The chill of the Kazakhar morning seeped into Adam's bones, but a different kind of cold dread settled in his gut. Last night's whispered plans for escape, for Edward Bloodrose, for an alliance, echoed in his mind. He glanced around the cell. Harry was nervously checking his bowstring, Panchenko sharpened his spear with a whetstone, and Jones meticulously cleaned his axe head. They were ready for the Darkling Woods, but were they ready for what their words might have wrought?
Unbeknownst to them, outside their cell, a demon guard had lingered, his keen, non-human hearing picking up fragments of their hushed conversation. "Edward Bloodrose… escape… allies…" The guard's smoldering eyes had narrowed. Such talk was treason, punishable by an agonizing death. He wouldn't act immediately; a slow burn, a careful watch, would yield more information. This group would be kept an eye on.
"Alright, lads," Panchenko said, breaking the silence, "time for round two with our leafy friends. Remember our plan: stick together, conserve energy, and keep an eye out for potential recruits."
As they gathered their weapons, Adam caught Jones's eye. "You think Julian will listen?"
Jones grunted. "He's a survivor. He's strong. He'll see the logic in numbers, especially if Tom puts it to him right. But he's a lone wolf. Hard to pin down."
Harry whimpered. "I just hope we don't run into another Treant."
"Or worse," Adam murmured, a shiver running down his spine. The unknown was always the most terrifying.
The Darkling Woods greeted them with its usual oppressive gloom. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, clung to them. They moved with more purpose this time, their senses heightened. Not long after entering, a low growl echoed from the shadows. Then another, and another. Red eyes glowed in the perpetual twilight. A pack of wolves, their forms gaunt and unnaturally large, emerged from between the gnarled trees, circling them with predatory intent.
"Gloom-Hounds," Tom whispered from beside Adam, his voice surprisingly calm.
"Fast, but they scatter if you hit their alpha hard enough."
The fight was brutal and swift. Adam's sword moved in arcs, parrying snapping jaws and finding vital points. Panchenko's spear kept the beasts at bay, while Jones's axe cleaved through bone and sinew. Harry, though terrified, managed to land several critical shots with his bow, one arrow piercing an alpha's eye, sending it howling into a retreat, its pack scattering behind it.
They stood panting, bloodied but victorious. Just as they caught their breath, a piercing scream tore through the forest. It was a woman's voice, laced with terror and pain.
"That's Astrid!" Panchenko exclaimed, his usual wit replaced by genuine alarm.
Without hesitation, Adam plunged forward, the others close behind. They burst into a small clearing, and the sight before them made Adam's blood run cold. Astrid's group was fighting for their lives against a nightmare.
It was a Chimera, a monstrous beast with the head of a lion, the body of a goat, and a serpentine tail ending in a venomous viper's head. Its scales shimmered ominously in the dim light, and smoke curled from its lion's maw.
Astrid, her daggers flashing, moved with desperate speed, but she had a deep gash on her arm. Lee lay slumped against a tree, clutching his leg, his face pale. Ylva, though still standing defiantly, had a nasty wound on her side, her warhammer held aloft defensively. And Pao… Pao was on the ground, a gaping, horrific wound in his rounded belly, his eyes wide and unseeing. A crimson pool was spreading beneath him.
"Pao!" Panchenko gasped, his voice filled with horror. "A Chimera! They're supposed to be in Level Four!"
The Chimera roared, lunging at Ylva. Adam didn't think. He saw the sheer, unadulterated danger, the unfairness of it all. This was not a test; it was a massacre.
"We help them!" Adam roared, charging forward, his sword held high. Harry, Jones, and Panchenko followed, a unified wave of desperate fury.
The fight was a blur of primal instinct. Adam's sword clashed against the Chimera's scales, deflecting its powerful blows. He felt a searing pain as the viper's tail lashed out, its fangs grazing his arm. Panchenko thrust his spear repeatedly, aiming for the beast's joints, while Harry's arrows, though seemingly ineffective against its tough hide, still sought its eyes. Jones, roaring, brought his axe down with brutal force, but even his mighty blows barely staggered the creature.
They were all wounded. Deep gashes marred their bodies, exhaustion dragged at their limbs, and the Chimera, though bleeding, showed no signs of slowing. Adam felt a terrifying certainty: they were going to die here. This was it.
Just as the Chimera lunged, its lion jaws snapping, a blinding speed erupted from the edge of the clearing. A flash of red hair, a blur of motion, and then a clean, impossibly swift cut. One of the Chimera's goat legs crumpled, severed with surgical precision.
It was Julian. He stood there, his red hair a stark contrast to the dim woods, his ruby eyes blazing with an almost inhuman intensity. His blade, impossibly sharp, glinted in the gloom.
The Chimera shrieked, falling to one side, its roar now tinged with pain and fury. Julian moved like a whisper, a ghost among the trees. His blade danced, a whirlwind of silver, striking the monster again and again, each cut impossibly precise, impossibly deep. Adam watched, mesmerized. He's fast and strong, Adam murmured to himself, the words barely audible. Julian's swordsmanship was unlike anything he had ever witnessed, a deadly, beautiful dance of death.
With a final, desperate roar, Julian's blade plunged into the Chimera's lion head, silencing it instantly. The massive beast shuddered, then collapsed, dead.
Julian turned, his gaze sweeping over the ravaged group. His eyes narrowed as he took in the extent of their injuries. He strode towards the nearest demon guard, who had emerged from the tree line, having apparently been observing the carnage with detached amusement.
"These prisoners are severely wounded!" Julian's voice was cold, his eyes blazing. "They need immediate medical attention! Especially him!" He pointed to the unmoving form of Pao.
Astrid, clutching her bleeding arm, pushed herself up. "Pao is severely wounded! He needs immediate help!"
But the demon guard merely laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that grated on their ears. "Their suffering is their own. Let them learn the price of weakness."
Just then, a distant, resonant bell rang, signaling the end of the daily ordeal. The second day in the Darkling Woods was over. They had survived, barely. But the price was heavy, and the demon's cruelty was a stark reminder of their true predicament.