The Deathly Meeting
The morning air was thick with a heavy, grey mist that clung to the twisted roots of Zone C. George, Flynn, and Jett had ventured further from the cave than usual, driven by the need to find more substantial game as their group's hunger grew. Back at the rocky sanctuary, Elvina, Arthur, Jamil, and Siri stood a vigilant guard, their silhouettes framed by the cave's mouth. The hunt was abruptly shattered. A cacophony of frantic shouts and the sickening, wet thud of an intense struggle ripped through the forest's oppressive tranquility. The sounds didn't come from the direction of their cave, but from a nearby thicket where another group of Harvesters had apparently been hiding.
George's protector's instinct flared like a physical flame. His heart became a frantic drum against his ribs, and without a second thought, he charged toward the source of the violence.
"George, wait! Stop!" Flynn yelled after him, his voice laced with a sharp, jagged frustration. "Don't just rush into things without a plan!"
Despite his protest, Flynn didn't hesitate to follow, his hand already reaching for his quiver. Jett was a silent, fluid shadow beside him, his green and yellow hanfu fluttering like the wings of a predatory bird as he navigated the dense brush with effortless speed.
They burst through a wall of hanging moss into a clearing, and the world seemed to tilt. The sight that greeted them was a tableau of pure, unadulterated horror. The forest floor was not merely damp with the morning's dew; it was bathed in a fresh, crimson tide.
Their classmate, Faust—a boy who had survived weeks of the forest's trials—lay before them. His body had been grotesquely torn in half, his eyes wide and vacant, staring at a canopy he would never reach. Standing over the gruesome scene was an embodiment of a living nightmare. It stood nearly twelve feet tall, but it lacked the lumbering, mindless quality of the wood golems they had fought previously. This was no mere Bone Golem, nor even a distant kin