Alastor ran as fast as he could through the thick jungle. Weaving between trees and branches while ignoring every small cut from the ones he didn't manage to avoid.
"There it is! Get that bastard!" A shout laced with utter hatred and malice reverberated throughout the forest.
Alastor dared to look back for a moment. He saw torches, dozens of them quickly approaching him and that gave him another surge of energy as he doubled his pace.
"Dammit," Alastor muttered to himself. How could he be so careless? It was supposed to be a simple feeding session.
It all started when he laid his eyes upon a virgin noblewoman. Her desperate plea and longing for a night of passion was a beacon for him.
It was all going so well. He had just used his hypnosis on her to lure her to her home. From there, it was just a normal routine for him. Giving her kisses, playing with her boobs before the main course.
Yet, what he didn't take into account was her father. Just as his luck would have it, her father was an expert Hunter, a group of people who exclusively hunt the supernatural like him.
Before Alastor could even react, the father had already cast a binding spell on him, completely stripping Alastor of all his power.
It was due to his own nimbleness that Alastor was able to dodge an incoming swing of a sword aimed at his neck. From there, he was able to escape the house and into the dense forest that surrounded the tiny village.
From there on, he had been on the run as the father had amassed a group of armed villagers, eager to hunt him down.
"Close in on him!" Another voice roared, followed by the sound of heavy boots trampling through the underbrush.
Alastor clenched his jaw. His senses, dulled from the binding spell, still warned him of the approaching mob. The torches glowed brighter behind him, a stark reminder of the hunters' relentless determination. He couldn't afford to slow down, not now.
He cursed his arrogance. Feeding on a noblewoman, a virgin no less, was always risky, but her longing gaze and the thrill of such forbidden prey had been irresistible. He should have scoped and done his research on the woman first.
His ankle nearly twisted on a protruding root, nearly sending him sprawling. He caught himself against a tree and hissed in pain. Behind him, the voices grew louder, closer. Panic threatened to take hold, but he forced it down. There had to be a way out.
Think, Alastor. You've faced worse than this..
It was then his ears picked up the sound of rushing water. A river perhaps?
Without a second of hesitation, Alastor went to it, ignoring his own exhaustion that threatened to make him pass out.
When he reached the sound, his hope was dashed as while there is indeed a river, the water flowing was too fast for him to ever attempt to swim in it. If only he had his wings right now. He couldn't even get out of his own illusion that he cast on himself to seduce the noblewoman.
Taking a second to think of another way out, his mind was then flashed by another idea. His hand went to his pouch, searching for the item that would be his escape.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he found it. A scroll he had stolen from a mage some years ago. Not just any type of scroll but a teleportation scroll albeit a heavily damaged one.
The parchment felt reassuringly solid in Alastor's hand as he fumbled to unroll it. The intricate runes and symbols etched into its surface pulsed faintly in the dim moonlight.
He didn't have the time to admire the craftsmanship though as he could already hear the mob coming closer, their shouts barely muffled by the dense jungle.
"Please still work," He muttered under his breath.
His fingers trembled as he traced the activation symbol on the scroll, a circle of overlapping glyphs. It would magically take any magic from the user.
Yet, he hesitated as information of what could happen if one tries to use a damaged teleportation scroll resurfaced in his mind. From teleporting into an active volcano to even ending up in the sky up high, there were many, many such incidents that he had heard about.
But there was no other way. Either he takes his chances or is left at the mercy of the mob that is slowly encroaching who he is pretty sure is not going to give him a quick death.
Alastor gritted his teeth, every second he hesitated, his chance of escape became thinner and thinner. The mob's shout is like death itself, closing in with every passing second. He had no choice. Fate demanded he gamble.
He pressed his hand against the activation glyph. The scroll flared to life as an otherworldly blue light engulfed its surface as the runes writhed and shifted. The air around him hummed with energy, prickling his skin. He could feel the magic drawing from his own vitality, something he had no abundance of in his already weakened state.
A low, guttural groan emanated from the scroll. The runes pulsed erratically, the magic unstable and chaotic. Alastor's heart pounded in sync with the wild flickering. He clenched his jaw. No turning back now.
"It's trying to escape." Alastor looked behind him, the world seemed to slow down as the lead Hunter, the noblewoman's father himself, swung his sword. Alastor could do nothing as the tip of the sword inched ever closer to his vulnerable body.
Before it made contact, the teleportation scroll erupted in a brilliant flash, and the world seemed to implode around him as his last vision was of the enraged father's onyx eyes before he vanished.
His body felt like it was being torn apart and compressed at the same time, a sickening sensation that left his head spinning. There was no sound, no sense of direction. Just a blinding void filled with unimaginable colour that he can't describe.
Mercifully, his body and mind couldn't handle all of it anymore as he passed out, welcoming the pitch-black darkness.