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The Nyrr'kal Forest seemed like a whisper from time itself, ancient and mysterious, a testament to forgotten eras.

Its millennial trees, with gray and twisted bark, looked like petrified beings in perpetual torment, each branch extending like a claw ready to devour anyone who dared to enter its domain.

The darkness that covered it was more than just a simple lack of light. In Nyrr'kal, the shadows had weight and sometimes moved on their own, as if the eyes of the earth itself were watching from the depths.

A cold wind whistled through the trees, carrying unintelligible murmurs. The ground was covered in dry leaves and exposed roots that twisted the terrain, making each step difficult.

It was a place that seemed to reject human life, a refuge for creatures that should not exist.

In the middle of that night, a group of hunters faced death itself.

They had returned after an unproductive day of hunting. Their bodies were already exhausted, and their morale low when the attack began.

There were two creatures, similar to gigantic pythons, but grotesque in their features.

They slithered with a speed that defied their size. Their black, glossy scales seemed coated with a kind of thick slime, which gave them a sickly shine under the flickering torchlight of the hunters.

Those eyes, devoid of pupils, glowed with a malicious yellow gleam, and their mouths, filled with rows of sharp teeth, did not belong to anything a human had ever seen before.

Each time they opened their jaws, a hissing sound, accompanied by the stench of rotting flesh, filled the air.

One of the hunters lay a few meters away, his body torn apart by the jaws of one of those beasts, while another struggled to breathe, with a deep wound in his side, too severe to keep fighting.

Only two men remained standing, panting and staggering. Their faces smeared with blood and sweat, and muscles trembling with sheer fatigue.

They had managed to kill one of the creatures, leaving its twisted corpse wrapped in the foliage, but the second was still alive, and furious.

—No… I can’t hold on any longer —one of them said between gasps, gripping the handle of his axe tightly, but his movements were clumsy, each swing slower than the last.

—Calm down, Urven —murmured the other hunter, Lhorak, his gaze fixed on the beast looming over them—. There’s only one left… if we can wound it on the side, like the other one…

But his words faded into the air as the creature lunged with lightning speed.

Urven let out a cry of desperation as he tried to move aside, but his legs didn’t respond quickly enough. The beast’s jaws opened, and at that moment, Lhorak, with a scream that tore through his throat, raised his spear and hurled it with all his might.

The tip of the spear lodged into the grotesque snake’s side, eliciting a sharp, ear-piercing screech.

The beast writhed in the air, its tail slamming into the ground with such force that it shook the nearby trees. Despite its wound, it kept moving, unstoppable, its hatred palpable in every motion.

—We’re going to die here! —Urven shouted, his eyes filled with terror.

—Urven, run! —yelled the older hunter, gritting his teeth as his eyes fixed on the creature advancing inexorably.

—I can’t… leave you… —Urven responded, his voice breaking. But the determined look in Lhorak’s eyes forced him to reconsider.

The hunting leader, who lay on the ground, heard the words as if they came from an infinite distance. His body was too weak to move, but his mind fought against the despair.

"No… I can’t let another man die because of me," he thought, trying once more to get up.

His bloodied, trembling hands gripped the shattered bow, but as he tried to lean on it, he slipped again, falling face-first to the ground with a groan of frustration.

—Take him! —Lhorak urged the young hunter—. Don’t look back!

Urven hesitated a moment longer, his face tense with helplessness. Finally, he nodded bitterly.

He bent over the hunting leader and began to lift him as best he could. The weight of the injured man was almost unbearable, but Urven knew he couldn’t fail him.

Before leaving, he turned to Lhorak, his tear-filled eyes reflecting the weight of the decision.

—I’ll… I’ll wait for you at the Night Hunter’s Refuge —he murmured with a broken voice, though both knew those words were only a hollow comfort. A whisper of hope in a place where none remained.

Lhorak smiled, though exhaustion and resignation dulled his expression.

—Tell Naelyn… —his wife, always worried about him, always waiting with a hot meal on the table— that I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. That wherever I go, I’ll wait for her, and someday, we’ll have dinner together again.

Urven pressed his lips together, unable to respond, and nodded one last time, feeling his own tears begin to burn his eyes.

With monumental effort, he started running, carrying the injured leader. Every step was agony, but the beast’s roars drove him forward, towards salvation.

Behind him, Lhorak watched as his friend moved away.

A cold calm overtook him as he adjusted his grip on the short axe he wielded. He knew his end was near, but if he was going to die, he would do so fighting.

—Come on, damn beast… —he whispered with a grim smile, raising his weapon—. It won’t be so easy to finish me off.

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And with one last roar of defiance, he ran toward the beast, his axe gleaming under the dim torchlight, determined to face his fate with every fiber of his being.

But Lhorak’s body trembled with impotent fury when he saw the beast, wounded but relentless, ignore his attack and head straight for Urven and the hunting leader.

The sound of its snapping jaws echoed in the air, along with the crunch of branches crushed under its immense body. The death of its companion had made it even more ferocious, more insatiable.

This creature wouldn’t stop until it devoured them all.

—No! —Lhorak roared desperately, charging after the creature.

He raised his short axe and drove it into the beast’s side. The blade pierced the thick black scales, tearing through flesh and tissue, but the snake barely noticed. It continued its frantic pursuit, dragging the hunter, whose face twisted in a grimace of agony as the wound he had opened widened.

Blood poured out in torrents, but the creature kept moving, driven by blind fury.

—Urven, run! Run, damn it! —Lhorak shouted, his voice hoarse from the effort.

But the young hunter, carrying the injured leader, could barely react to the warning cry. The terror in his eyes was palpable as he turned and saw the beast approaching, its massive mouth wide open, ready to swallow them both.

Urven felt the icy grip of death descend upon him at that moment. The air in his lungs froze, and his muscles stiffened with fear.

That monstrosity advanced like an inevitable scourge, and the vast darkness of its mouth seemed to promise a quick and brutal end.

He barely managed to turn slightly, and in his mind, like a final burst of consciousness, the faces of his parents and younger sister formed clearly.

"This is the moment," he thought, with grim serenity. "This is where I die."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the final impact.

The ensuing crash was deafening. The ground shook beneath his feet, as if the earth itself had rebelled against the monster’s presence. The wind howled through the trees, and then… silence.

Urven, his heart pounding in his ears, dared to open his eyes, though he didn’t understand if he was still alive or had already crossed to the other side. His breathing was ragged, but… he was still breathing.

In front of him, a few meters away, he saw Lhorak, breathing heavily, covered in the creature’s blood. His short axe was broken, and one of his arms hung at an odd angle, clearly dislocated.

But Lhorak wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were fixed on a point beyond, and his face held an expression of absolute terror, a despair Urven had never seen in his companion.

—Lhorak… —he murmured in a broken voice, but his companion didn’t hear him. He didn’t even react.

Urven’s heart froze in his chest at the sight of his friend’s state. Slowly, with a knot in his throat, he turned his head toward where Lhorak was looking.

In the distance, a cloud of dust and dirt floated in the air, raised by the chaos. And within that cloud, barely visible, something moved frantically.

Fragments of the creature that had almost killed him flew back and forth. Its scales, torn from the roots, fell like dry leaves as the beast twisted its body in a final desperate attempt to defend itself.

Urven recognized the sounds, the gut-wrenching shrieks of the dying serpent. But what shocked him the most was the silhouette emerging from the cloud: a creature on four legs, wild and ferocious, tearing apart the beast as if it were nothing more than a toy.

Its jaws clamped down again and again with brutal precision, dismembering the beast into chunks that flew in every direction. Each strike of its front paws was an act of pure violence.

The hunter couldn’t tear his eyes away.

"What is that?" His mind struggled to make sense of the scene, but the answer eluded him.

It looked like a wolf, though much larger and more terrifying. No, more than a wolf... something more primal. His eyes squinted as he tried to see beyond the dust cloud.

The creature shredded the serpent with such ease that it made the hunters' efforts seem insignificant.

As the dust began to settle, Urven finally saw clearly.

The massive creature’s jaws were buried in the belly of the beast that had nearly killed them all.

A crunch echoed in the air, and when the predator lifted its head, something glinted in its mouth.

Then, he saw it.

Between its fangs, something shimmered with a faint but hypnotic glow. A translucent, rounded, pulsating stone. The Primordial Heart.

Urven recognized it instantly; he knew exactly what it was. That mystical jewel was the core of beasts, their magical essence, the equivalent of the Ethereal Heart, the source of their power.

And that creature, that thing, was devouring it like a mere treat.

It chewed the Primordial Heart as if it were a delicacy, easily crushing it with its fangs. Fragments of the translucent stone fell from its jaws as it devoured the core with almost grotesque pleasure.

—By the gods... —he whispered to himself, trying to move, but his legs wouldn’t respond.

The beast licked its jaws, cleaning itself calmly, as if it had just feasted at a banquet.

Lhorak let out a faint groan, pulling Urven’s attention back to reality.

His companion, barely conscious, tried to crawl forward a bit, his trembling fingers clawing at the dirt. His dislocated arm hung limply at his side, and his broken axe lay a few meters away.

—Urven... —he managed to say weakly—. What... what is that?

But Urven had no answers. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee, to run as far as he could, but his legs still wouldn’t move.

The creature, satisfied with its macabre meal, slowly turned its head toward them. The beast’s eyes locked onto Urven’s, sending a chill down his spine.

The hunter stepped back, reacting purely on instinct. He didn’t even notice the weight of the wounded leader disappear from his shoulders as he let him drop to the ground.

The creature walked toward them slowly, and with each step it took, Urven felt as though his soul was sinking deeper into a pit of despair.

Both hunters’ legs seemed rooted to the ground, not just by fear, but by the certainty that any attempt to flee would be futile.

The air around them felt heavy, and the sound of Lhorak’s labored breathing was barely audible amidst the pounding of their own hearts.

Suddenly, the creature spoke.

—What’s the matter, little hunters? Aren’t you glad to still be alive?

The beast’s voice was deep and guttural, but what filled them with unspeakable horror was the fact that they understood every word perfectly. It was the first time in all their years as hunters that they had witnessed a beast capable of speaking their language. This wasn’t just unusual—it was unnatural.

A shiver ran down Urven’s spine as the creature’s eyes bore into his, glowing with a strange intelligence that didn’t match its savage appearance.

—Now then... —the beast continued, a macabre grin revealing its bloodstained fangs—. I saved your lives, didn’t I? —Its footsteps thudded against the ground as it drew closer—. It’s only fair that you pay me for my services. All your coins, your weapons, anything of value. Leave it here, as thanks, and you can go... intact.

Urven felt a hollow pit in his stomach. It was as if the beast was extorting them, disguising its demand for "gratitude" with a voice that, in any other context, might have been almost polite.

The hunt leader, barely conscious, let out a weak, yet furious, growl.

—Damn monster... —he muttered through lips trembling from pain—. You... you rob us like a common thief...

Though the hunt leader could barely speak, the words were clear enough to reach the creature’s ears.

The beast slowly turned its head toward him, its eyes narrowing with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

Urven took a step forward, his heart in his throat. He knew the leader’s words had sealed their fate.

—No! —he cried, his voice breaking—. Forgive him, he doesn’t know what he’s saying... he’s hurt!

The creature ignored him completely.

With a single slow, deliberate motion, it lifted one of its front paws and rested it on the leader’s head in a gesture that seemed almost casual.

Urven felt a growing emptiness in his chest, as if time had frozen.

—Ungrateful... —the beast whispered with contempt before applying pressure.

The crack was deafening. The hunt leader’s head exploded beneath the creature’s paw, sending blood and bone fragments scattering across the ground.

Urven could barely react. His body trembled, unable to move, unable to comprehend the brutality of what had just happened.

The creature calmly withdrew its paw and looked toward the two remaining hunters, its eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

—And you? —it asked in a soft, almost mocking voice—. Will you be grateful... or ungrateful like him?

The silence that followed was overwhelming.

Urven, still paralyzed by fear, tried to speak, to say something, anything that might save their lives, but the words wouldn’t come.

Lhorak was equally frozen, staring at the ground, as if not daring to lift his gaze was the only way to survive.

The creature watched them closely, waiting for their response, savoring every second of their mental agony.