A violent, guttural vomit burst from inside her. It was not normal; the color was yellow and bluish, and Lina could feel it—the terrible stench, the nauseating sight of what should have stayed inside her now churned out onto the ground.

  She tried to control herself, but it was useless, like damming a flood already breaking uphill.

  “Hrk—ghk—! …BLEEUUAAARGHH!”

  Another convulsion tore through her. She realized it then: what came out was not only bile but her Grace mixed together with whats left of her food and mana, staining the dirt with the unholy remains of what had powered her magic moments ago.

  Her hands gave out completely. Her face fell into the puddle of her own vomit. She had nothing left to move.

  Detecting the energy from its prey, the beast’s smile widened, its mouth arm moving. “Ahhh… There you are, Lina. My love, wait for me.”

  “Haha… What a cruel joke.” She laughed weakly, her face still pressed against the ground.

  Branches cracked. Twigs snapped. The beast was coming closer, faster now. It wanted her. It wanted to devour her whole.

  Her heart almost gave up, but she didn’t. Instead of calmly accepting death, she spat in defiance. She couldn’t lift her head, yet she could feel it—the beast was only a step away.

  Then she heard it: a war cry, wild and burning, filled with fury and fire.

  “ARRGHHHHHHHHHH!”

  Lina forced her head up—and saw the impossible.

  Through the torrent of rain and lightning, a shadow cleaved through the storm. Her figure, cloaked in black deeper than the night itself, strode forward like a phantom born of desperation. That darkness wasn’t absence—it was will made form. It embraced her, yet it devoured everything that dared to stand against her. The kind of black that shelters you… and crushes your enemy.

  Her hand—slender, trembling, but unyielding—gripped a spear that gleamed like a shard of dawn cutting through ruin. It was a spear of hope, forged from defiance, carrying destiny at its tip. Each step she took shook the ground, each breath a vow to tear apart the thing that had dared touch what was hers.

  As she passed, Lina turned just enough to see her savior move. The beast’s thousand arms lunged, claws like blades ripping through the air, but she danced between them.

  The spear flashed once, bright against the thunder.

  Then it struck.

  The creature’s scream tore the heavens apart. Lightning itself seemed to shatter around them as black blood splattered across the rain. Yet the woman in black didn’t flinch. She stood firm, her shadow wrapping around her like armor, eyes burning with a purpose the storm itself dared not challenge.

  With a loud roar, Vierna drove the spear deeper, the muscles in her arms trembling from the strain. The creature’s guttural scream tore through the storm, louder than the storm, shaking the earth beneath them. She wrenched the weapon free, grabbed her smaller spear, and plunged it again—then again—each strike faster, wilder, fueled by something far beyond rage.

  The beast flailed, its countless arms whipping through the air, snapping branches and crushing trees. One blow tore across her side, shredding her clothes. Another grazed her shoulder, drawing blood that mixed with the rain. Yet she didn’t stop.

  Her hair whipped across her face, soaked and dark with crimson. Cuts opened across her skin, her body trembling from exhaustion, but still she struck. The small throwing spear wasn’t meant for this kind of brutality, but she forced it through flesh and sinew anyway, stabbing again and again until her hands slipped from the blood coating her grip.

  The monster roared, thrashing harder, but Vierna only screamed back—her voice raw, defiant, half-choked with fury and tears.

  “FENRIC!”

  The shout was violent yet carried the same kindness and devotion as a lover ready to march through hell. A knight without armor, veiled in shadow. It was not the sweet, deceitful voice of the beast, but the real one—the one Lina’s heart had been waiting for.

  Another figure emerged from the darkness. His brown fur glistened in the rain, his expression stern and unflinching. He held the same weapon as the girl who had saved her. His antlers burned with a fiery glow, a construct of rage and fury aimed at whatever stood before him.

  “WAGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

  His roar shattered the rain-soaked leaves, louder than the storm itself. With a dangerous speed, he lunged forward. For a moment, lit by lightning, Lina saw not a half-deer charging—but a wolf with antlers.

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  He drove his spear into the beast’s other stitched eye. The creature’s scream pierced the air, shaking trees and stone alike. This time, the saviors were real—not another cruel illusion.

  Lina forced air into her lungs.

  “VIERNA, SAVE THE BOY!” she screamed while pointing to Axel.

  Vierna wasted no time. Letting go of her spear, she bolted back. Lina saw it—Vierna forced herself to use Eidrecht Two to propel her body. A reckless, costly move given Moony’s condition.

  But as the beast began to regain its footing, Lina’s heart froze. She regretted shouting that—the one that might cost them everything.

  Fenric however, wasn’t going to let that happen. His body convulsed, black veins crawling like living roots beneath his skin. Blood poured from his nose, ears, and eyes, yet he still raised his hands. The air around him crackled, seething with unstable mana.

  He screamed in defiance. As the voice ripped itself from within him. His fur darkened, rippling as shadows moved under his flesh. Muscles bulged and twisted, bones shifting with sharp, wet cracks. His mouth pushed forward, teeth lengthening into jagged canines as a growl replaced his voice.

  His eyes burned crimson. His breath came in ragged snarls, steaming in the cold air.

  “Alunt’Dar Weis Eiruthfrean!”

  The forest answered.

  The ground trembled as if the earth itself had drawn breath. Branches snapped and twisted, roots tore free from the soil, writhing like vipers in a frenzy. Shadows stretched, and the trees groaned in unison, bending toward the beast as though obeying an ancient command.

  Then the forest struck.

  A storm of wooden spears erupted from the earth, dark and jagged, each one wreathed in faint blue mana. They pierced through flesh and bone, driving deep into the abomination’s writhing limbs. Blood and ichor splattered across the rain, hissing as it touched the ground.

  The creature screamed—a sound so vile it warped the air, echoing like the cry of a dying god. The forest itself seemed to recoil from it. But even as it was nailed to the ground, it didn’t die. It kept moving, clawing, writhing, hatred spilling from every severed mouth.

  It was in pain, yes—but nowhere near defeated.

  “FENRIC! I GOT THE BOY!”

  With great haste, Fenric lifted Lina into his arms, and sprinted away.

  Realizing that its prey still wriggled away, the beast let out a hellish shriek. Unlike the sweet allure of the previous voice, this one would snap your brain straight to the pyre of hell, shaming even the rolling thunder in the background. It shook its body with great force. The wooden spear conjured from the black woods of Schattwald Forest let out a crack loud as thunder, snapped by the sheer power of the beast. Then came the sound — a deep, wet crunch that tore through the rain. It was moving again.

  It was rushing straight toward Fenric and Lina.

  “Why the fuck is that thing so determined to get me?” Lina shouted, her voice breaking between gasps.

  Fenric didn’t answer. He was too focused on running, his breaths rough and uneven. He dodged obstacles, slipping between the roots and vines that jutted from the ground like claws trying to drag him down.

  Lina risked a glance back—and froze. Despite Fenric’s best efforts, the beast was gaining. It tore through the forest with terrifying ease, crushing trees and stones alike while Fenric had to twist, leap, and slide just to stay ahead. Every crash behind them rattled her bones. Her heart pounded so violently it hurt. She wanted to help him, to do anything—but her mana was gone. And even if she had any left, the beast would just devour her spells.

  She could only watch as the nightmare closed in, its countless limbs clawing through the mist like it refused to release its prey.

  “Aline! grab onto me!” Fenric shouted.

  She didn’t hesitate. Her trembling hands reached for his neck, clinging tight. Pain flared through her arms as her half-burned muscles screamed, but she forced them to obey. Fenric swung her onto his back with a growl that cracked into a snarl.

  Black haze poured from his skin, thick as smoke, coiling in the rain. His body convulsed with each step; his bones creaked, shifting in rhythm with his ragged breath. His fur darkened, spreading from gray to pitch black. She could hear his breathing—harsh, broken, muffled by pain. Each inhale sounded like it tore something inside him apart.

  Then he dropped lower, running on all fours.

  Lina felt the change—the jolt of speed, the violent power beneath her. His claws dug deep into the soaked earth, throwing mud behind him as he darted through the forest like a shadow come alive. His legs buckled once, stumbling, but he caught himself midfall and kept running, never slowing, as if the ground itself bent to keep him moving.

  Now Fenric no longer looked half human at all. He was fully a direwolf now.

  Behind them, the beast roared again. The air trembled. Then came the sound of trees ripping apart. It was throwing things—rocks, branches, whole chunks of the forest, tearing them from the ground and hurling them like spears.

  One crashed beside them, exploding into splinters. Another tore past, grazing Lina’s hair.

  “HAHAHA! YOU NEED TO AIM BETTER, YOU STITCHED-EYED BASTARD!” Fenric shouted, his voice ragged and wild.

  Lina felt it—the thrill in his tone. His heart was pounding fast, too fast. She could feel his excitement bleeding through the fear. The meek hunter she once knew was gone. What ran beneath her now was something primal.

  “Linaa… Linaaa… Linaaaa…”

  The beast’s voice echoed through the forest, calling her name again and again. She shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to block it out, but it wormed into her thoughts, thick and sweet like poison. Why was it so fixated on her? Maybe it had tasted her despair and grown addicted to it. She could only thank the gods that Fenric didn’t seem to hear it—or if he did, he ignored it completely.

  The forest thinned ahead. Through the storm’s veil, she saw light—the edge of the Schattwald. The flower field lay beyond, bending under the gray wind. Salvation.

  But dread still coiled in her chest. What if the beast didn’t stop? What if it followed them beyond the trees? What if it reached Rolbart next?

  She shoved those thoughts aside and clung tighter to Fenric.

  They burst out of the forest at last. The open field opened before them, a sea of trampled flowers bending under the storm. Fenric kept running, his breaths ragged, his claws tearing through the soaked ground as if sheer will alone was forcing his body forward.

  He made it a few dozens more strides before his legs began to falter. Each step grew heavier, his pace uneven, the rhythm of his gait breaking apart. Lina could feel his body trembling beneath her—every muscle spasming, every breath sounding more like a growl than air.

  Then his strength finally gave out.

  He stumbled, one paw catching in the mud, his weight crashing forward. Lina was thrown from his back, hitting the ground with a heavy thud as Fenric slid across the flowers, tearing through them until he came to a halt in the rain-soaked field.

  Behind them, the forest roared making Lina’s heart skipped a beat.

  Shit… shit… shit!