The group approached the cave cautiously. Rederick picked up a stick and ripped off a small piece of lint from his armor, wrapping it tightly around the top of a sturdy stick. Noticing his intention, I reached into my pack and retrieved two stones. Walking up to him, he placed the self-made torch in front of me. I struck the stones together, and after a few sparks, the lint caught fire, flickering to life. I gathered a few more sticks to make sure we have some if needed.

  Without hesitation, Albaras began walking into the cave’s dark mouth, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Rederick, torch held high, followed him inside. As we moved deeper and deeper into the cave, the light revealed a grisly scene: bodies lay scattered across the cave floor, their stomachs corroded by acid, legs pierced and faces frozen in twisted expressions of pain. But despite the brutal wounds, nothing appeared to be missing from their bodies.

  As they surveyed the carnage, it became clear that most of the victims were guards, messengers, or lowborn nobles. Rederick crouched by a body. ′None of these look like peasants,′ he muttered, glancing back at the others. ′Not like the ones at the Von Houzen estate.′

  Before anyone could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the cave. The sound of something snapping clean in two. The group looked further down the cave.

  Albaras raised a hand, signaling the others to halt. His head tilted slightly, listening as another crack echoed through the cave, followed by a distant, piercing shriek. Without turning around, he spoke in a tone firm and leaving no room for debate. ′I’ll go further alone,′ he said, already stepping forward. ′You two figure out what happened here.′

  Rederick grinned; his eagerness almost unsettling. ′That sounds like a plan,′ he said, standing upright.

  As Albaras moved toward the sound, something caught my eye. ′Rederick, look,′ I said, pointing to the torches mounted on the walls.

  Rederick approached one of the wall-mounted torches, inspecting it briefly before lighting it with his own. The small flame flared to life. ′Kian, light the rest of them,′ he instructed, handing the torch to the boy. ′I’ll start investigating.′

  The newly lit torches revealed intricate carvings etched into the cave walls. Most depicted a man with a green face, his hand raised over a body laid upon an altar, a chilling suggestion of ritual sacrifice. In the next scene, the body sat upright, the man’s hands now drawn as if they were glowing with an otherworldly light.

  ′How does this look so new?′ Rederick muttered, his fingers brushing the carvings as though needing to confirm their existence. The grooves felt sharp, untouched by time. ′How could all this exist in a place where that monster resides?′ His voice was low, tinged with disbelief.

  Albaras continued deeper into the cave, his boots echoing softly against the uneven ground, the sound swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence. The number of bodies thinned until none remained, leaving only the bare, cold floor. Ahead, a faint light beckoned, growing stronger as he advanced.

  He approached cautiously and found multiple smaller holes in the cave’s roof, where thin rays of sunlight streamed through like divine fingers piercing the darkness. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, and the air felt lighter here, almost deceptive after the grim sights left behind.

  Beneath the light stood the beast, its hulking form hunched over a mangled body. Its claws tore into flesh with wet, deliberate sounds, and its breath came in deep, guttural huffs. The scattered rays of sunlight illuminated patches of its dark, sinewy skin, glistening with blood.

  ′What a beautiful thing,′ Albaras whispered to himself, his voice reverent.

  The creature resembled a grotesque centipede, its segmented body merging upward into a twisted humanoid form. With six legs, two arms, and two heads, it appeared unnatural, even Albaras had never seen anything like it. It was as if it had been stitched together from various beasts and monsters, an amalgamation of terror.

  Albaras readied himself, drawing his sword and removing his shield with calm precision. There was no rush in his movements. He held the blade before his face in a prayer-like gesture, his gaze briefly closing as if seeking guidance before the inevitable confrontation.

  Sliding down the cave’s incline toward the beast. The creature, sensing his approach, twisted in place, its form unnerving and alien. It turned to reveal a monstrous maw, nearly covering its entire face. The mouth opened wide, its interior a terrifying mosaic of countless eyes, with two empty sockets glaring from above. Its front legs were needle-like, razor-sharp, while the back four were shaped like hooves, each step echoing in the cave.

  Its arms were a nightmarish array of mutations: resembling massive crab pincers, their claws gleaming. The creature seemed to possess no regard for symmetry, only an alien, terrible function.

  The beast loomed over Albaras, its needle-like legs aiming to stab his legs, but Albaras moved with lightning speed, thrusting his sword into one of its maws. The creature screamed, a chilling, gut-wrenching sound that echoed from deep within its stomach, lined with jagged teeth. For a moment, the creature faltered, then it refocused, its needle legs coming down in a vicious attack.

  With quick precision, Albaras blocked the needle legs with his shield, the clash so fast it was almost missed. The creature tried to bring its claws around the shield, held in place by the needle legs. Albaras used his sword to hold it at bay, but the other claw began creeping around the edge of his shield.

  In one fluid motion, Albaras released his shield and, with both hands, forced his sword to the other side. With pure power, he severed the pincer holding the sword. Now holding the other pincer back with both his hands on his sword as it clawed for him. As his focus sharpened on the remaining pincer, tentacles began emerging from the creature’s stomach. Albaras quickly rolled back, narrowly avoiding their grasp.

  He reached for his axe hanging at his side, and his hum reverberated through the cave, a strange, unsettling sound that seemed to disorient the creature making his needle legs loose from the shield. Seizing the moment of distraction, Albaras swung both his sword and axe in a powerful arc, severing the last pincer and cutting off one of the needle legs.

  Dropping his axe, he snatched up his shield and raised it above him just in time. From the empty socket of the beast’s head, green liquid spewed forth, spraying acid onto the shield. It hissed and sizzled as the wood began to warp and melt.

  Albaras rammed the shield into the beast’s face, forcing its maw upward and cutting off the acid spray the beast opened its stomach maw the tentacles wrapping around Albaras. As it thrashed, he swung his sword in a wide arc, severing the writhing tentacles clawing at his armor. Tossing the now useless, melting shield aside, he reached for his axe. Before his hand could close around its handle, the beast’s last needle-like leg shot forward, piercing through his armor and driving him into the ground, pinning him in place.

  Seizing the opportunity of weakness as a strength, Albaras slashed through the needle leg binding him. The beast crumpled to the ground with a guttural groan, its maw gaping as if to expel water. Albaras staggered backward, his breath weirdly ragged, blood seeping through his armor. he raised his sword high, the blade. With a single, slash he severed both of the creature’s heads. A sickening crunch echoed through the cave as its body convulsed briefly before falling still, the faint, eerie noises from its throat were silenced forever.

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  Rederick’s eyes narrowed as he studied the strange engravings on the cave walls, symbols etched with unnerving precision. Their purpose seemed to transcend mere artistry, hinting at secrets long forgotten. The tableau of ritualistic sacrifice and resurrection caught every time his attention.

  ′This is something I want to see,′ Rederick said to me.

  I turned to him, unsettled. ′A man should live one life and fill it with all one can learn, rather than extend it into new bodies just to deny the past,′ I said.

  Rederick’s gaze remained fixed on the carvings, a faint smile playing at his lips. ′Perhaps. Denying the past may be worth it if you live forever′

  As he contemplated the engravings, a shadow crept across the cave’s entrance. Its sudden appearance made our conversation quiet, the realization striking us like a blow: we are no longer alone.

  ′There he stands,′ Rederick said, his voice steady, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword ready for instant use. ′Kruger, the self-proclaimed myth of Kingston.′

  I took a step back, my breath catching as I melted into the shadows behind him. The flickering firelight barely reached me. Slowly, I drew an arrow and nocked it on my bowstring, keeping the weapon at rest. My heart pounded, and I prayed that Rederick’s armor and his unmatched skill that it would be enough to face Kruger.

  Before us, Kruger loomed, his figure shrouded in shadow, the light behind him casting his silhouette in sharp, jagged relief. The faint glow of the cave’s firelight flickered across his outline, shifting like a restless spirit, a phantom made flesh.

  ′Get back, Kian!′ Rederick’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, echoing off the cavern walls. His eyes were locked on Kruger, unyielding and intense, so focused that he didn’t notice I had already slipped into the shadows. From my hidden vantage, I tightened my grip on my weapon, my heart pounding in rhythm with the tension that filled the air.

  Kruger responded with a manic laugh that echoed off the stone walls, a sound laced with equal parts amusement and malice. For a moment, it was eerily reminiscent of Albaras. His voice cut through the cave as he bellowed, ′What have you done with my beast? My friend?′

  Rederick drew his sword, his stance ready as he waited for Kruger next move. With a sudden burst of speed, Kruger surged forward, closing the distance in an instant. His sharp, piercing eyes locked onto Rederick, blazing with an unnatural intensity, as if defying the very limits of human nature.

  The suddenness of Kruger’s charge caught Rederick off guard. Instinctively, he raised his sword, angling it forward in hopes that Kruger might impale itself. But before the man-made-monster could close the gap, an arrow sliced through the air, its sharp whistle cutting through the tension. It struck true, forcing Kruger to pause momentarily both looked at each other.

  Their eyes locked, the arrow quivering between. Rederick’s heart pounded as he leaped backward, startled by Kruger’s unnerving speed. Using the momentum of his retreat, Rederick pivoted sharply, his sword arcing low in a sweeping strike aimed at Kruger leg using his lint to enhance his range as he leaped back. Kruger stepped forward into the attack, his grin twisted with a madness that spoke of a willingness to fight or die in the chaos.

  Kruger saw the slash coming and reacted with a speed that defied logic. With a litheness that seemed almost otherworldly, he vaulted over Rederick’s sword, twisting mid-air with supernatural grace. Before Rederick could recover, Kruger lunged forward, both axes flashing in the dim light. One swung for his head, which Rederick barely deflected, while the other sliced toward his flank.

  ′Why didn’t I bring my shield?′ The grim thought flickered through Rederick’s mind as he braced himself, muscles tightening under the weight of his armor. The clash of steel on steel rang through the air, sharp and deafening, as Kruger’s axe sliced through a section of armor at Rederick’s side.

  A sharp sting radiated from the wound, stealing a fraction of his focus. Kruger, sensing weakness, drove his other axe downward with relentless force. The blade inched closer to Rederick’s face, the weight of it forcing Rederick to lower. Already unbalanced, he struggled to hold his sword steady, his arms trembling under the strain.

  But fate intervened in the form of another arrow. It struck true, burying itself into the hand holding the axe poised to strike Rederick head. Kruger recoiled with a guttural snarl, leaping back as blood trickled from his wounded hand.

  A surge of confidence lit Rederick’s face, a defiant smile breaking through. Seizing the moment, he lashed out with his sword, the blade piercing Kruger’s leg. The force staggered the fearsome foe, throwing him off balance.

  With a surge of adrenaline, Rederick closed the distance, locking arms with Kruger in a desperate grapple. He wrenched Kruger’s wounded arm, twisting it behind his back.

  Kruger snarled in defiance, his growl reverberating through the cavern, a mix of rage and pain. Despite the relentless pressure, he stubbornly clung to his axe, the veins in his hand bulging with effort. But Rederick’s grip was ironclad, unyielding as he forced Kruger’s arm further.

  Kruger, his fury burning through the pain, twisted his arm unnaturally, snapping it free from Rederick’s grip. With a brutal, one-armed motion, he swung the axe at Rederick’s exposed side. The blow landed with sickening force, the edge of the axe cutting cleanly through the last remnants of armor, sending a sharp wave of pain through Rederick’s body.

  With a snarl, Rederick retaliated, his sword flashing forward in a precise, almost graceful thrust. The blade found its mark, driving deep into Kruger’s side. It punched through the thick muscle and bone with terrifying ease, emerging from the other side in a decisive, blood-drenched arc.

  The exchange left both combatants wounded. Kruger staggered back, his breath ragged, while Rederick fought to steady himself, pain pulsing from the wound Kruger had inflicted. A primal instinct flickered in Kruger’s eyes as he took a step back, calculating whether to strike again or retreat. Rederick’s muscles burned, the urge to strike back overwhelming, but his body betrayed him, too slow to follow through.

  Kruger seemed to sense Rederick’s weakness and hesitated, as if the bloodied warrior before him was no longer as much of a threat. But Rederick, despite the pain, held his ground, his resolve unwavering even as blood trickled down his face. I watched his expression, gritting his teeth through the pain.

  I inhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed out with my breath. My fingers gripped the bow, an arrow nocked, and I loosed it with a steady hand. The projectile sailed through the air, striking Kruger squarely in the jaw with a satisfying thud. A small, proud smile tugged at my lips as he faltered but didn’t stop his retreat.

  As Kruger fled toward the cave entrance, I tried to get him arrow after arrow, the bowstring singing through the air with every shot. The sharp whistle of each release was almost lost in the rush of my blood, the beat of my heart. Arrows found their mark some thudding into his back with a sickening wet slap, but Kruger didn’t slow. If anything, his pace quickened, as if the pain drove him faster.

  I didn’t hear Rederick’s voice calling out to me, my focus razor-sharp, consumed entirely by the retreating figure of Kruger. There was no hesitation, no second thought. He was my target, my prey, mine to take down and to present.

  The string twanged as another arrow shot toward his fleeing form. I moved to follow, but with each step I did he made two his shape blurred in the distance, the echoes of my pursuit fading away.

  Outside, the tempest of leaves and debris swallowed Kruger whole, as if nature itself sought to reclaim him. All that remained in his wake were the arrows I shot into him.

  Rederick stood, one hand on his sword, the other clutching his wound. He scanned the area, searching for any sign of Kruger’s demise, but found none, no blood, no trace, only the arrows scattered outside.

  ′How?′ Rederick muttered, his voice a mixture of frustration and disbelief. ′He should have perished.′

  As if summoned by his thoughts, Albaras appeared from the shadows, bearing the severed heads of the monstrous beast that had haunted the cave. His shield rested casually upon his back, while his sword and axe hung at his waist, a testament to his prowess and the grim task he had undertaken.

  ′I took care of it,′ Albaras declared with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

  Rederick exhaled heavily, relief flooding his features. ′Good to hear,′ he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

  Albaras, ever the pragmatic leader, turned his attention to the aftermath of the battle. ′What happened here?′ he inquired, seeking clarity amidst the lingering tension.

  Kian stepped forward, his voice tinged with awe and a hint of trepidation as he recounted the encounter with Kruger. ′We wounded him, but he vanished once more. The Kruger imitator is still out there we need to hunt him down.′

  ′Interesting,′ Albaras mused, his gaze scanning the cave’s walls with practiced scrutiny, as though he hadn’t heard my request. ′Seems we haven’t seen the last of him.′

  With a nod, Albaras turned toward the cave’s exit, where the swirling leaf storm had subsided. ′That’s enough for today, my boys,′ he said, his voice steady, betraying no sign of exhaustion, followed by a brief laugh. ′Let’s gather our reward and head home for some well-deserved rest.′