The cave walls glistened with condensation as Commander Arnold led his contingent of knights through the narrow passage, their torchlight casting grotesque shadows that danced along the rough stone. Gareth's voice, gravelly with age and something darker—something like fear—echoed softly ahead of them.
"Kolasis doesn't kill quickly," the old knight murmured, his hand resting unconsciously on the hilt of his sword. "It plays with its prey. The stronger the warrior, the longer it draws out their suffering. Twenty years ago, it destroyed three camps just like ours, leaving no survivors except..." His voice trailed off, his eyes distant.
Arnold frowned. "Except what?"
Gareth didn't answer. Instead, he froze as they rounded the final bend, his breath catching in his throat.
The scene before them was impossible.
Ryu stood in the center of the cavern, swaying slightly, his body a mess of bruises and cuts. His clothes hung in tatters, soaked through with blood. Around him, six of the Silver Sentinels' most hardened knights lay in various states of disarray—one clutching his ruined eye, another spitting teeth onto the stone floor. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat.
Arnold's gauntleted hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. "What happened here?"
At the sound of his voice, the battered soldiers scrambled to attention, groaning through what were clearly broken ribs. Only Ryu remained motionless, his amber eyes burning with defiance—until, finally, his body gave out, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
A knight with deep bite marks on his forearm spat blood onto the stone. "That demon took down three of us before we even realized what was happening," he rasped. "Then, when we thought we had him cornered, he fought like a rabid animal—eyes, sand, teeth..." He touched the ragged wound on his arm, his expression haunted. "I've been in dozens of battles, Commander. I've never seen anything like it."
Another knight—younger, his face still unmarked by the horrors of war—kicked the speaker hard in the side. "How could you lose this easily to a mere commoner?"
"Enough." Arnold's voice cut through the tension like a blade. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the scattered stones, and knelt beside Ryu's unconscious form. The boy's hands were a mess—broken fingers, dirt caked under torn nails. This wasn't the skill of a trained warrior. This was something far more primal, something that couldn't be taught.
Arnold exhaled sharply through his nose. "Take him to the cells. And get these men to the doctors."
---
The clang of iron bars startled Ryu awake.
His entire body ached, though the worst of his injuries had mysteriously closed. Outside his cell, Commander Arnold stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. A leather pouch dangled from his fingers.
"Drink," Arnold commanded, tossing the pouch through the bars.
Ryu caught it, his fingers stiff. The liquid inside shimmered faintly—just like the mysterious rain that had healed him before. He didn't hesitate. Tipping his head back, he drained the pouch in one gulp, feeling warmth spread through his limbs as bones knit and wounds sealed.
"What do you want?" he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Arnold's jaw worked silently for a moment before he spoke. "Tell me about the monster you saw in the forest."
Ryu barked a laugh that turned into a cough. "Now you want my help?"
"Look," Arnold ground out, the word clearly painful. "I'm sorry. But I need to find that thing."
Ryu leaned back against the cold stone wall, studying the commander through half-lidded eyes. "Two conditions," he said finally, holding up a hand and counting off on his fingers. "A good meal. A bath. And a decent sword."
Arnold scowled. "That's three."
Ryu grinned, his teeth still stained with blood. "Close enough."
The commander groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fine." He pulled a set of keys from his belt and tossed them through the bars. "Follow me."
---
The hot springs steamed in the crisp evening air, the mineral-rich water bubbling gently as Ryu sank into its embrace. The heat seeped into his bones, washing away weeks of grime and blood. For the first time in months, he felt almost human.
He scrubbed at his skin until it turned pink, watching as the dirt and filth swirled away in the water. His muscles, stiff from the fight and the cold cell, slowly relaxed. When he finally emerged, the servants handed him fresh clothes—simple but clean, a far cry from the rags he'd been wearing.
Dressed and marginally more presentable, Ryu was led to the command tent. The moment he stepped inside, the conversations died. Every knight in the room turned to stare, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.
Gareth, the old knight, gestured for him to sit at the long wooden table. Ryu ignored the stares and took the offered seat, his stomach growling audibly.
The food arrived moments later—a roasted turkey, golden and glistening with fat, surrounded by dishes of spiced rice, smoked meats, and fresh bread. Ryu didn't wait for formalities. He tore into the meal like a starved animal, shoving handfuls of food into his mouth without bothering with utensils.
The knights exchanged disgusted glances, but Ryu didn't care. He hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks.
Arnold cleared his throat loudly. "You'll take us to where you saw Kolasis," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "We'll kill it."
Ryu paused mid-bite, grease dripping down his chin. He swallowed thickly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I will," he said slowly. "But you swear to protect me."
Arnold's expression darkened, but he nodded. "On the name of the Silver Sentinels, you won't die."
The knights immediately launched into a heated debate, arguing over strategies and formations. Ryu tuned them out, his attention drifting—until the tent flap was thrown open with enough force to make the lanterns sway.
A bloodied scout stumbled inside, his armor dented, his face pale. "Commander!" he gasped, collapsing to his knees. "We're under attack!"
Arnold shot to his feet, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. "What?"
The scout trembled, his voice barely above a whisper. "A giant monster—it's tearing through the eastern perimeter!"
Silence.
Then, from outside, came a sound that turned Ryu's blood to ice—a shriek like metal scraping against bone, followed by the unmistakable screams of dying men.
Ryu's fork clattered onto his plate.
They hadn't been hunting Kolasis.
Kolasis had been hunting them.