The ground continued to rumble beneath the villagers' feet, the tremors growing more violent with each passing second. Small stones bounced along the cobblestone paths, and the wooden homes creaked ominously, their frames groaning under the strain. A few shingles broke loose, crashing to the ground with dull thuds. Some villagers clutched their weapons so tightly that their hands shook, the cold sweat of terror dripping from their brows as they stared at the creatures that had emerged from the forest.
The Blood Moon, swollen and malevolent, hung high in the sky, casting its sickly crimson light over everything. The shadows it created seemed to come alive, twisting and writhing as though the night itself was conspiring with the monstrous creatures before them. The village square, usually a place of gathering and safety, now felt like the stage of their imminent doom.
Inside one of the homes, the faint sound of muttering could be heard. A group of elderly and handicapped villagers, those too frail or injured to fight, had gathered together. They huddled in the dimly lit room, their faces gaunt and pale with fear. Some clutched rosaries or charms, beads of sweat running down their wrinkled faces as they prayed quietly to gods they hadn't spoken to in years. The room smelled of wax and burning herbs, the faint flicker of candles casting nervous shadows across the walls.
One of the men, his leg mangled from a hunting accident years ago, sat with his head bowed, his hands trembling as he whispered, "Please... keep us safe... keep them away from us." Beside him, an elderly woman clutched a wooden cross, her eyes closed tightly as she rocked back and forth, whispering a prayer in a voice so soft it was barely audible over the tremors outside. The fear was suffocating, thick in the air, mingling with the scent of fear sweat and the smoke from the candles. But no matter how hard they prayed, no matter how tightly they clutched their charms, deep down, they all knew the truth: no prayer could stop the monsters outside.
Inside the house, Nicolas clung to his mother, feeling her heart race beneath his small, fragile body. He had never felt fear like this. The world around him, usually so warm and familiar, now seemed foreign and hostile. The night, which had once been filled with the comforting sounds of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves, was now oppressive, the air thick with dread and anticipation. Nicolas didn't fully understand what was happening, but he could feel it—this was the first time he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him.
His wide eyes darted to the enormous beasts before him. They didn't look like animals, not really. They looked like something out of a nightmare. The bear Wesen in the center, the leader, was a towering monstrosity, its muscles so massive that its fur barely covered them. The moonlight caught on its blood-matted fur, and the smell of wet, rotting flesh seemed to drift from its direction. Its eyes, glowing with a sickly yellow hue, scanned the villagers hungrily, as if savoring the fear that radiated from them.
Nicolas' father, at the forefront of the group of hunters, stood his ground. His sword gleamed faintly in the blood-red light of the moon, but it looked pitifully small compared to the enormous claws of the bear Wesen. With every step the beast took, the ground quaked beneath its enormous weight, the sound of its massive paws hitting the earth like thunder. It was clear that this creature was beyond anything the villagers had ever faced. It wasn't just its size; it was the sheer power that radiated from its every movement. Each muscle rippled beneath its fur, each step deliberate and full of purpose.
The lead Wesen took another step forward, its snarl revealing rows of jagged teeth, sharp enough to snap bone in an instant. It lowered its head slightly, fixing its gaze on Nicolas' father and the hunters, as if daring them to make the first move. The smaller bears flanked it, growling softly, their eyes never leaving the villagers. They were lesser in size but no less terrifying, their twisted forms a grotesque mockery of the natural bears they had once been.
Suddenly, with terrifying speed, one of the smaller bear Wesen lunged forward. Its claws gleamed in the crimson light as they swiped through the air, catching one of the hunters off guard. The man let out a choked gasp as the claws raked across his chest, tearing through his armor and flesh with sickening ease. Blood sprayed into the air as he fell to the ground, his body twitching as life quickly drained from him. His sword clattered uselessly beside him, the weapon utterly insignificant against the beast that had slain him.
The other villagers screamed, the sound piercing through the thick night air. Nicolas' mother pulled him tighter, shielding his face from the sight, though the boy could still hear the horrifying sounds of the attack—the wet, sickening thud of claws hitting flesh, the agonized cries of the fallen hunter, and the growls of the creatures as they moved closer.
Another hunter, this one older and more experienced, rushed forward with a battle cry, his spear raised high. But the lead bear Wesen was faster. It moved with a speed that belied its massive size, its enormous paw striking the man in the side with a bone-shattering force. The hunter was flung through the air like a rag doll, his body crashing into the side of a nearby home with a sickening crunch. He slid to the ground, unmoving, his spear clattering uselessly beside him.
In the chaos, another villager fell. This time it was a young woman, her sword barely raised before the claws of one of the smaller Wesen tore into her. She let out a short scream before collapsing, her body limp and lifeless.
The village square was quickly turning into a blood-soaked battlefield. Bodies lay scattered on the ground, their blood pooling in the dirt as the bear Wesen continued their advance. The hunters, though brave, were no match for the raw power of the creatures before them.