The cold, hard ground seemed to blend with my tired legs. Mud and blood merged into a grim smoothie beneath my feet, each step smearing the crimson across the earth like some macabre painting. I was walking through a river of death—or something far too similar. Bodies lay scattered around me, an endless, grotesque reminder of the battle just fought. Anyone who saw this scene would be lost in its horror, struggling to tell where the dead ended and the living began.

I want to say something heroic—that their deaths aren’t in vain—but it would be nothing but a lie. This battle is just one of many we will fight, just like the ones before. I know I’ve barely escaped with my life.

As I stand here in this godforsaken forest, I hear the one thing I dread most. The sound that sends chills through me. More of them are coming. I can hear their heavy, cursed bodies tearing through the undergrowth, their savage movements unmistakable as they close in, hungry for more blood. But what’s truly unnerving isn’t what I hear—it’s what I don’t. The silence where there should be the heavy breathing, the growls, or any form of communication. Nothing. It’s unnatural, predatory. I know I have to be ready. I shift into a stance, preparing for the inevitable.

I feel as stiff as the trees around me. My body resists every movement, my mind races, and my breath grows heavier with each passing moment. Everything here—the air, the earth, the very trees—reminds me that this forest is cursed, tainted by the presence of those Lycans.

Eyes pierce through the shadows, watching me—or so it seems. I know it’s just my imagination, my nerves playing tricks on me. But that doesn’t stop my body from tensing, not just in fear but in anticipation. My right hand tightens around the sword I’ve carried for what feels like an eternity, while the shield in my left urges me to get behind it. Despite the dread, I stay focused, scanning the dark, waiting for the inevitable.

The earth trembles beneath my feet, as if the world itself is setting a grim rhythm for this battle. I can hear them now—the demons that cursed this land with their very existence, forcing humanity to fight and bleed against their endless horde. Their once eerie silence shatters into guttural growls that send chills down my spine. Deep down, I know this could be my last stand. But I won’t back down. I’ll stand here, again and again if I must. I’ve dreamed enough to know that this is my destiny—to hunt them, or die hunting these cursed, demon-like creatures that have plagued our lands.

I can feel the sun beating down on my face, sweat trickling down my body like a slow, inevitable stream, mixing with the stench of blood and decay that fills the air. The drums of battle grow louder and faster, matching the frantic thud of my heart. And then, they appear. The demon-like beasts, with their long, furred arms outstretched, claws ready, their eyes burning with hunger. They reach for me, eager to tear me apart like they’ve done to so many before me.

“You damn demons!” I scream, my voice tearing from my throat, burning with fury. “I will end you today!” The effort drains me, my parched throat aching, but I force the words out anyway, knowing they won’t answer.

I step back, boots dragging through the warm, thick blood pooling around the bodies of comrades I’ve known since childhood—friends I had trained and fought beside. Their lifeless faces stare blankly, wide-eyed and unseeing, cut down when they least expected it. Looking at them like this only fuels the rage inside me, igniting the need to keep fighting.

Before this battle, they started talking about their lives. Most of them said something along the lines of, “Must I go through this?” or “I would rather have ended it peacefully, to understand the truth behind it all.” That’s what I would have said, too—if I couldn’t tell heaven from hell.

But I can. I’ve known so many people, all of whom I could once feel smiling, just like the ones I stand above now. Almost all of them are gone, and I still carry the weight of their lives and legacies on my shoulders. I will never trade their hard work, their sacrifices, for the false peace a treaty with the Lycans would bring. This will end with blood, or it will never end.

Yet I know these thoughts are useless. I’m just a pawn, caught in a war I could never hope to end—something even the Empire itself couldn’t put to rest.

A sharp pain shot through my arm, like a needle piercing deep into my flesh. “Fuck,” I screamed, realizing too late what had happened. My thoughts had wandered, and I hadn’t noticed the attack. When I looked down, disbelief washed over me—my left arm hung limp and unmoving. This wasn’t the work of a Lycan. They couldn’t plan or strategize like this. There was only one possibility: we’d been betrayed.

Though the pain seared through me, my left arm was completely useless, hanging at my side like dead weight. True fear coursed through my veins, triggering that primal fight-or-flight instinct. My shield—my only means of protection—was gone. And with it, my chance of surviving this fight.

As I began to realize my situation, the demons surged forward, their speed terrifying. Much faster than before, they smelled the blood in the water.

I swung my sword upward, desperation fueling the strike. By sheer luck, my wild swing decapitated the beast charging at me. Its head thudded to the ground, blood splashing up toward my face, drenching me in a warm shower of death. The creature’s massive body collapsed at my feet, its blood pooling around me.

“I don’t know what hellhole you Lycans crawled out of,” I roared, my voice hoarse with rage, “but I’ll make sure to send some of you back!”

What did I expect? These beings wouldn’t respond. No words, no snarls—just the sound of their breathing, growing heavier. It was as if they were nothing more than a mass of flesh, devoid of thought or reason, driven only by the primal need to destroy. Their silence was more unsettling than any war cry—a relentless tide of fur, muscle, and claws crashing toward me, mindless and merciless.

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In that very moment, my body collapsed to the ground in a strange, unnatural way. I wasn’t tired, nor was I too exhausted to stand. It was weird, though—not fatal, not something that stopped me from getting up. But it brought a deeper fear into me, as if there was a greater threat lurking beyond the Lycans—a creeping sense of doom that I couldn’t shake.

I had no choice; I had to get back up. Even if something more dangerous was looming, I couldn’t back down now—not when the only thing left was to fight. I owed it to my men. If I couldn’t avenge them, then at least I could take some of these beasts down with me.

As I stood and pulled back from the massive Lycan’s corpse, a smaller one darted out from behind it. Without thinking, I swung my sword in a swift motion, cleaving its arm clean off with a sickening crunch. The severed limb hit the ground with a thud, blood spurting from the stump like a grotesque fountain. The beast recoiled, but I didn’t let up. I couldn’t afford to.

Without giving it time to react, I drove my blade into its skull, feeling the impact rumble through the hilt. But as if cursed by the gods themselves, my sword refused to budge, stuck in the bone. I tugged and yanked, frustration burning through my veins. My left arm still hung uselessly at my side, unresponsive to my commands. I cursed under my breath, wishing for the strength to pull the sword free.

Finally, with a sickening snap, the blade came loose, accompanied by chuncks of the brain coming out with blood leaked with it. Without exception, before I could regain my stance, another Lycan lunged at me. Its clawed hand struck my injured arm with brutal force. Thankfully, I felt nothing—no pain, just the dead weight of the already crippled limb.

Regaining my stance, I thrust my sword toward the Lycan’s chest as it tried to recover its momentum. But I missed, and its large, gnashing fangs sunk into my already useless arm. I felt nothing but the pull of its bite, the weight of its monstrous jaw clamping down like a vice, tearing flesh and sinew. With a violent jerk, it yanked me down, slamming me into the ground. My body hit the dirt hard, the impact rattling my bones, blood mixing with the soil.

Gasping for air, my vision swam as I tried to focus. Through the haze, I saw it—only eight more Lycans, their feigned eyes locked on to me; it wasn’t filled with the need to kill, but the want to kill; they enjoyed watching me fight this beast.

As if some twisted sense of honor guided them, the remaining Lycans didn’t all rush me at once. They circled around, their glowing eyes gleaming in the dim light, watching as I struggled against the one that still had its teeth sunk into my arm. I felt more like a gladiator in some cursed arena than a hunter, bloodied and bruised.

There was no sound from them, but I could almost hear their faint, mocking laughter, as if they were toying with me, amused by my desperate struggle. They wanted to see how long I would last and how much pain I could endure before I broke.

The world around me sounded strangely serene, a cruel contrast to the battle at hand. Birds chirped in harmony, their melody reminding me of the old tavern owner back in the village, whose voice had once brought peace to weary travelers. That same tranquility seemed to mock me now as the beast clenched its jaws tighter on my arm, ripping another chunk of flesh away, blood cascading down my shoulder like a gruesome waterfall.

Summoning every last ounce of strength left in my body, I lifted my sword and drove it into the Lycan’s belly. My muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed through, slicing upward with everything I had. I could feel its grip loosening, the pressure on my arm fading as the light in its eyes dimmed. It let out one final breath, a gurgling wheeze, before collapsing, its body thudding heavily against the ground, pooling blood and mixing with the fallen leaves.

Panting, I staggered to my feet, expecting the rest of the pack to rush me. But they didn’t. Instead, they continued to circle, watching me with those same cold, calculating eyes. Their hesitation was unnerving, like they were waiting for something.

“Is that it?” I called out, my voice raspy and filled with defiance. “Or do you things have something you want with me?” I didn’t expect a response—these creatures were more animal than man, after all.

But then, a voice—calm, feminine—echoed from the shadows of the forest. “It seems someone was able to best the leader of this little pack,” she said, her tone dripping with curiosity.

I froze, my eyes scanning the treeline for the source of the voice. Whoever she was, she wasn’t part of the pack, and her presence sent a chill down my spine. The Lycans, still circling me, seemed to acknowledge her, but they didn’t move.

“Who are you?” I demanded, gripping my sword tightly, its bloodied blade gleaming ominously in the dappled light.

“You might as well put that sword down—it would be useless against me,” she laughed, her voice cutting through the air with a cold, mocking tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

I kept my grip on the hilt, but the way she spoke—so certain, so dismissive—made my confidence waver. This was no ordinary foe.

“Since you managed to beat him,” she continued, almost playfully, “I suppose I’ll grant you a reward. You get to walk away alive. But let’s make it a little more interesting, shall we? Would you like to know which of your allies betrayed you?” Her laughter twisted, sadistic, as if she relished the idea of watching me break under the revelation.

I felt a knot tighten in my chest, her words confirming the bitter suspicion that had been eating away at me since the ambush. “Which one?” I growled, my voice rough, trying to mask the uncertainty gnawing at me. “I knew one of them had sided with you things, but this… this just confirms it.”

For a moment, relief washed over me—not because I was spared from death, but because the treachery was out in the open. But that relief was bitter, tinged with the shame that gnawed at my soul. I wasn’t even fighting for my comrades’ deaths anymore. I was simply trying to survive. I’d failed them. I failed the men who had trusted me, and now I was ready to accept the terms of my own betrayal.

She snickered, her voice low and venomous. “You fight for the Heaven Empire, right?” Her words carried a weight that made my stomach twist, as if she was about to drop a revelation that would shatter everything.

“Yes, I am a hunter for the Empire,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension. I waited, bracing myself for whatever came next.

Her laughter grew louder, almost maniacal. “It was them who betrayed you. No, I mean, it was the Empire itself that set up the Alliance for the ambush!” She cackled, her voice echoing in the dark forest.

The ground seemed to fall out from under me. My world crumbled at that moment, her words hitting me like a death blow. The Empire—the very force that had stood at the forefront of the fight against the Lycans, the force I had sworn to protect and serve—had orchestrated our downfall. My mind reeled, trying to make sense of it all. How could the Empire, the beacon of hope against the darkness, betray us like this?

As I stood there, lost in the chaos of my own thoughts, the woman and the Lycans vanished, slipping back into the shadows from which they came. I was left alone, surrounded by the corpses of my comrades, their lifeless eyes staring back at me, as if waiting for me to give them answers I didn’t have.

The silence pressed in on me, and for the first time, I felt truly lost. Not just in the battle—but in everything I thought I believed.