The Hunter’s Path

The Hunter's Path

Jerry Williams' Perspective

A Mission Set in Stone

The evening air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and the remnants of a passing storm as Jerry adjusted the straps on his armor. The divine metal shifted to accommodate his movements, whispering against his skin like a living thing. The road ahead led them into unknown territory, but their objective was clear: the ruined temple nestled deep within the valley, a place steeped in old magic and unanswered questions.

They had spent days deciphering the fragmented texts they had scavenged from the fallen kingdom's libraries. Hidden within layers of forgotten lore was a single undeniable fact—the temple had been built to imprison something, or someone, beyond mortal comprehension. And if there was a place that held the answers to his friend's fate, it was there.

"This is a bad idea," Bengala muttered, her feline eyes narrowing as she cleaned her curved blade with steady hands. "Going into something's den willingly? Sounds like an invitation to die."

"I agree," Vrkane said, his ears twitching, ever alert. "Nothing about this temple sounds like a place people should be walking into."

Jerry exhaled slowly, tightening his grip around the hilts of Backbone and Dismay. "I'm not asking you to come with me. But I have to go."

Bengala rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Like we'd let you walk into a death trap alone."

"Then we stick together," Jerry said, glancing between them. "No matter what."

They nodded in silent agreement. With a final check of their gear, they set out into the night.

The Temple's Maw

The entrance loomed before them, an ancient structure carved into the mountainside, its once-pristine marble now veiled in moss and time-worn cracks. Faint symbols glowed along the archway, pulsing like a heartbeat, as if sensing their presence.

Jerry stepped forward, his instincts screaming at him to turn back.

A whisper skated along the edges of his mind.

"Welcome back."

He froze. The voice was his own.

Vrkane's fur bristled, and Bengala's claws extended instinctively. The energy in the air thickened, pressing against them like unseen hands. Something was waiting inside.

"This place remembers us," Vrkane muttered.

"Or it remembers him," Bengala corrected, her gaze flicking toward Jerry.

Jerry clenched his jaw and stepped forward. "Then let's remind it who we are."

The torches along the walls flared to life as they crossed the threshold, casting long, shifting shadows.

And standing in the center of the chamber was Mike.

Or at least, something that looked like him.

A Familiar Lie

Jerry's breath caught in his throat. The figure before him was a perfect recreation—Mike's face, his stance, even the damn lopsided grin that once came so easily. But the moment their eyes met, Jerry knew.

This wasn't real.

The hollowness in the figure's expression, the too-perfect stillness—it was a puppet, a marionette crafted to cut deep.

"Mike?" Jerry whispered, not because he believed it, but because his heart still wanted to.

The figure tilted its head. "You finally made it."

Vrkane and Bengala flanked Jerry, their bodies coiled with tension. They felt it too. This wasn't a man—it was a trap wearing a familiar face.

Jerry's grip tightened on his swords. "You're not him."

The figure smiled. "Does it matter?"

Jerry took another step forward, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "It matters to me."

The fake Mike's gaze flickered with something unreadable before settling into an eerie stillness. "Then you should have stayed away."

Shadows coiled from the temple's corners, moving with unnatural precision, reaching toward them like living things. Instinct roared in Jerry's blood. He lashed out with Dismay, slicing through the nearest tendrils, dispersing them in an explosion of light. Vrkane and Bengala moved in tandem, their claws and fangs tearing through the encroaching darkness.

But the figure of Mike didn't move.

"You still don't understand," it murmured. "You're not here to find him. You're here to be broken."

Then the temple shifted.

The Trap Springs

The ground beneath them shuddered, and Jerry felt his stomach lurch as the chamber warped around them. The walls stretched, the shadows twisting into grotesque, writhing shapes. A low, mocking laughter echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Jerry's armor flared, absorbing the abyssal energy pressing against him. He gritted his teeth as the pressure mounted, as if the air itself was trying to crush him.

Vrkane and Bengala fought beside him, their forms shifting fluidly between beast and humanoid, their instincts honed to perfection. But the more they fought, the stronger the illusion became.

Then Jerry felt it—something ancient, watching, waiting.

It had never been about Mike.

This temple wasn't a ruin.

It was a cage.

A cage designed for him.

The shadows coiled tighter, pressing in. Jerry's muscles burned as he resisted, but he was tiring. His bond with Vrkane and Bengala surged, their power flooding into him as he morphed.

His body elongated, fur sprouting along his arms as his fingers curled into razor-sharp claws. Strength coursed through him, his senses sharpening beyond human limits. His two blades hummed with power, his form becoming something more.

He wasn't just fighting the illusion.

He was tearing through it.

And then—

The laughter stopped.

Breaking the Illusion

Jerry's claws tore through the last shadow, and suddenly, the pressure lifted. The temple snapped back to reality, the suffocating presence withdrawing like a receding tide.

He stood, panting, his weapons still humming with residual energy. Vrkane and Bengala flanked him, both back in their half-human forms, their eyes glowing with adrenaline.

The figure of Mike was gone.

Jerry took a slow breath, forcing his heart to steady. Whatever had tried to trap them here wasn't done with him. He had felt it watching. Waiting.

It had been a warning.

But Jerry Williams had never been one to heed warnings.

He turned toward his companions, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest. "We're leaving."

Vrkane's ear flicked. "Where to?"

Jerry's gaze hardened. "To find whoever built this place."

And, deep within the temple's ruins, something shifted in the dark, its whisper carried on the wind.

"Good. Let's see how far you can run."