Cleo and the others were sweating—they were far off from the planned route, thrown off course by their relentless pursuer. The cloaked woman was toying with them, intentionally letting her spears narrowly miss, adding to the tension. There was no more road ahead—only thick grass and dense fauna.
She twirled another summoned spear in a playful manner while the massive floating eye hovered overhead, tracking their every move.
"Cleo, what do we do!?" Eva cried out.
"JUST KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN!" Cleo shouted in response.
In the distance, the hooded woman whispered, "That's not going to work… My eyes can see everything."
We shift perspective—to the floating eyeball. It became clearer now: the eye wasn't just an extension of her—it was part of her, connected through some eerie telepathic link. The entity didn't just see far and wide—it could see in the dark, in incredible detail, and even through thin walls.
The hooded figure aimed the summoned spear upward, slightly adjusting it to the side to account for the movement of the vehicle beneath her. She held the position for a few seconds, then whispered, "There you go," and hurled the spear with immense force.
It tore through the thin wall of the vehicle—piercing straight through Eva's neck. A sickening gurgle escaped her lips as blood sprayed across the cabin.
Deborah screamed in horror. Shu turned around, eyes wide.
"Shit! Shit! They got Eva!" Shu shouted.
Cleo slammed the brakes.
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" Shu screamed.
"NO—QUITE THE OPPOSITE! YOU KNOW WHERE TO GO, RIGHT? I'LL STAY AND STOP THEM!" Cleo yelled back as he jumped out of the vehicle.
Shu hesitated, then gave Cleo one last look before slamming his foot on the pedal and driving off into the rain.
"Good luck, my friend!" Cleo shouted as the vehicle sped away.
Deborah took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She knew she couldn't do anything now except trust Shu and Cleo. She reached over and clutched Eva's hand tightly.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Once we get to the capital, I'll make sure your kids get help. I'll make sure they know how much you loved them."
Eva's eyes slowly lost their light as her grip slackened. Deborah's own grip only tightened, refusing to let go.
Meanwhile, the hooded figure spotted Cleo standing defiantly in the middle of the road.
"Well, well! Looks like someone's playing the hero!" she shouted with glee. "But unfortunately for you, I'm not in the mood to play your game!"
She stomped on the roof of the vehicle. "Hey, soldier boy! Ignore the mustache guy and press forward. We'll deal with him later."
Cleo lowered his stance, digging his feet into the wet earth, ready to charge.
"I'm sorry but… participation is mandatory," he muttered.
Then he sprang forward, launching himself at the oncoming vehicle. The soldier and the cloaked figure barely had time to react before Cleo slammed into it with immense force—shattering the bumper and sending both himself and the front of the vehicle flying.
Cleo tumbled to the ground, blood pouring from his fingers and forehead. His bicep was swollen and bruised, his shoulder clearly fractured. He groaned, struggling to rise.
"Shit…" the hooded figure muttered, watching as the vehicle with Shu and Deborah sped off into the distance.
"Not even a huntsman could catch up to that," Cleo said through gritted teeth—until a sudden chill ran down his spine.
A presence loomed behind him. The same kind of dread he felt when facing Liba crept over his skin.
He turned his head slightly—and saw him.
The restrained man.
The bald one. Wild eyes. Scarred. Twitching.
"Alright, boy," the hooded woman said with an annoyed expression, "this man pissed me off. Go ahead and bludgeon him to death."
The restrained man responded with guttural growls and animalistic howls.
"What…?" Cleo muttered, confused.
But in that moment, the man began to change.
His muscles swelled grotesquely, bulging beneath the skin as the restraints snapped apart. The bandages around him stretched unnaturally, almost as if enchanted to grow with him. His arms thickened, bones snapping and realigning as his body shifted into a hunched, quadrupedal posture.
He kept growing—larger and larger—until he loomed over Cleo at nearly twelve feet tall. His head remained mostly human, twisted in a permanent snarl, but it was now engulfed by mountainous shoulder and back muscles. His skin darkened, turning from a sickly pale to a deep, blood-red hue.
What now stood before Cleo was a monstrous, gorilla-like beast.
At the same time, the hooded woman turned away and sprinted after the escaping vehicle.
Shu glanced into the side mirror just in time to see her silhouette growing smaller in the distance, the rain blurring her shape as the vehicle sped up—leaving Cleo alone with the beast.
"Looks like we're making it out of here after all," Shu said, relief creeping into his voice.
But the hooded figure, realizing she couldn't reach them directly, shifted tactics. Her floating eyes scouted the terrain ahead, searching… until she found it.
She darted left, sprinting with incredible speed and agility—leaping over rivers, weaving between trees—until she reached a high cliff overlooking the dense forest below. From there, the fleeing vehicle came into view.
She summoned another phantom spear. Unlike the ornate one gripped in her left hand—its surface carved with intricate patterns—this new weapon was a sleek, dark blue entity formed entirely of raw energy.
She aimed carefully, adjusting slightly to the left… then hurled the spear with terrifying force.
It soared through the air like a missile, striking the vehicle dead-on—piercing its engine. The vehicle jerked violently, lost all momentum, and collided with a rock formation before tumbling over with a loud crash.
"Deborah, are you okay?" Shu asked, scrambling toward her. But she was drenched in Eva's blood, her eyes wide and unblinking.
Shu's voice cracked with horror. He stepped out of the vehicle and screamed into the trees, "WHERE ARE YOU!? GET DOWN HERE AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!"
"I'M A WOMAN, THOUGH!" the hooded figure called back—just as the tip of a phantom spear pierced through Shu's chest.
It was the last thing he ever heard.
As for Deborah, all hope had drained from her eyes. She staggered out of the wreckage, trembling but ready to face her end.
The hooded woman smiled coldly and obliged—driving the final spear through Deborah's neck.
Cleo also was not faring well.
His enemy was like a flailing beast—massive, primal, and relentless. Each time it stomped the ground with its enormous arms, tremors rippled through the earth, disorienting Cleo. The creature was slow and mindless, easy enough to dodge, but the sheer force behind its attacks made every near miss feel like a death sentence.
Cleo was exhausted. His body kept moving on instinct, dodging and weaving, but his mind had already given up.
Then, in that moment—right as the beast's enormous arm came crashing down—time seemed to slow. So slow he could count the raindrops falling from the sky.
"Is this it?" he murmured, eyes blank as the shadow of the blow loomed over him.
His life began flashing before his eyes.
He remembered…
When he was just a boy.
Compared to most, he was well off. His father held a respectable position in the capital. But Cleo had never admired him. The man was selfish, corrupt—everything Cleo despised.
Cleo was different. Kind. Compassionate. Perhaps he got that from his mother.
His father was rarely home. His mother, though—she was always there, always gentle. Always watching over him.
Then the beast's strike landed, jolting him back to reality. Pain erupted through his body, and—
Another memory surfaced.
This time, it was the death of his mother.
His father, cold and indifferent, simply took his hand. Cleo had long forgotten where his father brought him afterward. All he could remember was their conversation.
They were riding in a carriage, passing through the slums. He stared out the window, watching the suffering—ripped sheets for shelter, the starving and the sick barely clinging to life.
He turned to his father and asked, "Why are there people living like this?"
His father replied, without a hint of emotion, "There's nothing we can do. That's just how things are."
"But aren't we supposed to help them?" Cleo protested.
His father looked at him—stoic and cold—and simply said, "Why?"
Then he heard a loud splat.
Cleo was no longer aware of what was happening. All he knew was that he was dying.
And then… one last memory surfaced.
His father's funeral.
Cleo was already in his twenties when his father died. Now, standing before the casket, he was set to inherit his father's position—a place in the capital's government.
His father had lived a life defined by greed and selfishness. And on that day, Cleo made a vow:
Never to be like him.
The rays of the sun broke through the clouds and touched Cleo's body.
For a moment, he was conscious again.
He was cold. He could not speak. Only think.
He thought back on his father. Selfish… yes. Cruel… absolutely.
But he had been right about one thing:
If you want to achieve something... you must use everything at your disposal.
And with that final thought, Cleo's consciousness faded.