Chapter 3 Echoes of the Hunt

“I will wait for you…” The man awoke for the third time, finding himself in a cave, besieged by four massive, bird-like creatures. "AAAghh RRRAaagh!" he groaned, though he had grown accustomed to the pain.

Understanding his predicament, he summoned all his strength and fought back. He seized the feather on the bird's face that was currently devouring his chest. "GRAAAAA!" he roared in anger, plunging his fist into the giant bird's eye, his eyes burning with determination and fury as he drove deeper into the creature's skull.

"It's fine. Don’t mind the pain! You can take it; you can just regenerate later," he thought to himself as the creature writhed and screamed, trying to dislodge him. But he kept his grip. "Let me see you die this time, bastard!" he spat at the creature, pushing his fist even deeper until he reached its brain. "EEEEEEEKKRKRKR!" the creature screeched for the last time before collapsing. The man yanked his arm out of its eye and stood atop its corpse, roaring, "GRAAAAAAAA!"

At that moment, a rush of overwhelming joy flooded the man’s chest, a wave of elation he hadn't felt in so long. It was the kind of feeling he thought had died with him—a sense of being truly alive. He had died so many times in this world, faced so many agonizing deaths, but here, now, after defeating the massive bird that had tormented him, he felt something different. A raw vitality, coursing through his veins.

“My whole body hurts, but... my chest feels amazing, it’s been soo long since in felt like this!”

His regeneration was no longer just a passive healing force—it was a reminder that he was still here, still fighting. But there was no status screen, no level-up notification, nothing that signaled progress like he’d seen in stories. Looks like those things don’t apply here, he thought, a grim smile tugging at his lips.

The three remaining birds—each larger than any predator he'd faced in his past life—stumbled back in unison, eyes wide, their terror palpable. Their sharp beaks trembled as they looked over their fallen kin, hesitation creeping into their movements. Something had shifted in the air, an invisible tension that made the blood in his veins run cold.

Then, in perfect unison, the remaining birds shrieked. The sound was a hellish screech that pierced through the very air, sharp and agonizing.

“KEKEEEEEE! KEKEEEEE!”

The noise was so overwhelming that he had no choice but to clap his hands to his ears, grimacing against the screeching sound that threatened to tear his skull apart. It wasn’t just a cry—it was a call. A signal, desperate and primal, that filled the air with a heavy dread. For a split second, everything went still—unnaturally still—as the creatures’ cries echoed off the hills and valleys, reverberating through the world like a warning.

Then, like the calm before a storm, silence fell. A quiet that felt wrong, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Before the man could even process the change, the silence was shattered by a deeper, more thunderous scream, far more chilling than the birds’ shrieks. It came from far in the distance, a voice that seemed to resonate in his bones, reverberating through the very ground beneath his feet. The air thickened with the sound, and he felt it—an oppressive weight pressing down on him.

A dark shape appeared on the horizon. Too large to be any of the remaining birds. Too ominous.

As it flew closer, he realized the truth, his stomach lurching with cold dread.

Its wings… He glanced at the corpse of the bird he had just slain. The wings are too small. It can’t be the one that grabbed me and brought me here…

But before he could finish the thought, the shadow grew larger, stretching out like a storm cloud swallowing the sun. It blocked out the sky, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath the force of its approach. The wind howled as the massive shape hurtled closer, dark and ominous. His heart sank as the full enormity of the creature took form.

The mother bird.

The world around him seemed to shrink, and for a moment, he felt as though the air itself was holding its breath in fear. The creature’s size dwarfed anything he had ever seen. Its wings, vast and impossible, cut through the sky with a terrifying grace, each beat sending shockwaves through the atmosphere. The roar of the wind alone was deafening, and the ground seemed to shake with each mighty flap.

The man stumbled back, his breath caught in his throat. His pulse pounded in his ears, his body already responding with a primal fear, his instincts screaming at him to run—to flee.

But it was too late.

The mother bird let out another terrible scream—louder, deeper, more primal—and its presence felt like a force of nature, a god of destruction descending from the heavens. The sheer weight of her power, the black aura that radiated from her massive wings, suffocated the very air. Her eyes—black and gleaming—locked onto him, narrowing with a predator's focus.

"Ohhh, fuck."

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. These were no ordinary birds. The ones he had fought were mere chicks—young, barely more than fledglings. And now, here was the true terror of this world. The mother.

She was everything they were not—massive, unstoppable, relentless.

Even in the face of his own newfound power, the man felt a shiver crawl up his spine. Was this it? Would this creature be his end?

As the mother bird soared closer, the remaining three chicks began to retreat, fear written across their twisted, jagged features. The air grew heavier with each beat of the mother's wings, and the once-confident man could feel the primal instinct for survival burning through his mind. He had no choice now. He couldn’t let fear control him.

She can’t kill me now, he thought with a grim certainty. Not after what I've already survived.

But as he took a step forward, fueled by a reckless confidence, something in the air shifted—suddenly the temperature seemed to drop, and the world itself felt like it was holding its breath.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

The man didn’t have time to react. The enormous bird’s wings beat with thunderous power, and in an instant, she was upon him.

Her talons shot down with lightning speed, aiming for his chest. The moment her claws raked toward him, his instincts screamed.

But it was too late

He was yanked into the air, the world spinning as he was dragged higher and higher. His body swayed like a ragdoll, helpless in the bird’s iron grip. The rush of wind pressed against him, and the ground below became a distant blur.

I have no control. None...

His mind screamed for action, but his body was trapped. He tried to fight, to push free, but it was as if the bird’s grip was unbreakable and instead its claws dug deeper in his flesh. “UGH!” His breath caught in his throat, and panic surged through him. The bird was carrying him into the sky as if he weighed nothing. The higher they climbed, the more disoriented he became. The air thinned, his senses muddled, and a cold sweat prickled his skin.

Suddenly, the bird’s claws loosened.

Wait!

For a split second, he was weightless—then the reality of it hit him. He was falling.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The scream ripped itself from his throat, not from pain, but from the sheer terror of falling from such a height. His heart hammered against his ribs, his body tumbling, spinning wildly. The ground was far below, unreachable, and the air rushed past him so violently he could barely breathe. His chest tightened with fear, and his stomach churned with the dizzying speed of his descent.

What the hell is going on? He thought, struggling to right himself in the freefall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her—the mother bird, far above, her massive wings outstretched. Her eyes gleamed with an unholy intensity.

What is it doing...?

As if responding to his thoughts, the bird flared with purple light. The air around her shimmered, charged with an unnatural energy, and the atmosphere itself seemed to grow heavier. Then, with a terrible screech, she opened her mouth, and the air seemed to crack under the force of the sound.

“KISHAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The world seemed to shudder at the cry. And then, as if the sky itself had cracked open, a colossal beam of light shot from her mouth, aimed directly at him.

Time seemed to slow. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even process what was happening before the beam struck him mid-air.

The force of the impact slammed into him, and everything went white. His body was engulfed by the energy burning his skin, the pain of fire pierced through him like a thousand needle, and his mind was drowned by the overwhelming pain. The sheer power of the attack rattled him to his core. His senses were overloaded, everything blurring into a chaotic mess of light and noise. The pain, the pressure, it felt like everything was being compressed into a single moment, and his body was helpless under the weight of it all.

I... I see... he thought weakly, even as everything around him started to fade. So that thing can use magic...

He felt his body falling to the ground while he’s slowly losing conciousness, he somehow passed through a strange transparent wall, a strange feeling of familiar warmth just passed through his body, a feeling of safety, And then, just as quickly as the light had come, everything went dark.

-break-

----------------------------------------

As nightfall slowly crept across the sky, the adventurers made camp by a quiet river near the fortified village of Terramill, halting their journey for the evening. The air grew cooler, the last traces of daylight fading behind the distant hills. The coachman was busy tending to the horses, while Rodrick and the old dwarf Gundine worked together to start a small campfire to ward off the evening chill. Millea and Elanora stirred a pot of creamy mushroom Minotaur soup over the flames, the rich aroma mixing with the crisp night air.

Rodrick and Mava were busy setting up the tent, and Thaloril stood watch, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger—whether from lurking monsters or roaming bandits.

The two new passengers—a young woman with jet-black hair and a tattered man with a missing arm—sat quietly on a log near the fire. The man looked barely able to move, and the woman, though attentive, didn’t seem strong enough to offer much help. They hadn’t pressed them to assist, letting them rest for the time being.

Mava, sitting nearby, decided to break the silence. She turned to the pair, her gaze soft but curious. “So, you said you’re headed to Thornhaven. What’s the reason for your journey? Aren’t there rumors about dangerous bandits hiding in the Forest of the Poisoned Oasis?”

The young woman looked up, her eyes a little distant. “We’re hoping to get help from a relative of our parents ” she replied, her voice steady but laced with concern. “My older brother’s gravely injured... and cursed. We need someone who can help him recover.”

Mava nodded, her expression sympathetic but probing. “I see. I’m Mava, by the way. And you are?”

The young woman hesitated for a moment, glancing at the man beside her before answering. “I’m Paimon. And this is Griffith, my brother.” She spoke the name with a mix of affection and careful distance. “My brother gave me my name... though he never told me where it came from or what it means.”

“Paimon... Griffith,” Mava repeated, her tone thoughtful. “Unusual names. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Griffith?”

Paimon looked down, her fingers tracing patterns in the dirt, before she spoke. “After the battle on Drakeshore Isle... my brother was cursed. his face and skin are in horrible condition and he had a hard time speaking. Now, I speak for him.” Her gaze flicked to Griffith, and there was an unspoken weight in her eyes.

Mava frowned, understanding the gravity of what she’d just been told. “Ah, I see... So it’s the recent conflict with the Noclan Dominion, then? There were rumors of a cursed, undying soldier—one they created to ensure their victory. It hasn’t been confirmed, but the stories fit. The curse must be connected to that... But I don’t understand. If Griffith was part of the battle on Drakeshore Isle, why not head straight to Morgon Peak for help? Or is there something in Verdan that could help him? This doesn’t quite add up…”

Paimon’s gaze flickered, as if the question had caught her off guard. She glanced briefly at Griffith before answering. “We... we can’t go to Morgon Peak. My father’s relative is in Thornhaven. And the merchants in Verdan might have information on a cure for the curse... We’re just... hoping. It’s all we have left.”

Mava didn’t press further, but her mind raced. There were too many gaps in the story, too many questions left unanswered. Still, she said nothing more, sensing that pressing them too hard might break the fragile trust she’d just started to build.

As Mava pondered these questions, Thaloril’s keen ears detected a rustling sound in the distance. He quickly signaled Mava. Before he could finish, a massive chained spear hurtled through the air, howling as it cut through the night, slamming into the campfire area with a thunderous explosion. The smoke cleared to reveal Griffith impaled by the spear. He had shielded Paimon,

“BROTHER!” Paimon screamed in horror.

“WE’RE BEING ATTACKED!” Finrod shouted.

“ALL IN DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!” Mava ordered.

“Oh Lord of Light, I beseech Thee, protect Thy children from the encroaching darkness, DEVINE FORTESS!” Millea chanted, her voice a plea for divine protection, a dome of light appeared covering the whole camp.

Suddenly, the chain of the spear embedded in Griffith's chest jerked violently, lifting him toward a tall, shadowy silhouette. "Hmph... Ugh, disgusting. I aimed for the girl, but this man got in the way," the mysterious figure sighed, extracting the spear from Griffith’s lifeless body. "But anyway... looks like the old man's tip was right. They really did send some strong people to deal with us, huh?"

“Y-Your… Regras the Savage!” Elanora gasped, her voice trembling as the bandit leader stepped into view, flanked by his crew. The moonlight cut through the dense canopy, casting an eerie glow over the field.

The bandit leader was unmistakable—a hulking figure clad in rugged, mismatched armor, his long hair wild and unkempt, his beard streaked with dirt and blood. His eyes burned with a cold, calculating ferocity, and his broad frame exuded an unsettling aura of both confidence and menace.

He took a step forward, his heavy boots thudding against the ground, the silence hanging thick in the air. The tension in the camp was palpable, each person frozen in place, waiting for the first move.

A cruel smile twisted across Regras’ face, his voice low and filled with malice as he spoke. “I’ve been looking for you... all of you.”