinner plates stamped deep into the soil, and trees cracked aside as though by a walking siege engine.
Then came the screams.
A patrol had been ambushed. One survivor stumbled back into the Hollow, his arm broken, his face pale. His words chilled the council chamber when Kael brought him in.
"It was… no beast I've ever seen. Towering. Horns… like spears, twisting. A head like a bull, its eyes red with fire. It carried a weapon — no, a cleaver the size of a man. It didn't speak. Only bellowed. Gods, the sound—" The man shuddered, clutching his shoulder.
Silence followed, heavy and sharp.
The council sat gathered in the great hall. Kael at the head, Lyria and Druaka at his sides. Fenrik leaned forward, his hands clenched.
"A pseudo-legendary," he said grimly. "I've read of such creatures in passing. Some say they're born from mana storms, others claim they're remnants of the old gods' experiments. But whatever its origin, such a beast cannot be ignored."
"It cannot reason with us?" asked one of the human scribes nervously.
"No," Kael said, his tone like iron. "The survivor was clear — it did not speak. It only killed."
Thalos, ever the soldier, slammed a fist onto the table. "Then we must strike it down. Better we bring the fight to it than wait for it to wander into our homes."
A murmur of agreement spread through the chamber. Yet others hesitated.
"What if it is too strong?" one of the goblin smiths asked. "What if it brings doom upon us all?"
Kael rose to his feet, his shadow stretching across the chamber. "Then we will meet it with strength greater than its own. I will not allow a monster, no matter how strong, to prey upon our people."
His words broke the silence, turning fear into resolve.
By the end of the meeting, the course was clear. A strike team would be formed — elite warriors and mages, chosen for speed and precision. Kael himself would lead, with Lyria and Druaka at his side, much to the murmured concern of some but the unspoken acceptance of all.
The pseudo-legendary would not be ignored.
As the meeting adjourned, Kael looked to the maps spread across the table, the red ink marking the place of the beast's sighting. His fists tightened, not from fear but determination.
"Form the strike team," he said, his voice cold and steady.
And thus, the hunt for the horned monster began.
The decision was made. No more hesitation.
By dawn the next morning, the strike team assembled at the Hollow's south gate. Kael stood in his blackened armor, shadows curling faintly around him, his blade strapped across his back. To his right was Fenrik, the wolfkin captain, a hulking figure bristling with axes and scars. To his left was Thalos, calm and sharp-eyed, his spear gleaming in the morning light. And behind them, Lyria, her silver hair tied back, her bow strung and ready, eyes burning with determination.
They were four, but to the people watching them depart, they looked like an army.
The gate opened, and silence fell. Farmers, smiths, and children alike gathered along the walls, watching their leaders vanish into the sea of trees.
The forest swallowed them quickly. Spring's bloom gave way to something darker the farther they pressed on. Birds grew quiet. The air felt heavier, laden with tension. Branches bent and splintered where something massive had passed through. Trees were gouged deep with claw marks. The earth was stamped flat in patches, as though the forest itself had been trampled by a walking nightmare.
"It's close," Fenrik muttered, nose twitching. "The scent of blood lingers."
"Then keep sharp," Kael said, his voice low.
They found the first corpse an hour later. A stag, its body broken and torn in half. The wounds were not clean — they were brutal, cleaver-strikes that shattered bone like dry twigs. Flies already swarmed over the ruin.
"Savage," Thalos growled, setting his spear.
Lyria knelt by the carcass, her hands brushing the mangled fur. "It wasn't for food. It killed this just to kill."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Then it will find no mercy here."
The deeper they went, the more destruction they found — shattered trunks, half-buried weapons from dead adventurers, and gouges in the stone where something massive had dragged its blade.
Then, at the edge of a clearing, Kael felt it before he saw it. The air vibrated. The ground trembled.
A shape stepped into the light.
The beast stood nearly twelve feet tall, broad-shouldered and grotesquely muscled. Its skin was dark gray, hide stretched taut over its frame, veined with pulsing red mana. Its head was that of a bull, but twisted — eyes glowing like embers, nostrils flaring with smoke. Two horns jutted forward, long and jagged, etched with strange cracks that glowed faintly crimson.
In its massive hands it carried a weapon — not a simple club, but a great cleaver of black iron, chipped and scarred from countless battles. The blade was nearly as long as Kael himself, its edge stained permanently with blood that never washed away.
The monster exhaled, steam pouring from its maw. Then it bellowed — a sound like thunder tearing the sky in two. Birds fled in a frantic storm of wings, and the forest seemed to shrink away from the beast's fury.
It dragged the cleaver once across the earth, gouging a deep trench in the soil, then fixed its glowing eyes on Kael's group.
There was no hesitation. No curiosity. No thought.
Only hate.
The beast lowered its head, muscles bunching, and charged with the weight of a landslide.
"Positions!" Kael roared, drawing his blade as shadows erupted from his body.
The fight for their lives had begun.