The Butcher's Tale
"It started like any other Harvest Festival trial," Kayn began, his voice a low, hollow rumble that seemed to vibrate against the cave walls. "There were ten of us—eager, a little naive, just walking through the forest. Faust was leading the way, all confidence and big plans." He paused, poking at a charred log with a stick, sending a spray of orange sparks into the air. "We thought we knew what we were getting into."
Nana shivered, her knuckles white as she grasped her hands together. "No one could have known," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the wood. "The Bone Golem... it wasn't like anything in the legends. It was a pure nightmare. Just bones, endless bones, moving like a living thing, but with no soul behind the eyes."
Kayn nodded grimly, his gaze fixed on the shifting embers. "It just appeared. No warning, no build-up. One minute we were walking, and the next, it was there—a mountain of death standing in our path. It moved with such impossible speed. Before anyone could even draw a breath to scream, it… it just swung. Two of them were gone. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet night.
"I remember the screams," Nana interjected, her voice trembling. "But they didn't last long. It was methodical. It didn't rage; it just… eliminated. The mage with the fire magic, the girl with the healing staff… gone. We tried, George. We really did. Spells, weapons—nothing touched it. It just absorbed the impact, like it was feeding on our magic."
"It was like watching a butcher at work," Kayn continued, his jaw tight. "One moment a friend was fighting, and the next, they were just… a mess. I knew then we couldn't win. I pulled Nana back, Faust grabbed her too, and we just ran. We bolted deeper into the forest, not caring where we were going, just needing to be away from that thing."
Nana's eyes glazed over, staring into the depths of the fire as if watching the pursuit play out in the flames. "It was right behind us. Every step, every crashing sound—it was getting closer. The ground vibrated with its weight. We ran until our lungs burned, until our legs felt like leaden weights."
Kayn's face contorted as he reached the end of the tale. "We burst into a clearing. Faust… he stumbled. I saw it coming, but there was nothing I could do. The Golem's hand, it was like a massive vise of polished ivory. It just… it just grabbed him." He trailed off, his voice thick with the unspoken horror of what followed.
Nana flinched, pulling her knees tightly to her chest. "It ripped him," she whispered, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path through the dust on her cheek. "Just… ripped him in half. Like he was made of nothing but paper. And then it looked at us. We were the only ones left."
George looked away, his own vision blurring as tears swelled in his eyes. The wound of losing Faust cut deep; the boy had been more than a classmate—he had been a part of their shared journey.
The fire crackled, providing the only sound for a long, heavy moment. The faces of their friends were pale and drawn in the firelight, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and profound sadness. The weight of the ordeal hung in the air, thick and suffocating. The meager campfire served as a small defiance against the oppressive gloom of the group, but it could do little to stave off the lingering chill of Zone C. The recent rescue of Nana and Kayn felt hollow, overshadowed by the relentless terror of the Sovereign of Marrow that still stalked the desolate plains outside. In this place, survival felt less like a goal and more like a pipe dream.