The canyon spat Lian out onto a rocky slope, the Red Hollow’s walls falling away as he ascended as fast as he could push his leg to. Dust choked the air, thick as smoke, and behind him, the deep horn blared again—closer. He didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. The howls told him enough—wild, jagged, mixed with snarls that weren’t human. Red banners flashed in his peripheral, teeth scrawled in blood, and the thud of claws on stone shook his spine. “Beasts. Riders. Worse than the flying bastards.” His shoulder burned, blood slicking his arm, but he ran, the glowing sword banging against his thigh. Funnily enough, the once rusty sword now seemed anew, sharper and more durable.
A spear whistled past, grazing his side—hot sting, minor damage. He swore, ducking low as shadows loomed through the haze. Wolves burst into view—big as horses, fur matted with gore—riders perched atop, grinning with filed teeth, hurling crude javelins. Behind them, scaled cats slunk, tails lashing like whips, claws glinting. “No wonder they say the leader of Crimson Horde is a madmen.” Lian veered left, rocks skittering underfoot, aiming for a jagged outcrop higher up. If he could climb, gain a vantage point—
A wolf lunged, jaws snapping inches from his leg. He swung blind, blade heavy, and heard the sound of blade hitting flesh. The sword flashed silver, air hissing, and the wolf yelped, a shallow gash splitting its flank. It stumbled, rider cursing, but Lian didn’t stop to gawk. “That again. What is this?” His legs pumped faster, faster than they should’ve, a sudden pump of heat surging through him. He didn’t get it—didn’t want to. Just needed to live.
He scrambled up the outcrop, lungs screaming, and hauled himself onto a ridge. The slope stretched below, a mess of dust and death—Hollow’s survivors scattering as the beasts tore through. “Made it. Maybe—” An arrow thunked into the rock beside him, inch away from searing his ankle. He flinched, head snapping up. Figures lined the ridge above—armor glinting, shields tight, the same lot who’d butchered his unit. “No. Not them too.” Their bows creaked, arrows nocked. He was pinned—beasts below, steel above.
“Loose!” a voice barked. Lian dove as shafts rained, one clipping his calf—sharp, wet pain. He hit the dirt, rolling behind a boulder, sword clutched tight. “Trapped. Dead either way.” Boots crunched closer—three grunts, spears lowered, faces hidden under crested helms. The first lunged, spear thrusting. Lian swung, desperate, and the heat flared again—silver wind lashed out, sloppy but fierce, cracking the spear haft. The grunt staggered, and Lian rammed his blade into the man’s gut, blood spraying.
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A roar erupted below—beasts slammed into the ridge, riders howling as they clashed with the armored grunts. Wolves tore at shields, cats raked flesh, arrows flying wild. Lian froze, chaos swallowing the slope. “They’re fighting each other. Good—let ‘em bleed.” He edged back, calf throbbing, when a second grunt charged, spear high. Lian ducked, qi surging unbidden—his swing bit deeper, shearing through armour and bone. The man dropped, gurgling.
Then it hit—hotter, sharper, a flood in his chest. His knees buckled, that voice growling again: “Essence reaped.” Silver threads snaked from the corpse, sinking into him. His sword hummed, swings heavier now, a faint heat joining the wind—raw, unformed, but alive. “This again? Every kill?” His head spun, stomach twisting. He wasn’t built for this—whatever this was. But the air snapped when he swung, scorching a rock. “Stronger. Too strong.”
Shouts rang—above and below. “There—glowing!” The armored lot regrouped, pointing. Below, a rider barked, eyes locked on him, beast pacing. His sword shimmered, a damn flare in the dusk. “They all see it. I’m meat to both.” He staggered up, blood dripping, qi thrumming wild in his veins. The slope was a slaughterhouse—beasts and steel tearing into each other—but they’d converge on him soon. He bolted, weaving through rocks, aiming for a gully ahead.
Hooves thundered behind, howls closing. Lian’s legs burned, qi pushing him faster than they should’ve—stolen speed, stolen strength. He slid into the gully, dust stinging his eyes, and pressed against a slab, panting. “Lost ‘em. Maybe—” A shadow fell ahead. Not a beast, not armor—a figure, cloaked, no banner, just standing there. No face under the hood, just stillness, watching. A blade glinted at their side, sickly green qi curling off it.
“Who’s this now? Another blade to dodge?” Lian gripped his sword, heat pulsing in his grip. Behind, the howls grew louder—beasts rounding the bend. The figure didn’t move, didn’t speak. Friend or foe, it didn’t matter. He was cornered again.