The Silent Hunt

Our movements were precise, deliberate. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something fouler—the stench of monsters that should not exist. Each step we took had to be measured, not just for silence, but to ensure we wouldn't step into something unstable.

Fafnir whispered through telepathy, "These things… their presence feels unnatural. Almost like they've been drawn here."

Ingi responded in kind, "If they're guarding something—or someone—then our suspicion about Umbaxis still being alive might be correct."

I scanned the creatures carefully. Twisted, gnarled beasts, some dragging grotesque forms across the ground, others perched on jagged rocks with eyes that glowed dimly. Their bodies pulsed unnaturally, some as if filled with writhing veins of dark energy. Bloodspawn… they weren't just mutated monsters. They were something far worse.

Zarathorak's voice entered my mind, a deep, rumbling growl. "We could wipe them out."

I shot him a glance and responded telepathically, "That would expose us. We're not here to fight them—we need to get past them."

Fafnir, who had been watching the creatures closely, added, "There's a pattern to their movement. Some are wandering aimlessly, but others—look there."

I followed his gaze. A group of Bloodspawn was circling a particular pathway—a narrow pass leading deeper into the abyss.

Ingi's brows furrowed. "That has to be the way forward."

Zarathorak scoffed, crossing his arms. "If they're guarding something, then we're headed in the right direction."

I exhaled, steeling myself. "Then we wait for an opening and move through. No sudden movements, no noise."

We watched.

Minutes passed.

The creatures slithered and crawled, following an eerie rhythm. We studied their patterns, their timing, their pacing.

And then—a gap.

Now.

One by one, we moved.

I led first, stepping carefully across the jagged stone, my breath shallow as I passed within arm's reach of one of the creatures. Its grotesque head twitched, but it didn't react.

Fafnir followed, then Ingi, then Zarathorak.

A single mistake would cost us everything.

Halfway through, one of the creatures suddenly stopped.

Its head jerked in our direction.

It sniffed the air.

I felt my body tense.

Move. Keep moving. Don't hesitate.

Zarathorak, at the back, was the last to step through.

For a moment, I thought we had done it.

Then, one of the Bloodspawn let out a low, guttural snarl.

Something was wrong.

It sniffed again, tilting its head—right toward Zarathorak.

Its eyes narrowed.

I felt it before I saw it—Zarathorak's Magicore had flared for just a split second.

The Bloodspawn opened its mouth. It was going to scream.

Zarathorak moved instantly.

His claws flashed, and before the creature could even release a sound, its throat was slashed open.

A silent kill.

Its lifeless body crumpled.

The rest of the horde did not react.

We remained still.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Nothing.

They hadn't noticed.

I exhaled slowly. "Keep moving."

We slipped into the passageway undetected, vanishing deeper into the abyss.

As we slipped past the last of the Bloodspawn, the air grew heavier. The silence was oppressive, the kind that made even our own breathing seem too loud. Each step we took into the abyss felt like stepping deeper into something ancient—something watching.

Zarathorak, at my side, kept his head low, his expression unreadable. "This place reeks of blood."

Fafnir nodded, his eyes darting around. "No doubt. But whose?"

The path before us was nothing but twisted rock and deep gashes on the cavern walls. Claw marks. Some old, some fresh. Massive wounds carved into the very stone.

Ingi ran his hand over one of the larger gouges, his eyes narrowing. "This was made by a dragon."

I exhaled. "That confirms it then. Umbaxis was here."

Fafnir's expression was tense. **"Was. The question is—is he still alive?"

A heavy silence followed his words.

Zarathorak clenched his fists. "If Siegfried truly killed him, we would have felt it. No matter how far apart we are, a dragon's death resonates through our very core. He's alive."

Alive, but where?

The cavern stretched before us, splitting into three different tunnels—each leading into complete darkness.

I glanced at Ingi. "Can you sense anything?"

The Dragon King narrowed his eyes, closing them for a moment. A faint pulse of energy rippled from him, unseen but felt. He was reaching out, feeling for the presence of his lost kin.

Seconds passed.

Then, Ingi's eyes snapped open.

"He's close."

We all turned to him.

"How close?" I asked.

Ingi's gaze flickered between the tunnels. "I can't pinpoint it exactly, but… he's in one of these."

We stood before the three paths, each of them stretching into the unknown. The wrong choice could cost us valuable time—or worse.

Fafnir broke the silence. "Then let's not waste any more time."

I nodded. "We split up. We stay in telepathic contact at all times. The moment one of us finds something, we regroup immediately."

Ingi, Fafnir, and Zarathorak all gave a firm nod.

One path each.

I took the middle.

With a deep breath, I stepped into the abyss.

The deeper I went, the more unnatural the air became. It was thick—oppressive. A low hum vibrated through the walls, like a distant heartbeat.

And then, I saw it.

Blood.

A dark, dried smear painted across the cavern floor, trailing further ahead. It wasn't fresh, but it was recent.

Umbaxis… was he wounded?

A sharp voice cut through my thoughts.

"I found something."

It was Fafnir.

I placed a hand on the cavern wall and responded through our link. "What is it?"

"More blood. And… something else. You need to see this."

Without hesitation, I turned and rushed toward his path.

I moved swiftly through the cavern, following the faint traces of Fafnir's presence. The tension in the air was thick, pressing down on us like the very walls around us were closing in.

As I rounded the last bend, I saw them—Fafnir, Ingi, and Zarathorak standing before something massive that's enormous of magicores.

And then, I saw it.

A massive door infront of us.