PREVIOUSLY-
"Please…" The Bigfoot parted its lips.
"Please… kill me."
Leon stopped. He stared at the struggling creature for some time.
SWISH!
SHING!
He hurled his claymore in a quick vertical arc. His form straightened as a soft whisper escaped his lips
"Okay."
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
BOOM.
The Bigfoot lunged—an avalanche of muscle, bone, and fury.
THUD! FWISH!
Leon sidestepped by a whisper. The claws missed his face by an inch, tearing bark behind him. His boots slammed into a tree trunk, and he launched like a cannonball.
WHISH!
SLICE!
He coiled around the monster's swinging arm like a serpent and ripped his claymore across its elbow. Flesh parted. Tendons snapped.
The beast shrieked—a raw, guttural cry—but Leon was already airborne, flipping above its hunched frame.
"B'bye." He winked.
The Bigfoot reacted, too slow.
WHAM!
Its massive arm clubbed him mid-spin. Leon grunted, catching the brunt on the flat of his claymore, but the blow still sent him crashing into a pine. Bark exploded. Air fled his lungs.
"Aagh—" he gasped, blood spitting from his lips.
He pulled himself up, claymore grating against the dirt.
"Damn thing hits like a cartload of bricks."
A voice chimed beside his ear—Threxil, a flickering red wisp of a spirit. "That is an eight-foot-tall war-beast, for Elyndra's sake!"
Leon spat to the side, cracked his neck. "Eight feet of meat," he muttered.
BOOM!
The Bigfoot didn't wait.
It yanked a tree from the ground like a toothpick and hurled it. The trunk screamed through the air, end spinning like a spear.
Leon lunged aside—barely. The bark grazed his cheek. Then came another.
He didn't dodge.
He jumped.
Boots slammed down onto the flying trunk, using it like a platform mid-air. A heartbeat later, he kicked off, shooting toward the trees. He hit the bark running—three strides up—and launched again.
The monster looked up, raising an arm to shield—
STAB!
"RAARGHH!" The Bigfoot's howl tore through the forest as steel buried in its forearm.
Leon yanked the blade free, flipping backwards.
"Well, well." He grinned. Sparks spun in his wake. His boots hit moss. The beast's torso loomed wide in his view—too slow to protect itself.
BLAZE.
The claymore lit up, fire curling from hilt to tip like a dragon's tongue.
FWISH!
The Bigfoot lunged again—this time a brutal knee aimed for Leon's ribs.
Leon twisted, spun sideways in mid-air, and carved a line down the back of the creature's knee.
"GRAAAH!" The joint crumpled. The beast fell to one leg, howling in rage.
SWISH!
A green magic circle bloomed beneath Leon's feet—light, sharp as a blade's edge.
He stepped onto the air.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
He ascended vertically like walking up invisible stairs, until he was face-to-face with the beast.
Its one good eye widened.
STAB!
Leon's boot rammed straight into its eyeball with a sickening squelch.
The creature screamed, spine arching, arms flailing. It slammed its skull against a tree in desperation, trying to dislodge him.
Leon twisted mid-air, using the recoil to roll out and drop cleanly onto the ground. His boots kissed the earth.
No wasted movement. No wasted breath.
The Bigfoot staggered, gasping. Blood ran like tar down its face. One eye swollen shut. The other—a hollow, ruined socket. Its fur was scorched and soaked. Its posture sagged, but it refused to fall.
Behind it, the cave loomed, black as death.
The monster breathed.
Its whole body trembled.
It roared.
Then—
BOOM.
It charged.
Leon didn't move. Red Aura burned along his arms and legs like living lightning. His eyes sharpened.
The world slowed.
FWOOM!
Compressed air detonated underfoot. Leon vanished sideways in a gust of pressure. The creature's claws slammed down where he'd stood. The ground burst open, soil and splinters exploding skyward.
Leon streaked toward a tree, ran three steps up its trunk and launched again. The forest blurred beneath him.
The claymore in his hands roared to life—a sword of fire and ruin.
Mid-air, he twisted.
SHLACK!
The flaming blade bit deep into the Bigfoot's shoulder, carving through muscle. The wound ignited. Fire raced up its fur. The creature bellowed, thrashing.
It swung an arm the size of a warhorse.
Leon ducked low, rolled beneath the swipe, and exploded upward again.
But the Bigfoot was adapting.
It grabbed a branch mid-spin and ripped it free.
CRACK!
The tree trunk screamed through the air, a flying club.
Leon cursed. He shifted, fired a wind burst from his boot and veered—but not enough.
WHAM!
The wood clipped his thigh.
Pain lanced through him. He tumbled out of the air, slammed into the earth. Bones rattled.
The Bigfoot didn't pause.
It lunged, massive hand closing around Leon's leg like a vise.
WHAM!
It slammed him toward a boulder, trying to reduce him to pulp.
But Leon's eyes glowed crimson.
Red Aura surged.
He twisted, grabbing the beast's wrist mid-flight.
Muscles bulged. His veins lit like molten iron.
He redirected the swing.
CRACK!
The monster's own wrist snapped against the rock with a wet crunch. Its scream was choked, rage turning into agony.
Leon spun upward, and his blade tore horizontally across its belly. Flesh parted. Entrails slithered free.
The Bigfoot fell to its knees, gasping, steaming. It began to crawl—dragging its ruined frame toward the cave. Toward the dark. Toward the only home it remembered.
Leon wouldn't allow it.
He ran—not across the forest floor, but up a tall pine. Three steps. A burst of air.
He launched high into the air, backlit by sunlight through the canopy.
The claymore shimmered. Smoke trailed from the edge.
As he fell, the wind roared in his ears.
The Bigfoot turned—one last time.
Its one remaining eye widened.
"Rest now."
SPLSHHK!
The sword buried itself through the back of its neck, severing the spine in a single, brutal stroke.
The Bigfoot seized up. Its limbs jerked once. Twice.
Then silence.
Its bulk crashed forward into the dirt, shaking the roots.
Leon stood atop the carcass. Blood steamed beneath him.
His breath was heavy. His grip on the claymore—light as ever.
The forest held its breath.
"I really hoped to get some lunch options," Leon sheathed his bloodied claymore to his back.
He glanced at the sun setting, then at Threxil who was busy examining the scorched wound that cursed the Bigfoot.
"Its one of your guys." Threxil announced, facing Leon.
Leon looked taken aback, "My guys?"
Threxil pointed to the engraving, "It's the work of a human. An amateur one's."
"Whatever," Leon shrugged walking into the Bigfoot's cave.
The cave was ignited by the small fireball in Leon's hands.
"This guy, does he only eat fruit and leaves?" Leon pointed to the pile of fruits and leaves.
"Maybe," Threxil shrugged.
RAPHAEL-
Raphael hauled himself over the cliff ledge, his fingers streaked with dirt and moss.
"Haah," he exhaled, brushing grit from his shoulders. His breath fogged slightly in the dusk air.
Below him, nestled in the basin of the hills, a silver lake shimmered with orange light—sunset burning across the water like molten glass.
"Finally," he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He glanced toward the projection beside him. "I can wash off the blood."
Drelgor nodded, his translucent form crouching beside the boy.
"Yes. Hygiene is a virtue, even for killers."
Raphael stripped in silence—shirt first, then vest, trousers, and finally his boxers, which he peeled off with a wet slop and dropped beside his boots.
Drelgor tilted his head with mock curiosity
"Kid, are you really fourteen?"
Raphael sighed, pulling up his boxers.
"Didn't take you for a pervert,"
Drelgor shrugged.
"I only meant it biologically. But you plan to sleep in soaked underwear?"
"I have a spare in the leather pouch." Raphael dipped his toes into the lake, the water darkening slightly around his feet.
Drelgor waded in beside him, though half his body phased through the surface like smoke.
"I won't ask why a child walks around with backup undergarments."
"Then don't."
Suddenly—
RUSTLE!
Leaves snapped. Twigs cracked.
A girl exploded from the brush ahead, robes torn, cheeks streaked with sweat. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps.
Raphael looked up.
And for a brief second, the world fell still.
Miriel Raventhorne.
Long, wind-tangled blue hair the colour of midnight sky. Eyes like twin sapphires—wide, alert, and scanning. She looked like a fragment of moonlight hurled into the dirt.
Her heart hammered. A boy—naked—stood like marble beneath the trees, unbothered by the chaos. His eyes met hers. Unblinking. Cold.
"Graaagh!"
A screech ripped through the trees. Goblins—at least a dozen—swarmed out behind her, brandishing rusty blades and jagged spears.
Miriel spun on a heel and fired—
SPLACK! SPLACK! SPLACK!
Sharp jets of water burst from her palms, tearing through the first rank of monsters. But for every goblin she felled, two more poured from the trees.
Raphael didn't move. He barely blinked.
Oblivious to his surroundings, he looked at Miriel. Her petite figure. Her cute face. The way her robe flared when she turned. The way sweat clung to her collarbone. Her graceful movements.
"To your right!" Miriel shouted at Raphael.
A goblin leapt from the shadows, blade raised in a crude vertical arc.
SWOOSH!
PEIRCE!
Without looking away from Miriel, Raphael reached down, pinched a pebble between his fingers, and flicked it.
SPLTCH.
The goblin's skull burst like a melon. It crumpled mid-lunge.
STAB.
Raphael stabbed two fingers into his own eyes—gently, theatrically.
"It's rude to stare at a lady," he muttered.
Drelgor cackled.
"Someone's love-struck."
Raphael turned sharply toward him.
"Mr. Drelgor, do you happen to carry a rose?"
"Alas, no."
"Then please shut up."
He stepped from the lake.
FWOOSH!
A ripple of green glyphs shimmered beneath him—air magic—blasting moisture off his body and drying his boxers and hair in a single breath.
Another rustle. More shrieks. The fight was escalating.
But Raphael remained calm. Unhurried. He pulled on his clothes with mechanical precision, one layer at a time, as if he had all the time in the world.
Then he climbed.
A towering pine stood nearby. Raphael scaled it in seconds, boots tapping bark.
At twenty feet up, he paused, raised his fist—
WHAM!
Red Aura flared. His punch caved a cavity into the trunk, wide enough for him to nest in. With smooth strokes of his daggers, he began shaving the walls.
Below, Miriel was being overwhelmed.
Goblins swarmed like insects. She swung her arms—
SPLACK! SPLACK!
Jets of water tore open torsos, but she was out of breath, mana fading. Her legs wobbled.
'I need to save my mana,' she thought. Her gaze darted toward the lake—now empty.
She sprinted.
BLURSH-KRAKK!
From the lake's surface, tendrils of water burst upward, spearing five goblins at once. Their shrieks were cut short, drowned in their own blood.
Miriel halted, chest heaving, eyes wide.
Up above, in the hollow of the tree, Raphael watched her quietly, lips curling into something unreadable.
Not quite a smile. Not yet.
Miriel's boots skidded on the damp forest floor as she dropped into a crouch beside the lake. Her breaths were shallow, her limbs aching—but her mind remained razor-sharp.
Seven. That's how many she counted still standing.
They spread in a crescent, flanking her, eyes yellow and eager. Goblins—nasty little things, but not stupid. One licked the blood off its blade. Another rolled a severed wolf's head between its feet like a ball.
She stood slowly. Wobbled. Let them see the shake in her knees.
Let them think she was weak.
"Come on, then." Her voice was hoarse but level.
"Let's dance."
The lead goblin screeched and lunged—
But Miriel was already in motion.
FLOOSH!
Water exploded upward from the lake like a geyser. It curled midair into a spiraling whip that she caught in one fluid motion. A twist of her wrist—
CRACK!
The water-whip coiled around the goblin's neck and snapped it sideways like a twig.
Another rushed her from the left. Miriel spun low, carving a crescent with the whip. It sliced clean through the creature's knees.
THUMP. It collapsed screaming.
She didn't wait.
[Cascade Pattern: Vortex Drive]
Her hands slammed together—SPLASH! A ring of glyphs ignited beneath her feet, glowing cerulean.
The pond answered.
Water surged forth, not as a torrent, but in controlled spirals—two ribbons snaking outward like sentient serpents. They weaved around her, mirroring her breath.
She exhaled.
The ribbons snapped forward.
CRACK! WHIP! THWACK!
Goblins screamed as they were lifted and hurled—backs broken, skulls caved in.
One raised a rusted shield to block.
Bad move.
]Spiral Drill]
The water ribbons twisted violently into a spinning spiral. The impact didn't just break the shield—it drove it through the goblin's chest like a steel ram.
Miriel staggered again.
Too much mana?
No—her nose was bleeding. She wiped it with the back of her hand.
Three left. One tried to flank. Another took to the trees.
"Predictable." She raised a single finger to the sky.
SNAP.
A column of mist hissed up from the pond—and froze midair.
The moisture in the air condensed, forming jagged spears of ice. With a flick of her wrist—
SHHH-THUNK.
An ice lance impaled the tree-dweller mid-leap. He dropped, a silent, twitching thing.
Another tried to run.
Miriel stepped forward, dragging the lake behind her. Water surged around her calves as if answering a queen's call. She extended both arms—
[Cage of Thorns]
Sharp spears of liquid twisted upward into a cage—then hardened into crystalline thorns of pressurized ice. The fleeing goblin slammed into it—
SPLORTCH.
And stopped existing.
The last goblin didn't scream.
It just stood there, shaking. A wet patch spread down its legs.
Miriel narrowed her eyes. She raised her palm—
Then lowered it.
"Go."
The goblin fled, tripping over roots and its own fear.
Silence returned to the grove.
Her shoulders sagged. The whip dissipated with a hiss of steam. Her breath came shallow again, blood dripping from her nose onto the forest loam.
But she stood. Alive. Victorious.
Raphael, perched silently above, watched from the pine. His eyes followed her every movement, every ripple of her magic, like a hawk watching the sea stir.
"…Interesting," he murmured, voice barely a whisper.