Danger on the Road

The night was restless. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the distant cries of unseen beasts. Agor lay awake, staring at the darkened sky through the gaps in the wooden roof of their shelter. His body felt strange—stronger, restless, like something beneath his skin was stirring.

He touched his side where the Enju's claws had slashed him. There was nothing. No wound, no scar—just smooth, unbroken skin. Two days ago, he had been on the brink of death. Now, it was as if the injury had never happened.

His fingers trembled as he pressed into the spot. No pain. No soreness. He should have felt relief, but instead, unease gripped him.

"Still awake?"

Agor flinched at Garrick's voice.

The old man sat by the dying fire, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. His weathered face was unreadable, but his eyes flickered toward Agor, watching him carefully.

"Something on your mind, boy?" Garrick asked.

Agor hesitated. Should he tell him? The old man had saved his life, but he wasn't just some wandering blacksmith. He had secrets—Agor could feel it in the way he spoke, the way he moved. Still, he couldn't ignore what was happening to him.

"My wound…" Agor finally said. "It's gone. Like it never happened."

Garrick's hands stilled. The whetstone slid from the knife with a sharp whisper, and silence stretched between them.

"I know," the old man said at last.

Agor sat up. "You knew?"

Garrick exhaled slowly. He tossed a twig into the fire, watching the embers rise. "I checked while you were sleeping. That kind of healing—it's not normal." His gaze sharpened. "What are you, boy?"

The question sent a chill through Agor's spine. He had no answer. He was just a boy—a boy who had seen his family slaughtered, who had been attacked by the Enju's and survived. But at what cost?

"I don't know," he admitted.

Garrick studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Then we'll figure it out. But first, we need to get to Eaglestone."

He stood and stretched. "Rest while you can. We leave at dawn."

Morning came swiftly. They packed their meager belongings and set off toward the fortress city. The path wound through dense forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. The road was quiet—too quiet.

Garrick kept a hand on his blade, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. Agor followed closely, his senses on edge. Something felt wrong.

He knew this feeling, in the depth of his mind he knew he had felt like this before; and it scared him.

They walked for hours before the scent hit them.

It was thick, putrid—copper and rot mingling in the air. Agor gagged, covering his nose. "What is that?"

Garrick's expression darkened. "Stay close."

They pushed forward, and soon, the trees opened into a clearing. The scene before them was worse than anything Agor had ever imagined.

Bodies lay scattered across the dirt road, torn apart like ragdolls. Their flesh was shredded, bones snapped, faces frozen in expressions of terror. Their belongings—travel packs, weapons, food—were untouched. This was no bandit attack.

This was slaughter.

And the ones responsible were still here.

A group of Enju crouched over the corpses, their elongated limbs twitching as they feasted. Their pale, hairless skin was slick with blood, their jagged teeth gnawing through flesh and bone.

Agor's stomach lurched. The stench, the wet sounds of chewing—it was too much. He turned away and vomited into the bushes.

The sound echoed in the clearing like a war drum.

The Enju stopped.

Then came the clicking sound as they slowly turned their heads toward the source of the noise. Hollow, black eyes locked onto Agor. Their lips curled back, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

Then, they shrieked.

The sound ripped through the forest, chilling Agor to his core. The creatures moved, their bodies unnaturally fast as they scrambled toward them.

Garrick didn't hesitate.

"Run!"

In one swift motion, he grabbed Agor by the arm and hauled him backward. They crashed through the underbrush, branches snapping against their bodies.

The Enju gave chase.

They moved like shadows, bounding through the trees with terrifying speed. Their guttural snarls grew closer, the scent of death thickening the air.

Agor's legs burned as he ran, but Garrick—an old man—was moving faster than he should have been. His grip on Agor's wrist was unyielding, his strides long and powerful.

"Hold on, boy!" Garrick growled.

They tore through the forest, the landscape blurring past. Agor's heart pounded against his ribs. His lungs ached. The creatures were gaining.

Then—he saw it.

Beyond the trees, the waterfall bridge leading to Eaglestone came into view. The fortress loomed in the distance, its stone walls bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

But they weren't going to make it.

Garrick's breath was ragged. His strength was waning, his steps growing sluggish.

The Enju were almost upon them.

Agor could hear them now—hear the scrape of their claws against tree bark, the sickening click of their teeth snapping together.

Garrick stumbled.

"No!" Agor grabbed his arm, trying to keep him upright.

The old man gritted his teeth. "Listen to me, boy—keep running! You hear me?"

Agor's chest tightened. "I'm not leaving you!"

The Enju howled.

Then—the earth trembled.

A thick wall of jagged rock erupted from the ground between them and the charging Enju, sending dust and debris flying. The creatures slammed into the barrier, shrieking in frustration.

Agor's breath caught. What was—?

Before he could process it, the temperature dropped. The air shimmered with frost. A gust of wind howled through the trees, and in the blink of an eye, ice spread across the ground like a living thing, snaking toward the Enju.

The moment it touched them, jagged spikes shot up, impaling the nearest ones in an instant.

Agor's eyes widened.

Two figures stood atop the waterfall bridge.

One was cloaked in deep blue, his long sword gleaming with an eerie frost. The other, clad in dark, battle-worn armor, gripped a massive blade that pulsed with veins of crimson energy.

The first warrior took a dark vile of blood then exhaled, eyes turned black as his breath began misting in the cold air, . "Blood Development first stage: Frost Fang Style—Piercing Glacier."

With a single slash of his sword, a wave of ice erupted from the ground, racing toward the Enju like a living beast. The creatures shrieked as their limbs were encased in crystalline frost, their bodies freezing mid-motion.

The second warrior shifted his stance, planting his blade into the earth. "Blood Development First stage: Titan's Wrath—Ruptured Terrain."

The ground trembled. Jagged rock formations erupted beneath the trapped Enju, shattering them in an instant. Stone spikes impaled those still struggling, their screams cut short by the merciless earth.

The last remaining creatures turned to flee.

The blue-cloaked warrior took a slow step forward, his sword humming with power. He raised it above his head, the air around him freezing solid. "Final Form: Rime Execution."

With a downward slash, an arc of pure ice cleaved through the battlefield. Everything in its path—trees, earth, and Enju alike—froze in an instant. A gust of wind followed, shattering the frozen remains into nothing but glistening shards.

The battlefield fell silent.

Agor stood frozen in place, his breath stolen by the sight before him.

Then, from behind them, a heavy footstep echoed.

A towering figure emerged from the mist, stepping onto the bridge.

She was a warrior unlike any Agor had ever seen. Adorned in glistening armor, her crimson cape billowed in the wind. Muscular yet graceful, she carried an air of absolute command.

Her gaze fell upon Agor, piercing and unreadable.

Then, she smiled.

"Welcome to Eaglestone, young blood."