Chapter 4

The soldier wiped the sweat from his brow, the dampness of the forest air mixing with the grime of battle. The stench of blood and decay hung heavy, a grim reminder of the skirmish that had just unfolded.

He recalled the chaos of the fight: the guttural howls of the wolf-like creatures, their eyes glinting with a predatory hunger, and the shrill cackles of the goblins, darting in and out of the shadows, their crude weapons flashing in the dim light. It was a nightmarish symphony of violence, and they had been caught in the middle, outmatched and outmaneuvered.

The soldier's mind raced as he tried to piece together the strange alliance. Goblins were known for their cunning traps and territorial disputes, while the wolf-like monsters—known as the Fenrith—were relentless hunters, driven by instinct and hunger. How had they come to share this land, this dark corner of Sydren?

He glanced at his fallen comrades, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and pain. They had fought bravely, but the numbers had been overwhelming. The soldier felt a surge of anger and grief, a burning desire for vengeance. He had to survive, to warn the others, to find a way to break this alliance before it grew stronger.

As he stood there, sword planted in the mud, he noticed movement in the underbrush. A pair of glowing eyes watched him from the shadows, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. The creature stepped forward, revealing itself to be a Fenrith, its fur matted and stained with the remnants of battle. It sniffed the air, its gaze locked onto the soldier, and for a moment, they were both still, assessing one another.

The soldier's heart raced. He knew he had to act quickly. He could either fight or flee, but the thought of leaving his fallen brothers behind filled him with dread. The Fenrith growled low, a sound that reverberated through the trees, and the soldier felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

In that instant, he made a decision. He would not go down without a fight. He would stand his ground, even if it meant

facing the creature alone. With a deep breath, he pulled his sword from the mud, the blade glinting in the dappled light filtering through the canopy above.

"Come then," he shouted, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him. "If you want a meal, you'll have to earn it!"

The Fenrith lunged, and the soldier braced himself, ready to face the darkness that had descended upon the land of Sydren. The battle was far from over, and he would fight with every ounce of strength he had left. He tightly shut his eyes as the sound of steel slashing through flesh is as clear as the leaves rustling by the wind. The echoes of his comrade's cry of pain, the sinister laugh of atrocious goblins and the deep guttural howls of Fenriths...

The nightmare that they've been facing will forever haunt them in their sleep, or perhaps their death will carry the hellish experience that falls upon them.

Frozen in place, his eyes darted to his feet, a hand that loosely grabs his leg, a face soaking with blood. The pleading eyes that shout with despair and surrender.

"You must flee…for our family's sake, you m-must f-flee."