They ran.
No plan. No direction. Just pure animal panic overriding thought.
Corren's lungs burned. Branches whipped past his face. His boots found roots, rocks, uneven ground. He stumbled, caught himself, kept running.
Behind them, the chittering continued. Not chasing hard. Herding.
Deeper into the forest.
Lyra was ahead, moving with that combat efficiency even in full flight. Darius beside her, breath coming in gasps that weren't just from exertion.
Corren's mind raced even as his body ran.
This is my fault.
I brought them here. I needed the money. I was desperate and now they're going to die because of me.
Two hundred fifty thousand valys. That's what their lives are worth. That's the price I put on them.
The thought spiraled, feeding on itself, growing teeth.
They burst into a small clearing. Stopped. Gasping for air.
The chittering surrounded them. Closer now. Patient.
Darius turned in circles, hands raised, trying to summon flames. They came weak. Dim and hopeless.
His legs shook.
Corren saw it. The trembling. The way Darius kept shifting his weight, trying to steady himself.
Move, Darius commanded his legs. Stand still. Be steady. You're a Flamesworth. Act like it.
His legs didn't care. They shook anyway.
Sweat dripped down his face. Not from heat. From fear he couldn't admit to.
If they ran again, he'd take it. Use the excuse. Wouldn't have to face whatever was out there.
"We can't keep running," Lyra said. Her voice was steady but Corren heard the strain underneath.
"Then what?" Darius's voice cracked slightly. He coughed, tried again. "We fight?"
"Yes."
"We're E-rank!"
"Then we become D-rank." Lyra's metal coiled around her wrists. "Every Beast we kill makes us stronger. Every challenge we survive builds our Veil. This is how hunters grow. By facing things that should kill them and refusing to die."
She looked at both of them. That cold mask cracking just enough to show something underneath. Determination. Maybe even excitement.
"We're going to fight. We're going to win. And we're going to walk out of here stronger than we came in."
Corren wanted to believe her. Wanted that certainty.
But his sense was screaming at him.
"It's not just the wolves," he said quietly.
They both looked at him.
"I can feel them. Multiple types. Wolves, yes. But also something in the trees. And..." He turned slowly, trying to parse the sensations. "Other things. Moving through the undergrowth. Waiting for the wolves to flush us out."
"How many?" Lyra asked.
"Too many."
Darius laughed. Brittle. "Great. Fantastic. We're surrounded by an entire ecosystem that wants to eat us."
"Then we thin it out," Lyra said. She turned to face the direction the chittering was loudest. "Let them come."
They came.
Six Ironfang Wolves burst from the mist. Bigger than Thornwolves. Metallic fur gleaming. Fangs that rang faintly as they moved.
The pack spread out. Coordinated. Intelligent.
One lunged at Lyra.
Her whip snapped forward. Caught the wolf mid-leap. Wrapped its body.
She pulled.
The wolf crashed into the ground. But when she unwrapped her weapon, it stood back up. Dazed but uninjured. The metallic fur had absorbed the impact.
"They're too tough," she said.
She dropped the whip. Drew her short sword. Rigid. Sharp. Proper cutting edge.
Another wolf lunged. She met it with steel. The blade bit into its shoulder. Drew blood.
But not deep enough. The wolf twisted away, snarling but mobile.
Her sword was better than the whip for cutting. But in close quarters, against multiple fast targets, she couldn't land killing blows. They were too quick. Too coordinated.
"Corren!" Darius threw a wide flame burst at two wolves. They dodged. The fire hit trees instead. "Little help here!"
Corren's sense pulsed. "There are snakes! In the branches above us!"
"Snakes?!" Darius looked up wildly.
"Large ones. Waiting to drop."
Lyra blocked another wolf's lunge with her sword. Her mind worked through the problem even as she fought.
Whip: too blunt. Can't cut the tough hides.
Sword: sharp enough, but too rigid. Can't track multiple fast targets.
Need: both. Cutting edge AND flexibility.
The realization hit her like cold water.
Her thoughts went back to the last thing Gladuis thought them about veilcraft. Imagination is the limit. In that moment she pictured it the child of a whip and a sword and her veil responded. Metal flowed. The sword and whip merged, segments forming, articulated but sharp. A blade that could flow like water but cut like steel.
She needed space. Distance to practice.
"Cover me!" she shouted, backing away from the group. "Thirty seconds!"
"Thirty seconds?!" Darius's flames flickered weaker. "We don't have—"
A wolf lunged at him. He threw fire. Missed. The wolf's claws raked his arm. Shallow. Painful.
He stumbled back.
Lyra found her space. Twenty feet from them. The flexible blade extended, she snapped it forward experimentally.
Too loose. She tightened the segments.
Better.
A wolf broke from the pack. Charged her.
She let it come.
The blade snapped forward. Not rigid. Flowing. Following the wolf's dodge. Wrapped around its neck mid-motion.
She pulled.
The sharpened segments did what the blunt whip couldn't.
Cut.
The wolf's head separated from its body. Clean. Efficient.
It collapsed mid-stride.
Lyra smiled.
Progress.
For the first time since Awakening, she'd adapted her Veil mid-combat. Created something new. Something better.
The weapon felt right. Like it had always been meant to be this way.
Another wolf attacked. She met it with flowing steel. The blade wrapped around a tree, changed angle, struck from an impossible direction.
The wolf tried to hide behind the trunk.
Didn't matter. The flexible blade curved around, found it anyway, opened its throat.
Dead.
Darius and Corren watched her move. Fluid. Deadly. Unstoppable.
She'd become something else in that moment. Not just a fighter. She was the star of the show.
The wolves couldn't hide anymore. Couldn't use terrain. Her weapon went everywhere, struck from every angle.
5 wolves left. They backed away, whining, unsure.
Meanwhile, Darius was failing.
He threw flame bursts at the remaining wolves. Wide. Uncontrolled. They dodged easily.
One he managed to clip. The wolf yelped, fur singed, but kept moving. Not lethal. Just annoying.
Lyra finished it with her blade. Quick. Clean.
Making him look worse by comparison.
"I'm figuring it out!" he shouted, frustration bleeding through.
Another burst. Another miss. The flames were getting weaker. His stamina draining from panic and poor control.
Why can't I hit them?
I'm a Flamesworth. Fire is supposed to be easy. A talent.
But I keep missing. Keep wasting energy. Keep being useless.
The doubt crept in. Insidious. Poisonous.
His flames flickered lower. Orange instead of red. Weak.
He tried again. Threw fire at a wolf Lyra was already engaging.
Hit her blade instead. The metal heated but didn't melt. She didn't even flinch.
"Darius, STOP!" she snapped.
He stopped. Hands shaking. Flames dying.
I can't even do this right.
Corren, meanwhile, was worse than useless.
He'd tried to help. Swung his short sword at a wolf that got too close. Missed completely. Nearly fell from the wild swing.
A wolf turned on him. Saw easy prey.
He stumbled backward. Tripped over a root. Hit the ground hard.
The wolf stalked forward. Taking its time. Enjoying the fear.
Lyra's blade snapped across the clearing. Caught the wolf mid-stride. Killed it before it reached him.
She didn't say anything. Didn't need to.
Corren lay there, breathing hard, hating himself.
Worthless.
They're fighting and I'm lying in the dirt.
I'm going to get them killed.
Just like the C-rank hunter. We're going to die here and it's my fault.
The thoughts spiraled. Feeding on each other. Growing claws.
The mist thickened.
Not gradually. Suddenly. Like someone had poured milk into water.
Visibility dropped to five feet. Three feet. Nothing.
Corren couldn't see Lyra. Couldn't see Darius. Couldn't see his own hands in front of his face.
His sense was screaming but he couldn't focus. Couldn't parse it. Too distracted by his own worthlessness.
Somewhere in the white void, a wolf snarled.
Metal rang. Lyra fighting blind.
"Corren!" Her voice cut through the mist. Through his spiral. "What should we do?!"
The question shocked him.
She was asking him. Trusting him. Even now.
His mind stuttered. Caught. Focused.
Think. You can't fight but you can think. So THINK.
His sense pushed outward. Through the panic. Through the self-hatred.
The mist wasn't natural. Wasn't weather. It was generated. Concentrated Veil energy made visible.
Source: above them. In the trees.
"Mistcats!" he shouted. "In the branches! They're generating this!"
"Can't see them!" Darius yelled back. Somewhere to the right. Maybe ten feet away. Maybe fifty. Sound was wrong too.
"Darius, listen to me!" Corren's voice steadied. Certainty replacing doubt. "Your flames are too spread out. You're pushing them away from you. That's why you keep missing."
"I'm TRYING..."