Malcolm's mind was racing as he exited the cave and began gathering sticks and branches. "This is a game changer, but the situation is still dire," he thought to himself. Back at the cave, he distributed most of the sticks among the plagued creatures that had followed him, as if he were their new leader. He motioned for them to sharpen the sticks, and a simple demonstration sufficed for them to understand.

He summoned a few more unoccupied plagued and gestured for them to dig holes along the pathway to the cave. Meanwhile, Malcolm utilized his experience to weave a cord from withered plants and create improvised tripwires. He hoped that the plagued's familiarity with the terrain would allow them to navigate the traps nimbly.

By the time he finished, the "spear manufacturing" team had already completed their task, thanks to their deceptively honed nails. He instructed them to assist the "pit construction" team and collected some of the shorter spears, incorporating them into the tripwire traps. He calculated that if a soldier or scout were to traverse hastily and trigger one of these traps, they would fall headfirst into the spear.

Night had fallen again, and Malcolm sighed in relief that the scouts had yet to arrive, giving him more time to prepare. However, their absence was a constant concern. He could hear the distant barking and howling of hounds, but their untrained noses struggled to follow his trail amidst the local fauna. The pit construction team had finished and were taking a break in the feeding room, so Malcolm began placing the longer spears into the pit to make it more lethal.

Even after hours of work, the plagued's strange claws had trouble digging through solid rock. Once he finished, he would need to venture out again to find brownish leaves to cover the pitfalls, as a green patch in the middle of the cave would be too conspicuous. As he lodged the spears, he grew hungry and thirsty, but the terrible smell had numbed his basic needs. His eyes felt heavy, but he couldn't afford to rest yet. He ventured into the night, embracing his primitive self.

Under the waning crescent moon and star-filled sky, Malcolm crept through the darkness, his steps silent. His sole focus was to follow the trail. As he stalked his prey, a pair of glowing eyes pierced the darkness, and Malcolm pounced on a stag rummaging through a bush, devouring its flesh before it could utter a final breath.

Sated for the moment, he continued searching for brown leaves, collecting them in his bloodied shirt. He also dragged the stag's remains back to the cave for the plagued. Another sleepless night had passed.

The sunlight fell upon the forest once again. The trumpet horns were blown in the distance, closing in. Malcolm hadn't shut his eyes for the entire night, whatever little was left of it, waiting for this moment. The hounds were barking at the cave's opening; they were already here. The Plagued scurried into position, even without Malcolm commanding them directly; his attitude seemed to convey that they were waiting for an ambush.

A man entered with two leashed hounds.

"The blood trail goes further into the cave! Wow, this place stinks," said a soldier, sword in hand. The two rangers in the back assessed the terrain and switched to shortswords. The other soldier gestured for the scouts to go inside with his left hand, the one holding a buckler.

Sweat built up on Malcolm's forehead as he watched not one, not two, but four scouts move swiftly into the cave with torches in their hands. While lightly armored, he was too outnumbered to take them head-on. Besides, it seemed they were used to working together, so he doubted he could count on them hindering each other in battle without some significant confusing factor, which was why he had taken such painstaking efforts to lure them in.

"Come on, just a little bit further, to your left. Yes, that's it; keep looking up; someone might jump you from beneath the rocks."

One of the scouts took a step straight into the pitfall, and an agonizing scream made Malcolm smirk.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Traps! Be careful; there are traps! Go and help him; I'll cover your back!"

One of the scouts gave the warning to the others before pointing at one of the rangers and gesturing to the pit. Inside, the man had been impaled through his midsection. After the ranger climbed down and assessed his wounds, he looked up to his partners and shook his head; the impaled man, still whining, started crying loudly, exclaiming that he didn't want to die. The soldier who appeared to be the captain nodded towards the ranger, and the latter slit the impaled man's throat. After a few gurgles, the man was dead.

While a bit unnerving, this didn't shake the soldiers' conviction; it solidified it. The scout team was intensively looking for traps, and as they hunted for traps, they failed to notice that behind a corner, another danger, perhaps even worse than any traps, was lurking.

The scouts detected a pitfall and gestured for the rest of the party to move inside; none of the dogs detected any abnormalities, as their senses had been overwhelmed by the rotted mist. It was when the soldiers started to move ahead of the scouts that Malcolm made his move: He shouted loudly and gave an overhead swing to the unaware captain, but his reflexes were quick, and he protected himself with the buckler, deflecting the blow to the side.

Now that the others had been alerted, they moved into formation. But the plan was far from over; Malcolm kicked the captain square in the chest, having quickly recovered from the deviated blow, as he didn't expect to land it. The captain fell onto the pit trap; the scouts tried to flank Malcolm as the other soldier drew his attention, but they were intercepted by two Plagued who threw their foul bodily fluids to blind them.

From behind them, two more Plagued landed sneak attacks on their backs, piercing their light armor easily with their rot-coated fingernails. Malcolm clashed against the other soldier; he had the advantage for now, but the two rangers were preparing their own attacks. They had switched back to their bows and were preparing to shoot.

Malcolm locked his sword with the soldier's and then disarmed him with a flick of his wrist. Tackling him, he rammed towards the rangers, who took a shot out of surprise and ended up injuring their companion. Hit by the weight of two big men, the ranger tried to find his balance, but his feet got tangled with something, and the next thing he knew, a pointy stick was coming out of one of his eyes. He had found the tripwire.

The two other scouts weren't doing much better; after the first attack, they tried to grab the battle momentum, but more and more Plagued kept pouring from the deep cave, and their wounds kept piling. The battle wasn't going perfectly, though; two Plagued had been severely injured and had retreated from the fight.

Malcolm set his eyes on the remaining ranger.

"Drop them," the ranger complied and let go of his weapons.

"How many more are coming?" The man stuttered, unsure whether to talk or not; he looked over to the scouts, but they were already flat on their backs, the Plagued claiming the first bites on the newly acquired fresh meat.

"Answer!"

"That's all! We were dispatched for security, but we're in the middle of a dispute and don't really have the manpower to fight two fronts simultaneously! It's the truth!"

Malcolm considered whether letting the man go would be a risk worth taking or if the disappearance of the entire team would be preferable. After pondering what he'd do in the position of a regent, he decided against letting dear experiment #2, his source of internal information, go to waste.

"For now, the Plagued are happy and won't dispute my claim on one body, but that could change in time," Malcolm thought to himself. "I need to hurry and extract as much intel as possible."

"We're going to spend some quality time, you and I," He smiled at the treasure trove he'd found.

The ranger trembled, anticipating the horrors that awaited him. Malcolm's grin grew wider, revealing his savage nature.

"Let's start with the dispute. Who's involved, and what's at stake?" Malcolm's voice was low and menacing, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

The ranger swallowed hard, knowing his fate was sealed. "I-I'll tell you everything," he stuttered.

Malcolm's smile grew even wider, and he leaned in, eager to uncover the secrets the ranger held.