Andrew stayed pressed against the bark, barely daring to breathe. The Treant hadn't moved in nearly a full minute, but its eyes still glowed, unblinking and fixed on the canopy.
Not scanning anymore. Just waiting.
'It knows I'm up here.'
Andrew shifted his weight, testing the branch beneath him. Still sturdy. But it creaked softly underfoot. The Treant's fingers flexed.
Andrew froze.
'Too sensitive. Even vibration triggers it.' Andrew thought in fright.
He lowered his body, distributing weight across arms and legs, and let the movement in the forest guide his eyes.
To his left, a pair of Sylvans slinked back into the area near the spring. They moved cautiously now, not in formation. Not hunting.
They were searching. And then he saw it, one of them looked up directly at the Treant, then above the trees.
"They're working together. Coordinated sweep." Andrew's mind raced.
'If I climb higher, I lose speed. Lower, and I'm cornered. I need… something unexpected.'
He scanned the canopy ahead.
There, a broken limb draped in a curtain of moss, hanging low over a narrow gully. Past that, the terrain shifted, rocky ledges, uneven footing, sharp inclines.
"Noisy terrain."
A plan struck Andrew's mind, not to escape but for distractions.
He eased backward, limbs tight, heart hammering, and moved laterally along the branch until he reached the next tree. Then the next. He kept to the shadows, using the sunlight patches as avoidance zones, he'd noticed the Sylvans preferred dim cover.
Even their eyes adjusted poorly to direct light.
'One more jump.'
He crouched, braced, and sprang to the moss-draped limb. It bent hard, creaking loud.
The forest responded.
The Treant surged forward, massive limbs breaking through the brush, its weight shaking the ground. The Sylvans darted ahead of it, moving in calculated angles.
But Andrew didn't wait.
He dropped. Tumbled down the slope into the gully, slamming against roots and shale, rolling through dead leaves and pine needles.
Sharp pain cut through his side, but he didn't stop.
He scrambled forward just as the moss-covered branch snapped behind him, crashing down with a sound like thunder.
The forest exploded.
Branches tore. Roots upended. Sylvans hissed and scattered, momentarily disoriented.
Andrew used the chaos.
He slid behind a jagged rock outcropping and pulled himself into a narrow gap between two roots. A tight space. Low visibility. But shielded.
Hidden. He went still.
The Treant's footsteps approached, heavy, deliberate.
Then stopped.
A root slammed down nearby, close, but not on him.
Andrew didn't move.
His breath burned in his throat.
Above, the Sylvans began reforming. Their hisses were sharper now. Frustrated and confused.
'They lost me.'
Andrew waited. "Twenty seconds."
"Thirty."
Then the Treant let out a long, creaking groan and shifted direction.
Its patrol resumed.
The Sylvans followed, slightly out of rhythm now. Less coordinated. Off pattern.
Andrew smiled faintly, despite the pain lancing through his side.
They adapt. So would he.
[Time Remaining: 10 hours 32 minutes]
And now… it was his turn to hunt.
Andrew remained crouched beneath the ridge, breathing through clenched teeth. The Treant was gone for now. The Sylvans too. But their absence was temporary.
He had eleven hours left in this level and the forest didn't sleep.
He scanned the terrain ahead, sharp roots, uneven ridges, patches of thorns. There was no straight path forward. That was fine. A straight path meant death.
Every movement needed to count.
He descended carefully, brushing low branches aside as he moved. His shoulder still throbbed where the claw had sliced him earlier. The bleeding had slowed, but not stopped. He tore a strip from his sleeve and bound it tightly. No time to rest. No time to falter.
A whisper!
His head snapped to the left.
A Sylvan, just one, moved silently between two trees, less than thirty feet away. It hadn't seen him yet.
Andrew ducked behind a fallen trunk, heartbeat steadying.
"Shit!"
He watched.
This one moved differently than the others. Slower. Its claws dragged lightly against the bark as it passed. Not in a rush. Not hunting with aggression.
It's scouting.
Andrew's eyes narrowed.
He waited until it passed his line of sight, then circled low and fast, flanking it from behind. He didn't summon his dagger yet due to too much noise. Instead, he snatched a broken branch from the ground and crept behind the creature.
Five steps.
Four.
Three.
The Sylvan twitched. Its head snapped sideways.
Too late!
Andrew lunged forward, jamming the branch between the creature's legs. It stumbled. Before it could recover, he summoned the Nyxian Dagger, pixelating it mid-strike, and plunged it deep into the Sylvan's neck.
It didn't scream. Just thrashed violently.
Andrew twisted the blade.
The body went limp.
He dropped it quietly, lowering it into the underbrush. Then froze.
A deep, groaning sound echoed from the distance.
The Treant heard that.
Andrew bolted, no hesitation. No time for stealth. He sprinted through the trees, weaving between trunks, jumping over roots. Behind him, the ground trembled.
The Treant was coming.
Branches crashed.
Leaves scattered.
He ducked under a low limb and slid down a small incline, landing hard on his side. Pain flared, but he kept moving, half-running, half-crawling through a narrow game trail.
The trees parted slightly ahead.
A clearing.
He stumbled into it,wide, open, dangerous.
He skidded to a halt. Too exposed.
He turned to retreat, just as the Treant's massive form crashed through the trees behind him.
Andrew dived to the side.
A root slammed down where he'd just stood, shattering rock and soil.
He rolled, came up on one knee, and threw the Nyxian Dagger with everything he had.
The blade struck the Treant's arm.
It bounced off,didn't even leave a mark.
The Treant turned toward him fully now, towering, shadowed, ancient.
Its fist rose in mid air. Andrew ran, he didn't fight neither did he challenge.
He vanished into the trees again, just a flicker of movement between leaves.
[Time Remaining: 9 hours 51 minutes]
He wouldn't survive this level with strength.
He'd survive it with choices.
[MP: 800/1000]