CHAPTER 137: OWN THE VALLEY

The tension froze in the basin’s humid air.

The boar’s rumble echoed like a primitive war drum, making the mud vibrate beneath their feet. There was no longer any retreat.

Maggie moved first. In a fluid motion, she spun her flail-halberd, the cold metal describing a silent arc in the heavy air. It wasn’t an attack, but a declaration: she was ready. At that same moment, the boar answered with a furious hoof strike, sending a spray of mud flying.

Élisa raised her free hand. Her stigma pulsed, a fleeting emerald glow rippling across her skin. The lance, still hovering near her, vibrated and locked into a javelin stance, aimed at the bloodshot eye of the monster. Dylan, on the right flank, took a low guard with his jian, his muscles tense despite the dull ache in his chest. His breathing was a controlled rasp.

The boar charged.

It wasn’t a reckless lunge, but a devastating surge — a grey mass hurled forward at terrifying speed for its size. The ground trembled. Maggie pivoted, using the momentum of her weapon to sidestep, narrowly avoiding the frontal impact. Élisa’s lance shot forward like lightning, aiming for the throat. But just a few meters from the beast, something strange happened. The air around the boar rippled, like above a fire. Élisa’s lance veered suddenly, as if striking an invisible, gelatinous wall, and embedded itself with a dull thud into the meaty shoulder instead of the intended throat.

A roar of pain and fury tore through the air, but the boar didn’t slow. It spun, its small red eyes locking on Maggie as she repositioned. She raised her weapon, ready to split the massive skull.

As Maggie stepped within three meters of the wounded beast, her world shifted.

The boar’s outline blurred, doubled, tripled. The muddy ground seemed to liquefy, undulate beneath her feet. Distant rocks began to dance, their shapes warping like in a funhouse mirror. A sudden nausea twisted her stomach, and her vision blurred with involuntary tears. Her strike, carefully calculated, swung through empty air, the weight of her weapon pulling her off balance.

"Its presence... it distorts vision!" Élisa shouted, understanding instantly. Her own stigma throbbed harder, sending painful waves of heat with each pulse from the creature. She could feel the air thickening, that dense aura warping reality. "Don’t get close! Stay at range!"

The boar, seeing Maggie disoriented and blinded by hallucinations, charged again, its yellowed tusks aimed at her flank. Maggie blinked furiously, trying to dispel the phantom images, but it was like looking through a waterfall. She caught a grey blur, multiple and menacing, coming from her left... or was it her right?

A flash of steel sliced through her warped vision. Dylan, still at a distance and less affected by the distortion, had lunged. His jian didn’t strike the tough hide, but scraped violently against the side of a tusk, deflecting the charge just enough for Maggie to throw herself backward in a rough roll. The blade vibrated in Dylan’s hand, drawing a grunt of pain, but the move had worked.

"Thanks!" gasped Maggie, getting to her feet, shaking her head to regain clear sight. The boar’s aura still lingered, a thick mental fog, but now she understood its effect and could begin to counter it. She backed away several steps, out of the core of the distortion. The world regained some stability, though the boar’s outline still shimmered faintly.

Élisa seized the opportunity. Focusing all her will, she ignored the burning itch of her stigma and the warped image of her target.

Her lance, still lodged in the beast’s shoulder, twisted abruptly with a gruesome crunch of flesh and tendon, then yanked free in a spray of black blood, returning whistling to her hand.

The boar let out a raw cry, a beastly agony that made the reeds along the riverbank tremble. It turned toward Élisa, its eyes brimming with pure hatred.

"Now!" Élisa shouted. "Dylan, left flank! Maggie, keep your distance—aim for the legs!"

They had no choice but to harass it from range, staying just outside the aura’s reach. Dylan, despite his exhaustion, dodged a charging swipe as the boar turned on Élisa, then slashed at the back-left leg with his jian. The blade cut in, but not deep enough to sever the tendon. Maggie, holding her position five meters back, spun her flail-halberd and brought it crashing down. The weapon’s weight struck the front-right knee with a sharp crack of splitting bone.

The beast staggered, letting out a shocked, pained grunt. Its aura flickered, the visual distortion softening noticeably. This was their moment... and they would take it.

Élisa, face taut with effort, raised both hands. Her lance and three heavy stones from the nearby earth lifted into the air, wrapped in a trembling emerald glow. She hurled them forward like ballistae—aiming at the neck, the eyes, the wounded side.

The boar, blinded by rage and pain, tried one last charge, but its injured leg buckled. It stumbled heavily, taking the full impact of the psychic projectiles. The lance drove deep into its neck, near the first wound. A burst of hot blood erupted. The stones slammed home with heavy thuds, one of them crushing an eye.

A horrifying gurgle rose from its throat.

It collapsed onto its side, legs thrashing convulsively in the mud. Its aura of distortion snuffed out instantly, like a candle in wind.

The world turned sharp again, relentless and clear.

The creature still breathed, bubbles of blood forming at its nostrils, but the light in its one remaining eye was fading fast. The power that had radiated from it, that ancient, black pressure, began to vanish like smoke.

Silence fell once more, heavy, as if the valley itself held its breath.

The boar lay motionless, its side still heaving in erratic spasms. Maggie stepped closer cautiously, weapon raised, but the beast no longer had the strength to rise. It was only a massive pile of dying flesh, still trembling with a life leaking from every wound. She placed a hand on her weapon’s shaft, exhaled—then, with a clean strike, drove the blade into its throat, ending it.

There were no cries.

No celebration.

Just a shared breath of relief.

They were still alive.

Dylan collapsed to his knees in the mud, his jian planted like a cane, gasping. His white stigma pulsed faintly, but at least he was still standing.

Élisa approached the carcass slowly, like approaching an altar. Her hands still trembled from overexertion, but her gaze was steady. With trained precision, she placed a hand on the beast’s massive chest—right where its spiritual veins converged.

Her green stigma flared, and after a few seconds of focus, something flared beneath the flesh.

The skin split open, revealing a harsh, reddish light. From the wound emerged the anima gem, as big as a fist and pulsing with an alluring essence.

"It’s still full..." Élisa murmured. "This thing didn’t even use it all."

Maggie nodded. "Good. We’ll need it."

She knelt and pulled a dagger from her pack. Without ceremony, she began skinning the corpse. The boar’s hide, as tough as ancient leather, gave way easier than expected. The goal wasn’t to take everything—but to harvest what could nourish, repair, or be crafted. Tendons, thick hide from the flanks, intact bones. The parts were quickly sorted into two packs.

Dylan, still kneeling but alert now, finally caught his breath. He wiped his jian on the wet grass and mud, then watched their movements with a mix of fatigue and pride. They didn’t waste a second. Like a pack.

The sky above remained grey and low, but the air had lifted.

The beast’s aura had long since vanished — and for a brief moment, the valley was theirs.