The alpha pounced.
A blur of muscle and fangs slashing through the air, its guttural roar shattering the moment. But Maggie didn't wait. She screamed back—raw, almost feral—and threw herself at it.
Her axe rose in a perfect arc, humming with raw power. The blade sank deep into the beast's shoulder, carving a wide gash through coarse fur and thick flesh. Black blood spurted in a heavy spray, and the alpha let out a raspy cry of pain—but its momentum carried it forward.
It slammed into her.
Maggie rolled across the ground but sprang back up at once, breath ragged, eyes blazing. Her axe, still slick with blood, steamed faintly in the cold air.
"That bastard's tough as hell," she growled, eyes gleaming with excitement.
The alpha shook itself, growled, then rose to its massive feet, fangs dripping, its wild eyes locked on her.
Dylan seized the opening.
He fired.
The shot struck just below the ribs, shattering bone and wrenching a harsh wheeze from the monster. The alpha staggered but didn't fall.
Elisa finished the job.
She slid under the beast's belly, using its unsteady footing to her advantage, and drove both daggers into the soft flesh of its flank. She twisted her wrists, shredding internal tissue, then leapt back swiftly before she could be crushed.
The alpha collapsed.
A deep THUD shook the ground. Its limbs twitched once, then went still.
Silence fell instantly.
Only their ragged breathing, the crack of branches underfoot, and the choking stench of fresh blood spreading across the forest floor.
Maggie wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing a red streak across her cheek.
"What the hell… was that?"
Still crouched, Elisa pulled her blades from the corpse with a wet squelch.
"An alpha. I'd say... a full-grown one. Well-fed."
Dylan stepped closer, inspecting the body.
"Hunting this early in the day… what the hell was that timing?"
A humorless smile tugged at his lips.
Maggie looked up at the sky for a moment, then sighed.
"I just realized… Dylan wasn't entirely wrong when he said he felt like a monster."
Elisa nodded, her golden eyes gleaming with a strange pride.
"We've changed. Our strength has grown significantly. I wouldn't be surprised if we could bend metal with our bare hands at this point… but hey, let's see how we handle a ranked creature first."
Maggie and Dylan exchanged a glance.
Chill.
Maggie stayed stone-faced, as usual. Dylan, though, went pale.
Every mention of a ranked creature made that cold weight settle on the back of his neck. The memories rushed in—the Hystrix against the bone creature, the Matriarch, or that thing with a single eye… All those monsters awakened something primal and terrifying in him, a fear that shook his bones.
But now he was stronger. All he had to do was simple: avoid those horrors and get the hell out of this forest alive.
They calmly harvested the anima gems from the beast, storing them quickly. Meanwhile, Dylan checked his magazine.
His last one. Less than ten bullets left.
Which meant one thing: he'd have to aim true. Every shot would count. Sooner or later, his gun would be nothing but dead weight in his hands.
And then, he'd have only his fists.
And his machete, of course.
---
They moved on.
This time, they pressed farther. An hour maybe, but the forest's oppressive atmosphere made every minute feel like a funeral vigil.
Still, none of them seemed truly tired. On the contrary—their muscles buzzed, reflexes sharp, senses aflame. As if something—or someone—was fueling them from within.
But that energy wasn't a blessing.
It was constant tension, a wire stretched to the brink, fed by fear, suspicion, and that paranoid caution that made them stop every fifty meters. To listen. To sniff the air. To make sure no predator had caught their scent.
Every step was a decision. Every silence, a possible trap.
Dylan and Maggie cleared the way. Him with his machete, her with her axe. The trees here weren't really trees anymore—thick stems, gnarled like ancient muscles, twisted around each other.
Vine-traps, some studded with thorns or oozing strange sap, coiled around everything. And those damned mushrooms… tall as men, breathing softly, almost alive.
Too big to go around. Too slow to disappear.
Result: one hour of effort, barely a few hundred meters covered.
"We need to pick up the pace," Dylan muttered, slicing a vine too close to his face. His gray eyes flicked side to side, sweeping the gloom.
"Thirty years isn't thirty days or even thirty weeks," Elisa grumbled behind them, her tone sharp, as if she carried the place's memory alone. "A lot has regrown here. So if I say this is the fastest path, you'd do well to believe me."
No one had openly challenged her, yet she felt targeted.
Dylan shot her a side glance, half exasperated, but said nothing. He just kept hacking forward.
Maggie, meanwhile, looked oddly at ease. Her axe in one hand, she occasionally laid her free palm against tree bark, like she was trying to read something from it.
"This place creeps me out," she finally murmured. "It's not just the plants... I keep feeling like we're being watched."
Elisa didn't answer right away. She crouched, placing a hand on some strange moss clinging to a rock. Her face tightened.
"There are spores here. And they're fresh."
Dylan clenched his jaw.
"You mean… something passed through?"
Elisa nodded, eyes hardening.
"Or it's still here. Nearby."
"Well I'm telling you—don't hang around. I've got a real bad feeling," Dylan growled, his tone sharp, almost brittle.
He tightened his grip on the machete. The metal was sticky with sap and plant fragments, but he refused to clean it. Not here. Not now. That weird smell hanging in the air—a mix of damp rot, copper, and something sharper—was already burning his throat.
Maggie stepped forward without a word, her gaze flicking between the twisted trunks.
Elisa remained crouched a moment longer, eyes narrowed. Then she stood up sharply.
"We need to get out of this section. Fast."
Dylan turned his head, raising an eyebrow.
"Wait, wasn't this the fastest way?"
"It was," Elisa cut in. "But these spores aren't natural. They come from a Spotted Symbiote."
A cold shiver ran through Maggie. She stopped dead.
"One of those mycelial freaks? You're sure?"
"Sure. And those things don't live alone. They feed on the living… and they colonize."
Dylan cursed under his breath. Not loud—but with raw sincerity.
"Alright. New plan. We're getting out. Now."
"This way," Elisa said, pointing to a narrow detour hidden behind a curtain of thick ferns.
They slipped through without hesitation, weaving between leaves, breaths shallow.
But the forest doesn't like it when you change the rules.
Behind them—a rustle. Then another.
Something was sliding. Slowly. Like a wet breath crawling over dead leaves.
Dylan froze for a second, his heart pounding in his chest.
Maggie raised her axe.
Élisa spun on her heels, drawing her blades in one fluid motion.
Then, just a few meters behind them, an eye opened. A single vertical eye, slit like a serpent's, embedded in a mass of flesh and fungal tendrils.
And suddenly, the moss on the trees began to move. As if it were breathing.
"Shit," Élisa whispered.
"Run," Maggie ordered.
And they started to flee.