THE RUNNING SHADOW
Isaac ran like a phantom streaking across the earth.
His footfalls were silent. His speed, unmatched. His every movement perfectly in sync with the chaos behind him.
The monsters roared. A deafening chorus of hunger and madness, their massive bodies crushing trees and tearing through the landscape as they pursued him with single-minded fury.
From the fortress walls, the Iron Hounds scrambled.
Archers lined up. Swordsmen gripped their hilts. Orders were screamed, alarms rang through the air, and yet..
None of them could look away from the unstoppable figure leading the charge.
Relay.
No, not Relay.
Not anymore.
This wasn’t just a courier.
This was a storm, wrapped in human form.
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“FIRE!”
The first volley of arrows cut through the sky.
Isaac saw them instantly.
Fifty projectiles, each aimed to cut him down before he could get any closer.
He didn’t slow.
Didn’t hesitate.
His body twisted, dodging the first arrow by inches.
Another came, he sidestepped. The wind of its passing barely brushing his shoulder.
The next three, he dropped into a slide. Gliding beneath them with terrifying ease before rolling back to his feet.
Every movement was precise, practiced, perfect.
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He wasn’t just dodging.
He was weaving through death itself.
“KEEP FIRING! DON’T LET HIM GET CLOSER!”
More arrows. More desperation.
But Isaac was untouchable.
His masked face never wavered. His path never changed.
He was coming.
And nothing could stop him.
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THE TWO POTIONS
Still running, Isaac reached into his satchel.
Two glass bottles.
One, dark green, filled with a thick liquid that smelled like rot and decay.
The other, pale blue, swirling with a strange, ethereal mist.
Without breaking stride, he hurled the first potion over the wall.
The bottle shattered inside the fortress, its contents spreading across the stone.
The second potion, Isaac uncorked it with his teeth and poured it over himself.
The liquid vanished on contact. Absorbing into his cloak, his skin, his entire being.
And then..
He stopped running.
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THE MONSTERS ARRIVE
The horde was upon him.
The ground shook beneath their sheer numbers.
The sky darkened from the sheer size of the creatures rushing forward.
And yet...
They didn’t touch him.
The wolves split apart, running around him.
The ogres veered away, their massive fists slamming into the ground beside him but never at him.
The swarms of insects buzzed past, ignoring him completely.
It was as if he didn’t exist.
Isaac stood perfectly still as the monstrous tide surged around him, a lone rock in a violent river.
His mask tilted slightly watching.
Waiting.
The real show was about to begin.
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THE SMELL OF DEATH
Inside Fort Blackthorn, panic erupted.
The potion Isaac had thrown sizzled and hissed as it spread across the ground.
A thick, rotting scent filled the air.
The Iron Hounds gagged.
Then realized the truth.
The monsters had stopped following Isaac.
They were now heading straight for the fortress.
Drawn by the rotting, festering stench that now coated the stone like an invisible beacon.
“CLOSE THE GATES!”
“TO THE WALLS! GET READY TO FIGHT!”
“HE SET US UP!”
And then..
The first ogre slammed into the front gates, shaking the entire fortress.
An arrowstorm rained down, piercing some of the beasts but there were too many.
Wolves scaled the walls, tearing through the archers.
Trolls ripped siege defenses apart like twigs.
Swarming insects poured into the cracks, devouring anything they touched.
Fort Blackthorn had become a monster’s playground.
And in the middle of it all...
Isaac pulled out a small, wooden folding chair.
Set it down.
Sat.
And watched.
The battle unfolded around him, screams, roars, and chaos filling the air.
But not a single monster touched him.
He had already won.