The climb up the hill burned through their legs, every breath scraping like fire in their throats. The rough stone beneath their boots slipped with every step, yet they dared not stop. Behind them, the sound of pursuit clung stubbornly—heavy, determined, relentless.
They knew. Two of them were following.The Kingspawn had abandoned their horses at the foot of the slope, forced to climb as men now. It meant the chase was equal. But equal only meant more dangerous.
If they reached home like this, it would be no homecoming—only delivering crocodiles to their own doorstep.
Ivan's chest heaved, steam rising from his lips in broken clouds. He thrust a hand northward, his dark red eyes flashing with resolve, though sweat slicked his pale skin."You two—east. I'll go this way. Let's split them. If it's one and one, we can clear the track behind us."
The command was sharp, logical, as always. His face—too gorgeous for a battlefield, dark red hair clinging in damp strands to his temple—tightened with grim certainty. His index finger trembled slightly, not from doubt, but from exhaustion he would never admit.
Mikayle's deep brown eyes flicked to Yuhan, then back to Ivan. A single nod sealed it. Yuhan, pale face already drained by fatigue, green eyes clouded with hesitation, mirrored the nod with a tight jaw.
And in that instant, the forest betrayed them.From the dark wall of trees behind, two shapes slipped forward like shadows peeled from bark. The Kingspawn—identical in their grotesque masks—stepped out, mirroring their prey.
The three boys parted. The two monsters parted with them.
Ivan ran north, boots pounding earth, every breath tearing at his chest. His dark red hair lashed behind him, his heart beating too loud for silence. The Kingspawn pursued, blade drawn, its footsteps quickening.
The gap closed.Closer.Closer.
Ivan's mind raced. His red eyes darted from trunk to trunk. Too close. Too fast. Think.
There—a giant tree, its roots twisted thick as coiled serpents. He slipped behind it, pressing flat, lungs straining to silence. His dagger slid free—short, sharp, its steel hilt etched with a curved seagull, the blade as clean and pure as a mountain stream. He gripped it tightly, knuckles pale, breath shallow.
The forest pressed in. No sound but his own pulse.
Then—soft. Almost nothing.Paw-steps. Light, deliberate.The Kingspawn moved like a hunting cat, blade ready, its presence smothered by silence. Ivan's red eyes darted side to side, searching for a shadow that wasn't there. His heart stuttered once.
The creature circled. Its gaze fell on the mistake—his torn boot, jutting from behind the tree. A cruel smile flickered beneath the mask. It crept closer, savoring the surprise. One step. Another. Closer.
And then—The tree's shadow yielded nothing. Only boots, abandoned.Its head tilted. Confusion. Then realization."That kid tricked me."
By the time its dark voice rasped through the mask, Ivan was already gone—slipping east through the undergrowth, silent as mist, dagger ready, his lips pressed into a thin, satisfied line. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his mind sharpened. Enough distance. He'll lose me. He has to lose me. His eyes flicked back once, wary. He'll drown in that forest. I'll make sure of it.
Meanwhile, Mikayle and Yuhan pushed eastward, their boots slapping against damp leaves. But the forest here thickened—a dense wall of trunks and undergrowth that twisted the path into a maze. Branches clawed at their sleeves, wet leaves stuck to their pale faces, hair plastered by sweat.
Yuhan's green eyes darted everywhere, panic tugging at the edges. Where is he? His mind split in two—one side for Ivan, one side for their master. The more he thought, the heavier the weight became. His chest heaved, pale cheeks hollowed further, until he clenched his teeth and forced the panic down.
Mikayle's brown eyes swept the shadows with sharp intensity. He searched for any flicker of movement, his deep brown hair clinging damp across his forehead. But every direction looked the same—dark trees, endless trees. The headache that had plagued him still pulsed faintly, though the whispering was gone. His instincts carried him now, his jaw set with determination.
But the truth gnawed at both of them. They had lost track of the Kingspawn. In a forest like this, dense and suffocating, the hunter could be anywhere.
By the time the three regrouped at the stone hill, their bodies were wrecked by exhaustion. Mikayle bent forward, clutching his side, brown eyes clouded, sweat dripping into the dirt. Yuhan's pale lips trembled, green eyes full of questions he could not voice.
"Do we… wait for Ivan?" he asked, voice hoarse. His expression searched Mikayle's, desperate for direction.
They lingered, time dragging. The air hung heavy with silence. Then, just as Mikayle began to lose patience, a figure dropped from the rocky ledge above.
Charcoal-gray shirt, frayed collar, sleeves rolled and torn. Ivan.His dark red hair clung to his temple, gorgeous face slick with sweat but twisted in a sharp grin.
Mikayle's mouth curved faintly. Relief softened the edge of his jaw."Ivan—you're back."
Ivan straightened, eyes flashing, still catching his breath."Yeah. Lost him somehow. What about yours?"
Mikayle's hand swept eastward, toward the dense trees. His lips tightened. Without another word, they moved again, running as one.
The pounding of pursuit returned. Wooden mask. The sound of footsteps crashing closer. The Kingspawn had found them again.
They turned, breathless, toward the dense forest, hoping to vanish within its cover. But before they could sink into shadow, the masked figure broke upon them, dagger in hand, its stride quick and merciless.
They ran blind. No direction, no thought—just the raw instinct of survival.
And then Mikayle stopped. His boots skidded across earth, his shoulders locking. Yuhan and Ivan stumbled to a halt behind him, staring, pale faces tight with confusion.
Mikayle's brown eyes narrowed. His hand pressed to his temple.Then, in an even tone, he said, "Let's hunt."
Shock rippled across Yuhan's pale face, his green eyes wide. Ivan's dark red eyes blinked sharply, confusion breaking through his handsome façade."You mean… set up the Three-Fold Air Trap? Here?"
Mikayle's gaze remained forward, voice steady."Yes."
They worked. Fast. The clearing was wide, circular, rare in this forest. Ivan and Mikayle moved shoulder to shoulder, unspooling the Stretchy ROM Thread. Their expressions sharpened with focus, each motion rehearsed yet rushed with desperation.
Yuhan's pale hands trembled as he bent low, arranging the coil across the dirt. His green eyes flicked upward, fear threading his features, but he forced it down. This is survival. Do not falter.
The thread stretched across the soil, invisible as a snake. Mikayle's jaw tightened, sweat dripping into his eyes as he anchored the line. Ivan's red eyes narrowed, slotting his end into bark grooves. His lips curved faintly, almost grimly satisfied.
The trap was set.
Yuhan staggered once, feigning weakness. His pale face slackened into a mask of helplessness.
The enemy burst through the trees, mask glaring, blade drawn. It charged, reckless, greedy for the kill.
One step.Two.
Boot in the circle.
Mikayle and Ivan yanked, sprinting east. The thread snapped alive, whipping upward, lashing across the Kingspawn's thighs. Its legs bound, balance ripped away.
It fell hard. The dagger flew, spinning end over end before driving into soil. Its skull followed with brutal finality.
The forest rang with silence.
Mikayle's mouth curved faintly, brown eyes gleaming."In training, we needed minutes. We did it in seconds this time."
Ivan exhaled, half disbelief, half relief. His gorgeous face twisted with doubt."We… didn't kill him. Did we?"
Mikayle tapped his temple, brow furrowed in thought."Nah. He killed himself. Right, Yuhan?"
Yuhan's green eyes hardened, pale face expressionless."Doesn't matter. Prey became hunter."
The three exchanged a look. Their breaths burned, but their wills were steel.
They gathered the thread. Yuhan bundled it tightly into his tunic pocket, fingers stiff.
Then they ran.
Home. But it was wrong.
Three horses stood tethered outside, their own. Too many. Wrong time. Wrong place.
From inside came a scream. Marco.
They froze. Shock hollowed their faces.
And then the door opened.
Three masked figures emerged. One dragged Marco by his blonde hair, his body limp and broken. Blood stained the scabbard of the torturer's blade.
Rage lit Mikayle's brown eyes. His jaw set, body coiled to strike. But Yuhan's pale hand pressed to his chest, a blink saying: Not yet. Endure.
Marco was thrown like garbage at their feet. Ivan caught him, gorgeous face twisting with fury.
"Ugly monsters," one of the masked Kingspawn mocked."How do such wretched things live in a house?" another laughed.
The third stepped forward, blade drawing black from its scabbard. Its voice rasped low, dripping malice."Let's kill them. It's been too long since I've killed monsters."
The three boys stood frozen. Faces pale. Hands trembling at their hilts.
But then—their expressions changed.
Because the masked enemies froze too.
Something—behind them. A presence.Murderous. Vast. A predator's aura.
Mikayle's dagger trembled in his grip, brown eyes wide, not at the enemy, but at what was arriving. Yuhan's green eyes darted, skin pale as frost. Ivan's red eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering there.
Marco lifted his head weakly, looked past them—And saw it.
That monstrous aura. The shadow that made even the Kingspawn hesitate.