The air hung thick with danger, a tension so palpable it seemed to weigh on the skin. All present stood frozen, watching as the two massive beasts feasted—ripping into the bodies scattered across the battlefield with grotesque efficiency. Flesh tore, bones snapped, and blood soaked into the earth as their maws worked through what remained. The wet crunch of bone and the low, guttural growls echoed across the clearing.
Once sated, the beasts slowly raised their heads, their jaws slick with red. Their glowing eyes swept the field, searching—evaluating—their next prey.
Riven's mind kicked into gear, the initial shock giving way to calculation. What are two Rank Four beasts doing so close to the city? The thought gnawed at him. This doesn't make any sense.
He forced himself to recall everything he'd read about these particular creatures, dredging up dusty memories of bestiary pages and training notes. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing explained this. Nothing justified their presence here.
Then, the silence shattered.
Thundering steps pounded the earth behind him. Riven twisted his neck, the noble—galloping away atop his beast at breakneck speed, kicking up a plume of dust in his wake.
A beat later, both monsters sprang into motion.
The earth trembled beneath their weight as they surged forward, slithering and charging like living avalanches. Their bodies tore through the terrain, uprooting flora, churning soil, and leaving trails of destruction behind. Stone cracked beneath them, and low rumbles rolled across the battlefield like distant thunder.
Despite the danger, a bitter smirk tugged at Riven's lips. For someone that strong, he might be the dumbest hunter I've seen in a while. Running from predators like that? It was practically an invitation. They'll take it as weakness... and enjoy the hunt even more.
This, however, did nothing to ease his tension—his heart thudded harder in his chest as he watched the inevitable unfold.
Within seconds, the beasts closed the distance. The noble's retreat was abruptly halted as the earth ahead exploded into jagged spikes, rising in a crescent wall that blocked any hope of escape.
The Quakefang struck first, lunging with its massive jaws agape. The noble's mount—the Fanglion—twisted mid-stride, narrowly avoiding the initial assault. But what it didn't see was the Quakefang's tail, whipping around like a battering ram.
The impact sent both noble and beast crashing into the ground, skidding apart in a spray of dust and shattered stone. They scrambled back to their feet, barely regaining composure before the Scorchcoil launched forward, its entire serpentine body wreathed in flames.
The noble responded swiftly, slicing the air with a barrage of wind blades aimed at the creature's head. The blades hit their mark with incredible precision however the moment they touched the flames, they evaporated, reduced to wisps of steam.
Before he could change tactics, the Scorchcoil closed the distance. Its jaws snapped shut around him mid-cast, lifting him from the ground with a violent jerk.
The Fanglion roared, launching a retaliatory strike of its own—more wind blades, wild and sharp but before they could even gain momentum, the ground beneath it erupted. Jagged stone spears shot up from every angle, piercing through muscle and fur, locking the creature in place as it roared in pain.
Riven gulped at the sight before him, throat dry, heart hammering in his chest. Even with both beasts now just a few yards away, his legs refused to move. A tremor of fear rooted him in place, as if his bones had turned to stone.
The sharp rhythm of approaching footsteps broke through the fog in his mind. He turned, adrenaline spiking—only to see Roman and Sylvia sprinting toward him. Relief hit like a splash of cold water, momentarily loosening the tight coil in his chest. Behind them, the remaining hooded figures hovered in hesitation, caught between fight and flight. But once one of them bolted, the rest scattered like leaves in the wind.
A sliver of tension peeled from Riven's shoulders as Roman stopped in front of him, Sylvia flanking his left. Roman looked at him—silent, unreadable beneath his mask—and Riven waited for him to speak, when the ground gave a low, ominous groan beneath their feet.
The tremor deepened, vibrating through Riven's boots, up his legs, and into his spine. All three of them froze. Then, the earth burst open a few meters away, spraying dirt and rock into the air as something massive erupted from the cracked ground.
A coiling, writhing shape shot out—thick, scaled, and horrifyingly familiar.
Another Quakefang.
Riven recognized it the instant its blunt, jagged head twisted around, its eyes locking on the fleeing figures. With terrifying grace, the creature spun, body undulating as it surged after them.
In mere moments, it was on them.
It slithered like a landslide, jaws gaping wide—then snapped shut around the group in a single sweeping motion. The sound was awful. Bones crushed, bodies snapped, and screams were swallowed by those massive jaws. Like a whale feeding on helpless minnows, it devoured them in one fluid, monstrous gulp.
But it wasn't done.
Without pause, the Quakefang twisted and lunged back toward Riven and the others, hunger still gleaming in its predatory eyes.
It was too fast.
Riven didn't even have time to activate Blink. His breath caught. Muscles locked.
Then Roman moved.
His body blurred, vanishing into motion. A flash of metal followed, and in the blink of an eye, Roman intercepted the charging beast with a rising vertical slash. Steel met scale in a thunderous clash, the impact sending a ripple of pressure outward like a shockwave. Dust and wind exploded from the point of contact, slamming into Riven and Sylvia, forcing them back.
Coughing through the dust, Riven's eyes widened.
The Quakefang's colossal fangs hovered inches from Roman's masked face. They were locked—man and monster—in a deadly contest of brute strength. Roman's blade held firm, its glowing edge resisting the crushing force of the creature's jaws, while the serpent's rocky scales refused to yield.
Then, the pressure vanished.
The beast pulled back, hissing in frustration. Its head snapped up—and the ground beneath Roman shattered.
Riven watched, heart stalling, as the soil erupted in jagged stone spikes. But Roman blurred again, flickering out of reach just in time. He landed beside Riven in a crouch, boots skidding through the dirt.
"Both of you run. I'll stop it here," Roman said, voice low and focused, his eyes never leaving the beast.
Riven's gut twisted. "What about you?" he asked, refusing to turn his back, not when Roman was about to throw himself into death's jaws.
Roman didn't answer.
The Quakefang lunged once more.
This time, Roman's aura ignited, flaring around him in a deep, pulsing red. His blade glowed brighter, a dangerous crimson light burning along its edge as he dashed forward and swung in a sweeping arc.
Steel met flesh and stone again.
The ground erupted in spikes for a second time, but Roman danced through them, nimble and unrelenting. The Quakefang twisted, body surging with momentum, and slammed into him once more.
Riven watched as both figures—one a blur of red, the other a coiling mass of brown—clashed over and over, their movements too fast to follow. They danced across the battlefield, colliding with brutal force, neither showing signs of faltering. Not yet.
"Riven," came a voice beside him.
He jerked his head around, pulse still thudding in his ears, to find Sylvia walking up to him, her rapier gripped tight in one hand. Her face unreadable beneath the mask.
"There's nothing we can do anymore," she said, voice low but firm. "Either we leave now, or we stay and die. And that would make Roman's entire struggle pointless."
The words stabbed at him. Riven's instinct screamed to argue, to lash out at the idea of abandoning Roman. But his logical side—clawed its way forward and held his tongue. He clenched his jaw, hard enough to make the bone creak, and turned away, eyes falling to the cracked, torn earth beneath their feet.
Think, Riven. Think. Is this how it ends?
The air stank of dust and ozone. His heart pounded so violently it shook his chest. His hands clenched, knuckles white, nails digging into his palms. He was biting down so hard that he could feel the pressure in his skull.
Then—something surfaced.
A memory. Clear as glass. The soul fragments. He had used them before, converting them into raw mana, pushing his limits further than ever before.
But the flicker of hope withered almost instantly. Where the hell am I supposed to find soul fragments at a time like this?
His train of thought shattered as Sylvia spoke again, her tone sharper, more urgent. "Riven, we need to leave. Now. Even if Roman can hold off that one, the noble's going to lose soon. And when she does, we'll be surrounded."
"That's it," Riven muttered aloud, eyes sparking with sudden clarity.
He turned toward Sylvia, his mind racing, and began laying out his newly hatched plan.