That's the Shepherd… Both Hunter and Altair immediately recognized it; only a creature of this magnitude could have such a presence.
Around the Shepherd, its herd slowly gathered, their numbers barely countable, their outlines visible through the fog.
The vegetation around them ran wild, with lush bushes, rapidly growing weeds, and trees that grew larger until they reached a point where they couldn't grow anymore.
They reached the end of their life cycle.
The shepherd slowly stepped towards the convicts, its hooves echoing in the overgrown ruins, causing everyone's body to tense up. Their options were limited when facing a Fog Creature of this level.
The tall grass around them dulled from vibrant green to a lifeless gray. Bushes and trees drained of color, their leaves curling as they decayed. As the world around them withered, the puppets grew livelier, their motions sharpening.
The world around them withered, but the herd only grew more energetic.
More hungry.
He felt a steady tap on his shoulder—then with more force behind it, growing faster.
Altair only glanced at Hunter before the two nodded and broke into a sprint, running in the same general direction as Butcher and the other convict.
Behind them, the shepherd remained motionless, simply staring at the fading outlines of its prey.
But the herd was in pursuit; they were simply imitations of animal noises, a mockery of life.
The more Altair and Hunter ran, the deeper they traversed into the Shepherd's domain, both of their lungs were burning as they exhausted themselves.
Yet, no matter how far they ran, they couldn't escape the herd of puppets.
I have to find Butcher before they get to him first. But no matter where he looked, where he ran, bone masked puppets were watching him from the thinning fog.
The deeper they reached, the more rampant the vegetation grew, a forest where trees rapidly grew out of nothing, decayed and returned to the earth, only to repeat their life cycle endlessly.
This isn't normal; something is up with the shepherd… we should have been killed long ago, it shouldn't be any problem for it. Yet we are still alive… even the one on the beach was a bigger threat than this.
The more he observed the way the puppets were acting and the domain of the Shepherd working, the less uncertain he became.
Could this be…? Just a tier 1 as a shepherd? It somehow survived this long; the only reason it's still alive is because Nostra lowers its criminals into the Lawless Abyss. Even if it's barely a shepherd, it shouldn't matter…
Hunter knew well how intoxicating hope is; thus, he couldn't allow himself to succumb to it.
Be it his life in the Tamara group high in the flying city of Nostra or down in the Lawless Abyss, hope was a fool's vice.
Strangely, he found himself more afraid of Altair than he was of the shepherd. At least the Shepherd was clearly desperate, but Altair?
He couldn't figure him out.
Everyone from Red Mansion had a similar air around them; they were unpredictable. And that was the last thing Hunter wanted to deal with right now.
The herd that only seemed to follow them without doing anything was enough to freak him out.
All of a sudden, he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. It was Altair who ducked, yanking him down with him. Altair hid behind a decaying tree, but it was still in clear sight for the Shepherd's flock.
What the hell is he thinking?! Hunter panicked as he observed their surroundings.
Countless hollow stares were aimed at them, behind every tree, the faint outline of a stag mask could be observed, yet not a single one of them attacked.
"What the hell is going on?!" Hunter couldn't hold it back in, turning to Altair with a hushed voice.
Before Altair found a moment to answer, another explosion could be heard through the tranquil forest, which in turn started another of its decaying cycles almost as if it were caused by the sound of the blast.
However, the herd of the shepherd ignored the explosion.
But also ignoring the two of them.
Simultaneously, the Shepherd's puppets took a step back almost as if out of instinctual fear of an approaching predator.
The air around them grew unnervingly still, the only sound the fading ambiance of the surrounding world as it withered away.
Until an out-of-place noise made Hunter's ear twitch in alert.
The faint click of a leather boot on broken cobblestone, muffled to near silence as the stones disappeared beneath the creeping tall grass.
Only Hunter caught the sound, sending shivers down his spine. It was not a noise unfamiliar to him—one that was soon followed by an even more recognizable sound.
A stag mask made of bone looked up, the only member of its herd that moved.
It was followed by the sickening crunch of bones breaking loudly, its mask shattering while its antler broke into countless fragments.
Clap Clap Clap
The noise of someone leisurely clapping brought Hunter's worst nightmare to life.
The shade from the beach followed them.
But there was one positive fact about the situation, it targeted the shepherd and it's flock first.
"Now!"
Hunter yelped as he began to run with all his might, behind him, only the sound of bones snapping could be heard.
The more of them broke apart, the more he flinched, his muscles ached and his mind was in chaos, but as he looked at Altair, he failed to discover the same fear on his face that tormented him.
I knew that none of the Red Mansion bastards were normal, but this is crazy! He felt his heart beat out of his throat, but he never stopped running.
They only needed to regroup with Butcher and the other convict.
The closer they came to the source of the flames, the deeper the silence seeped into his bones. The disgusting noise of shattering bones was bad, but the silence affected him more.
For the first time since arriving in the Abyss, Hunter felt the urge to smile as he caught sight of a familiar face from his organization.
"There you are, Butch, you don't even know how glad I am to see your stupid face." With a wide grin, he approached the two, only to stop in his tracks as he saw them both heavily bleeding on the ground.
"Hun…ter?"
"Butch! What the hell happened to you two?!"
Right beside Butcher, the other convict lay on the ground, heaving painfully while occasionally wheezing, sending chills down Hunter's spine.
Thankfully, as he looked back at Butcher, his wounds slowly started to close up, a red hue glimmering around the rapidly healing injuries.
In mere seconds, his wound fully closed up, and Butcher slowly rose from the ground with a pale expression.
"What did this to you two?" Asked Hunter while Altair walked up to the convict lying on the ground.
"The Shepherd… that's what happened." Butcher spat in anger; meanwhile, Altair's chain jingled as he tore a piece of cloth from his jumpsuit's sleeve.
As Butcher noticed his chains, his eyes narrowed into a scowl.
"I understand wanting you dead, but there are so many easier ways… doesn't matter, do you have a way to take them down?"
"No."
Altair answered tersely; his focus was on applying pressure to the wound of the convict.
"If we get you a droplet, could you get them off?"
"Yeah. However, that's not feasible, is it? Do you want to get it from the Wolf or the Shepherd?" Altair felt like scoffing; instead, he focused his attention on applying pressure to the wound.
Hunter and Butcher exchange a confused glance, neither of them having heard this Red Mansion assassin talk this much before.
Looking closer at the wounds, he focused all his attention on the convict.
His body was beaten and bloody, his orange jumpsuit was mostly burnt away, with only some blackened strips remaining of it.
"What happened to him?"
"Oh, Firestarter?" Butcher just scoffed.
"Every time the puppets attacked us, he tried to fend them off,… well, He managed to anger the Shepherd. You can see where that brought us." Strangely, Butcher had a smile on his face.
"Also, you are wrong. We have a droplet right here. Not as good as a Fog Creature's, but this will do for now."
Butcher gave no time for Altair to react before he grabbed a sharp ebony antler, stabbing it into flesh, splattering red across Altair's face.
Ignoring him, he crouched down, ripping out a small, yellow stone from the chest of Firestarter.
Around them, small leaves began to gently cascade down. Blood red in color, the leaves of autumn.
"Hurry… it already found us."
His expression didn't change; instead, he swiftly grabbed the yellow stone from Butcher, which was barely larger than his fingernail. A small teardrop-shaped yellow stone. Pressing it close to his chest until it slowly vanished.
When Altair next blinked, the Shepherd's domain was gone.
He stood in pitch-black darkness, unable to see even the tip of his nose.
Then, a single ember sparked up, blooming into a tiny flame.
Behind it, the face of a dead man emerged.