The night echoed with the sound of roars.
From the shadows of the valley, huge beasts leapt forward—tigers with snow-white fur, striped with blood-red markings that glowed faintly under the moonlight. Their fangs and claws gleamed like sharpened blades, each movement radiating killing intent. These were the Blood Fang Tigers that the scouts had warned of.
The caravan's guards quickly formed lines of defense while the passengers retreated to the safety of the carriages. The ground trembled beneath the charge of the beasts as they closed the distance.
At the forefront of the defense stood Cedric. His expression was calm, his sharp eyes locked onto the nearest tiger. His black armor reflected the torchlight, and the blade in his hand gleamed with a cold, unwavering edge.
A Blood Fang Tiger lunged at him, its jaw wide open, aiming to crush him in one bite.
Cedric's body flickered, dissolving into a cloud of black smoke. The beast's fangs clamped down on empty air. In the next instant, Cedric's form solidified again just above its head. His blade flashed downwards in a clean arc, slicing into the beast's neck.
Blood sprayed across the ground as the tiger let out a guttural roar before collapsing. Its massive body hit the dirt with a heavy thud.
But Cedric didn't stop moving. The moment his blade withdrew, his body dispersed into smoke once again, gliding across the battlefield with unnatural speed. He reappeared near another tiger, his sword already thrusting forward. The blade pierced through its left eye, driving deep into its skull. The beast convulsed and fell limp, its body twitching once before going still.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, the guards and other arcanists fought desperately. Some launched fire spells, setting the night alight with burning claws and flaming roars. Others wielded blades and spears, striking down tigers with teamwork and coordination. Screams of men mixed with the roars of beasts, and the air was filled with the metallic scent of blood.
Cedric moved like a shadow among them. Whenever a tiger tried to flank the guards, Cedric's smoky form appeared. His strikes were precise, his timing perfect.
One tiger swiped its claws at him, the red talons slashing through the air. Cedric's body turned into smoke once again, the claws passing harmlessly through him. In that same instant, he reappeared behind the beast. His sword slashed cleanly across its hind legs, cutting through muscle and tendon. The beast stumbled, collapsing to the ground. Cedric finished it with a stab to the throat.
His movements were fluid, almost like a dance between his smoke form and tangible body. In smoke, he was untouchable and swift, covering vast distances in seconds. In flesh, he was lethal, his sword finding the weak points of every beast he faced.
Minutes passed, and the battlefield grew littered with corpses. Blood Fang Tigers lay dead one after another, their white fur stained crimson. The earth was torn by claw marks and soaked with blood.
Finally, the last tiger let out a dying roar as it was cut down by the combined efforts of several guards. Its massive body crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.
Silence followed. Only the ragged breathing of the surviving guards and the crackling of torches filled the air.
The battle was over. The Blood Fang Tigers were all dead.
Cedric stood in the middle of the battlefield, his sword dripping with blood. His armor was scratched, and faint cuts marked his skin, but none were serious. Around him, the other arcanists and mercenaries began cleaning up—dragging bodies, tending to the wounded, and gathering supplies from the fallen beasts.
Victory was theirs. But Cedric's sharp gaze lingered on the shadows at the edge of the valley.
Something felt off.
He couldn't pinpoint why, but the battle seemed… strange. Blood Fang Tigers were vicious, but the way they had attacked felt uncoordinated, almost forced. Their numbers were significant, but none of them had shown the intelligence or caution that such beasts usually displayed in groups. Cedric couldn't shake the sense that there was more to it.
He narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His duty wasn't to investigate mysteries, but to keep the caravan safe. Still, he made a note in his mind to stay alert.
Once the cleanup was finished and the battlefield cleared, Cedric gave the order to return to the caravan.
The long line of travelers began moving once again, torches flickering in the darkness as wheels rolled over dirt and hooves clattered against stone. The smell of blood lingered in the air, carried by the mountain winds.
Cedric walked at the head of the guards, silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Victory had been achieved tonight, but his instincts told him that danger still lingered somewhere in the shadows of the Blood Fang Mountains.