Chapter 41

I opened my eyes. Golden Qi was still swirling around me, drifting in the afternoon light. It clung to the air, soft and warm, tracing slow spirals above my skin before fading back into nothing. The sensation of it pulsing through my meridians was faint now, less like a storm and more like the trickle of rain once it had passed but the lingering effect was undeniable. My body felt better. I rotated my shoulder, the skin pulling tight but the pain a lot more manageable. Cycling Qi through my body seemed to help speed up my healing process.

I could still feel the Emberstorm technique working inside me. Every time I breathed, a thin thread of Qi stirred along my pathways—circling through my limbs, coiling in my dantian, flashing sharp in my chest before fading back. It was aggressive and raw. And for a moment, just a flicker, I felt like my pathways were opening up. From the information, magically implanted in my head, I knew that in order to progress through the ranks of my technique I had to better understand it and adapt my body to align more with its path. And every time I cycled I was doing just that.

But I was too tired to continue. People like to imagine meditation as restful and maybe it was for others. But not for me. Not with my technique. Not with Qi that moves like wildfire and thunder. The Emberstorm Foundation Scroll was the compete opposite.

I sighed and brushed a leaf from my lap. It must’ve fallen during the last couple hours. Despite the tree I sat under being bone-pale and almost colorless, the leaf was a vivid emerald green with veins of pure white threading through it like lightning. I turned it over in my fingers, and for a moment, the weight of everything caught up to me. Reminding me of where I was and what I needed to do.

I stood with a stretch, bones clicking softly as I straightened my back. My sabre still rested sheathed at my side. The fox was nearby, nestled on a raised root, tail wrapped over its nose like it had been dozing. It opened one eye as I moved, then promptly shut it again.

I took a deep breath and turned toward the arrows. They were still where I’d left them—propped against the moss-covered trunk beside the Sundered’s bow. I stepped over and knelt beside them, letting my fingers brush along the shaft of one.

The metal gleamed faintly, coated in that same sickly green sheen. Even now, hours later, I could see the sheen on the tip. Barely perceptible, but it was there.

And it had nearly killed me.

My shoulder ached at the memory, but that pain was useful. It reminded me how serious this was. The Sundered weren’t just brutes—they were organized. Equipped. Intelligent. And if I was going to clear that cave, I needed to understand exactly what I was up against.

Which meant it was time to experiment.

My stomach turned at the thought.

I didn’t want to become the kind of person who would put anything through that kind of pain. But perhaps it was the only way.

I looked to the fox. It stared back now, head tilted, as if waiting to see what I would do.

“Don’t judge me,” I muttered.

I held one of the arrow up to the sunlight, watching as the oily green liquid clung to the head before beginning to slide downward. Just before a drop could fall to the forest floor, I tilted it back upright with a frown. Probably not the best idea to test something like this here, I already had ideas of making this place my base, for the foreseeable future.

With that in mind, I gathered the rest of the arrows and turned away from the clearing, heading back into the forest in search of somewhere safer to experiment.

I sucked in a breath as I let the drop fall onto my sabre’s edge.

After nearly an hour of cautious testing, I’d come to a few unsettling conclusions. The first and most obvious was that I’d never encountered a poison this potent before. Not on Earth. Not here. It burned through bark, ate straight through leaves, and even left smoking pits in the dirt. That alone should’ve made it impossible to store. So why hadn’t it eaten through the quiver? Or the arrows themselves?

That question kept bugging me. So I’d taken my time. Dropped a small bead onto a flat stone. Nothing. Not a hiss. Not even a scorch mark. But when I tried the same with a living leaf, it curled instantly, blackening and disintegrating within seconds.

That’s when I realised the poison wasn’t just corrosive — it was selective. It reacted violently with organic matter. That explained why the arrows remained intact. Their heads were metal. Just like my sabre.

Still, knowing that didn’t make this any less dangerous.

So I hesitated. And then, without giving myself time to second-guess it, I tilted the arrow and let a single droplet fall.

It hit the blade with a soft tap. For a heartbeat, I held still. Watched.

Nothing. No smoke. No bubbling metal. The sabre gleamed with the sheen of the toxin, its edge unmarked apart from the wear that was starting to show from usage. I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and a slow, devilish grin spread across my face. Perfect.

My odds of tearing through those monsters had just improved significantly.

A voice stirred at the back of my mind, Is this right? it whispered. To inflict that kind of pain? To weaponise something so pain inflicting?

But I silenced it.

No. That kind of thinking was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Mercy wouldn’t save me. These things weren’t just monsters, they were wrong. Every part of my being knew it. And even if they were sapient, they were using the poison, I’d seen the damage from it. All the dead beasts, scattered around the forest, charred and dismantled.

So I pushed the thought down.

At the bottom of the quiver, I found a small pool of the poison—residue from the arrows resting against the white bone. I pulled out my canteen from my duffle bag and poured some in the sheath, checking if it was water tight. It was, so I carefully tipped the poison in it and lathered it on my blade.

I sheathed my sabre and adjusted the strap of my duffle bag. There was no better time to test it. My body still ached from the last fight but the fire in my veins had returned.

The trees whispered overhead as I made my way back to the battlefield. The same trail I had followed with blood on my blade and adrenaline burning in my chest, now traced with calm.

It didn’t take long to find the clearing again. The corpses were right where I left them. Lucien’s ruined frame, legs melted into black ooze, and Malachi’s hollow torso, guts spilled in a frozen scream of pain.

What struck me, though, was the stillness.

Nothing had come to feed. No scavengers, no curious beasts. Just silence. At first I found that odd, but after thinking about it, the only beasts I’d seen down here had been dead or captured.

I was about to turn back, disappointed, when a low crunch echoed from the trees to my right.

I dropped low without a sound, one hand on the hilt of my sabre. My senses sharpened.

A shape emerged from the foliage — hulking, four-legged, with a body that looked like it had been skinned alive. Thick, corded muscles twitched beneath glistening black flesh, and its jaw sagged open in a horrible pant, strands of drool dripping down its yellowed fangs.

It let out a low, keening whimper. Its head dipped low as it crept forward, its spine swaying like a snake’s. It sniffed at the ground, twitching as it caught the scent of death.

When it reached the corpses, it paused. Its sunken chest expanded with a sharp breath, and then it lifted its head and howled. The sound was deep and unnatural, more a vibration than a noise. The hairs on my arm stood up.

That was my cue.

I pushed Qi through my channels and exploded forward. The world blurred and trees vanished behind me. My muscles surged with force, the poison-laced sabre already unsheathing mid-sprint.

The hound snapped its head toward me, but it was too late. I must have been moving at least 60 kilometres an hour.

I aimed for its side, angling my slash just beneath the ribs. The blade connected with a sickening crack and carved through skin and meat like butter. Black blood sprayed from the wound, sizzling where it hit the dirt.

The hound didn’t go down. It shrieked and spun, its massive claws swiping through the air with terrifying speed. I dropped low beneath the arc, dirt flying behind me as I slid across the ground, then rolled to my feet as its jaws snapped just inches from my arm.

It was fast. Much faster than I expected. But bursts of speed were my specialty.

I weaved left, ducked under its next bite, and slashed again — this time across its back leg. Another burst of blood. Another howl. After fighting the Sundered and now this hound I was beginning to realise they weren’t actually overly powerful. Sure they could beast the average beast. But that gorilla would have demolished them if they were alone.

I broke away from my thoughts as it charged wildly, its body spasming with erratic movements. The poison was working. Its blood left black smears across the earth, sizzling with every drop.

It lunged again. I pushed my Qi through my legs, feeling my muscles, once again, begin to tear. I jumped back. Its jaws closing where my leg once was.

I could hear it panting, frothing at the mouth, foam and blood leaking from its gums. The poison was eating it from the inside. Its red eyes were wild, frantic, and the growls that spilled from its throat had turned into wet gurgles.

I waited and watched.

Its steps grew weaker. Its claws dragged in the dirt. Its muscles spasmed again, this time uncontrollably, and it collapsed to its belly. It tried to rise—once, twice—then let out a final snarl and pitched forward into the blood-soaked earth.

A faint sizzle echoed through the clearing.

Then silence.

I approached slowly, sabre still raised. Its body twitched once more, then stopped entirely. What remained of it was a steaming, half-melted heap of flesh, bone, and sinew, rotting beside its masters.

I lowered my blade.

The poison worked a little too well. And now I had a weapon suited for extermination.

But before I could catch my breath, pain lanced through my thigh. I looked down, only to see an arrow embedded deep into my muscle.

I hissed through clenched teeth and stumbled back, my hand dropping to the shaft embedded just above the knee. My fingers brushed the wound, half-expecting the same corrosive burn that had nearly killed me last time.

Relief swept through me, as I realised the arrow hadn’t been poisoned. It was just a standard arrow. That kind of pain I could manage.

I turned toward the treeline, eyes narrowing.

From the shadows, a short Sundered emerged.

The one I’d seen before, that had dragged that beast back towards their cave. Its eyes were brimming with rage. Cold and sharp and ancient in a way that didn’t fit its size. Its lips peeled back in a twisted grin, those same red eyes glowing like coals.

It slid its bow over its back and drew two daggers. They were wicked things, bone-handled and black-bladed.

“You’ll die slowly for killing my mutt,” it rasped. Its voice was higher than the others, but no less monstrous. “Slower than all the others combined, human.”