The forest was alive with motion.Every roar and clash of steel sent flocks of black birds screaming into the night. Every death lit the dark with bursts of red and gold light.

Somewhere beyond the ruins of the millipedes' nests, a new sound joined the chaos — pounding footsteps, the sound of pursuit.

The Dire Wolf

A blur of silver tore through the trees.The Dire Wolf — taller than a man even while crouched — ran like wind given flesh. Each bound crushed roots beneath its claws, and the twin horns on its head shimmered with a pulsing red glow, like embers ready to erupt.

Three players fled through the darkness, their breaths sharp and desperate."Keep moving!" one shouted.

The beast howled — and the air itself trembled. Then its horns ignited.From the tips burst twin waves of compressed air, glowing crimson, ripping through the forest like invisible blades.

Trees exploded into splinters. The players dove for cover behind fallen trunks.

"It's using ranged attacks again!" the archer shouted, drawing his bow.He aimed for the creature's eyes — but by the time he loosed the arrow, the wolf was gone.

"Where—"

The archer's words froze as a shadow flashed above him. The wolf had leapt. From tree to tree, it descended like lightning, slamming into him with its full weight. The impact broke the ground, leaving a crater.

The others reacted instantly. The woman with the twin blades sprinted forward, her feet barely touching the ground. She sliced twice — twin arcs of light — but the wolf turned, parrying one with its horn and dodging the other by a hair.

It moved with impossible grace, like wind given purpose.

The third player, a bulky man wielding a massive shield, stepped forward. "Now!" he shouted, planting his feet and slamming the shield into the dirt. A barrier of translucent light burst outward.

The wolf lunged, its fangs clashing against the barrier with a sound like thunder. The shockwave knocked leaves from every branch within fifty meters.

The archer, bloodied but alive, crawled back into position. "I've got one shot left!""Then make it count!"

The woman sprinted forward, diving low beneath another air blast. She slid along the dirt, slashing at the wolf's leg — cutting deep into muscle. The beast roared and staggered.

"Now!" the shieldbearer shouted.

The archer drew, the arrowhead glowing gold this time — an enchanted shot. He let it fly.

It pierced straight into the beast's horn — and the horn shattered, releasing a surge of built-up energy. The resulting blast tore the clearing apart.

When the dust settled, the wolf lay still — its body riddled with burns and gashes, one horn missing, the other dim and cracked.

The archer slumped, his bow falling from his hand. "Ten points," he said weakly, as the golden light of the coin dissolved into his waistband.

The others stared at the corpse. "Ten points for almost dying," the woman muttered.

The shieldbearer looked up at the moon through the drifting smoke. "The stronger they get," he said, "the less this feels like a game."

The Wyvern

The forest ended abruptly at a vast, open ridge of stone — jagged cliffs and blackened rock stretching to the horizon.The air here smelled of ash and smoke.

And above, in the darkened sky, wings.

A scream tore through the night — not human, not beastly, something between the two. A Wyvern swooped down, scales gleaming like forged iron, wings so vast they cast moving shadows over the burning trees below.

Four players stood on the cliff, watching it descend."It's massive," one whispered.

"It's fire-breather," another said. "Don't get close."

The Wyvern opened its jaws, and the world turned red. A torrent of fire erupted, vaporizing the treeline in seconds. The players dove for cover behind boulders, their cloaks igniting.

"Hit the chest!" someone screamed. "The diamond in its chest — that's the core!"

But hitting it was easier said than done. The Wyvern was faster than it looked — a storm of wings and flame, every movement followed by gusts that threw men off their feet.

One player, a mage with white tattoos across his skin, stood up amidst the chaos. He closed his eyes, raising his staff. "Cover me!"

Arrows and lightning bolts rained from his teammates, distracting the Wyvern long enough for him to finish his incantation. The ground beneath him glowed blue.

"[Heaven's Lance]!"

A column of light erupted from the earth, slamming straight into the Wyvern's chest mid-dive. For a moment, the sky split — the creature screamed, twisting as smoke poured from its mouth.

But when the light faded, it was still alive. The diamond glowed brighter, cracks running through it — but it wasn't shattered.

"Shit!" the mage cursed.

The Wyvern dove again, one wing clipping a cliffside and shattering stone like glass. Two of the players were crushed under debris.

The last survivor — a woman with a single glowing spear — stood her ground. Her hair whipped violently in the heat as the creature descended.

She whispered to herself, "If one strike won't do it…"

She jumped.

The air rippled from the force of her leap. She rose high — higher than seemed possible — and aimed her spear at the glowing diamond. Her weapon blazed white.

She threw it.

The spear tore through the air like a comet and struck dead center. The Wyvern froze mid-flight — wings twitching — and then it fell, its body disintegrating into burning fragments before it even hit the ground.

The woman landed hard, gasping, her armor cracked and scorched.She stared at the ashes swirling in the wind as a single golden coin fell into her palm.

"Twenty points," she whispered, clutching it tightly.

The Shapeshifter

The forest grew quiet after that. The smoke cleared. The sky began to pale.But deep below — in a marsh hidden by mist and shadow — another nightmare stirred.

A figure crawled from the mud. At first glance, it looked human — a man, covered in grime, eyes blank and gray. But then its skin rippled.

Bones shifted.Limbs elongated.Its mouth split wider than any human's should.

The Shapeshifter.

It stood in a shallow pool surrounded by the remains of its prey — not corpses, but discarded forms. Pieces of wolves. A fragment of scorpion tail. A burnt piece of Wyvern wing.

It raised its hand, and its skin shimmered, morphing again — now into the chitinous armor of the Abyss Scorpion. Then it slithered into a millipede's body. Then again into the four-legged posture of a Dire Wolf.

And each time, it grew faster. Stronger. Smarter.

A squad stumbled upon it by accident.They thought it was just another beast — until it spoke.

"...You shouldn't have come here."

Its voice was wrong. Like ten people speaking at once.

The leader of the group raised his sword. "Whatever you are, you die like the rest."

The shapeshifter smiled. "Do I?"

The ground erupted beneath them as it transformed — claws, tails, wings, and horns bursting from its body in chaotic perfection. The fight that followed was madness — fire, venom, and blades colliding in every direction.

Each time they wounded it, it changed shape. Each time they adapted, it countered.

Until finally — wounded, desperate — it froze mid-shift, its form flickering between the Wyvern and the Dire Wolf.

"Now!" the leader roared.

They struck all at once. The shapeshifter screamed, its body twisting violently — then froze completely, half-beast, half-man, its features locked in a grotesque snarl.

It shattered into dust.

The survivors — if they could still be called that — collapsed where they stood. None spoke.

The forest fell silent again.

And somewhere, not too far away…

In the quiet darkness of the cave, where the light of dawn barely reached, Avin stirred.His eyes twitched, then opened slowly, reflecting a faint crimson glow.

The forest outside had gone eerily still.

He sat up, hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.Unaware that while he slept, the forest had already taken hundreds of lives — and that soon, it would demand his again.

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