Chapter 18: Maw of Warden

The morning sun filtered through the tattered leaves of the Witherhollow Ridge, casting golden light over a steep incline littered with jagged shale. Jumong crouched at the edge of a narrow cliff path, his eyes scanning the landscape below. A breeze tugged at his weather-worn cloak. On either side of him stood his companions—Ashwing perched lightly on a boulder, ears twitching, while Barkhide pawed the ground, releasing a quiet grunt.

But now, a new presence loomed beside them.

Stonegrip.

The beast's massive frame was a moving wall of slate-gray muscle, his tusks etched with runic scars of past battles. He lumbered slowly, deliberate in every step, his iron-plated hide shedding flakes of dirt and gravel as he moved. The ground trembled faintly with each step. Unlike Barkhide, who often glanced toward Jumong for commands, Stonegrip obeyed no one easily.

Jumong had spent the last two nights trying to build a rhythm with the creature, whispering old beast-tamer chants, offering food laced with Emberroot, and enduring sudden charges when the beast grew restless. Stonegrip hadn't bonded—not like Ashwing had. But there was progress. Mutual respect, at least.

Below them, the remnants of a collapsed ruin emerged between stretches of fog-draped trees—an old survey site that, according to a discarded Hunter's logbook, had once been used to store relics and trials from the Embercraft Orders.

"It smells like old fire," Ashwing whispered through their mental link.

"And death," Barkhide grunted aloud, sniffing the wind.

Jumong nodded, stringing his longbow and running a hand across the carved grip. It had been reforged after Emberwatch, now etched with faint lines of Embersteel—not a true Embercrafted weapon, but close. He stood, checked the arrow count, and exhaled.

"Stonegrip," Jumong said firmly, pointing toward the incline below. The beast stared, unmoving. A low growl, like distant landslides, rumbled in its throat. Then it moved, trudging forward with heavy resolve.

They descended together.

The ruins were buried in layers of dust and vines, stone monoliths split by time and rot. Jumong paused near a cracked pedestal, wiping away the grime to reveal sigils of the old Flamebearers. A faint glow pulsed from deep below—an energy source, weak but still alive.

As Jumong stepped forward, a shriek tore the silence.

SKRAAAAAH!

Shapes emerged from the shadows—thin, leathery beasts with elongated limbs and blinking violet eyes. Goblinoid, but wrong. Starved and mutated. Their screeches echoed in the chamber.

[Hunter's Beastiary - Entry: Shrike-Gnawers]

Class: High C-Class (in swarms, potential Low B-Class threat)

Trait: Sound-mimicry, high-speed lunges, weak to fire

Three at first. Then six. Then more.

Jumong leapt backward, firing an arrow mid-air. Ashwing darted skyward, [Blazing Arc] carving through two of the Shrike-Gnawers. Barkhide charged the cluster, tusks swinging wildly.

But it was Stonegrip who brought the battle to silence.

He slammed into the central swarm, [Seismic Slam] rupturing the floor and sending goblinoids tumbling. A wave of dust and debris flew upward. Stonegrip grabbed one midair, crushing it into the ground with a sound like thunder against rock.

Jumong moved quickly, arrows flying. He directed Ashwing with signals and grunts, used Barkhide to cover their flank, and let Stonegrip tear the enemy line apart.

It was messy. Raw. But it worked.

By the time the last Shrike-Gnawer tried to flee, Stonegrip hurled a chunk of stone with [Gravelhold Bind], pinning it to a tree. The creature wailed.

Ashwing landed beside Jumong. "That went better than last time."

He nodded, wiping blood from his cheek.

Stonegrip stood quietly now, breathing heavily, dust swirling around him. For the first time since the taming, he turned slightly toward Jumong. No growl. No stomp. Just stillness.

Maybe it wasn't loyalty yet.

But it was the beginning of something.

That night, the group camped beneath a ruined archway. Jumong sat by the fire, staring into the flames, his bow across his knees. Ashwing dozed beside him. Barkhide snored lightly.

Stonegrip stood watch at the edge of camp, unmoving as a boulder.

Tomorrow, they would venture deeper. Rumors of an ancient Emberforge site lay another day's journey west. Jumong didn't know what awaited them, but for the first time, he didn't feel alone against it.

He had his companions.

And a purpose.

And Jumong knew it would take more.

The battle would not end tonight.

The Wastes of Korvak were never quiet.

Between the broken spires of petrified trees and the hollowed-out bones of forgotten beasts, wind screamed like a chorus of wailing banshees. Stonegrip's hooves thundered across the red-cracked ground, leaving twin furrows as he flanked the towering Gravehowl Warden. Barkhide, bulkier and armored like a living fortress, held the frontline while Ashwing circled overhead, a burning streak against the grey skies.

Jumong crouched behind a shattered monolith, sweat rolling down his temple. He drew a long breath. "Now," he whispered.

Barkhide charged with a deafening bellow. "GRAUUUHH!"

The Gravehowl Warden met the boar's rush with a roar that made the stones vibrate. "RAAAAAGHRK!" Its clawed limbs slammed against Barkhide's shield-like skull, and the shockwave cracked the earth beneath them.

Ashwing swooped in, talons blazing with emberlight, scoring a sharp line along the Warden's shoulder. The creature hissed in pain, snapping upward with its wolf-like maw. "KRAK'THUN!"

Stonegrip used the distraction, leaping with unnatural agility for his size. His tusks slammed into the Warden's ribcage, throwing the creature off balance. But not for long. The beast twisted and backhanded the rhino-ox hybrid with a sickening crunch, sending Stonegrip skidding across gravel.

"Stonegrip!" Jumong growled. He jumped from cover, loosing an arrow mid-roll.

[Embershot]

The burning arrow hissed through the air and struck true, lodging into the Warden's thigh. Fire danced across its fur.

"Keep pushing!" Jumong shouted, ducking as the Warden swiped a jagged claw his way. It barely missed, slamming into the monolith behind him, pulverizing stone.

Hunter's Beastiary & Class Index

Name: Gravehowl Warden

Classification: Class B+ Aberrant Beast

Known Traits: Regenerative Flesh, Earthshock Roar, Bone-Hardened Hide

Threat Tier: Region-Level Disruption Potential

Jumong's breath came hard now. Each second of battle reminded him: this thing could tear him in half with one mistake.

Barkhide rebounded, his tusks locked with the Warden's claws, the two giants snarling inches apart. Ashwing fired small bursts of searing flame to its back, keeping it off balance.

Stonegrip, bloodied but unbroken, surged back into the fray. His horns caught the beast's ankle, causing it to buckle.

That was the opening.

Jumong climbed a jagged rock, drawing two arrows in one hand. He whispered, "This ends here."

[Dual Emberstrike]

He leapt into the air, twisting his body, loosing both arrows in perfect timing. The twin shots sailed like fire serpents through the smoke-filled wind.

The Warden howled.

Both arrows struck its eyes.

It reeled back, shrieking in a guttural, alien tongue. "RHA'NUURRRHHHH!"

Barkhide gored its chest. Ashwing lit its back like a torch. Stonegrip brought it crashing down with a final, earth-rattling tackle.

The Gravehowl Warden collapsed. Motionless.

Silence returned to the Wastes.

Jumong dropped to his knees, the adrenaline draining. Blood, soot, and dust clung to his armor. He looked at his beasts—his companions. Each one wounded, but alive.

Not by destiny. Not by fate. But by grit, teamwork, and pain.

They had survived.

But somewhere in that silence, Jumong knew: this was only a taste of what was coming.

He looked toward the horizon, where the sky churned darker than night.

"Let's move," he said quietly.

His beasts followed, limping but unwavering.

Their next trial waited beyond the dusk.