The guard captain's sword crashed down with terrifying force, and Emmett barely managed to raise his blades in time to block the strike. The impact sent shockwaves through his arms, rattling his bones and forcing him to take a step back. He grit his teeth, struggling to maintain his balance as the captain's weight bore down on him.
"You won't get away," the captain snarled, his voice dripping with venom. His eyes burned with hatred, the same fire Emmett had seen in countless enemies before. But this time, there was something different—something personal.
Emmett shoved him back, breathing heavily, his heart racing in his chest. He knew he didn't have much time. The others were still fighting, blades clashing, bodies falling. The Viscount's daughter was only a few feet away, dazed and injured on the ground, surrounded by her remaining guards. She was the key. If he could just get to her—
Another arrow whistled through the air, narrowly missing Emmett's head. He spun, his eyes locking onto the archer in the distance. A shadowy figure stood on a boulder, already drawing another arrow and taking aim.
"Not this time," Emmett growled under his breath, sheathing one of his swords and reaching for a throwing knife. His fingers found the blade with practiced ease, and in one smooth motion, he hurled it toward the archer. The knife sailed through the air, catching the man by surprise. It hit him square in the chest, and he toppled backward off the rock, the arrow never leaving his bowstring.
Emmett turned back toward the captain, but before he could react, the man was already upon him. The captain's sword came down again, and this time, Emmett was slower. The blade sliced through the air, narrowly missing his side as Emmett twisted out of the way. He stumbled, his injured shoulder throbbing with pain, but there was no time to stop. No time to rest.
The captain lunged forward, his sword aimed for Emmett's heart. Emmett brought up both swords in a cross, catching the blade between them, but the force of the attack sent him skidding backward, his feet digging into the dirt. The captain grinned, his breath ragged, but full of confidence. He pressed harder, forcing Emmett back toward the edge of the road.
"You're outnumbered, outclassed, and out of time," the captain hissed. "Surrender, and I'll make your death quick."
Emmett felt the cold metal of the captain's sword pressing against his chest. He was running out of options. The edge of the cliff loomed behind him—he could feel the ground giving way under his heels. A few more steps and he'd be falling into the abyss below.
Then it clicked. Falling. That was his way out.
With a sudden burst of energy, Emmett pushed back with all his strength, breaking the deadlock. The captain stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Emmett didn't wait for him to recover. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent his second throwing knife flying toward the captain's face. The captain raised his arm to block, the blade slicing into his forearm, but the distraction was all Emmett needed.
He leapt backward off the cliff.
The captain's enraged shout echoed in Emmett's ears as he plummeted through the air. For a brief, terrifying moment, the world spun around him, the sky and the ground blurring together in a chaotic swirl. The wind roared in his ears, and his heart pounded in his chest, faster and faster.
This is insane. You're going to die. The thought flashed through his mind, but he pushed it aside. There was no room for fear. No room for hesitation. Not now.
He twisted midair, his eyes searching for something—anything—that could slow his fall. His hand shot out, grabbing hold of a thick vine that hung precariously from the cliffside. His body jerked to a halt, the vine cutting into his palms as he gripped it tightly. Pain shot through his injured shoulder, but he clenched his teeth, refusing to let go.
The ground was still far below, jagged rocks waiting like hungry jaws ready to devour him. He could hear the distant shouts of the guards from above, but their voices were drowned out by the sound of his own rapid breathing and the wind howling around him.
Emmett's grip on the vine faltered for a moment, his fingers slipping. His heart skipped a beat, panic flaring in his chest. He had to act quickly, or the vine would give way, and then there would be nothing to stop his fall.
With a grunt of effort, he swung his legs toward the cliffside, searching for any foothold. His boots scraped against the rough stone, and after a few agonizing moments, he managed to find a small ledge just wide enough to support his weight. He planted his feet firmly, releasing the vine and pressing his back against the cliff wall, breathing heavily.
He had made it. For now.
Emmett glanced up at the top of the cliff, where the guards were still peering over the edge. From this distance, they looked like little more than silhouettes, their voices indistinct murmurs on the wind. They hadn't seen where he landed, and for a moment, it seemed like they thought he had fallen to his death.
But Emmett knew better than to trust his luck. They would search for him. The captain wouldn't rest until he was dead.
The pain in his shoulder flared again, and Emmett winced, pressing a hand to the wound. Blood was still oozing from the arrow wound, and the throbbing was becoming unbearable. He needed to get out of here. Fast.
He glanced down at the drop below. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but it wasn't as far as he had initially thought. There was a path winding down the side of the cliff, hidden from the view of the guards above. If he could make it down without being spotted, he might just have a chance of surviving this.
No other choice, Emmett thought grimly. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and began to climb down the narrow path. Each step sent sharp pain through his shoulder, but he forced himself to keep moving, his eyes fixed on the ground below. One wrong step and he'd be nothing but a smear on the rocks.
The descent was treacherous, the cliffside slick with moisture and covered in loose stones. His boots slipped more than once, and he had to catch himself on the jagged rocks to avoid falling. His hands were bloody and raw from the effort, his arms trembling from the strain, but he couldn't stop. Not yet.
He had just reached a small ledge when a sound caught his attention. His heart skipped a beat as he froze, listening intently. The sound of footsteps. Above him.
They're coming.
Panic surged through him, his mind racing as he searched for a way out. The guards were closing in, their voices growing louder. If they found him here, trapped on this ledge, there would be no escape.
Think, damn it, think! He glanced around, his eyes landing on a small outcropping of rock a few feet away. It wasn't much, but it was enough to hide behind—if he could make it there in time.
With a deep breath, Emmett braced himself and leapt across the gap. His hands found the edge of the outcropping, and he pulled himself up just as the first guard appeared at the top of the path. He pressed his back against the stone, holding his breath, every muscle in his body tense as he waited.
The guards' voices were close now, their footsteps echoing off the cliff walls. Emmett could hear the scrape of metal against stone, the clink of armor as they moved. He didn't dare move, didn't dare even breathe.
"They're saying he's dead," one of the guards muttered. "Fell straight off the cliff."
The captain's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Don't be a fool. He's not dead until we find a body."
Emmett's heart pounded in his chest as he pressed himself tighter against the rock. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to stay still. The guards were just a few feet away now. One wrong move, one slip, and it would all be over.
The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. The guards searched the area above, their voices growing frustrated as they found nothing. Emmett's pulse raced with every sound, his body ready to spring into action if they came any closer.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the captain let out a low growl. "Spread out. He couldn't have gone far."
The guards moved away, their footsteps fading as they descended the path, leaving the ledge quiet once more. Emmett let out a shaky breath, his body sagging in relief.
But the danger wasn't over yet.
He had to keep moving. Every second he stayed here was a second closer to being caught. His mind raced as he considered his options, glancing down at the base of the cliff. The winding path was still the safest route, but the captain had spread his men out. They'd be searching the area soon enough.
Emmett glanced back up at the sky, the distant cries of the guards becoming faint. They still didn't know where he was. But that wouldn't last forever.
He gritted his teeth, his determination hardening. He had survived worse.
The pain from Emmett's shoulder throbbed, sharp and insistent, but he pushed it aside. He had survived too much to give up now. He glanced down the cliff again, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the distance to the bottom. The ground below was jagged, unforgiving, but there was no other way out. He had to reach the base before the guards spread out far enough to catch him.
Carefully, he edged along the narrow ledge, his boots slipping occasionally on the damp stone. His movements were slow, deliberate, every muscle in his body tense with concentration. The wind whistled around him, carrying the distant shouts of the guards as they searched the cliffside above. He was out of their sight for now, but it wouldn't last.
Stay focused. One step at a time.
He continued his descent, his fingers gripping every outcropping of rock, his eyes scanning for any sign of a safe path. The path below was treacherous, but it was his only hope. His hands were bloodied from the sharp stone, and his injured shoulder screamed in protest with every movement, but he kept going. There was no room for weakness here. Only survival.
The shouts from the guards above grew more distant, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cliff walls as they moved away from him. For a brief moment, Emmett allowed himself to hope. If he could just make it down to the bottom, slip into the forest—
His thoughts were cut short as his foot slipped on a patch of moss. He gasped, his body lurching forward as he lost his balance. His hands scrambled for a hold, his fingers catching on the jagged rocks just in time to stop his fall. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, all he could hear was the rush of his own breath.
Too close. Way too close.
He forced himself to focus, gripping the stone tightly as he continued his descent. The base of the cliff was closer now—just a few more feet, and he would be on solid ground again. He could already see the dense trees beyond, their shadows stretching out like dark sentinels. If he could reach the forest, he would be safe. The guards wouldn't follow him there. Not in the dark.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Emmett's boots touched solid ground. He exhaled a shaky breath, his body trembling from the effort of the climb. His shoulder burned with pain, and his muscles ached, but he had made it. He was alive.
He glanced up at the cliffside, but the guards were nowhere to be seen. They were still searching the upper levels, unaware that he had already escaped. He couldn't stay here, though. The moment they realized he was gone, they'd come looking. And they wouldn't stop until they found him.
Emmett staggered toward the trees, his legs heavy with exhaustion. The forest loomed ahead, its dark canopy a welcome refuge. As he stepped into the shadows, the cool air enveloped him, and for the first time since the battle had begun, he allowed himself a moment to breathe.
But the moment didn't last.
A sound—a low, guttural growl—echoed from the trees. Emmett froze, his body tensing as his hand instinctively went to the hilt of his remaining sword. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for the source of the sound.
Then, out of the shadows, a creature stepped forward.
It was massive, easily twice the size of a horse, with the body of a tiger and the face of a human. Its sharp claws gleamed in the dim light, and its glowing red eyes fixed on Emmett with a predatory gaze. A Shou—a mythical beast known for its incredible strength and cunning. Emmett had heard stories of these creatures, but he had never seen one up close.
Now, one was staring him down.
The Shou let out a deafening roar, its muscles rippling as it crouched, preparing to strike. Emmett's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. He was injured, exhausted, and out of options. But there was no escape now. He had to fight.
The beast lunged, its claws slashing through the air with terrifying speed. Emmett barely had time to react. He dove to the side, rolling across the ground as the Shou's claws tore through the space where he had been standing. The force of the attack sent debris flying, and Emmett winced as a sharp stone cut into his arm.
The Shou turned toward him, its eyes gleaming with hunger. It was toying with him, testing him, waiting for the right moment to strike again. Emmett gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his feet. His body screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. He couldn't afford to hesitate.
The Shou lunged again, its massive body moving with surprising agility. Emmett darted to the side, his sword flashing as he slashed at the creature's flank. The blade bit into the beast's flesh, and the Shou let out a furious snarl, but it wasn't enough to stop it.
Before Emmett could react, the Shou's claws raked across his side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain exploded through his body, and for a moment, his vision blurred. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to push himself up, but the weight of the battle was beginning to take its toll.
The Shou circled him, its glowing red eyes locked onto his every movement. Emmett's hand trembled as he gripped his sword, his muscles aching from the effort. He was running out of strength, and the beast knew it.
The Shou lunged again, its claws raised for the killing blow.
But Emmett was ready.
With a surge of desperation, he channeled what little Qi he had left into his legs, propelling himself upward. His body moved faster than it had any right to, his sword slicing through the air as he twisted to avoid the Shou's strike. The blade found its mark, cutting deep into the creature's neck.
The Shou let out a guttural roar, staggering backward as blood poured from the wound. Its eyes widened in shock, and for the first time, Emmett saw fear in the beast's gaze.
He didn't give it a chance to recover.
With a final burst of strength, Emmett lunged forward, driving his sword deep into the Shou's chest. The beast let out one last, pitiful roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive body twitching as it took its final breath.
Emmett stood over the creature, his chest heaving with exhaustion. His body trembled from the effort, his wounds throbbing with pain, but he had won. The Shou was dead.
For a moment, all was quiet. The forest, which had been filled with the sounds of battle, was now still. The only sound was the soft rustling of leaves and the distant calls of night creatures. Emmett allowed himself a small smile. He had survived.
But as the adrenaline began to fade, the full weight of his injuries hit him. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Blood oozed from the wounds on his side and shoulder, and his vision blurred as the darkness began to close in.
He couldn't pass out here. Not in the open. Not when the guards were still out there, searching for him.
With a groan of effort, Emmett forced himself to his feet, staggering toward the trees. His body screamed in protest, but he couldn't stop. Not now. He had to find shelter. Somewhere safe where he could tend to his wounds and rest.
He stumbled through the forest, his vision swimming as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. The world around him became a blur of dark shapes and shadows, but he kept moving, his mind focused on one goal: survival.
After what felt like hours, Emmett finally found a small hollow beneath the roots of an ancient tree. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He collapsed inside, his body trembling with exhaustion as he leaned back against the cool earth.
His hand went to his side, pressing against the wound. The bleeding had slowed, but he was still in bad shape. He reached into his pouch, pulling out a small vial of healing potion. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. With shaking hands, he uncorked the vial and downed the liquid in one gulp. The warmth spread through his body, dulling the pain and slowing the bleeding.
It wasn't enough to heal him completely, but it would keep him alive.
For now.
As the potion took effect, Emmett's eyelids grew heavy, and despite his efforts to stay awake, the exhaustion finally caught up with him. His head drooped, and before he could fight it, he slipped into unconsciousness.