Voice

I picked up the heads of the chevas and put one on my shoulder and let it bite so it gets stuck, one on my leg and one on my other shoulder.

And I continued the hunt.

I walked and ran until I reached somewhere with trees surrounding me and I stopped there because I heard something move in the thick leaves if the tree.

It was something I had not seen before, -something new-.

While writing this I know what that thing was, but back then I didn't.

It was a tayr, tayrs are flying beasts with fur on thier stomachs but not on there backs, their eyes like the cheva; hollow, and there fur is exclusively black, they have claws on their two legs, each of them consisting of three claws, every claw is as sharp as a sword.

The moment I saw the tayr, it saw me. A blur of black fur and hollow eyes dove from the trees, claws outstretched, silent like death itself. I barely had time to react.

With a sharp pivot, I raised the cheva head on my shoulder—the dead jaws still clamped tight. The tayr struck, its talons scraping against bone instead of my flesh. It shrieked, wings flaring as it flapped backward, recalibrating its assault.

I lunged forward, ripping the cheva head from my shoulder and swinging it like a bludgeon. It connected, slamming into the beast's ribs. The tayr staggered mid-air but retaliated instantly, twisting to rake its claws toward my face.

I ducked. The talons whistled past my ear, close enough to graze hair. I rolled under its shadow and kicked off a tree trunk, launching myself up. The tayr wasn't expecting that—I caught its wing, pulling it down with my weight. We crashed into the dirt, tangled in feathers and limbs.

Its claws scraped at my leg, the one with the cheva head still latched on. With no other option, I rammed my knee into its exposed stomach. The impact forced a wheeze from the creature. I didn't stop. Grabbing the head on my other shoulder, I forced it between its snapping beak, shoving the dead cheva's fangs into the tayr's own hollow eye socket.

It screeched in agony, thrashing wildly. Taking the opening, I grabbed a jagged rock and slammed it into its throat. Once. Twice. The struggling slowed. Then stopped.

Breathless, I stood. Blood—not just mine—dripped from my hands. The forest was silent again.

The hunt continued.

I ran and ran until I reached an empty plain, in the plain I accidentally stepped into a trap which made me fall about a hundred meters, but I couldn't fall since I would've died so I used my Cultro to stick to the walls and I pierced the wall right to me and I pushed my leg in the wall left to me and climbed back up.

The wind carried dust across the plain as I locked eyes with the masked figure. But something felt… wrong. The way it moved, the way it tilted its head—it wasn't human. It wasn't even like the tayrs.

Then it changed.

The tattered cloth fell away, dissolving like mist, revealing what was beneath.

Chevas.

Not like the ones I had killed before. These were bigger, leaner, their muscles coiled tight beneath jet-black fur. Their hollow eyes stared, unblinking. And worst of all—they smiled.

The two chevas stood on their hind legs, their bodies shifting unnaturally. One still held the jagged, shifting weapon in its clawed grip. The other reached to its own throat and peeled away the remnants of the false mask, revealing a mouth lined with uneven, jagged teeth.

I tightened my grip on my Cultro.

These weren't just beasts. They were clever.

They had planned this.

The one with the weapon lunged first, closing the gap faster than I expected. I barely dodged as the shifting blade carved through the air, slicing clean through a rock behind me.

I struck back, my Cultro flashing. It dodged. Not instinctively—deliberately. It leaned just out of reach, tilting its head again like it was mocking me.

The second cheva stayed back, watching, calculating.

I didn't like that.

I rushed the first one, feinting left before twisting into a downward slash. It was fast—but this time, I was faster. My blade caught its arm, drawing dark blood. It hissed, stepping back.

But the second one moved.

In an instant, it was behind me. I felt claws dig into my back, dragging me downward. I twisted mid-fall, driving my elbow into its ribs. The impact was solid, but it didn't react with pain—only amusement.

Then, as I hit the ground, I saw something in its hollow eyes. A glint.

The trap.

The first cheva swung its weapon downward. If I had landed where they wanted me to, the ground would have collapsed, sending me back into the pit.

But I wasn't where they wanted me to be.

I kicked off the dirt, rolling sideways as the weapon crashed into the ground. The shockwave cracked the earth where I had been, but I was already moving.

I wasn't prey.

I was the hunter.

I surged forward, driving my Cultro deep into the first cheva's gut. It let out a rattling breath, but still, its mouth twisted into a smile.

The second cheva was already on the move, circling, waiting.

They had set this trap.

But I was about to turn it on them.

The first cheva staggered back, my Cultro buried in its gut. Its hollow eyes locked onto mine, but it didn't scream. It didn't even flinch. Instead, its jagged grin widened, as if pain meant nothing. As if it was still winning.

I wasn't fooled.

I ripped my Cultro free, dark blood spilling onto the dirt. The injured cheva dropped to one knee, but its grip on the shifting weapon remained tight. I raised my blade to finish it—

Then the second cheva moved.

A blur of black fur and flashing claws—too fast to dodge. It hit me like a hammer, dragging me down. My back slammed into the ground, the air crushed from my lungs.

It pinned me, its teeth bared in a smile that stretched too wide, its hollow eyes staring straight into me.

"You're fun."

The voice wasn't spoken. It wasn't heard. It was inside my head.

I tensed, my fingers tightening around my Cultro, but before I could strike, its clawed hand wrapped around my throat.

"You fight. You kill. But you don't see."

The injured cheva rose behind it, still bleeding, still smiling. The shifting weapon in its hand vibrated, reshaping itself into something longer, sharper. It stepped forward, raising the blade above my chest.

Trapped.

Think.

I had fought chevas before. They were fast, strong, but predictable. These weren't. These two weren't just beasts. They planned. They baited. They tricked.

And now they thought they had won.

They thought I was just another kill.

They were wrong.

I forced myself to go still, my body relaxing, my grip loosening. The second cheva leaned in closer, amused. It thought I was giving up.

That was its mistake.

In a single, explosive motion, I kicked upward, driving my knee into its ribs. The impact knocked it off balance just enough. My free hand shot up, grabbing the cheva head still clamped onto my shoulder—

And I shoved it straight into the cheva's face.

The dead jaws clamped onto its hollow eye, its rotten fangs sinking deep.

The cheva screamed.

Its grip loosened just enough. I twisted, yanking my Cultro free and ramming it upward. The blade buried itself in its throat.

One down.

The injured cheva was already lunging, its shifting weapon slicing through the air—

But this time, I saw it.

I felt it.

Something inside me snapped into place, a sense I hadn't known before. The world slowed, the details sharpening to an impossible clarity. I could see the attack before it landed, every movement drawn in my mind before it even happened.

I ducked. The blade whistled past my ear. My Cultro shot forward, cutting across its exposed ribs. A clean strike. Precise.

The cheva stumbled, its breathing ragged. But it still smiled.

It didn't care that it was dying.

"Now you see."

Then it fell, lifeless.

I stood there, panting, blood dripping from my hands. The wind howled across the empty plain.

I had won.

But as I looked at their still-smiling faces, I knew—

This wasn't over.