CHAPTER 60: WHILE HE SLEPT

The forest never slept.

Even as Avin lay still beneath stone and shadow, the night outside pulsed with life — the kind that breathed in blood and roared in hunger.

The wind carried the sound of footsteps.

Three figures moved cautiously through a clearing bathed in pale moonlight. The trees around them were enormous, their twisted roots breaking through the earth like the ribs of some buried titan. The air was thick, humid, heavy with the stench of decay — and something else. Something faintly acidic.

The leader — a man with silver armor dulled by ash — raised his hand, signaling his squad to stop. The ground was shifting.

Then came the tremor.

A faint vibration at first, like distant thunder. Then stronger. Louder. The soil cracked.

"Scorpion!" someone shouted.

The ground exploded in a hail of dirt and rock. A massive Abyss Scorpion erupted from beneath them, its black carapace glistening with dark oil. Its claws snapped, slicing through the nearest tree as if it were paper. Its tail — long, armored, ending in a serrated stinger — rose high into the air, gleaming under the moonlight.

The squad scattered.

A woman with dual daggers sprinted along the creature’s flank, her movements sharp and deliberate. The scorpion’s stinger lunged toward her — too fast — but she slid under it, slicing one of its legs as she passed. Sparks flew.

The scorpion screeched, slamming its claws into the ground, creating shockwaves that sent leaves spiraling upward. One man dove forward, planting his blade deep into the dirt to steady himself.

"Distract it!" the silver-armored leader shouted. "Aim for the tail!"

The daggerswoman leapt onto a boulder, flipping into the air as the tail lashed again. She twisted, barely dodging it — but her partner, the archer behind her, had already drawn back his bowstring. The arrowhead glowed faintly blue.

"Now!"

He released.

The arrow streaked through the air, faster than lightning, and struck the stinger dead center.

The Abyss Scorpion screamed — a horrible, metallic sound that made the trees quiver. It thrashed wildly, its tail spasming. The glowing green venom that had once dripped from its tip splattered uselessly onto the ground.

"Cut it off!"

The silver-armored leader dashed in, sword shimmering with faint light. He spun low, driving the blade upward in a clean, practiced motion. The tail fell to the ground with a wet thud.

The scorpion twitched, its stingerless tail curling in on itself. The three surrounded it, blades and magic flaring. Within seconds, the once-mighty predator was reduced to ash.

The air shimmered — a small, golden coin materialized above the remains before dissolving into the leader’s waistband.

"Two points," he muttered. "Not worth the sweat."

Farther north, where the trees grew denser and mist rolled like smoke between their roots, another battle raged — louder, faster, and far more chaotic.

A Millipede, vast and terrible, slithered between trees, its body glowing faintly under the moon. Its legs moved like a living current, carrying its enormous weight with horrifying speed.

Five players circled it.

One of them — a girl with long white hair and twin curved blades — spun her weapons in her hands like spinning discs of light.

"Keep it busy!" she shouted.

A man slammed his hammer against the creature’s side. The blow cracked several of its chitin plates, revealing the translucent tissue underneath. Green ichor spilled out, sizzling against the soil.

The white-haired girl’s eyes flared red.

"Let’s make this clean."

She leapt into the air — higher than seemed humanly possible — her blades glowing as she spun. In one instant, a dozen slashes crossed the beast’s length, clean and blindingly fast.

The millipede convulsed.

Then its body — hundreds of feet long — split apart, scattering into dozens of writhing sections.

The team backed away as the pieces began to move on their own.

"Wait," one shouted, "they’re—!"

Each severed piece twitched, convulsed, and then grew.

From every fragment, new heads sprouted — smaller, faster, just as vicious.

A dozen new millipedes burst into motion.

"Fall back!"

The white-haired girl grimaced. "So they split, huh? Then we burn them."

A mage in a cloak stepped forward, his hands swirling with flame. He slammed both palms into the earth, and from the cracks erupted a wall of fire that spread outward, sweeping the clearing.

The smaller millipedes screeched as their bodies ignited, green ichor boiling into smoke. The air filled with the scent of burning shell and venom.

When the fire died, the clearing was silent — charred remains smoldered on the ground, twitching before crumbling into ash.

The mage coughed. "That was disgusting."

The white-haired girl looked around. "No cores, huh? Guess no points for us this time."

But elsewhere — deeper still, where even moonlight dared not enter — another group faced the same monster, and this time they knew better.

Two men and a woman stood at the base of a cliff. Before them, a millipede as large as a building writhed, its many eyes reflecting torchlight like jewels.

One man, the smallest of the three, closed his eyes and whispered, "There — in its tenth segment. That’s the core."

"How do you know?" the woman hissed.

"I can see it. The glow. Trust me."

The other man — broad, muscular, carrying a blade the size of a door — grinned. "Then we cut our way there."

He charged.

The millipede screeched, its front legs slamming into the rock. He rolled beneath it, slicing through the creature’s side and carving a path through its scales.

The woman followed, her magic forming bright purple chains that lashed out and wrapped around the beast’s legs. Each chain sizzled like molten metal.

"Hold it steady!" the small man shouted. His eyes glowed faintly gold. He aimed his hand, forming a sphere of compressed energy.

The chains strained, the creature bucked, roaring in pain.

"Now!"

The energy shot forward, piercing through the wound the warrior had carved. There was a flash of light — blinding and silent — and then the beast went rigid.

Its body trembled once, twice... then collapsed, all its legs folding inwards like the petals of a dying flower.

The golden core rolled out of its body, pulsing faintly before fading.

"Seven points," the woman said softly, catching her breath.

They stood in silence as the air cleared, the forest returning to its eerie quiet.

And far away — at the very edge of the battlefield — something else moved.

A deep growl. A flicker of movement between trees.

A shape — large, sleek, and dark — prowled along the ridge.

A Dire Wolf.

Its fur shimmered silver under the moonlight, and from the twin horns atop its head glowed faint embers. Its breath came out as steam.

It watched the millipede’s corpse from afar, eyes intelligent and predatory. Then, with a low snarl, it vanished into the mist, leaving behind only the faint echo of its howl — a sound that rolled across the forest like thunder.

And still, somewhere beneath it all, Avin slept — his breathing calm, his body unaware of the monsters and the men who bled under the same moon.