The forest closed in around them—dark, grim, as if woven from the night itself. Tree branches interlaced overhead like a dense canopy, nearly blotting out the last glimpses of the evening sky. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth, rotting leaves, and something more sinister. Shadows danced across ancient bark, twisting the trees into writhing demons watching the intruders.


    Kairon and Tamion ran, barely slowing their pace. The ground beneath them was sodden from recent rain, each step accompanied by a muted squelch. The forest lived its eerie life: an owl hooted somewhere distant, a branch snapped, yet nothing moved in sight. Only the two of them—hunters pursuing their prey.


    The shapeshifters'' tracks were clear but erratic, as if the creatures had veered wildly to evade pursuit. Mud caked in their paws left dark smears, making the trail easy to follow—at first. But the deeper they went, the more the tracks blurred, lost in the chaotic patterns of the forest floor.


    Then, the trail vanished entirely. The forest fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by Kairon’s steady breathing and Tamion’s ragged gasps.


    Tamion stopped abruptly, teeth clenched. His whole body trembled—not from exhaustion, but fury. He crouched, fingers digging into the wet earth, desperate for any sign of their quarry.


    "Are you going to help?!" he nearly shouted, barely containing his rage.


    Kairon slowly turned his gaze to him, one brow arched.


    "Do you really want to keep chasing? We don’t know where this leads. We don’t know if there’s an ambush. And I’m certainly not risking my neck for a dead fool and your childish thirst for vengeance."


    Tamion stiffened. His eyes burned.


    "Choose your next words carefully, Kairon. I wield a blade as well as Malrian ever did."


    Kairon smirked.


    "That’s something we’ll never get to test."


    That was the last straw. Tamion’s fist shot out before he could think.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    <hr>


    The punch landed hard against Kairon’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He blinked, wiped blood from his lip, then calmly drew his weapon.


    Silence hung thick between them. Only their ragged breaths cut through it.


    Then they lunged.


    Steel flashed under the moonlight, blades meeting with a metallic shriek. Every strike was lethal, every step precise. Kairon moved economically, deflecting attacks with minimal effort, as if testing Tamion’s resolve.


    Tamion fought with aggressive fury, his movements fast but slightly wild—fueled by rage. He struck again and again, but Kairon parried each blow with icy precision.


    Then Kairon seized an opening. A quick step forward, a flat strike against Tamion’s sword—and the weapon flew from his grip, sinking into the mud.


    Tamion froze for a heartbeat.


    Instead of retreating, he snatched a handful of mud with his left hand and hurled it. Kairon sidestepped easily.


    "Missed," he began—


    But a second clump, hidden in Tamion’s right hand, smacked wetly into Kairon’s face.


    Kairon crashed onto his back. Tamion was on him instantly, pinning him down. His fist slammed into Kairon’s face. Once. Twice. A third time.


    Only when he saw blood seeping from Kairon’s split brow did Tamion pause, chest heaving. He drew a dagger and pressed it to Kairon’s throat.


    Now, the forest was utterly silent. Just two warriors in the mud, one holding the other’s life on a knife’s edge.


    Kairon, still eerily calm, murmured:


    "Will you kill me, Tamion?"


    Tamion said nothing.


    Kairon smirked through bloodied lips.


    "The mud trick... Not bad. You were always the best of that guild rabble. But your loyalty to the team will get you killed one day."


    "I don’t feel excessive empathy for the team, Kairon. It’s pragmatic—training new recruits takes too long."


    Kairon chuckled.


    "Honestly? I don’t give a damn what happens to them. But you’ll face a choice one day: stay human, or save the world. I’ve already chosen."


    He let that hang in the air, then added:


    "And don’t forget who taught you to fight."


    Tamion’s grip faltered—just for a heartbeat.


    Kairon spat blood into his face.


    Tamion flinched—and Kairon twisted, seizing the knife.


    Tamion went rigid.


    Kairon prodded his wound, gave Tamion a long look, then casually tossed the blade aside.


    "We’re returning to camp. And lest anyone forget—I lead this squad."


    Tamion wiped blood from his face and said nothing. He followed in silence, leaving behind the dark forest where the shapeshifters’ trail had vanished.


    The darkness thickened. But the choices they’d made tonight would linger far longer.