The rocky shoreline cracked with motion as something titanic launched from within the rocks.

  A massive serpentine body, green-black scales slick with slime, lashed from the waters edge like a whip. Three pairs of ragged, leathery wings flared along its body, beating the air in deep, shuddering gusts. It shouldn’t have been able to fly—but it did, hovering with an unnatural grace.

  Blake tried diving aside but ended up stumbling from the extra weight of the mastiff he was carrying. Dave dropped his burden and turned, grabbing an arrow in a fluid motion. His shot bounced off the scales at the creature’s throat, useless against its scales.

  The serpent struck fast. Its jaws snapped forward, a blur of fangs and stench. George threw a mastiff body at the striking jaws and barely rolled aside, blood spraying as the fangs ripped into the dead shadow mastiff. He came up swinging, his twin swords flashing in arcs of steel. One blade skittered uselessly across armored scales, sparks flying. But the other found a seam, sinking a thumb’s depth into flesh.

  The serpent shrieked, wings flaring pulling it away from George. Black ichor spattered across the rocks, sizzling where it landed.

  “Poison!” Tami shouted. “Don’t let its blood touch you!”

  Blake darted in low from the side, twin knives glowing faintly as he triggered his skill.

  SKILL ACTIVATED: CLEAVE (RANK 1).

  One blade became three—two spectral afterimages stabbing in time with the real. A spectral blade glanced harmlessly off scale, another slashed across a joint in a wing, and the real knife sank into a seam between scales, punching into the muscles along its back.

  The serpent convulsed violently, its coils whipping like cables. Blake was flung through the air when a coil slammed into him. He crashed hard against the rocks with a wheeze of pain as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

  “Blake!” Tami sprinted to his side, staff raised, light already forming at her fingertips. She pressed a hand to his ribs, muttering the words of her healing prayer.

  SKILL ACTIVATED: MINOR MEND (RANK 7)

  “Not done yet,” Blake gasped, forcing himself upright even as blood flecked his lips.

  Eric surged forward with his makeshift spear, trying to skewer one of the wings. He managed to jab deep into a membrane, tearing it, but the serpent whipped its tail around in an instant.

  CRITICAL HIT!

  ERIC — HP -43. FRACTURE DETECTED.

  Eric screamed as his body cartwheeled through the air, ribs snapping, spear shattering like kindling from the snake's tail. He hit the ground hard and didn’t get up.

  “Eric!” Marta’s cry tore through the chaos. She raised both hands, thorns forming in midair.

  SKILL ACTIVATED: THORNSHOT (RANK 4)

  The projectiles streaked like green comets, punching into one of the serpent’s glowing eyes. The beast shrieked, a psychic keening that rattled their skulls and dropped them to one knee.

  George staggered forward, still clutching his blade. His other sword remained stuck in the serpent’s side, driven deeper as it thrashed. “Come on then!” he roared, raising his last weapon in both hands.

  Dave loosed arrows in rapid succession.

  SKILL ACTIVATED: RAPID SHOT (RANK 5).

  Three arrows flew. Two struck scales and snapped, but the third sank deep into the serpent’s throat, just below its jawline. The beast reared, thrashing, ichor spraying.

  Alice muttered arcane words, fire flickering at her fingertips. She thrust both hands forward.

  SKILL ACTIVATED: ARCANE BOLT (RANK 3).

  A lance of energy streaked into the serpent’s side, searing scales. The smell of burning meat filled the air. The serpent thrashed harder, crashing into the rocks, tearing deep gouges as its coils battered the party.

  George, teeth clenched, charged forward. The serpent’s thrashing forced his abandoned blade deeper into its body with each movement. Blood poured, the smell acrid and wrong. Still, it fought with unholy strength, wings beating hard enough to whip up a gale.

  Dave tried to use the distraction, peppering it with arrows. Most bounced off. One finally lodged under a wing joint, and the serpent bucked, snarling.

  Jill raised her staff, frost blooming across its tip. “Freeze, damn you!”

  SKILL ACTIVATED: ARCANE BOLT (RANK 3).

  A spray of frost burst outward, striking the injured wing and encrusting it with ice. The serpent wobbled, one wing suddenly sluggish. It reeled, battered from every side. For one wild moment, they thought they were turning the tide.

  Then it coiled into itself, twisting midair, and the momentum of its own coiling drove George’s blade nearly to the hilt through the serpent. It shrieked again and tried to compress into a knot of thrashing scales causing even more damage as it pushed the sword deeper into its own body..

  George’s eyes locked on the spot just behind its skull. Roaring, he raised his second blade in both hands and leapt. He brought it down with all his strength. Steel met flesh. The blade sank deep.

  The serpent shuddered violently, its body writhing with enough force to nearly throw George off. Then its coils sagged, wings drooping. The unnatural hum of its flight guttered out, and the massive body collapsed to the rocks in a shuddering heap.

  Everyone froze. Panting. Bleeding. Staring at the massive corpse.

  The serpent twitched once more, then went still. The unnatural hum of its wings ceased, leaving only the sound of waves lapping against the rocks and their own ragged breaths.

  George stumbled back, his hands trembling as he pulled the blood-slick sword free from behind its skull. His face was pale beneath the spray of ichor across his chest, but his eyes still burned with adrenaline.

  LEVEL 4 FLYING SERPENT KILLED

  EXPERIENCE GAINED

  CREDITS EARNED: +331

  DEBUFF APPLIED:

  POSION

  Dave lowered his bow, arms shaking. “That… that wasn’t just a snake.”

  “No shit,” Blake groaned from where Tami had healed him enough to sit up. He pressed a hand to his ribs, wincing. “Snakes don’t fly. Or scream in your brain.”

  “It wasn’t of this world,” Marta whispered. She was clutching her staff so tightly her knuckles had gone white. “The system’s making things that… that shouldn’t exist.”

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  “No.” Tami’s voice was firm as she knelt beside Eric. “We don’t have time for theories. He’s alive—for now. Help me.”

  Eric was pale, his face slick with sweat. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood seeped through his torn pants. His breaths came shallow and quick, punctuated with choked groans.

  “Compound fracture.” Tami’s tone was clipped, clinical. She pressed her hands to the wound, her glow flaring as she cast Minor Mend. The bleeding slowed, but the jagged bone still jutted beneath the skin. “It’ll heal wrong unless we set it.”

  Her eyes darted to George. “I need help. Now. But not you. Don’t touch anyone with that blood.”

  George’s stomach dropped. He felt the poison affecting him. But the state of Eric was getting to him. It was different—real, raw, right in front of him. His hands shook as he dropped beside her. “What do I—”

  “Get away!” Tami screamed at him. “I don’t need to add poison to his injuries!”

  Blake dropped next to George. “I got this. Go clean up.” Turning to Tami. “What do I need to do?”

  “Grab his thigh and his ankle. When I tell you, pull.”

  Marta dropped to her knees, tears streaming. “Please, please don’t hurt him.”

  “We don’t have a choice!” Tami snapped, sweat dripping down her temple. “He’ll die of shock if we don’t do this.”

  Blake swallowed hard, locked his hands around Eric’s leg, and met Tami’s eyes.

  “Now!”

  Eric screamed as Blake pulled, dragging the jagged bone back into alignment. At the same moment, Tami poured healing into him. The glow spread, knitting torn muscle, sealing ruptured vessels, stabilizing the fracture enough that the leg stopped bleeding freely.

  By the time Blake let go, his arms were shaking with the effort, and Eric was limp, breathing hard but not screaming anymore.

  “Again,” Tami whispered, and cast Minor Mend a second time. And again. And again. The spell was weak, not meant for wounds this catastrophic, but layer by layer, she stopped the bleeding, steadied his pulse, and closed the worst tears.

  Finally, Eric’s breathing evened. His eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain but aware. “Still… alive?”

  “Barely,” Tami murmured, slumping back on her heels. Her mana reserves were nearly drained, her hands trembling from the effort.

  Marta collapsed against Eric’s side, sobbing. “I thought—oh god, I thought—”

  Dave crouched nearby, grim-faced. “We need to move. That thing made enough noise to wake the whole forest.”

  George nodded, coming back from washing off in the lake, though he looked wrung out. “We’ll rest for five minutes. Then we’re gone.” He stood, scanning the treeline as though expecting another serpent to leap out at any second.

  Tami tore a strip from her cloak and bound Eric’s leg as best she could. “He won’t be running anywhere. He can walk, maybe, but not fast.”

  “Then we slow down,” George said, his tone iron. “I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

  The rest of the group cleaned themselves up at the lake’s edge, though none dared to go deeper than ankle-height. The serpent’s ichor clung stubbornly, stinking like burnt copper. Every one of them bore cuts and bruises, their nerves frayed raw.

  They were alive. But barely.

  Eric leaned heavily against Marta as she half-carried him to the lake’s edge. His leg was splinted with rough wood and cloth, awkward but enough to hobble on. Marta guided him into the shallows, her face pale but determined. “We’ll wash up. Get the blood off before it draws anything else.”

  “Don’t be too long,” Tami warned, her voice thin with exhaustion. “I need him sitting and resting, not—”

  The water collapsed inward as though the entire lake inhaled.

  Something massive stirred beneath the surface. Then tentacles burst upward in a spray of cold water, thick and pale, glistening with slime. One wrapped Eric’s wounded leg before he could even stumble back. Another coiled Marta’s waist and wrenched her off her feet. Both screamed as the tentacles jerked them toward the deeper water.

  “NO!” Dave was the first to react, bow snapping up. Rapid Shot! Three arrows loosed in quick succession. One thudded into the tentacle holding Marta, another skipped harmlessly off slick hide, and the last drove deep into Eric’s captor. The tentacle writhed, tightening instead of loosening.

  George charged forward, swords flashing. He hacked once, twice, severing a length of the tentacle wrapped around Marta. Black ichor spattered across the shallows, and Marta gasped free for a heartbeat—before two more tenticles shot from the water and clamped onto her arms.

  “Help me!” she screamed, thrashing as she was lifted off her feet, half-submerged, water filling her mouth.

  Blake dove into the fray, knives flashing. He stabbed deep into the writhing mass, twisting hard. Another shriek echoed through their minds, psychic and dissonant, rattling their teeth. The coils slackened for a second—but only a second.

  Eric, too weak to fight, clawed at the tentacle dragging him under. “Please! Don’t—” His voice broke as his head dipped beneath the surface.

  “No! Not after—” Tami waded into the water, hands glowing with desperate healing light. She pressed her palms against the slime-covered coil, trying to burn it off with raw magic. The tentacle spasmed violently, slamming her back into George. He grabbed her but she didn’t stop.

  Alice and Marta both unleashed spells, fire and thorns streaking into the lake. Boiling water hissed. More tentacles writhed upward, thrashing, striking blindly.

  Dave fired again, arrows sinking into pale flesh, but there were too many. Every cut, every burn, every stab only seemed to draw more from the depths.

  “Pull them!” George roared. He and Blake seized Marta’s arms, straining with everything they had as the water surged around them. For a breathless moment, it seemed like they might win—like sheer force of will could drag her free.

  Then the tentacle yanked. Hard.

  George’s feet slipped on slick stone. Blake lost his grip, tumbling back. Marta screamed once, reaching for them, before she was dragged beneath the surface in a violent spray of foam.

  “MARTA!” George bellowed, plunging his arm into the churning water. Nothing. Only froth and blood and the echo of her last cry.

  Eric surfaced one last time, face pale, eyes wide with terror. “Don’t let—” A coil snapped tight around his chest, dragging him down before he could finish. His scream cut off in a spray of bubbles.

  “ERIC!” Tami shrieked, surging forward, only for George to seize her by the waist and yank her back against him. She fought him like a wildcat, nails digging into his arms. “Let me go! I can save him—I can save them!”

  The lake stilled as though nothing had happened. A perfect mirror, calm, silent.

  Only the blood stains on the rocks proved anyone had ever been there.

  Tami sagged against George’s grip, clawing at his arm, eyes red and wet. “We have to go back in—we have to—”

  George’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscles stood out like cords. His voice was low, vibrating with barely contained fury. “They’re gone.”

  “No!” Tami shoved him weakly, then collapsed against his chest, sobbing. “I should’ve been faster—I should’ve saved them—”

  George’s hands trembled as he held her, his voice rising into a shout. “You already saved Eric once! You hear me? You kept him alive when he should’ve bled out hours ago! Stop blaming yourself!” His throat worked, rage choking him. “It’s not your fault—it’s this damned place!”

  Blake sat heavily on the rocks, knives dangling at his sides. “We didn’t even have a chance,” he whispered. “Not even a damn chance to fight it.”

  George rounded on him, eyes blazing. “So what, you wanted to dive in after them? You think your knives would’ve done a damn thing against that monster? You’d be dead too! We’d all be dead!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Do you want that?!”

  Blake flinched, staring down at the ground, silent.

  Dave stood apart, bow trembling in his hands. “This world isn’t fair,” he muttered. “It doesn’t care how hard we fight.” His voice broke. “They didn’t deserve that.”

  George whirled on him next, spittle flying from his lips. “No one deserves any of this! But it doesn’t matter what’s fair!” His fists clenched so hard his knuckles split against his palms. “What matters is we keep moving. Because if we don’t, this world eats us alive, one by one, and we hand it the knife to cut our throats.”

  Alice hugged herself, trembling. “It’s like…the world itself wants to kill us.”

  George stabbed a finger toward the lake, eyes bloodshot, tears streaking his dirt-caked face. “That’s exactly what it wants. And I’ll be damned if I let it take another one of us because someone can’t follow orders.” His voice dropped into a growl, raw and ragged. “So listen to me. No one touches that water. No one strays. No one hesitates. Or I swear I’ll drag you myself.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the birds had gone still.

  Finally, Blake forced himself upright, voice hollow. “George is right. If we stay here, the lake will take us all. We have to go.”

  George glared at him, chest heaving, then gave a sharp nod. He turned away, shoulders trembling with barely restrained rage, and barked: “Move.”

  One by one, they gathered what little gear they had. Eric’s shattered spear. Marta’s bow. Blood stains on stone.

  They left without speaking, backs hunched under the weight of grief and fury.

  George didn’t look back—because if he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d scream, or collapse.