The sun hung low in the sky, its young light filtering through the canopy in fractured golden rays. Michael exhaled, steadying his breath as he adjusted his grip on the sword. Across from him, a creature prowled—its red fur blending seamlessly with the leaves. A Blood Wolf.
It bared its fangs, saliva dripping onto the forest floor. A snarl tore through the air as it lunged.
Michael sidestepped with ease.
The wolf skidded, kicking up dirt, then leaped again. A blur of red—closer this time.
Michael barely moved.
With a flick of his wrist, his blade glided through the air, meeting flesh in one clean stroke. The wolf's head separated from its body mid-pounce, blood spraying in an arc as the lifeless corpse collapsed to the ground.
Michael remained still, watching as the last twitches of movement faded.
There was no thrill in this fight. No satisfaction. No sense of victory.
It was just silence as Micheal analyzed his fight with the wolf.
The wolf had been fast—but not fast enough. Not like that thing.
His thoughts wandered back to his earlier encounters.
To the goblins.
The slaughter he witnessed often replayed in his mind. Truthfully he did not feel much sympathy for the goblins but still, the sheer brutality displayed undoubtedly shaken his resolve to keep fighting in the name of the Empire and its beliefs. Their conduct to him felt inherently wrong but then a question arises: would the Empire just let him go? He somehow doubted that would happen and more importantly what would he do if they let him go? He still knew very little about this world and he was lost on what he should do but there was no rush to make that decision. He could think about the matter later.
Instead another memory invited itself. That of the Notadeer.
The experience of that fight was burned into him. The overwhelming speed, the unnatural agility, the chilling sound of its laughter.
Michael's eyes hardened. The Blood Wolf had been nothing in comparison.
Then, a sound.
Leaves rustling. A presence made itself known.
He turned sharply—his grip tightening.
There it stood.
The Notadeer.
A jagged scar curled around its body, a permanent mark of their first battle. Its hollow eyes locked onto him. Then, slowly—it smiled.
Michael's stomach twisted.
A guttural, distorted laughter bubbled up from the creature's throat, unnatural and mocking. Then, with a single bound, it disappeared into the trees.
Michael's confusion barely had time to set in before the ground trembled.
A distant rumble.
The pebbles at his feet jumped.
Another rumble. Now louder. Closer.
The trees ahead split apart like twigs, crashing to the ground as something massive emerged.
Michael's blood ran cold.
A monster. A giant monster.
Its head stretched above the canopy, its shell the size of a house. Its body bulldozed through the forest, leaving destruction in its wake. A creature so massive it toppled trees effortlessly.
He did not even consider fighting such a creature. Michael didn't think at all—he just ran.
***
The command tent loomed ahead. Michael burst through the entrance, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Inside, all three Grandmasters sat around a large map, deep in discussion. Their eyes snapped to him as he struggled to catch his breath.
"A—A monster" Michael gasped. "Huge. Bigger than—than anything I've—"
The ground shook violently, interrupting him mid-sentence.
A roar, deafening and primal, ripped through the camp.
The Grandmasters were already moving, rushing out, without as much as exchanging a word.
Micheal followed behind, other soldiers quickly joined him.
Michael had expected to witness a desperate battle. He braced himself for chaos, for a drawn-out fight against a legendary monster.
Instead—it was over before it even started.
Elijah flew into the sky, twisting his hands in fluid motions. Countless magic circles appeared behind him. The earth beneath the monster's legs suddenly turned to mud, locking it in place.
Sarah moved next—a blur of steel. She launched herself at the creature's head, her sword carving deep, relentless strikes. The monster buckled.
Chris then followed and finished it off.
One thrust was all it took.
A single, devastating strike of the spear.
A blast of force that tore a giant hole through its massive body.
The behemoth groaned. Staggered. Then collapsed dead.
Ten seconds.
The fight had lasted ten whole seconds.
The camp erupted into cheers. Soldiers whooped and laughed, celebrating their effortless victory. They did not lift as much as a finger, barely arriving before the creature and Grandmasters already slain the beast.
Michael stood frozen, watching as the Grandmasters dusted themselves off like it had been nothing. He did not even consider fighting the creature, but them?
He doubted the turtle-like monster would pose a threat even if only one of them had to fight it. They were true warriors that pushed their path and strength to the absolute limits—Grandmasters; whereas he was nothing more than fledgling compared to them. A beginner on the path of a blade dancer.
Michael clenched his fists.
He felt weak.
Elijah landed beside him, barely winded.
"It was a Tatar" He mused, observing the corpse. "That explains the monster migration. It must have been disrupting the balance of the forest. With it dead, our mission is as much as over"
The soldiers cheered again. The end of the expedition was in sight.
Micheal also felt some relief at those words. The whole ordeal was hellish for him and he was more than eager to return to the comfortable embrace of the warm bed inside of his chamber.
However… This can't be how this ends. Micheal would be too unsatisfied with simply leaving now.
There was still some unfinished business to attend to.
***
The Notadeer bounded through the forest, laughing to itself.
That ugly human had been right where he wanted him. It had been easy—too easy—to lure the Tatar in his direction.
The human was probably dead already. Good. He deserved his fate after ruining its perfect fur. How was it going to find a mate with that disgusting scar? The Notadeer's mood was disturbed at the thought however the image of that human screaming in despair cheered it up considerably.
The Notadeer snickered. He couldn't help it.
His grotesque laughter echoed through the forest.
And it only stopped when its stomach growled. It was hungry.
The Notadeer sighed. As much as he enjoyed a good joke, it was time to eat.
He sniffed the air, his hunger sharpening his senses. Then, he saw it—a pair of antlers peeking out from behind a bush.
A wicked grin split his face.
Oh, how it loved deers. It enjoyed eating those foolish wolves that mistook it for prey, but deer? Nothing compared to the satisfaction of tearing one apart while it was still alive—the taste of its blood, the music of its desperate screams.
Saliva dripped onto the ground as it jumped forward—landing in front of the bush and just as it was about to pounce to claim its prize it stopped. Its eyes followed the antlers that slowly began to rise high above the bush. Then it looked lower at the face of the ugly human. He had a grin more disgusting than the Notadeer itself could ever muster. Both of his hands held antlers right above his head.
"Surprise motherf*cker!" Micheal yelled as he dropped the antlers onto the ground, drawing his sword.
The Notadeer barely had time to register what was happening before a silver flash streaked across his vision.
A clean cut.
A sharp pain.
And then, its vision spun.
The world tilted sideways.
No… It tilted sideways.
As the last of his consciousness faded, one final thought entered its mind.
That was definitely not a deer.
Michael flicked the blood off his blade, staring down at the Notadeer's severed head.
No laughter escaped its throat.
No mocking grin splattered on its face.
Just empty, lifeless eyes.
Michael inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nose.
"Yeah. I like this ending better"
He turned and walked away, leaving the body behind.
The expedition was over but his journey?
It was just beginning.