"Run!" Nen shouts, already sprinting toward the entrance. The last hunter follows, his breathing ragged as his legs pump with adrenaline, the pounding of his boots echoing in the confined space.
Behind them, the creature moves with a horrifying agility, its two long legs skittering over the corpses as it gives chase.
The hunters don't dare look back, their focus solely on the faint light spilling in from the canopy's entrance ahead. The sound of the creature's claws scraping against the walls grows louder, closing the distance between them with every second.
Just as they burst out into the daylight, Nen stumbles, her body pitching forward as if her legs had simply given out. She tries to push herself up but collapses again, her arms trembling as she glances down.
Her breath catches in her throat at the sight—her legs are gone, severed at the thighs.
Blood pours from the ragged stumps, soaking the ground beneath her as she stares in horror, the sharp edges of her bones visible beneath the shredded flesh.
Her mind struggles to catch up, her body already weakening as the pain begins to bloom. The realization hits her like a blow and her head snaps up toward the last hunter, her eyes wide with panic.
Before she can say a word, the creature looms over her, its shadow engulfing her before her head rolls on the ground.
The last hunter bolts through the tunnel, his boots pounding against the uneven ground as the creature's high-pitched hums echo behind him.
The narrow walls seem to close in and every scrape of its bladed arms against the stone sends a jolt of terror down his spine. He can feel its presence bearing down on him, the vibration of its steps so close it feels as though it's breathing down his neck.
His heart thunders in his chest, his legs burning with effort but he forces himself forward.
The light of the exit spills ahead. The headless corpse lay next to it. With one final, desperate burst of speed, he launches himself through the opening and into the forest beyond.
He stumbles to the ground, rolling into a crouch just in time to see the creature's jagged head emerge from the hole, its glowing eyes locked onto him.
Without hesitation, he sprints out of the canopy, pushing himself to move as fast as his legs will carry him, his only focus on escaping the canopy.
A second creature's head appears, its serrated antennae twitching violently as the two emit a series of high-pitched hums that pierce the hunter's ears.
The sounds alternate in bursts, like a morbid conversation, their tones sharp and rhythmic. Without warning, one of the creatures descends back into the hive, disappearing into the shadows below.
The remaining creature slowly crawls out of the hole, its bladed arms clicking as it pulls itself into the open air. As the creature sets its gaze on its prey it begins its pursuit with slow movements, as if savoring the hunt.
The last hunter stumbles through the forest, his breaths ragged and uneven as he runs through. Every step feels heavier, exhaustion dragging at his limbs but the faint glow of the encampment's fire spurs him onward.
The sounds of the forest blur around him, every rustle and snap sending jolts of fear through his chest, though no immediate sound of pursuit follows.
He bursts into the clearing, his legs finally giving out as he collapses to his knees, dirt smearing his palms. The hunters by the fire snap to attention, weapons drawn as they rush toward him, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm.
"Thaxil!" he shouts as he gasps for air, his voice hoarse and strained as he lifts his head to meet their gazes.
"The argalias—they are gone!" His body trembles as he fights to speak, his words tumbling out in breathless fragments.
He struggles to his feet, staggering toward the hunters rushing to meet him.
Just as hope flickers in his eyes, a sudden, searing pain erupts in his chest, stealing his breath. His knees buckle and he collapses, clutching at the unbearable agony as blood begins to seep through his fingers.
The hunters freeze mid-step, their faces twisting in alarm as they instinctively draw their weapons.
"That's not—" he tries to speak, but the words die in his throat as his head is yanked upward.
A sickening crack echoes through the clearing, followed by the wet slice of a blade severing flesh. His lifeless body crumples to the forest floor, his head rolling free, the scene punctuated by the dreadful silence that follows.
The creature looms over the now lifeless corpse, its bladed limbs motionless as it waits in eerie stillness, anticipating the hunters' next move.
Ark charges forward, his hammer raised high as he closes the gap between him and the creature.
With a roar, he swings the massive weapon in a wide arc, the force splitting the air with a deafening crack. The Thaxil reacts instantly, its lean frame flowing with inhuman precision to evade the blow.
The hammer smashes into the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt and debris but the creature is already moving, its serrated limbs glinting in the firelight as it darts toward one of the other hunters.
Trevent fires a volley of arrows but the creature moves like a shadow.
Each arrow is dodged with unsettling ease, the Thaxil weaving between the projectiles with almost mocking agility.
It lunges at Trevent, its bladed arm slicing through his bow as if cutting thread. Trevent stumbles back, drawing a short sword just in time to deflect a follow-up strike but the impact sends him sprawling to the ground.
Lysa attempts to flank it, her daggers flashing in the light as she moves with speed.
She strikes low, aiming for its legs but the Thaxil leaps upward, twisting mid-air and landing behind her with terrifying grace.
Before she can react, its blades whips out, striking her across the ribs with the blunt ends and sending her crashing onto the floor. Gasping for breath, she struggles to rise as the creature turns its attention to the remaining hunters.
Ark bellows another war cry, his hammer arcing toward the Thaxil again but it anticipates the swing, ducking low and thrusting one of its bladed limbs upward.
Ark pivots just in time, deflecting the strike with the haft of his hammer but the force drives him back a step.
The third hunter, Osvald, charges from the side, wielding a long spear aimed at the creature's exposed flank.
The Thaxil pivots sharply, catching the spear with its forearm blade and snapping it in two with a swift motion.
It retaliates instantly, its other blade carving through the air toward Toran, who barely ducks in time. The creature doesn't relent, moving with an almost human intelligence, adapting to every move the hunters make.
The group circles the creature, their breaths heavy and their movements slower now.
Despite their combined efforts, every attack is anticipated, every tactic countered. The Thaxil shifts its weight, using its thin frame and serrated weapons with deadly efficiency.
Its eyes flick between them, calculating its next move as if the fight is merely a game it's destined to win.
The Thaxil's body is a blur of motion as it baits and counters each desperate strike.
Ark raises his hammer for another swing but the creature seems to sense the growing fatigue in the group, its movements becoming more deliberate, more confident.
It lets out a sharp, shrill hum through its antennae, almost mocking, as if signaling the end.
Suddenly, it coils low, its bladed limbs flexing and in one terrifying, fluid motion, it spins. The serrated blades slice through the air like a scythe, their arcs impossibly wide. Trevent's scream is cut short as the blade cleaves through his chest and spine, his body crumpling instantly.
Lysa is next, the weapon catching her mid-step, cutting clean from her shoulder to her stomach, her torso twisting unnaturally before she collapses.
Osvald barely has time to raise his broken spear before the blade slashes across his throat, a crimson spray erupting as he collapses to the ground. He writhes weakly, his hands clutching at the wound as blood pours through his fingers, each ragged gasp turning into a choking gurgle as his strength fades.
The creature steps forward, its serrated limbs clicking softly as it closes the distance between Ark and it.
Its eyes lock onto Ark, unblinking, as if calculating every possible move he might make.
Each step it takes is slow, almost methodical, the weight of its presence pressing down like a suffocating force. Blood drips from its blades, leaving a dark, wet trail in its wake, a silent reminder of the carnage it's already wrought.
Ark grips his hammer tightly as he watches the creature's every movement, sweat dripping down his brow. The creature tilts its angular head slightly, its antennae twitching, its entire posture exuding a terrifying calm as it prepares for the final strike.
Eska emerges from the shadows, her face no longer pale. Her blood-formed claws gleam faintly in the light.
With incredible stealth and speed, she plunges the crimson blades deep into the Thaxil, striking just below where its ribs should be. The creature jolts in shock as it lets out a shrill, piercing hum.
Staggering back, it clutches at the gaping wound, its movements erratic as if struggling to process the sudden pain. Ark doesn't hesitate—he surges forward with a roar, swinging his hammer with all his strength.
The weapon connects with the creature's head in a devastating blow, the sound of cracking carapace echoing through the clearing as the Thaxil collapses in a heap.