The Hunt Begins
The guild hall buzzed with morning activity, the scent of fresh bread mixing with damp leather and sweat. Adventurers haggled over contracts, swapping exaggerated tales of near-death experiences.
Arlan and the others stood at the quest board, scanning the available jobs.
"Alright," Mira said, arms crossed. "We need something that actually challenges us. No more easy goblin hunts."
Beren grunted. "I wouldn't mind punching a few more goblins."
Leila snorted. "That's because you enjoy punching things, not because it's good training."
Tomas leaned in, scanning the parchment pinned to the board. "Here's one. Basilisks in the Fogwood Marsh. Reports confirmed in the area. Hunters have gone missing."
Mira frowned. "Basilisks? That's a step up."
Tomas shrugged. "We nearly got our asses kicked by lizardmen."
Leila tapped another posting. "Here's another one. Fire Drakes spotted in the lower dungeon caverns. Some miners reported missing."
Beren raised an eyebrow. "Drakes? That's a big jump in difficulty."
"We need big jumps," Arlan said. "We're not getting stronger by picking safe fights."
Mira sighed. "We're barely scraping by as it is."
"But we are scraping by," Tomas argued. "And we'll never know if we're ready unless we push ourselves."
The group exchanged glances.
Then Mira exhaled. "Fine. Let's compromise. We'll take the basilisk hunt first. If we handle that well, then we consider the drakes."
"Deal," Arlan said.
Beren cracked his knuckles. "About time we got some real fights."
Leila smirked. "Just try not to get bitten again."
Beren scowled. "One time."
Tomas grinned. "I still remember the sound you made. It was kind of like a dying goose."
Beren shot him a glare.
Mira ignored them and pulled the quest notice from the board. "Alright, let's get our gear. We leave within the hour."
The Fogwood Marsh
The marshland stretched out before them—a tangled mess of moss-covered trees, thick fog, and blackened water. The ground was soft and treacherous, sucking at their boots with each step.
Leila pulled her cloak tighter. "I already hate this place."
"Agreed," Tomas muttered, stepping carefully to avoid sinking into the mud. "Who picks a swamp to live in?"
"Basilisks, apparently," Beren said.
Arlan stayed quiet, his senses on high alert.
The air was thick with something unnatural.
Then—a low, rattling hiss.
Mira stiffened. "We're not alone."
The first basilisk struck from the reeds, its long, serpentine body launching forward like a whip!
Tomas barely raised his shield in time—the impact sent him stumbling back in the mud.
Leila fired an arrow, aiming for its skull, but the basilisk twisted, dodging it with unnatural speed.
Another hiss—two more basilisks slithered into view.
Beren roared, swinging his axe as one lunged at him. The blade met thick, armored scales, barely cutting through.
Mira chanted quickly—fire burst from her staff, forcing the creatures back.
Arlan raised a hand—a Shadow Bolt shot forward!
The basilisk dodged.
"Damn it," Arlan muttered.
Then—a blur of spectral movement.
Shade manifested, his ghostly form lunging forward. His clawed hand passed through a basilisk's body—not slicing it, but draining its speed.
The creature thrashed, its movements slowing.
Leila seized the opening—an arrow pierced through its eye.
It collapsed.
One down.
Bones' Transformation
A sudden shriek—another basilisk leaped from the fog!
It was aiming straight for Arlan.
Bones leapt from Arlan's shoulder—his body shifting.
Where there had been a tiny skeletal rat—a massive, bone-plated wolf now stood!
The skeletal beast lunged, its fangs clamping around the basilisk's throat.
The creature thrashed, trying to shake him off.
Beren took the chance—his axe came down in a brutal arc, slicing through its side!
The basilisk went limp.
The ground rumbled.
The mist parted.
A basilisk twice the size of the others slithered forward, its eyes glowing with unnatural malice.
Mira exhaled. "That's the parent."
Tomas cracked his neck. "Alright. Who wants to die first?"
Leila nocked an arrow. "Preferably not us."