Chapter 37

The system notification hovered in my vision, its golden light casting a faint shimmer over the ruined forest floor. I stared at it for a moment, letting the words settle in.

Quest Generated
Objective: Destroy the Sundered Encampment
Reward: New Skill

I exhaled slowly. I didn’t need the system to tell me what needed to be done. Just looking at those things, those abominations, filled me with a sick sort of revulsion. It wasn’t just the smell or the forms or what I’d assumed they had done to the beasts. It was something deeper. Something instinctual. Like every part of me knew they didn’t belong here. That they were an infection that needed to be cut out.

Still, the quest helped. Made the choice easier. And if the reward turned out to be anything like my first skill… I’d be laughing.

That thought made me smile, unexpectedly.

Last Stand.

When I’d first awakened back on Earth, that was the only skill I’d received. Just the one. No flashy attacks, no utility spells, nothing that made recruiters raise their brows with interest. Just Last Stand. A conditional survival tool, written off by nearly everyone as too situational to be useful and too late to really help.

A D-Rank skill. For a D-Rank hunter. But now? Now I knew better.

That skill had saved my life more times than I could count. It had kept me moving when my bones were broken and my blood was leaking out onto the floor. It had brought me through battles where stronger, flashier hunters had died screaming.

Last Stand wasn’t weak. It was a gift. A lifeline. One I hadn’t fully appreciated until the rift and this world.

The old rankings felt laughable now. The world was blind. Sure, more skills usually meant more options, more power. But it also depended on the skill itself. And Last Stand… well, it had turned me into someone who survived when no one else had.

I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating a single skill ever again.

I let my thoughts drift away as I watched the encampment, crouched low in the underbrush, the system’s notification still hovering faintly at the edge of my vision.

The fox moved beside me, brushing lightly against my leg. I let my hand drop without thinking, fingers gliding through its fur. It was soft. Softer than it had any right to be. Like silk woven from shadow.

There was movement at the camp. Three of the humanoid abominations—Sundered, I guessed—stood at the mouth of the cave. One of them, easily the largest, had a bald, ridged skull and held a cleaver the size of a butcher’s slab. It snarled something low and guttural before shoving the smallest one hard in the chest. The smaller Sundered stumbled, caught itself, then turned away.

Its face twisted, lips curling into a snarl. A mask of pure, seething hatred.

Then it let out a sharp and piercing whistle.

A few seconds passed, and another hound-like beast emerged from the cave. All raw muscle and exposed veins. It moved to the Sundered’s side, nuzzling against its leg like a loyal pet.

The Sundered rubbed its head absently, still scowling. Then, with a flick of its arm, it turned and disappeared into the forest—moving in the opposite direction from where I hid.

I sank lower into the underbrush, heart steady, eyes focused.

The fox remained beside me, quiet and still.

So I waited.

And watched.

Time passed. Maybe an hour. Maybe more. It was hard to say with the way the sun filtered through the trees. Shadows crept longer. The air thickened. The stench of rot never fading.

The Sundered were smart. That much became clear the longer I watched. They moved in predictable loops. They would stop now and then, they seemed to be listening for something, they would sniff the air and look out into the forest. They didn’t speak, but they communicated in other ways. A tilt of the head. A flick of the hand. A whistle too high and sharp to be natural.

By the time the sun had begun its slow descent behind the treetops, the smaller sundered returned with its hound. They emerged from the opposite side of the forest, dragging something between them.

It was a beast. A scaled thing with tusks and massive paws, its scales cracked and blood-matted, stomach rising and falling in slow, ragged intervals. It left a long, wet trail behind it as it was dragged into the clearing, its eyes half-lidded and unfocused.

The small Sundered dropped the rope in front of the larger one—the one with the cleaver—and stepped back. The big one looked down at the beast, then up at the smaller creature. It gave a slow, almost thoughtful nod.

Then it grabbed the beast by the leg and hauled it into the cave.

I stayed where I was, crouched in the brush, the fox curled beside my leg again. We didn’t move. Not until the last of the light began to drain from the sky and darkness rolled in like a blanket of ink.

Only then did I ease backward, keeping low, feet barely brushing the ground as I crept away from the clearing. Every few steps, I paused to listen. Nothing followed. No red eyes in the dark. No twisted silhouettes.

Still, I didn’t let my guard drop until I was well away.

After thinking about it for a while, i decided it wouldn’t be wise to sleep on the ground floor, so I found a tree—an old one, its trunk thick and gnarled with age. The branches spread wide above me. I glanced around once more, making sure I definitely wasn’t followed. There seemed to be no movement.

Good enough.

I looked at the fox. “You coming?”

It stepped forward without hesitation. I lifted it gently—it was lighter than I expected—and slung my bag over one shoulder, then started climbing.

The bark was rough but solid. I moved fast and quiet, until I reached a thick branch high above the ground. I settled in with my back against the trunk and the fox curled up beside me, its tail flicking once before going still.

The forest stretched out below us in a sea of black.

I adjusted my pack beneath me, pulled my robes tighter around my shoulders. It was right about now I decided I was an impulsive idiot for giving my phone away. Some music would have been perfect to block out the scary dark forest, right around now. Too late to complain now I guess.

I closed my eyes. Tomorrow, I’d begin. I’d scout the edges. Find weaknesses. Figure out what it would take to bring that whole damned place down.

But for now, I needed rest.

The fox snored softly beside me.

And I slept.

———

I woke to the sound of voices.

Not the familiar kind. These were rough, guttural things. It pulled me from sleep with a jolt, my instincts screaming before my mind caught up.

I didn’t move. Just opened my eyes slowly, controlling my breath, my hand tightening around the hilt of my sabre resting across my lap.

Below, two figures stood in the pale light of early morning. They moved with twitchy, unnatural jerks, their skin as white as bone, stretched thin over frames with bludging veins. Even from up here, I could see their eyes—red and glowing, casting faint glints through the shadows.

They were Sundered.

But not the same ones I’d seen near the cave.

These two wore robes—simple ones, frayed at the edges and dyed a sickly grey-brown, like they’d been stolen off the backs of corpses and never washed. One of them, the taller of the two, had half his scalp bare, the skin there mottled and scarred, while the other half was draped in strands of dark hair that fell messily over one ear.

His voice rasped through the stillness like a nail dragged across glass. “You smell it?”

The other one, shorter, with a crude spear strapped across his back, sniffed the air once, then again, his nostrils flaring like a hound catching scent.

“…human,” he said at last. 

The tall one turned slowly, head angling like a predator listening for the scurry of prey. I shrank back against the tree. Feeling for my Qi, it was full and ready for me to explode into action.

“I told you,” the taller one said again. “There’s no way we got all the humans last time. There’s always more.”

The one with the spear sniffed again, then bared sharp, rotted teeth in a snarl. “Not for long.”

I pressed myself tighter into the crook of the tree, every limb tense, breath caught in my throat.

Then something in the distance cracked.

A loud snap of wood breaking.

Both Sundered froze. Their heads snapped toward the sound, eyes narrowing. Without another word, they bolted.

Only when I was sure they were gone did I breathe.

I sat still for a moment longer, letting the adrenaline bleed from my system. Then I let out a whispered curse and glanced around the branches.

The fox was gone. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. Especially after they seemed to just be chasing something.

I stayed motionless for second, waiting, listening.

Eventually, I shifted—just enough to lean forward and glance around the tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of the direction they’d gone. Just a quick peek.

That was my mistake.

The second I moved, a whisper of motion hit my instincts. Before I had time to think, I poured Qi through my limbs and threw myself sideways, diving off the branch with a crack of snapping bark behind me.

An arrow slammed into the spot where I’d been perched, embedding deep into the wood. The tree hissed.

I blinked in disbelief. The arrow was still quivering and where it had struck, the bark had started to bubble and smoke, eaten away by something. A greenish smear pulsed along the shaft, dripping slowly, melting a hole in the trunk.

I hit the ground in a roll, coming up while already drawing my sabre.

The two Sundered stepped back into view, walking slowly into the clearing like they’d never left. The shorter one carried his spear in a loose grip, the tip dark and wet. The taller one was already drawing another arrow, this one pulled from a bone-carved quiver at his hip.

The tall one’s voice rasped out again, dry and amused.

“Told you,” he said. “Human.”

The other one growled in something that didn’t sound like language at all and a lot more like a rabid monster.