Havard led his group of thirty hunters deeper into the maze-like forest.

The dense foliage seemed to close in around them, the air thick and humid with a strange energy that set everyone on edge.

The initial stretch had been uneventful—too uneventful.

The quiet was unnerving, but the hunters pressed on, their weapons ready and their senses sharp.

Then the traps began.

It started with a barrage of arrows fired from unseen places in the dense trees.

The projectiles whistled through the air, forcing the hunters to scatter.

Some narrowly dodged, while others raised their shields just in time.

"Stay alert!" Havard barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The group barely had time to regroup before the ground beneath them gave way, revealing hidden pitfalls lined with sharpened stakes.

Several hunters stumbled, saved only by their reflexes or the hands of their comrades pulling them back.

"Watch your footing!" one hunter shouted, her voice tinged with panic.

But the traps didn’t stop there.

Swinging logs camouflaged by the forest's natural growth smashed through the air, slamming into shields and armor.

Ropes hidden among the underbrush suddenly snapped, triggering falling nets and other mechanisms.

Every step seemed to trigger a new danger, and the forest itself felt alive, conspiring against them.

The hunters’ numbers worked against them. In their attempts to avoid the traps, one hunter’s movement often endangered another.

A man dodged an arrow, only for his shoulder to collide with a nearby teammate, sending them both stumbling into a tripwire.

A massive log swung down, knocking the wind out of one hunter and sending him sprawling.

The healers worked frantically, their hands glowing with magic as they mended wounds and eased pain.

Although no one had died yet, the strain on the group was evident.

Every trap chipped away at their morale, their patience, and their strength.

Havard clenched his fists, his sharp eyes scanning the forest.

As the group pressed on, the traps grew more frequent and more complex.

Their progress slowed to a crawl, every step an exercise in caution.

Then, without warning, the attackers came.

From the shadows of the forest, wood golems emerged.

Unlike their slower, heavier counterparts from the initial battle, these were lean and agile, their bodies crafted from twisted roots and sharp branches.

They moved with unnatural speed, darting in and out of the hunters’ formation.

"Wood golems!" a hunter shouted, raising his sword.

Before anyone could react, one golem slashed at a hunter with sharp, branch-like claws before vanishing into the trees.

Another appeared behind the group, striking a healer and disappearing just as quickly.

"Don't let them scatter us!" Havard yelled, rallying his team.

But the golems weren’t fighting to kill—they were there to harass, to disrupt.

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Hunters who tried to pursue them found themselves caught in more traps.

Arrows fired from hidden mechanisms struck those who strayed too far, and the forest seemed to shift and twist, always leading them back into danger.

As if the wood golems weren’t enough, ants the size of wolves began to appear.

These weren’t chimeras, but creatures of pure instinct and aggression.

They attacked in swarms, their mandibles snapping and their movements coordinated.

Hunters swung their weapons in frantic arcs, cutting down ants and wood golems alike, but the cost was high.

"Another one down!" a voice called out, grief and frustration clear.

Two hunters had fallen, their bodies crushed by golems or torn apart by the ants.

Others were injured, their armor gouged and blood staining the ground.

The healers worked overtime, their magic flickering as their energy waned.

"They’re targeting the healers," Havard realized grimly. "He’s trying to wear us down."

The group paused, their breaths heavy and their faces grim.

They took a break to regroup and treat the wounded, but the forest offered no reprieve.

The oppressive atmosphere weighed on them, and every shadow felt like a threat.

"We don’t have a choice," Havard said, his voice resolute.

"We move forward. But stay together. No one goes off alone."

The group set off again, their movements cautious and deliberate.

But Cyrus’s tricks were far from over.

The wood golems and ants returned, this time with a new tactic.

They didn’t engage directly but instead harassed the group, forcing them to focus on multiple directions at once.

And then, from beneath their feet, the ground erupted.

"Ambush!" someone screamed.

Horned moles burst from hidden tunnels, their bodies sleek and their movements swift.

They didn’t attack directly but instead targeted the group’s supplies.

Bags of potions and rations were ripped from hunters’ backs.

Magical artifacts and tools were snatched away in seconds.

"Stop them!" a hunter shouted, swinging his sword at a mole, only to miss as it burrowed back underground.

The hunters tried to fight back, but the moles were too quick.

By the time the last one disappeared into the earth, much of the group’s resources were gone.

Havard slammed his fist into a tree, his frustration boiling over.

"He’s bleeding us dry," he growled.

"He knows we can’t fight him at full strength, so he’s breaking us before we even reach him."

The hunters’ faces were pale, their morale sinking.

Doubt crept into their minds.

Could they really defeat this monster?

But Havard’s voice cut through their despair.

"We’re not giving up," he said firmly.

His gaze swept over the group, his determination unshaken.

"We’ve lost too much already. We owe it to those who’ve fallen, to those waiting for us to return, to see this through."

The hunters nodded, their resolve hardening.

They tightened their formation, their weapons ready, and pressed forward once more, knowing that the worst was still ahead.

With renewed determination, they all pushed forward through the treacherous maze of the forest.

The traps persisted—arrows firing from unseen mechanisms, swinging logs narrowly missing their targets, and pits opening beneath their feet.

The wood golems, swift and cunning, darted in and out of their formation, slashing at exposed hunters before vanishing like ghosts.

Despite the chaos, the hunters held their ground, fueled by their will to fight and their shared losses.

Then the air changed.

A sudden wave of heat enveloped them, searing and oppressive.

The hunters paused, sweat beading on their brows as the sharp, acrid smell of burning filled their nostrils.

"What is this?" one of the hunters murmured, wiping his brow and glancing nervously around.

Ahead, the dense forest gave way to an open clearing.

The sight before them was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Rivers of molten lava snaked across the ground, glowing with a malevolent red-orange light.

Deep pits bubbled with magma, and bursts of heat distorted the air.

The boundary between forest and this molten landscape was stark, as if they had stepped into another world.

"Stay here," Havard ordered, stepping forward.

His instincts screamed danger, but he couldn’t afford to show hesitation.

He scanned the area, his sword drawn, the reflection of lava dancing on its blade.

"Come out!" Havard shouted, his voice echoing across the molten field.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the ground rumbled.

From the largest lava river, a massive hand emerged, dripping with molten rock.

Another hand followed, gripping the edges of the riverbank as a colossal figure pulled itself out.

The creature was unlike anything they had faced before.

Its body was a towering mass of molten rock, with rivers of glowing lava coursing through its veins.

Its eyes burned like twin suns, radiating pure heat and malice.

The very air around it shimmered with unbearable heat.

"What.. is that?"

The hunters stared in disbelief as the golem let out an earth-shaking roar.

"Graaaa!"

At its cry, the lava pits around them came alive.

More golems rose—smaller but no less menacing.

Lava golems emerged from the bubbling pools, their bodies glowing with the same molten energy.

From the edges of the clearing, stone, rock, and clay golems stepped forward, their forms enhanced and reinforced.

The hunters’ expressions turned grim as they readied their weapons.

They knew this battle would push them to their limits.

---

Derek’s group had endured the same grueling traps as Havard’s party.

Although the process was a bit different but result same.

The relentless assault of wood golems, the harrowing ambushes by horned moles, and the unending traps had taken their toll.

But they pressed on, their resolve unbroken.

Finally, the forest gave way to a new environment.

The air became dry and suffocating.

Sand stretched as far as the eye could see, the golden dunes shimmering under an unforgiving sun.

As soon as they stepped into this arid wasteland, a sudden gust of sand erupted, swirling into a fierce storm.

The hunters instinctively shielded their faces, but the storm seemed to have a purpose.

It targeted their healers, archers, and mages, blinding them and forcing them to the ground.

"Hold on!" Shaun yelled, his staff glowing as he summoned a powerful gust of wind.

The magic tore through the storm, dispersing the sand and clearing their vision.

But as the sand settled, it didn’t disappear.

Instead, it began to shift and take shape.

Massive figures formed before their eyes, their bodies made entirely of compacted sand.

Sand golems, their forms fluid yet solid, stood in menacing silence.

Behind them, a figure stepped forward.

It was Cyrus.

His presence was overwhelming, exuding an aura of cold confidence.

A black crow perched on his shoulder, its sharp eyes scanning the hunters.

Beside him, a small golem with intricate designs on its surface stood silently.

Behind him, a horde of golems of all shapes and sizes waited, their forms blending into the desert landscape.

"So you’ve finally made it," Cyrus said, his voice calm but carrying a chilling undertone.

---

Morris’s group had also suffered through the same relentless traps and attacks.

The wood golems had slashed at their formation, the ants had swarmed them, and the horned moles had stolen valuable supplies.

Exhausted but resolute, they pressed forward, the forest eventually giving way to open grasslands.

The grass was tall and lush, but the hunters’ relief was short-lived.

The sound of chittering filled the air—a low, unsettling noise that grew louder with each step.

From the grass, insects began to emerge.

Ants larger than wolves, beetles with gleaming, armored shells, and monstrous chimeric creatures crawled forward in terrifying numbers.

Their mandibles snapped, their legs clicking against the ground as they surrounded the group.

At the head of the insect army stood a towering figure.

It resembled a humanoid insect, its body covered in chitinous armor.

Its eyes glowed a sickly green, and its claws dripped with venom.

"Kieeek!!!"

Its scream echoing through grassland.

The hunters braced themselves, knowing that the true battle was only beginning.