As they ventured deeper into the valley, its strange beauty revealed itself to Dante. Unusual plants dotted the landscape, like the horned succulent clinging to the stone walls. These plants gathered morning mist in their bowl-shaped leaves, releasing a sweet, almost tempting fragrance. Ever curious, Dante leaned in for a closer look.

“Don’t,” Billy snapped, his voice sharp. “That mist isn’t harmless. Those plants make a paralyzing toxin strong enough to drop a beast in seconds. For humans, one sip means instant death.”

Dante jerked back, giving the harmless-looking plant a wide berth.

They continued, passing patches of turtle-shaped mushrooms. Their shiny caps gleamed like polished shells. Dante, unable to resist, pointed at them. Billy smirked, ready with an explanation.

“Those are turtle fungi. Not deadly, but touch one, and you’ll get itchy red welts all over. Some folks scratch themselves raw trying to stop the itching. It’s... unpleasant.”

Dante shuddered and made a mental note to keep his hands to himself.

Not everything in the valley was dangerous, though. They soon came upon a tree bearing star-shaped blue fruits. Billy plucked two without hesitation. The fruits were vibrant and glossy, their six-pointed shape resembling carambola.

“These are Blue Star Fruits,” Billy explained, tossing one to Dante. “Just one can keep you fed and hydrated all day. But eat too many, and the juice ferments in your stomach. I’ve heard of overeager travelers... exploding. Not a pleasant way to go.”

Dante froze mid-bite, his enjoyment turning to horror. He glanced nervously at the fruit in his hand, deciding one was more than enough.

Billy chuckled, his grin an uncanny mirror of Joseph and Leon’s mischievous smirks.

After winding through thick foliage, they reached the valley’s heart. Here, Dante spotted his first mythical beast. Creatures of all shapes and sizes roamed the area. One, a peculiar rabbit-like animal, hopped out from the tall grass. Its oversized hind legs gave it an odd, lopsided gait, and it had four ears—two where they should be and two smaller ones near the back of its head.

It held a half-eaten vegetable in its mouth. The creature froze when it saw them, its bright, alert eyes scanning for danger. Then, without a sound, it vanished back into the grass.

Billy sighed, reaching for his weapon too late. “Damn thing’s fast. Would’ve made a good meal.”

Dante didn’t mind skipping lunch, but he noticed Billy growing quieter, his cheerful demeanor replaced by sharp focus. He urged Dante to stick close and tread lightly. The air seemed heavier now, as though the valley itself was holding its breath.

A short while later, Billy stopped abruptly. His eyes scanned the area, his expression tight with concern. “This is strange... Mumu isn’t here.”

“Who’s Mumu?” Dante asked.

Billy knelt, examining the ground. “Mumu’s my friend—a Ashwhite Fury Bull. A herbivore, but strong. This is where it usually grazes.” His hand hovered over deep tracks in the dirt. His brow furrowed. “Mumu was here not long ago, but something scared it off. Badly.”

“Maybe a predator?” Dante suggested. “Or poachers?”

Billy shook his head, his voice uneasy. “Poachers wouldn’t dare come this deep, and most predators wouldn’t stand a chance against Mumu. No... whatever it was, it’s something worse.”

A faint shadow seemed to pass over Billy’s face as he rose. “We should move on. Maybe we’ll find other beasts.”

Dante hesitated. “If Mumu’s your friend, we should track him down. We’ve got daylight left, right?”

Billy blinked, clearly surprised by Dante’s suggestion. A flicker of gratitude softened his tense features. “Alright. Let’s look for him. We’ll keep an eye out for other creatures along the way.”

With that, the search began. Billy’s training as a Beastkeeper had honed his skills in tracking, a mix of sharp instincts and keen observation. It didn’t take long for him to find Mumu’s hoofprints. The tracks were uneven, deep impressions in the soil that spoke of a panicked escape. The sight deepened the unease in Billy’s eyes.

"It was running..." Billy murmured, mostly to himself. His voice carried a hint of fear he couldn’t quite hide.

Dante stayed close, the tension in the air pressing down on him like an invisible weight. Whatever had driven the powerful bullbeast to such a desperate flight couldn’t be anything normal.

Their worst fears materialized as they pushed through a dense patch of grass. In a clearing ahead lay the lifeless body of a massive beast. It looked part-dinosaur, with colorful, feather-like fur covering its body, giving it an odd resemblance to a prehistoric chicken. Its strong, muscular limbs lay limp, its sheer size making the scene even more grotesque.

Billy gasped, his youthful confidence giving way to alarm. He rushed to the fallen creature and knelt by its side, his face paling as he took in the details. The beast’s chest had been torn open, leaving a gaping wound where its heart and parts of its insides had been violently removed. The savagery of the attack churned his stomach; nothing in his training had prepared him for such a sight.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Dante crouched beside him, his expression grim as he examined the brutalized corpse. "Billy," he said carefully, his tone uneasy, "what could’ve done this?"

Billy shook his head, his face clouded with fear. "I don’t know. If it were a predator, they’d have eaten more of the body. The creatures here hunt to survive—they don’t waste food." He pointed to the beast’s head, his voice dropping further. "And if it were poachers, they’d have taken the comb. It’s the most valuable part of a Rainbow Claw Rooster. Whoever—or whatever—did this didn’t care about that."

The silence that followed was heavy. Billy’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the senseless violence. This was unlike anything he’d encountered, even in the dangerous wilds.

Dante, still studying the corpse, felt a chill run through him as his eyes caught something familiar in the jagged edges of the wound. It reminded him of a kind of damage he’d seen before. Memories from a darker time surfaced unbidden, sending a wave of dread through him.

"No..." Dante whispered, his voice trembling. "It can’t be..."

Suddenly, the sound of crashing trees jolted them both. A six-legged horse-beast, its brown coat streaked with sweat, charged out of the forest in a blind panic. Smaller trees snapped like twigs under its powerful strides as it bolted toward them.

Billy reacted instantly. He dashed forward, his hands glowing with a faint golden light. In one fluid motion, he released the energy, striking the horse-beast and slowing its frantic sprint. The creature stumbled to a halt, its six legs trembling as it stamped nervously.

“Dante, hurry!” Billy called, waving him over. As Dante approached, Billy moved to the creature’s side, his voice low and soothing. “Easy, easy. It’s me, Billy. You’re safe now.”

The beast snorted, its wide eyes darting nervously toward the trees. Its whole body shivered with fear. Billy stepped in front of it, making soft, rhythmic noises, and placed a steady hand on its forehead. A faint shimmer of light passed between them.

“Twilight, tell me what happened,” Billy murmured, his tone calm but urgent.

The horse-beast let out a series of distressed snorts and whinnies, its body quaking as though reliving a nightmare. Dante watched, baffled, as Billy nodded and murmured soothing words. The connection between them felt unreal, almost magical.

As the creature’s cries quieted, Billy’s expression grew dark. Fear flickered in his eyes, and his jaw clenched tightly. Whatever Twilight had conveyed weighed heavily on him.

“Thank you,” Billy whispered, stepping back. With a firm yet gentle gesture, he commanded, “Go.”

Twilight hesitated, casting one last look at Billy before vanishing into the woods, its six legs carrying it away with a fluid grace.

Dante moved closer, his concern plain. "What was that about? What did it say?"

Billy didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his satchel, pulling out a small device etched with glowing symbols. The intricate markings pulsed faintly with power, unlike anything Dante had seen in the prison. Billy pressed a button, and a beam of light shot upward, cutting through the dense canopy.

After securing the device back in his bag, Billy turned to Dante, his face dark with worry. “I’ve sent out a distress signal. Master Leon will come as soon as he sees it. Until then, we need to stay safe. Today’s work is officially over.”

“What did Twilight tell you, Billy?” Dante asked, his voice edged with urgency. “What’s going on?”

Billy let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching into fists. “She said... there’s a Dark Beast in the valley,” he explained, his words heavy with fear. “It came out of nowhere and started slaughtering everything in its path. We’re not safe here.”

“Dark Beast?” Dante echoed, unease creeping into his voice. He had never heard the term before, but it carried a weight that sent a chill down his spine. “Then we should leave. Let Montes take us out of here.”

“No,” Billy said firmly, shaking his head. “Montes’ scent would attract it. That would put us in even more danger.” He scanned the dense forest, his voice calm but grim. “There’s a Beastkeeper’s safehouse nearby. It’s warded with runes from the prison. We’ll be safe there.”

The mention of the prison sent a familiar heaviness through Dante. Even far from its walls, its shadow loomed large. It was as if no one could ever truly escape its grasp, no matter how far they traveled.

But there were no other choices. Dante gave a reluctant nod, and Billy led the way. Unfortunately, their path was in the same direction the six-legged horse-beast had fled, a fact that gnawed at Dante’s nerves.

The gruesome reality became clear as they walked. Along the trail, the bodies of slaughtered beasts lay scattered, each one torn apart in horrifying ways. The wounds were grotesque, their hearts and organs ripped out with a savage precision.

Billy’s face was tight with grief and anger. Dante could see the pain in the boy’s stiff posture. These beasts weren’t just animals to Billy—they were companions, maybe even friends. Each corpse they passed seemed to weigh heavier on him.

For Dante, the sight struck a different chord. The injuries on the bodies stirred something in him, a memory he wished to forget. The jagged tears in flesh and bone were disturbingly familiar, the marks of something he had encountered before.

When they finally reached the edge of the safehouse, it felt like a fragile refuge. Nestled beside a rushing waterfall, the small structure seemed out of place in the ominous forest. Dante exhaled a breath of relief, but the calm shattered before it could settle.

“Mooo—!”

The bellow was raw, desperate, and filled with agony. It came from deep within the woods, to their left.

“MuMu!” Billy’s voice broke as he took off toward the sound, drawing his bow and knife in one fluid motion.

“Billy, wait!” Dante shouted, running after him. Panic clawed at his chest as they pushed through the thick brush. When they burst into a clearing, Dante’s breath caught in his throat.

MuMu lay sprawled on the ground, its once-pristine white coat soaked with blood and streaked with an oily black substance. The mighty beast heaved shallow breaths, its body trembling with the effort to stay alive. Perched on its back was something that defied understanding.

The creature was a nightmare given form. Its black, oozing fur writhed like living shadows, absorbing all light around it. Its body was twisted, a grotesque mass of five spindly legs bent at unnatural angles, like a spider’s limbs. Atop its hunched back sat a goat’s head, but its face was split down the center, revealing rows of jagged teeth that ground together in a sickening rhythm. Three crooked horns jutted from its skull, wriggling like living worms.

Where its eyes should have been were hollow voids, consuming the light around them. Yet deep within those voids, faint glimmers flickered—eyes within the darkness, watching, waiting.

Billy froze mid-step, his weapons limp at his sides. Terror gripped him like chains, rendering him unable to move. His mind struggled to comprehend the abomination before him, but the sheer wrongness of it overwhelmed his senses.

Dante stood still, his entire body tense. Something deep within him resonated with the creature, like a distant memory clawing its way to the surface. His every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to obey.

“The goat... The black goat…” Dante whispered, his voice trembling. His face turned pale, his words barely audible.

It was exactly what he had dreaded.