Under the pale light of the moon, Zephyr stood tall, his golden eyes glinting as they rested on the trio before him—the boss, Angelo, and Stubby. Nearby, the captain of the knights lay unconscious on the ground. Zephyr’s calm voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension in the air.
“I won’t hurt you,” he began, pausing for a moment before continuing. “But you should hand over the weapon.”
Stubby clutched the weapon tightly, and the boss met Zephyr’s gaze with a smirk. “That decision isn't yours to make. We've been paid to retrieve the weapon, and that’s exactly what we intend to do.”
Zephyr remained composed, his voice still calm but with an underlying edge. “Are you really willing to risk your lives for a small fee? I'm offering you a chest full of treasure in exchange. Surely that's more than enough.”
The boss didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he replied, his voice unwavering.
Angelo spoke up with a mocking tone. “So what? It’s just the four of you against us. Doesn't seem like great odds.”
As if on cue, the boss’s men emerged from the bushes, one by one. They were armed and ready for battle, each wearing gear suitable for the dark night. Raphael, a fox beastkin, perched silently in a tree above, dressed in a green shirt, grey shorts, boots, and a white blindfold that only heightened his sharp senses.
Zephyr’s face remained impassive as he watched the boss’s men appear. He let out a low chuckle. “You would sacrifice all these weaklings for just one weapon?”
The boss shifted into a ready stance, his hand resting on his blade. “None of my men will die tonight. But yours? That’s another story.”
Zephyr’s golden eyes flickered dangerously. “So be it.”
One of Zephyr’s men stepped forward, his body convulsing as he began to transform. In a matter of moments, he became a hulking minotaur, towering over the others with thick black fur, reddish skin, and glowing red eyes. The minotaur let out a thunderous roar, shaking the ground beneath them.
The boss’s men faltered for a moment, taken aback by the sheer size and power of the beast. Stubby, clutching the weapon tighter, looked nervous as the boss barked, “Stubby, run! Get the weapon out of here!”
Angelo, however, was grinning. He drew his twin daggers, twirling them with ease. “Don’t be afraid!” he shouted, before charging forward, leading the boss’s men into battle.
The minotaur barreled toward them, its massive fists swinging as it smashed through the men, knocking them aside with terrifying force. Screams echoed through the night as the creature’s rampage left destruction in its wake. It bit, stomped, and slashed, mowing through the boss’s forces like they were nothing.
But Angelo, moving with blinding speed, struck the minotaur with a powerful punch, forcing the beast to stagger back. At the same moment, the boss attempted to slash at Zephyr, his sword gleaming under the moonlight. Zephyr easily dodged the attack, his calm demeanor never wavering.
“You’ll pay for this,” the boss growled, gripping his sword tighter. “You and your men are going to die here.”
Zephyr’s lips curled into a small, amused smile. “Interesting.”
Meanwhile, Stubby made his escape, but his path was cut off by two mages. They appeared out of thin air, standing before him with menacing grins. Stubby’s face twisted in frustration, gripping the scythe as he thought to himself, This is bad...
“Hand over the weapon,” one of the mages demanded, raising his hand to conjure a spell.
Stubby forced a smirk. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
Without warning, one of the mages unleashed a fiery blast, chanting a quick incantation. “Ignis Sphera!”
The ball of fire hurtled toward Stubby, but before it could reach him, Raphael dropped down from the trees like a shadow, his sword slicing through the flames. Stubby and the mages stood stunned for a moment as Raphael calmly said, “I’m with you.”
Stubby grinned, passing the scythe to Raphael. “Good. What kind of man would I be if I couldn’t even protect myself?”
The two mages, now glaring with intensity, began chanting in unison, their hands glowing with fiery energy. Stubby’s eyes widened as he realized what was coming. “Raphael,” he whispered, “I’ll cover you. As soon as they strike, head for the woods.”
Raphael nodded, gripping the scythe tightly. The mages completed their spell, a massive fireball forming between them. Stubby unsheathed his twin swords, his voice booming as he shouted, “Raphael, go!”
With one swift movement, Stubby charged forward, slicing through the massive fireball. The impact sent a deafening explosion across the battlefield, but Stubby held his ground, cutting the spell in half as Raphael sprinted into the woods. The fireball’s remnants scorched the earth, but Stubby stood strong, breathing heavily.
One of the mages quickly aimed another fire spell at Raphael, but Stubby intercepted with lightning-fast reflexes, slashing the mage’s arm before he could release the attack. The mage dodged just in time, but his anger was palpable.
Stubby smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. “Come on, is that all you’ve got?”
The other mage, his face twisted with rage, shouted, “Screw you!”
Stubby laughed, his swords raised. “Not today.”
As the two mages rushed at him, Stubby turned on his heel, sprinting toward the woods where Raphael had vanished, their furious footsteps close behind.
The battle was far from over.
Under the pale moonlight, the battlefield was alive with chaos. Angelo stood alone against the minotaur, his sharp breaths ragged as he dodged the hulking beast’s relentless attacks. Each swing of the minotaur’s massive arms sent waves of air, and with every dodge, another one of the boss's men was thrown aside like ragdolls. Angelo gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling inside him as he narrowly avoided another strike.
"Tch… damn bastard!" he hissed under his breath, cursing the strength of the creature. His mind raced, desperate to find a solution. "This monster’s too strong. At this rate… we’re at a huge disadvantage."
His gaze flickered to the boss, who was locked in combat with Zephyr. To Angelo’s dismay, Zephyr moved with calm precision, barely acknowledging the boss’s attacks, effortlessly dodging each swing. Angelo’s frustration deepened. "The boss… he won’t last much longer. He can’t handle the leader of the mages like this."
Before he could think further, a heavy fist from the minotaur caught him off guard, slamming into his body. Angelo coughed, spit flying from his mouth as his body was launched backward. He crashed into a tree, breaking it in half from the force, and crumpled to the ground in pain.
Some of the remaining men froze in fear, watching their strongest fighter tossed aside like a ragdoll. Their faces paled, and panic set in. "We can’t defeat this thing!" one of them cried.
"We’re going to die!" another whimpered as they eyed the snorting, rage-filled minotaur, its red eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
The minotaur roared, lowering its horned head, preparing to charge. Its wild gaze locked onto the terrified men. With a bellow, it charged, shaking the ground beneath its hooves.
"No!" Angelo sprang to his feet, ignoring the pain in his body. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, delivering a powerful kick to the side of the beast’s neck, redirecting its charge. The minotaur stumbled and crashed into several trees, destroying them as easily as twigs.
Angelo turned to his men, eyes burning with determination. "I don’t need weaklings here!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the fear. "If you’re scared, get the injured back to the base! Now!"
But before they could react, the minotaur let out another feral roar, charging directly toward Angelo. One of the men shouted in horror, "Sir, look out!"
Angelo’s eyes blazed with frustration. "You damn monster!" he cursed, and without hesitation, he sprinted toward the minotaur. As it closed in, Angelo grabbed hold of its massive horns with both hands, his legs digging into the earth as he struggled to stop the creature’s momentum.
The ground beneath his feet cracked as the minotaur’s strength overpowered him, pushing him back inch by inch. His muscles screamed in pain, his legs trembling as he was forced backward. "Arrrggh!" Angelo roared, trying to hold on.
But the minotaur was no simple beast. With a flick of its head, it launched Angelo into the air like a toy. As he soared upward, time seemed to slow. His mind raced, and for a brief moment, Angelo accepted his fate. "Is this it?" he thought, a bitter smile forming. "Is this how I go out?"
Flashes of his past appeared before his eyes—the day he met the boss, the warmth of the group that had become his family. "Boss… thanks for everything."
As he hurtled toward the ground, the minotaur positioned itself for the kill, its red eyes gleaming with deadly intent. But just as Angelo braced for death, he heard the voices of the injured men calling out to him.
"Angelo!" they cried, their voices piercing through his despair. He opened his eyes and saw them, the remaining men throwing themselves at the minotaur, jumping onto its back and attacking it with everything they had.
"No! You idiots!" Angelo shouted, his heart pounding as he watched the beast fling them aside. Blood sprayed into the air as the men were crushed and tossed by the rampaging minotaur, but their determination never wavered.
One of the men, blood streaming down his face, screamed out, "Where’s the cold-blooded bastard we know?!"
The sight of their sacrifice fueled Angelo’s rage. "Damn you!" he snarled, landing hard on the ground. His two blades flashed in the moonlight as he unsheathed them. "Damn you, monster!"
With blinding speed, Angelo rushed at the minotaur, slashing at its legs, chest, and arms with wild ferocity. The beast roared in pain, stumbling back as blood sprayed from its wounds.
"Die! Die! Die!" Angelo screamed, his blades cutting deeper and deeper into the minotaur’s flesh. The beast tried to retaliate, but Angelo was faster, darting around it in a flurry of strikes.
The minotaur staggered, its once-mighty form now shaking with weakness as its red blood pooled beneath it. With a final, savage slash, Angelo drove both of his blades into the creature’s stomach, twisting them violently.
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The minotaur let out one last, guttural roar before collapsing to the ground, unconscious. Angelo stood atop the fallen beast, his breath heavy, his body covered in wounds. He looked around, seeing the bloodied remains of his men—some dead, others too injured to move.
His eyes flickered toward the boss, who was still battling Zephyr. "Boss… did I do good?" he thought, his vision blurring from exhaustion and pain.
With one final breath, Angelo collapsed on top of the minotaur, unconscious.
As Raphael darted through the forest, his feet barely touching the ground, he dodged low-hanging branches and leapt over roots, gripping the scythe tightly in his hands. His breath came in sharp bursts, and every muscle in his body was taut with focus. Behind him, the sound of something—or someone—pursuing him echoed through the trees.
He skidded to a halt and spun around, ready to fight. The scythe gleamed in the moonlight as he held it in both hands, its weight almost comforting despite the chaos. His eyes narrowed, searching for the enemy.
"Raphael, keep running!" a familiar voice shouted from behind.
It was Stubby, still clutching his twin swords, sprinting toward him with a frantic expression. Raphael glanced past him and his eyes widened in surprise. Thick, sharp root branches erupted from the ground, snaking toward Stubby as he dodged and jumped to avoid them, his swords slicing through the air to deflect any that came too close.
Raphael’s pulse quickened at the sight. Without hesitation, he turned and resumed running, his feet pounding against the forest floor.
Further ahead, Toru, standing guard on a tree branch, gazed out over the dark forest. His light gray shirt fluttered slightly in the wind, and beside him, Gregory stood grumbling. Gregory, bald and stocky, wore a brown shirt with a blue pair of trousers and had a small dagger strapped to his side.
“Hey, Toru, why do we have to stand guard out here? Feels like we’ve been tossed aside,” Gregory complained, his voice dripping with frustration.
Toru’s sharp eyes scanned the area below. “We don’t have a choice. This is the only path the enemy would take. Trust me, this is the right spot to stand guard.”
Gregory sighed and folded his arms, but just as he was about to continue complaining, he spotted something. “Wait, isn’t that… Raphael?”
Toru looked down, seeing Raphael darting through the trees, holding something tightly in his hands. His eyes narrowed, and his instincts flared. “It is! Let’s go!” he barked, jumping from the branch to the ground below.
Gregory followed, landing with a grunt. “Hey, Raphael! What’s with all the running?” Gregory called out.
Raphael, now within earshot, didn’t break his stride. His voice came out stern and urgent. “Run!”
“What—” Gregory began, only for Raphael to sprint past him. “Hey, kid! Don’t you have any respect?” Gregory turned to shout after him, but stopped when he saw Stubby barreling toward them as well.
“RUN!” Stubby screamed at the top of his lungs, eyes wide with fear. Behind him, Toru’s eyes caught sight of the deadly tree roots piercing the ground and retracting like striking snakes. His blood ran cold.
“Oh, shit,” Toru muttered, spinning on his heel. “Run!” he yelled to Gregory as he bolted.
Gregory, confused and annoyed, still had no idea what was happening. “What the hell happened to you, Toru?!” he yelled after him, only to glance back and see the terror himself—sharp roots bursting from the earth, each one aiming at him. “Oh no!” he squeaked, not thinking twice before sprinting ahead, now side by side with Stubby. “What the hell is this?!”
Stubby’s face was pale, his voice shaky. “You don’t want to die, right? Then just keep running!”
Gregory, seeing one of the roots dangerously close to his rear, screamed and ran even faster, overtaking Stubby.
Raphael, leading the way, suddenly came to a stop as a wall of fire erupted in front of him, blocking his path. He cursed under his breath, realizing there was no way forward. With a grimace, he turned in the other direction, only to see a mage materialize in front of him, blocking his escape.
The mage sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. “Hand over the weapon. There’s no point in running.”
Raphael’s eyes darted around, searching for a way out. Behind him, the fire raged, but strangely, it wasn’t spreading beyond the conjured flames—it was controlled magic, meant to trap him. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he gripped the scythe tighter.
Stubby, Gregory, and Toru caught up, breathing heavily as they came to a halt beside Raphael. “We’re boxed in,” Toru muttered, scanning the area.
Another figure stepped out from the shadows behind them. It was the second mage, the one who had been manipulating the forest itself. He smirked, glancing between them as he approached. “Nowhere to go,” he said, his voice cold and smug. “Give us the scythe, and we’ll let you live.”
The group stood in silence, tense and cornered. Raphael’s eyes flicked toward the others. The scythe in his hand hummed faintly, as if reacting to the pressure of the situation. The flames crackled behind them, and the roots in the ground seemed to pulse with dark energy.
They were outnumbered, surrounded, and the mages didn’t seem eager to give them much time to think.
Stubby, with sweat dripping down his forehead, gripped his two swords tightly. "Okay, okay, why don’t we be all mature about this and talk it out quietly?" he said, his voice shaky as he eyed the two mages. Toru glanced at Stubby with exasperation, "I don't think your words are getting through, Stubby," he muttered, as one of the mages, the one controlling the flames, sneered and pointed at Raphael.
"Hand over the weapon, boy," the mage growled, his eyes fixed on the scythe, still tightly held by Raphael, its blade covered in a cloth.
Gregory, growing frustrated, shouted, "Just give 'em the weapon, Raphael!" But Raphael didn’t move, his grip on the scythe unwavering. While Gregory continued shouting, Toru leaned closer to Stubby and whispered, "Think you can take down one of them?"
Stubby frowned, "I've never dealt with a mage before. Not sure."
"Long-range magic is their strength," Toru whispered back, "but they’re vulnerable up close. I’ll take care of the other mage. You deal with the fire one."
"With what weapon?" Stubby hissed.
"Don’t worry about that," Toru said, a hint of a plan forming in his mind.
Raphael was still defiant, not giving up the scythe. Toru then shouted, "Raphael, maybe you should give these fine gentlemen what they want."
Gregory, seeing Raphael still not budging, added, "Yeah, you damn brat! Just hand it over!" But Raphael refused, and Toru, giving a signal, suddenly yelled, "Now!"
In a swift motion, Stubby closed the distance with the fire mage, his blades slicing through the air. Meanwhile, Toru scooped up some dirt from the ground and threw it into the eyes of the other mage. The mage hissed, "I’ll kill you!" and, with a quick incantation, sent a thick tree branch shooting out of the ground, smacking Toru into a nearby tree with a loud thud.
Stubby’s blades clashed with the fire mage’s hastily conjured barrier, the flames flickering in anger. Gregory, still frustrated, yelled, "See what you’ve caused, kid?!" as Raphael moved forward, seemingly ready to surrender the scythe.
Stubby swung his swords again, his strikes relentless, but the mage continued to dodge, conjuring bursts of fire in retaliation. The fire mage grinned as his defenses held, but Stubby wasn’t letting up, pressing the attack.
The earth mage, however, glanced at Toru, who lay slumped against a tree, bound by creeping roots. "Hand over the weapon, or your friend dies," he threatened. Raphael hesitated, then stepped forward, gripping the scythe defensively. The earth mage’s grin widened as Raphael extended the weapon, ready to hand it over—but in a sudden act of defiance, Raphael spat in the mage's face.
The fire mage recoiled in shock. Raphael, seizing the moment, used the blunt end of the scythe to strike the earth mage hard across the head. The mage staggered back, cursing as blood trickled down his face.
Stubby smirked at the sight but had little time to react as the earth mage launched a barrage of roots at him. Gregory, desperate to help, hurled his dagger at the mage, but it was easily deflected by a shield of vines. The earth mage retaliated by blasting Stubby into a tree, sending him crashing to the ground.
Raphael, still holding the scythe, was about to deliver another blow when the earth beneath him started to tremble. Sharp roots shot up from the ground, wrapping around his legs and torso. He leaped to avoid them but was struck midair by another root, sending him crashing into the dirt.
As he struggled to stand, a sharp root shot toward him with deadly precision. Raphael, seeing no escape, closed his eyes, resigned to his fate—until something yanked him backward. Opening his eyes, he found himself on the ground, safe for the moment.
Gregory had thrown himself in harm's way, his body pierced by the root meant for Raphael. He hung there, lifeless, the light already gone from his eyes. The root flung his body aside, landing next to Raphael.
"You should've just handed over the scythe," the earth mage mocked, laughing cruelly. "Your foolishness got your friend killed."
Raphael stared at Gregory’s body, his heart swelling with anger, his hands tightening around the scythe. He stood up slowly, his murderous gaze fixed on the mage. "I’ll kill you," Raphael muttered, his voice low and cold.
The mage flinched, a shiver running down his spine. "It can’t be," the mage whispered in disbelief, as fear began to take root in his mind. He stammered, "Y-you should be extinct!"
Just as Raphael was about to strike, a shadowy figure emerged behind the mage. In one swift motion, the figure's shadowy hand pierced through the mage’s back, blood pouring from the wound. The mage, wide-eyed and terrified, muttered something incomprehensible before his body exploded in a gruesome shower of blood and gore.
The other mage, seeing this, panicked. He blasted Stubby away with a wave of fire magic, sending him crashing into the trees. Raphael, enraged by the interruption of his vengeance, turned on the shadowy figure, but before he could attack, an overwhelming presence filled the area. The shadowy figure’s aura was suffocating, choking both Raphael and the remaining mage.
The fire mage’s face paled as the shadowy figure calmly walked past Raphael, picking up the scythe from the ground. The figure removed the cloth covering the blade, revealing its dark, ethereal beauty. The figure looked at Raphael and spoke in a voice that chilled him to the bone, "You shouldn’t be discovered just yet."
With a snap of his fingers, a small tendril of shadow entered Raphael’s body. The boy screamed in agony as the presence overwhelmed him, causing him to collapse, unconscious.
Stubby, groaning in pain, stumbled out of the bushes, "What did you do to the kid?" he demanded, but the shadowy figure only smiled—a smile that made Stubby’s blood run cold.
"None of your concern," the figure said, vanishing with the scythe. Stubby, freed from the shadow’s grip, rushed over to Raphael, ignoring the lifeless body of Gregory lying nearby. He could feel the weight of failure heavy in his chest as the reality of the battle hit him. The other mage, still trembling in fear, vanished as well, leaving Stubby to deal with the aftermath.
The clash of steel echoed through the clearing, but the boss could feel his strength waning. His breath came in ragged gasps, blood dripping from a wound on his side. Zephyr, in stark contrast, stood before him with an unshaken calm, not even a scratch marring his form. His cold eyes studied the boss with faint amusement, as if the battle were already over.
“Why do you continue to fight a losing battle?” Zephyr’s voice was steady, almost mocking. "You're wounded, exhausted. I haven’t even broken a sweat.”
The boss, gritting his teeth, wiped the blood from his mouth and glared at Zephyr. “If I don’t defeat you here, then I’m a disgrace as a leader. My men, my people, they're counting on me. I can't fall here.”
Zephyr’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by something akin to respect, but fleeting. “Commendable, your loyalty to your men,” he said, his tone even. “But you’ve already lost.”
Just as Zephyr finished his sentence, he suddenly froze, his face contorting into shock. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. It was as if he had sensed something terrible, something beyond his comprehension. The boss noticed the change, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“What...what is it?” the boss asked, his voice tight with frustration, but Zephyr said nothing at first, still staring into the distance, as if feeling something far away. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the expression vanished from Zephyr’s face. His eyes returned to normal, and his calm composure resumed.
Zephyr turned back to the boss, his voice cold and calculating again. “It seems my men have failed.”
The boss blinked, unsure of what he meant. “What are you talking about?”
“You've won,” Zephyr said suddenly, almost nonchalantly, as if the admission didn’t bother him at all. “But not here, not like this. I have no reason to continue fighting you.”
The boss's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline still surging. “You’re not going anywhere!” he growled, raising his weapon again.
Zephyr tilted his head, a look of mild interest on his face. “Is that so?”
Before the boss could respond, Zephyr’s words cut through the air like ice. “Even if my men fail, you won't have time to celebrate.” His voice dropped to a low, ominous whisper. “Because that beast… it’s not done yet.”
The boss’s eyes widened as he turned to see the minotaur, which had been unconscious just moments before, beginning to stir. Angelo, still lying atop the creature’s massive body, rolled off as it slowly rose to its feet. The beast shook itself, sending dust and debris into the air, its deep red eyes locking onto the scene.
“No…” the boss muttered, his throat dry. He had assumed Angelo had slain it—but the sight before him told a different story. The minotaur was far from dead.
Zephyr chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You see, I’ve no reason to fight anymore. There’s no need for me to crush the life from your men when they’ll be wiped out soon enough.”
The boss’s hands trembled, not out of fear, but out of frustration. “Damn you…” he muttered, watching the massive beast lumber forward.
Zephyr took a step closer to the minotaur, placing a hand on its thick hide as if it were an obedient pet. “Don't worry. You and I won’t cross paths again. But next time, if we do, I expect a better challenge.” His voice was laced with amusement, but his eyes were hard.
The minotaur let out a deep growl, but its fury was now controlled, tamed by Zephyr’s presence. Then, with a snap of his fingers, both Zephyr and the minotaur vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but a lingering sense of dread.
The boss, now alone in the clearing, fell to his knees, his hands slamming against the ground in frustration. His weapon slipped from his grasp as he clenched his fists, the weight of the battle crashing down on him.
He had fought so hard, but in the end, it felt like victory had been stolen from him. His men lay scattered, some unconscious, others dead. Angelo, who had fought so valiantly, lay still beside the fallen trees. The boss gritted his teeth, fighting the rising surge of emotion. He had given it everything—and still, Zephyr had walked away, unscathed, leaving destruction in his wake.
The boss slammed his fists into the ground again, the echo of the impact reverberating through the silent forest. All he could hear now was his own ragged breathing, and the faint rustling of the trees as they swayed in the aftermath of the battle.