It was so close.
Too close.
Tave could still see the flash of Elias's blade in his mind. The gleam of steel slicing through the air, the sharp arc aimed precisely at the spot where Fang had been just a heartbeat earlier. But the wolf… Fang's instincts were sharper than ever. Refined through survival, honed by hunts. And in that instant, they saved him.
Fang dodged it, escaped. His body was already a blur vanishing into the darkness. He didn't even look back. He didn't need to. And somehow, Tave knew. Elias wasn't chasing him.
Not this time.
Tave exhaled shakily, trying to steady his breath. His pulse was hammering in his ears. That man… Elias… he was unnervingly sharp. To sense Fang's presence, despite the wolf's silent approach, despite the perfect concealment?
Or maybe… Fang wasn't quite perfect yet. Not sharp enough. Not hidden enough.
If that blade had landed. If Fang would've been killed on the spot. No chance of survival. No second attempt. And that was something Tave couldn't afford to let happen. Not now. Not when Fang still had so much potential waiting to bloom.
This beast wasn't just a companion. He was an investment of trust, a piece of Tave's future in this brutal world.
A cold drop of sweat slid down Tave's temple.
Fang kept running, now far from the danger zone, and Tave refocused the link between them.
He gave a new command.
"Scout the area near our camp only. No more long-range sweeps. Map a safe route for us to take once the others are ready to move again."
The real hunt was only just beginning. And from now on, they'd need a perfect path forward.
But… but the more Tave replayed everything in his mind, the harder it was to ignore the gaping hole in the narrative. If he was certain Orion wasn't the killer, then who was?
Sure, based on the evidence, the most obvious, surface-level conclusion. Orion should have been the culprit. It was his sword, after all, driven clean through the victim's body.
But Tave knew Orion. For all his flaws, for all his arrogance and untamed, chaotic nature. Orion wasn't a liar. He wasn't manipulative. If he said, in his own way, that he didn't do it… then he didn't do it.
It was that simple. That stubbornly simple. The man lived by a direct code: raw, brutal, and impossible to bend.
Tave didn't doubt that. Not for a second.
And yet… a shadow of doubt slithered in. Was he wrong? Was he so attached to the idea of who Orion was, shaped by how he wrote him in the story, that he couldn't see the truth here in the real world?
This wasn't his narrative. This was reality. People could lie. Change. Twist. Maybe even Orion.
But why would he? What motive could Orion possibly have?
And if it truly wasn't Orion… then who the hell had the strength, the precision, the nerve to use Orion's weapon against someone else?
Elias?
Could Elias have somehow forced Orion's blade into the victim? Manipulated the moment? But how? Taking Orion's sword from him wouldn't just be difficult. It would be damn near impossible. The man treated his weapon like a living extension of himself.
And now, the very image of that same sword impaled in someone's chest haunted Tave like a cruel riddle.
Fuck. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration crackling beneath his skin.
None of it made sense. Not yet.
He was still convinced Elias had a role in it. His gut screamed it. His entire being rebelled at the idea of trusting that blond-haired asshole. But was that belief just emotional bias? Just… hate?
Had he accused Elias simply because he didn't like him?
Like hell…
He wasn't some detective motherfucker! He didn't solve mysteries. He wrote them. He made up everything in his stories. He controlled the answers.
But now? Here?
He had nothing!
And then. Suddenly. Tave's instincts screamed again, louder than before. A jolt of dread shot through his body and his eyes snapped open.
He expected to see Oriana standing guard beside him.
Instead, Orion was there. Looming in front of him, sword in hand, and fury etched deep into his face.
"How dare you, motherfucker!" Orion snarled.
"Wait!" Tave blurted out, caught completely off guard.
But the warning was useless. Orion's blade came down in a furious arc, too fast for Tave to dodge. He flinched, bracing himself.
Die!
But the blade didn't hit him directly. It sliced past the left side of his body. Close, but not fatal, and then Orion followed it with another savage swing… aimed somewhere else entirely.
That's when Tave realized it.
He wasn't the target.
Orion wasn't trying to kill him. Despite his explosive entrance and his wild aggression, the man's attacks weren't focused on Tave at all.
The image of Orion as the murderer, that shadow of doubt was still clinging to Tave's thoughts. But right now? Orion's actions were clear.
"Motherfucker, get out of here!" Orion shouted, voice guttural with urgency.
Tave's senses sharpened. The air had grown thick, heavy. Something was wrong. The darkness around them wasn't just night. It was laced with something else. And then he saw it: a haze of mist swirling unnaturally in the air. Barely visible at first, but unmistakable now that it was catching the light from Orion's burning sword.
Tave jumped to his feet, scanning the area.
Oriana was lying on the ground, as if she'd suddenly fainted.
Lily, too, appeared unconscious. But no, she had been sleeping. She simply hadn't woken up.
Then he saw it.
Thorn Vines.
Dozens of them. Twisting, thorn-covered vines snaking across the ground, slithering through the dirt like living traps. They pulsed with unnatural tension, their movements jerky and predatory, trying to ensnare anything nearby.
Orion's sword blazed bright, and with ruthless precision, he was hacking through the vines. Each strike sent embers flying, flames licking up the tendrils. But every time one was cut, another sprayed that dense, sickly mist into the air, like a defense mechanism.
Still, the flames burned hotter.
Tave stood frozen for half a heartbeat… then snapped back to himself.
They were under attack.
Tave raked through his thoughts, forcing his mind to work faster… Faster! Analyzing everything around him in a blur of panic and precision.
Thorn Vines. Exploding into thick mist when struck. He could feel it now. His chest tightening, each breath heavier, weaker. The air was laced with venom, hanging thick and unseen. Even with all his effort to hold his breath, it was already seeping in, dulling his senses.
He knelt beside Oriana, checking her condition. A thin, bleeding wound marred her arm, faint but telling. She'd been pricked. That was enough.
Orion, nearby, was a blur of fire and fury, cleaving through the vines, doing everything he could to keep them from reaching the others. But they just kept coming. From every direction.
And then. Wait… this isn't just some random threat. This is… Venomroot Constricta.
That was it. The name hit him like a spark to dry tinder.
Venomroot Constricta, a parasitic flora monster that mimics natural vines, but it's very much alive. It feeds on the elemental core of anything that comes too close, draining strength and spreading paralyzing toxins through every thorn it pierces. The more energy it senses, the more aggressively it spreads.
These things weren't just dangerous. They were lethal.
And worse? They couldn't be truly killed unless their source was destroyed.
This wasn't a battle they could win standing still.
They have to leave, now!
If they stayed any longer, they'd be dragged down and strangled to death. One by one, by these damn living vines.