Rapid footsteps pounded out onto the forest clearing as the father-son duo sped towards the opening nearest to Melinda’s campsite.

“URAAAAGHH!” Moans turned into screams as the two were quickly noticed by several skinless corpse-eaters that turned towards them from the crowd.

It was a desperate situation, but the two were prepared. They nimbly dodged through their arms, bashing or slipping through where they couldn’t. It wasn’t too difficult as the corpse-eaters had no physical advantage over them, their power even less than when they were alive, and their speed even slower as they shambled through the clearing.

The only advantage the creatures had were their overwhelming numbers, but it was an extremely prominent advantage.

Even if they had lined up for Harold to smash down with his hammer, he would likely fall to the ground exhausted before he could even make his way through a quarter of them.

Indistinct shouting came through the mass of bodies along with the intense smell of blood. The location of where most of the creatures were headed was at the center of the clearing.

The location was where the most commotion was In the clearing, where the adventurers hired to protect the caravan had put up their tents to rest.

“Kill them! Kill them all!”

“There’s no end to them!”

“Retreat?! Should we retreat!” Loud, angry, and desperate cries sounded out into the night sky from the center of the clearing.

“…” Duarte was tempted to turn his head their way but didn’t in the end, merely chasing after the sight of his father’s back.

The commotion was the only reason the two were able to run without having the horde on their heels, he knew that well. It was their job to keep the caravan members alive, so he felt no remorse over his actions. In the same scenario, they would do the exact same thing to him, or possibly even worse.

“We have to move faster, son!” A thud sounded out as Harold shoulder-bashed a skinless corpse-eater, sending it flying into another.

Leaning his head down, Duarte’s movements became even more nimble, but his fear only grew greater.

An endless wave of hands reached out to him from a wall of flesh that made up the corpse-eaters. His breathing labored as he scraped them by, small gashes forming on his face and body where he was only barely capable of slipping past them.

His body was small, immature, and weak. Even while the majority of the corpse-eaters were distracted, and his father was clearing the way for him, there were still many freaks that slipped through the gap.

The sharp pain filled him with fear and energy and his breathing became further labored as adrenaline coursed through his body.

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A shivering Sarah was held tightly to Harold’s chest, not having the luxury to hold her gently. Even despite her horrible fear, despite her trembling, not a single cry or whimper came out from her.

Boom!

The ear-shattering sound of an explosion exploded out from a section away in the clearing, sending a blast of fire into the sky, lighting up the entire forest. The flame illuminated the battling adventurers, their faces alit in emotions of fury, despair, and hopelessness, as they scrambled to defend all the sides of their campfire.

Along with the explosion came a wave of heat and air that came rolling through the crowd, sending many creatures, both human and not, to their knees.

Harold bended his knees and firmly rooted his feet to the ground, shielding his daughter with his body and withstanding the blast with his firm muscles.

“That was Everly’s campsite! Duarte, there’s no time to worry about him, we have to keep moving!” With the remains of the fiery flame still reflected in his eyes, Harold turned towards his son. “Duarte?! Duarte!”

“Urgh…” The weak groan came out from the bruised teenager, lying on a pile of corpse-eaters.

The blast had swept him off his feet, knocking him into the legs of the creatures pursuing him like a bowling ball through pins. The collision had torn off several of the weaker corpse-eaters’ legs, blasting apart the rotten flesh and breaking their bones. The impact had completely stunned the teenager, and he felt a dull ache through every point of impact.

“Gah!” The black-haired youth’s eyes flew open, his mind snapping to attention. “Get off of me!”

He screamed as he thrashed about, pushing and kicking the creatures’ limbs off of him, but it wasn’t enough. The mindless creatures felt no pain, his flimsy attacks only serving to enhance their appetite.

“AHhhhh!! HELP!!” He screamed as the skinless creatures tore at his body, their seemingly endless arms reaching out to rip out small chunks of his flesh, clawing wounds into him and biting him where they could.

“DUARTE!” A roar came out from Harold as he grabbed his hammer from his belt, charging at the crowd surrounding his son.

“DIE!” But before he could reach his son, a ferocious cry sounded out from behind the teenager.

A large section of the wall made up of corpse-eaters exploded into the air. Limbs, blood, and entrails sprayed out in a shower onto the ground. The thing that had burst through the crowd was mass of meat, made up of three skinless corpse-eaters.

The creatures were held into the sky as a makeshift shield made of flesh to punch through the crowd like a giant fist.

As the creatures dropped to the ground, a muscular hand shot out, grabbing onto Duarte’s arm, effortlessly hoisting him into the air away from the clawing corpse-eaters.

Kicking out with his leg, Mican exploded several stragglers into bits of meat as he tossed the teenager to Harold, who grabbed him closely with his eyes widened in shock.

“Ha… Ha…” Duarte panted heavily as he forced his eyes open, staring at Mican, exhausted. “Mican…?”

“I heard your cry for help, Duarte.” Wiping away the blood on his face with his hands, Mican turned to the two with furrowed brows.

“…” Staring at the young man in shock, Duarte was left speechless for words. His shocked couldn’t be conveyed through anything he could say at that moment.

“Mican!” Harold cried out for him, as an adult who could better adapt to the situation, looking at him in shock. His hammer had been dropped to the ground to support the two children in his arms.

The blacksmith’s cry seemed to resume the flow of time, breaking the corpse-eater’s attention out from the explosion’s blast of hot air.

“Harold, we have to leave now!” Taking several long strides, Mican reached the middle-aged man and grabbed his shoulder, breaking him out from his stupor. “Where are we headed?!”

“B-boss Melinda’s wagon. Follow me!” Readjusting his grip on his two kids, Harold’s gaze turned firm.

He swiveled on the spot, taking the opportunity while the corpse-eaters were still getting up to make a mad dash through their gaps, after confirming that Mican was following him.

Reaching down to pick up the rounded hammer on the ground, Mican tucked it into his cloak and began sprinting after the blacksmith, following closely behind him.