They broke into a sprint, abandoning the steady trot of earlier. Now, their strides were desperate and wild, pounding against the earth as though outrunning the end of the world itself. The wolves kept pace, their long legs propelling them effortlessly alongside the brothers.
Because to the brothers, the world was crashing down.
The first sign of pursuit came less than an hour later—a deep, booming vibration that shook the ground. Each footfall of the giants reverberated through the earth, rattling their bones. The brothers stumbled, but the quake did not abate. Then came the voices—inhuman, mournful, and impossibly loud.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The sound carried across the forest, twisting the air with grief and rage. A pounding followed, but it wasn’t the pounding of footsteps. It was a primal rhythm, a drumbeat of the earth itself, a manifestation of the giants’ fury and mourning. The ground undulated, making every step treacherous. Cheese tripped and fell more than once, his hands and knees scraped raw.
Then, abruptly, the pounding ceased. The forest fell silent, save for the brothers’ ragged breaths and the faint rustle of retreating wolves. Char raised a hand, motioning the pack eastward with a sharp whistle and a low howl. The wolves veered off, disappearing into the underbrush.
“They’re still hunting us,” Cheese muttered. “And no one will help us now.”
“Well,” Waff gasped, his chest heaving, “does anyone have a plan? Because I think we’ve really pissed them off.”
Cheese had been wracking his brain, but nothing came to mind. It was Char who finally spoke. “I think that was their kid.”
“Their kid?” Cheese said, incredulous. “Why would you think that?”
Char gulped down air before answering. “Because it was small.”
“Small?” Waff barked, glaring at his brother. “That thing was twice my size! It was bigger than a bear. Small, my ass!”
“Smaller than expected,” Char clarified, his tone calm despite the tension. “The reports said hill giants are ten meters tall. That one was five. And it died too easily. If I had to guess, it was young. That would explain the rage... and the earthquakes.”
“Speaking of magic,” Cheese interjected, his voice raised over the pounding of their feet, “what was that spell with the vines? Since when do you have secret powers?”
Char shot him a sharp look. “You’re one to talk. What right does a woodsman have to a magical teleporting axe? And one that cuts through giants like butter?”
Cheese hesitated, uneasy under his brother’s gaze. “Dad gave it to me,” he admitted. “It negates magic when it cuts. But when I use it... I can feel it. It’s strange.”
“Shut it, both of you!” Waff snapped, skidding to a halt. He turned to face his brothers, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “How in the hells are we getting out of this?”
Cheese shook his head, frustrated. “They’re tracking us somehow. I’ve shifted directions twice, and they’re still on us.”
Char frowned, his expression grim. “It’s magic,” he said finally. “We’ll have to fight them. I sent the wolves to Dad, but it’s just the three of us now.”
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Waff grinned, despite the gravity of the situation. “Then here’s the deal. Whoever doesn’t get a kill tonight makes dinner.”
Cheese snorted, unable to help the wry smile spreading across his face. He turned and began jogging toward Timberbrook. “Two kilometers to go,” he called back. “Let’s make them work for it.”
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THE THRONE OF DAC
Dac lounged on his crystal throne in a room that had no lighting save the screen above him, a glass of wine in hand as he watched the unfolding scene hanging before him. The massive display, a relic of the old world, broadcasted the mortals struggles in vivid clarity as he stood alone against the threat.
Jansriel, the god of knowledge and magic, entered the chamber and raised an eyebrow at the outdated technology. “Still clinging to that thing? A scrying orb would do the job better.”
Dac smirked, waving his friend to a nearby chair. “It’s not about function. It’s about nostalgia. And no, I’m not getting rid of it.”
Jansriel took his seat, his gaze shifting to the screen. “Do you think they’ll make it?”
“Fools, the lot of them,” Dac muttered, sipping his wine. “But we’ve learned something from their stupidity, haven’t we?”
Jansriel nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Indeed. The invaders have a quest. And that woodsman... he’s something else.”
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TIMBERBROOK
Cheese had never seen anything so massive. The two giants dwarfed anything he’d encountered before. The male stood taller than the female, his presence oppressive and commanding. Their names hovered above them in ominous red text:
[Hill Giant Matron: Expert]
[Mountain Father: Incursion Leader]
The plan had been simple—lure the giants to the mill, force them through the deep water to slow and injure them, then strike as a group. What they hadn’t anticipated was the giants stepping across the water as if it were a mere puddle.
The Mountain Father spotted Cheese almost immediately, his heavy brow furrowing. With a single stride, he crossed the river and loomed over the woodsman.
“Human,” the giant boomed, his voice a crushing weight. “Where is your army?”
Cheese swallowed hard, his mind racing. “I have no army,” he shouted back.
The Mountain Father lowered himself onto a massive log, the earth groaning beneath his weight. The movement threw Cheese off his feet.
“I must say,” the giant rumbled, “never have I seen one such as you. To kill a giant-kin so brazenly... tell me, did you do it alone?”
Cheese hesitated before answering, “No. My pack and I hunted your kin.”
The giant’s laughter rolled like thunder. “No kin of mine,” he corrected. “The hill-borne are hers,” he said, gesturing toward the female, who lay on her back, her belly exposed to the sky. “You killed her child. She wishes to eat you. I wished to speak first.”
Cheese’s thoughts churned as he looked back toward Timberbrook. A thin tendril of smoke rose into the sky, a signal from his brothers.
“I am not one to die, friend,” Cheese said boldly, summoning his axe. “Tell her if she catches me, she may try.”
With that, he hurled the axe. The weapon soared impossibly far, striking the Hill Matron square in the chest. She roared in agony, and Cheese felt a surge of energy as the axe returned to his hand. Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted through he mill and out into the streets of Timberbrook.
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In the throne room, time stood still. The golden light of the divine halls seemed dimmer, as though the very fabric of the space hesitated to witness what was about to occur. The screen before Dac flickered faintly, the image frozen mid-action: Cheese, his axe mid-flight, the look of determined defiance etched onto his face as he fled through the street.
Jansriel leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. “Will one such as he repay the favor?” he asked, his voice low and pensive.
Dac’s fingers drummed on the armrest of his throne, his dark eyes locked on the screen. “Repayment?” he repeated, his tone distant. “That’s not why we do this.”
“Isn’t it?” Jansriel pressed, leaning forward now. “This… glitch, as you call it, is no small thing. The System does not abide interference lightly. What you’re about to do will have consequences. Backlash.”
Dax nodded. Then without speaking he willed his menu to flit over to the [Divine] Tab. He studied the menu and then siphoned off a portion of his power. He selected "Donate" and as he did the gods vision went black as the systems notifications piled on and his form tried to process what had happened.
Beside him Jansriel was thrown back, as the power of one who was so much stronger than him was simply to much to bear. Both gods slumped down as they tried to recover from the systems Ire.