"Listen closely… the forest is sending its most faithful."
— A Hunter Found Half-Eaten
We watched in silence as the horde climbed the Cliffside.
Though their numbers were smaller than before, their ferocity had sharpened into something far worse. These creatures no longer moved like mindless beasts. They climbed over one another with frantic desperation, clawing upward through blood and broken limbs as if terrified of arriving late.
The first wave reached us almost instantly.
Miranda met them head-on.
The impact of her fist sounded like a cannon blast. Flesh burst apart in sprays of blackened blood as bodies folded unnaturally around her strikes. Yet even while surrounded, she smiled.
Not a smile of confidence.
A smile of excitement.
Each blow she unleashed echoed across the lake, shaking the cliff beneath our feet. Monsters crashed into one another from the sheer force of her attacks, tumbling back into the crimson waters below.
Beside me, Belinda released spell after spell with reckless abandon. Firestorms, lances of light, spiralling explosions—she no longer cared about conserving residue. Every twenty seconds, the blessing of the lake surged through us again, restoring our strength with nauseating warmth.
I layered shields and enhancements upon the party while firing elemental rounds into the advancing horde. Wind bullets proved most effective, piercing through multiple monsters before detonating into bursts of compressed air.
The creatures themselves fought strangely.
Some stumbled forward on malformed limbs while others paused mid-charge to mimic fragments of combat techniques they once knew in life.
I saw the stance of a rapier duellist, the pull of an invisible bowstring, the swing of a great sword, and even the guarded posture of a veteran soldier.
Muscle memory.
Even after death, their bodies still remembered violence.
The realisation unsettled me far more than the monsters themselves.
As Miranda and Bo held the frontline, I turned my attention toward the lake once more.
The Widow sat silently atop the crimson water.
She dragged pale fingers across the surface absentmindedly, creating ripples that carried screaming faces beneath them. Though her stitched mouth could not open properly, I somehow felt amusement radiating from her.
I raised my rifle toward the nearest Statue of Sacrifice and fired a flame round directly at its head.
The bullet struck.
And did almost nothing.
The statue slowly turned toward me.
Its four eyes moved frantically at first, twitching in different directions before finally settling upon my figure. There was no rage in its gaze. No hatred.
Only judgement.
An ancient, silent evaluation.
Then, as though it had reached a verdict, the statue looked away.
I fired again.
And again.
The rounds only scorched its flesh lightly, causing black blood to drip from its wounds.
Annoyance crept into me.
"Belinda!" I called. "Aim for the statue!"
"Already trying!" she shouted back.
A massive sphere of flame spiralled from her hands and collided against the statue's torso. Instantly, the wounds ignited.
The creature convulsed violently.
Though it had no lungs capable of screaming, I still heard agony.
The fire spread through the exposed flesh within its split body cavity, where organs hung, endlessly spilling blood into the lake below. One of its four eyes abruptly burst apart.
The statue thrashed against the pillar hard enough to crack stone.
Then the flames died.
Its ruined body slowly straightened again.
Only one eye had closed.
The remaining three began turning blood-red.
A roar erupted from all three statues simultaneously.
The sound did not feel physical.
It felt spiritual.
The lake boiled.
Blood surged skyward in enormous arcs before crashing back down like rainfall. New creatures emerged from beneath the surface, these ones carrying grotesque weapons crafted from bone, rusted metal, and sharpened limbs.
Belinda fired another spell immediately.
This time she mixed wind with fire.
The resulting inferno wrapped around the statue like a living predator. Another eye ruptured.
The thing convulsed so violently that chunks of burning flesh splattered into the lake.
I returned my focus to the frontline.
The horde had become far more dangerous.
Bo was beginning to struggle.
I reinforced his barrier and flooded him with strengthening spells while continuously healing Miranda, who had apparently decided that defensive positioning was optional.
At one point she charged directly into the centre of the horde simply because:
"It makes punching easier."
I genuinely feared she might be insane.
Belinda continued assaulting the statue relentlessly, but I could feel her residue reserves collapsing rapidly. I transferred some of mine into her again.
She shuddered violently.
"I hate this blessing…" she muttered.
Her voice trembled.
"I hate this place… I want to burn this entire lake."
I ignored the venom in her tone and focused on maintaining the party.
Another scream erupted from the statue.
This time, human.
Not monstrous.
Human.
The sound silenced the battlefield for a moment.
The statue's body cracked apart as jagged stone spikes erupted through its torso from within. Flesh peeled away in strips while black blood poured endlessly from its mouth.
Then, slowly—
It began falling apart.
Piece by piece.
Flesh by flesh.
The horde immediately became frenzied.
The monsters slammed themselves against Miranda and Bo with renewed madness. Belinda collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily while muttering curses toward the blessing itself.
I moved to help her—
Then froze.
Her residue was leaking out of her body.
Thin streams of energy drifted through the air toward the statues, where the remaining creatures inhaled it greedily through exposed wounds.
Even the residue I transferred into her vanished almost instantly.
I looked carefully.
A faint, already fading marking had appeared on the back of her hand.
So that was it.
The statues were feeding on her.
"Bo!" I shouted. "Do you have any ranged attacks?"
"No!"
Wonderful.
I turned back toward the battlefield.
Belinda was no longer capable of destroying the statues quickly enough.
Which meant—
I would have to try.
I raised my rifle slowly.
If ordinary bullets were insufficient, then I simply needed more power.
I began feeding residue into the weapon continuously.
And continued.
And continued.
The rifle started trembling violently in my grasp.
Then the singing began.
Soft at first.
Lonely.
Not the comforting songs of spirits.
These songs sounded abandoned.
Mournful.
The flames around the rifle shifted colour.
Crimson became pale blue.
Then deeper.
Then impossibly cold.
Faces appeared inside the fire.
Dozens of them.
Eyes closed.
Mouths open in silent hymns.
I should have been disturbed.
Instead—
I felt calm.
No.
Not calm.
Satisfied.
These flames were not frightening.
They were servants.
Lonely servants yearning to fulfil their purpose.
And at the end of my rifle stood a fool awaiting execution.
The moment that thought crossed my mind—
The rifle fired on its own.
The sound was not a gunshot.
It was a whistle.
A long, sorrowful whistle echoing across the lake.
The bullet struck the statue.
Blue flames exploded outward instantly.
But unlike ordinary fire, these flames embraced.
Arms formed from the blaze itself wrapped around the statue lovingly, pulling it into a tender, burning embrace.
The creature convulsed harder than before.
The smiling faces within the flames pressed themselves against its body as if comforting it.
Or consuming it.
Perhaps both.
The statue screamed soundlessly while the flames held it tighter.
Tighter.
Tighter.
Until finally—
It collapsed.
Its body crumbled into ash and burnt flesh.
And somehow…
Its ruined face carried a peaceful smile.
Silence returned.
Then I felt eyes upon me.
I looked toward the lake.
The Widow stared directly at me.
Only a single chain still bound her now.
Despite the stitches sealing her mouth, I knew she was smiling.
And without realising it—
I touched my own face.
I was smiling too.
A quiet chuckle escaped my lips.
Warm.
Satisfied.
Almost affectionate.
For reasons I did not understand at all.