'So you are the frogmen's boss' Cale stared at the Frogmen boss while hiding as he smiled.

'Come and find out what I have in store~' he thought as his eyes glowed red inside the forest.

The frogmen charged toward the trees, their spears raised and their guttural croaks echoing through the dense forest. Cale, hidden in the shadows, watched the scene unfold with a grin tugging at his lips. He had set up the perfect ambush, and now the frogmen were rushing blindly into it.

The frogmen boss, larger and more menacing than the rest, stood back, observing the chaos with cold, unblinking eyes. The iron spear in its hand gleamed dully in the faint light filtering through the canopy. It barked out commands in its harsh, croaking language, its attention focused entirely on the assault.

'Exactly where I want you,' Cale thought, moving silently as he disappeared inside the dark trees.

The frogmen moved deeper into the trees, their guttural croaks now softer, wary as the forest around them grew darker. The twisted branches above blocked out most of the moonlight, casting long shadows that danced menacingly as they pressed on. Their pace slowed, their eyes darting from tree to tree, gripping their spears tighter, but they did not stop. They were on a mission, and they would complete it. Yet, the deeper they went, the more uneasy they became. The air itself seemed to shift, growing heavier, suffocating even, and there was a lingering sense of danger lurking just beyond the edges of their vision.

Cale watched them from above, perched high in the thick branches of a gnarled tree. His black cloak blended seamlessly into the shadows, making him nearly invisible. His dark, long scythe, gleaming faintly, was ready in his hands. Each frogman was in their perfect position, wandering into his carefully set trap without realizing it. They had no idea who they were up against. They only knew that something was hunting them, and they were powerless to stop it.

Cale’s heart raced, not from fear, but from the thrill of the hunt. He thrived in the silence, in the darkness. This was his element. He didn’t need grand displays of power or explosive attacks; his strength right now laid in precision, patience, and the absolute terror that came when his enemies realized they weren’t just facing a foe—they were being stalked by death itself.

The first frogman reached the center of the darkened clearing, glancing nervously over its shoulder. It sensed something but couldn’t see it. Its nostrils flared as it tried to smell the danger, but all it could catch was the faint scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Its croaks grew quieter, almost like a plea for reassurance from the others. It didn't know, though. It didn't know that Cale was already there, mere feet away, watching every twitch of its muscles.

Without a sound, Cale dropped from the branch above, his scythe raised high. The scythe sliced through the air, catching the dim light as it arced downward. Before the frogman could react, the scythe cut cleanly through its neck. A soft gurgle was all it managed as its body crumpled to the ground. The wet thud of its corpse hitting the forest floor was swallowed by the vastness of the woods, leaving only silence in its wake.

Cale didn’t pause to admire his work. He moved like a shadow, gliding between the trees, searching for his next target. The frogmen were scattered, isolated from each other as they tried to push through the increasingly oppressive darkness. Their formation was broken, their confidence slowly eroding. One by one, they were becoming prey, though they hadn’t yet realized it.

He found the second frogman standing near a thick trunk, its head swiveling as it clutched its spear tightly to its chest. The fear was palpable now, its breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. Cale waited, his heart beating in time with the rustling of the leaves. And then, with a single step, he emerged from the darkness.

The frogman’s eyes widened in terror, its grip on the spear faltering as it raised it defensively. But it was too late. Cale’s scythe gleamed again, cutting through the air in one fluid motion. The spear was no match for the razor-sharp blade, which sliced through it with ease, continuing its deadly trajectory. The frogman let out a brief, strangled scream as it fell, the life draining from its body even before it hit the ground.

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The forest echoed with that brief scream, and then all was silent again.

Cale stood still, listening, feeling the shift in the air. The other frogmen were beginning to realize that something was horribly wrong. The remaining ones, deeper in the forest, had heard the noise and were on high alert. They moved cautiously, spears raised, their eyes flicking nervously in every direction. They knew they were being hunted, but they still hadn’t seen their enemy.

This was exactly how Cale wanted it. Fear was a powerful weapon, one that could break even the most disciplined soldiers. And these frogmen were not soldiers. They were beasts, driven by instinct, and when fear took root, their instinct would turn to survival—desperate, frantic survival.

He moved again, this time weaving between the trees, his steps as light as the wind. Another frogman appeared in his sights, its back turned to him as it hurriedly scanned the darkness ahead. It didn’t notice the faint rustle of leaves behind it, didn’t sense the death creeping up until it was too late. The scythe plunged into its back, and it let out a horrific, gurgling scream, its body convulsing as it collapsed.

That scream sent a ripple through the remaining frogmen. They were panicking now, their croaks growing louder and more erratic as they frantically looked around for the attacker. But Cale was nowhere to be seen. He had already disappeared into the shadows again, watching, waiting.

Another frogman stumbled into a small clearing, its breath coming in ragged gasps. It held its spear up as if it could ward off the darkness itself, but even the spear trembled in its hands. Cale crept behind it, his scythe ready. A single swing was all it took, and the frogman’s head rolled to the ground, its body collapsing soon after.

The forest grew eerily quiet once more, but the terror was palpable. The frogmen were now scattered, unsure of what to do. They had no idea where Cale was, no idea how many of them had already fallen. Every shadow, every rustle of leaves, sent them into a frenzy, spinning around with their spears raised at nothing. But Cale wasn’t in the shadows they were staring at. He was already behind the next one.

He continued his silent assault, each kill more methodical than the last. The frogmen didn’t stand a chance. They were being picked off one by one, each scream echoing through the forest like a death knell. Their numbers dwindled rapidly, their once confident charge now reduced to a terrified scramble for survival.

Cale felt no pity for them. He moved with purpose, his mind calm and clear even as the chaos unfolded around him. His scythe was an extension of himself, an instrument of death that glided through the air with lethal precision. He could feel the weight of their fear, the way it radiated off them like heat. It fueled him, sharpened his senses, made him even more deadly.

One frogman, in a last-ditch effort to survive, ran blindly through the trees, its breath coming in frantic, heaving gasps. It thought it could escape. It thought it could outrun the darkness. But Cale was faster. He was already ahead of it, his scythe raised as the creature stumbled into his path.

The frogman’s eyes widened in horror as it saw him, but before it could scream, the blade came down. Blood sprayed across the leaves as the creature crumpled to the ground, its lifeless eyes staring into the void.

Cale wiped the blood off his scythe, his movements precise and deliberate. His heart still pounded with adrenaline, but his mind remained as cold as ever. The hunt was almost over.

The remaining frogmen had gathered together now, forming a tight circle in the center of a clearing. They croaked nervously, their spears pointed outward in every direction. They knew they were being hunted, but they couldn’t see him. They couldn’t sense him. And that was what terrified them the most.

Cale circled them, watching from the darkness. They were frightened, desperate, but they had made a mistake. They had bunched together, thinking that safety lay in numbers. But in this darkness, in his territory, they were only making themselves easier targets.

He moved in quickly, his scythe flashing in the moonlight as it arced through the air. The first frogman fell without a sound, its body slumping to the ground as the others let out startled cries. But before they could react, Cale was already on the other side, his scythe cutting through the air once more.

Another frogman fell, and then another. Panic set in as the frogmen broke formation, scattering in every direction. But Cale was relentless. He moved like a shadow, appearing out of nowhere, his scythe cutting through the darkness with lethal precision.

The last of the frogmen let out a terrified scream as it ran, but it was no use. Cale’s scythe sliced through it before it could even make it to the edge of the clearing. The creature collapsed to the ground, its lifeless body joining the others.

Silence fell over the forest once more, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Cale stood in the center of the clearing, his scythe resting at his side. His breathing was steady, his heart calm. The hunt was over. For now.

But as he wiped the blood from his weapon, he felt a shift in the air. The frogmen boss, still standing on the outskirts of the forest, had sensed something was wrong. It let out a low, guttural croak, its eyes narrowing as it scanned the forest.

Then, with a single barked command, the remaining 25 frogmen under its command began to move. They were heading into the forest, and this time, the real battle would begin.