The wind was sharp that morning, carrying with it the bitter scent of sap and something else—metallic, faint, but unmistakable.
Blood.
Derick moved cautiously through the underbrush, his hand never far from the crude dagger on his waist. It was dull, barely fit for cutting bark, but it had saved him once. That was enough to trust it.
He had ventured deeper into the woods than ever before, further from Shen's hut and the safety of shadows. He needed to find food. More importantly—beast meat. It was richer, stronger, and if he was lucky, he might even find another low-grade crystal core.
"Crystals feed power," Shen had said. "But you must also feed the flesh. Or you'll collapse under the weight of your own qi."
For over an hour, Derick found nothing.
No beasts. No signs. Just the rustle of wind and scattered droppings. A quiet too deep to be normal.
That was when he heard it.
Screams.
The Chase
At first, it was just a panicked gasp.
Then the sound of snapping branches—desperate footsteps running.
Then a voice—shrill and broken:
"HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE—!"
Derick turned without thinking. His feet carried him through the trees in seconds, Shadow Step carrying his frame between roots and limbs like a whisper.
Then he saw her.
A young girl, no older than twelve, sprinting through the forest, her robes torn, stained with blood. One sleeve dangled by threads. Her leg was dragging—clearly wounded. Her eyes wild with fear.
Behind her—two demons. One tall and armored in coarse, scaled skin. The other hunched, with claws that dragged through bark like knives. Both snarled with predatory delight.
Derick didn't hesitate.
He kicked off a fallen branch and exploded into motion, drawing his dagger mid-air.
"Hey! OVER HERE!"
The demons turned—just in time for Derick's shoulder to smash into the smaller one. They crashed into a tree trunk, bark splitting.
The girl collapsed behind a rock, panting, eyes wide.
A Fight for Blood
The taller demon recovered first, snarling with a cruel grin.
"Human worm wants to die quick, then? Fine."
It lunged.
Derick dodged—barely. Shadow Step flickered beneath his feet, carrying him to the left as a claw slashed where his head had been.
He didn't fight like a soldier. He fought like someone who had nothing to lose.
Spinning low, he drove his blade into the demon's thigh. It howled, kicking him back. Derick flew into a tree, ribs cracking.
Pain. Burning. But he got up.
The second demon pounced from above. Derick rolled. Too slow.
Its claws raked across his back—he screamed. Blood sprayed onto the leaves.
But then—his training kicked in.
Breathe. Center. Step.
Shadow Step ignited again. Derick vanished between two trees, reappearing behind the taller demon.
He slashed the Achilles tendon.
The beast dropped with a roar.
Derick gritted his teeth, reversed the blade, and drove it into its neck.
One down.
But his vision blurred. He was losing too much blood.
The second demon hissed, enraged. "You'll suffer for that, little worm."
Derick's legs trembled. His dagger slipped from bloody fingers.
Then—
A flash of light.
A Narrow Escape
Master Shen appeared behind the demon, staff glowing with golden script. He slammed it into the creature's back. A pulse of energy burst like thunder, sending the demon flying.
"Idiot boy," Shen growled, lifting Derick over his shoulder. "You weren't supposed to wander this deep."
Derick faded in and out of consciousness. "I… she needed… help…"
Shen looked at the girl—curled, terrified, weeping quietly beside a tree.
The old cultivator sighed. "We'll talk later. For now, you both need healing."
He vanished into the trees, carrying Derick and leading the girl behind him.
The Aftermath
Derick awoke in the hut two days later. His chest was wrapped tightly, bandaged with herbal paste and energy-soaked leaves. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.
The girl sat quietly in the corner, watching.
Her name was Lina.
Her family had been a traveling herb-gathering clan, wandering too deep into the beast woods. They'd been ambushed. She was the only one left.
"You… saved me," she whispered. "Why?"
Derick didn't answer right away. He stared at the ceiling, at the cracks in the wood.
"…Because I remember what it felt like," he said. "To scream… and no one came."
Tears slid silently down her cheek.
She crawled closer and held his hand.
Neither of them spoke after that.
But something between them had changed.
Not a bond of strength.
Not yet.
But something deeper—shared loss.
And a fragile spark of hope.