Chapter 10 — Prey That Hunts Back
The deeper Kael moved into the wildlands, the quieter the forest became.
Not the peace of safety — but the kind of silence that spoke of a predator nearby.
Veythar's gaze swept the canopy. "We're being shadowed. Four… no, five, moving with trained precision. Nobles' hirelings, not beasts."
Kael didn't bother looking. "Let them follow. I want to see who bites first."
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The trail sloped downward into a ravine. A stream of dark water wound its way through jagged rocks, and there — crouched on a stone like a gargoyle — was their first quarry.
The beast was a Felgore — a warped predator from the Western Dungeons. Its hide was jagged black chitin, its head crowned with forward-curving horns. Four eyes gleamed red, and every breath it took misted in the cool air.
> Side: "Rank B+. Fast, durable, and very, very mean."
Kael: "Sounds like you on a Monday."
Side: "I'd be offended if you weren't right."
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Kael drew his sword. The steel hummed faintly — not with enchantment, but with familiarity. He shifted his stance, weight forward, blade angled for the Felgore's first rush.
The attack came in a blur.
The Felgore bounded from the rock, claws outstretched. Kael sidestepped, letting the beast's momentum carry it past. His blade slashed low, cutting deep into its hind leg. Black ichor splattered the stones.
It wheeled around instantly, snapping its horns toward him. This time, Kael met it head-on, his sword flashing in a tight arc — steel biting through chitin, sparks flying where horn met metal.
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Then the arrows came.
Three shafts hissed through the air — not aimed at the Felgore, but at Kael. He twisted, one arrow slicing his shoulder, the other two clattering off stone.
From the ridge above, Lord Darnic's voice rang out, mockery in every word. "Apologies, Cromwell! My hand must've slipped."
Veythar's human guise blurred for a fraction of a second, his hand twitching toward his hidden weapon. Kael stopped him with a slight gesture.
"No," Kael murmured, eyes never leaving the Felgore. "Let's deal with our host first."
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The beast lunged again, perhaps sensing weakness. Kael met it with a feint — stepping right, then using Spatial Step to vanish and reappear at its flank. His blade punched through the gap in its shoulder plating, twisting deep before he wrenched it free.
The Felgore roared, staggered — and Kael finished it with a clean, rising cut that split its head from horn to jaw.
Black ichor steamed on the rocks.
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The nobles above had gone silent.
Kael didn't look up until he wiped his blade clean and slid it back into its sheath.
Then he smiled — the kind of smile meant to unnerve.
"You might want to aim better next time, Darnic. You almost hit something dangerous."
The young noble's jaw tightened. The forest wind carried his answer — not words, but the sound of retreating footsteps.
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> Side: "You handled that… delicately."
Kael: "Can't waste good bait. He'll bring more next time."
Side: "And you'll be ready to reel him in."
Kael: "Exactly."
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By the time Kael and Veythar left the ravine, the Felgore's corpse had already sunk into the shadows at Kael's feet — unseen by the world, added to an army only he and Side knew existed.
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