Pain.
These lesser howlers were fueled by pain.
"Hah…"
Seven tightened his grip on the worn-out sword, his gaze darting between the two howlers that circled him.
Their eyes gleamed with hunger, and low growls rumbled in their throats as they bared their jagged fangs.
The third howler, despite its fresh wounds, was far from defeated and went straight for Lythian. Again.
'Think.'
The two howlers circling Seven rushed simultaneously, coming from opposite angles.
He knew he couldn't block or dodge both incoming attacks at once. His body was already aching, and his aura reserves dwindled.
'Fudge this.'
Instead of retreating, he lunged forward.
One of the howlers swiped at him, and its claws flashed in the dim forest light. But at the last second, he twisted his torso and he narrowly slipped past the attack.
Pain flared as the howler's claws grazed his shoulder, tearing fabric and flesh alike.
But Seven didn't stop.
Using the momentum, he extended his left hand and released a thin, glowing thread of aura.
Like a yarn, the aura thread curled around the hind legs of the second howler just as it leaped.
'Got you…'
He clenched his fist.
Instantly, the thread solidified from mere energy to an unbreakable cord. With a sharp pull, he yanked the howler mid-air and sent it crashing into the first one.
A growl echoed as both beasts tumbled into a heap of limbs and snapping jaws.
"Hah…"
Seven exhaled, adjusting his mask, feeling the sting of his fresh wound.
The technique wasn't from the novel. It was just a gamble inspired by cultivation novels.
A gamble that worked.
Had it failed, he would be dead by now.
Growl.
The two howlers scrambled back to their feet, their growls deepening into again, guttural-like snarls.
But this time, instead of focusing on him, they turned to Lythian.
"Son-ji!"
Seven yelled to alert him.
Lythian barely managed to roll away as the first howler lunged. He winced in pain. His wounds were healing, but much slower than before. His aura reserves were also running dry, and he no longer had his daggers as every single one had been buried uselessly in the thick hide of the howlers.
They weren't winning this fight.
Seven knew it.
These creatures had infinite stamina. Even if Lythian couldn't die, even if he was immortal, it didn't mean he could fight forever.
His gaze flicked to the sword in his grip that was cracked and barely holding together, looking like one more strike and it would shatter.
Step.
His foot landed next to something leaning against a tree.
An old, rusted shovel.
He picked it up without hesitation.
The moment he did, the three howlers surged toward Lythian. Seven grit his teeth, assessing his options.
Throw.
Seven hurled his broken sword.
It spun through the air and embedded itself into the eye of the nearest howler. Yet it barely staggered.
"Fuck."
Lythian cursed, still backing away. His hands itched for weapons, but there were none.
Seven lifted the shovel.
Lythian saw it and immediately extended his hand, wordlessly demanding it.
Without hesitation, Seven tossed it to him.
Lythian caught it mid-air. The weight was heavier than he expected, but he adjusted. This wasn't an ideal weapon, but he was familiar with it.
After all, he had already dug two graves, Iria and the Archduke. Thus it is a lot better compared to fighting bare-handed.
Aura flared around him as he launched forward.
One—two—three—four strikes.
Each one landed on the same howler, and its shoulder buckled from the force. The final blow sent it stumbling.
But before he could follow up, the second howler appeared faster than expected.
'Fuck…'
Lythian barely had time to react.
He grit his teeth, knowing he wouldn't make it.
But before the howler's claws could reach him, Seven crashed into its side, tackling it to the ground.
"Urgh—"
Seven groaned, feeling like he had just slammed into a brick wall. His arms burned from the impact.
"We need to go."
"Took you long enough to realize."
Lythian spat blood to the side as he already shifted his body toward the treeline.
Seven turned on his heel and sprinted.
Lythian leaped from branch to branch with the same pace as Seven on the ground.
Growl.
The howlers recovered instantly.
With a chorus of chilling snarls, they launched into pursuit.
Thud! Thud!
Their heavy paws pounded against the ground, and their breath formed a smoke against the cold forest air.
Trees blurred past as Seven and Lythian weaved through thick trunks and gnarled roots.
The howlers were gaining momentum, and the distance between them was getting shorter.
"Faster!"
They burst into a clearing. A wooden post stood at the entrance, a torch burning atop it—but instead of the usual orange flame, the fire flickered an eerie green.
Seven didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the torch and threw it behind him, directly in the path of the pursuing howlers.
Halt.
The three howlers skidded to a stop so abruptly that dirt kicked up around them.
Seven, too, nearly lost his footing from the sudden stop.
Growl.
The howlers refused to step forward. They paced back and forth just beyond the flickering green torch.
Something was stopping them.
Seven frowned, following their gaze.
That's when he saw it.
A village.
Nestled deep in the forest, barely visible behind thick foliage, stood a collection of wooden houses. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and faint lantern lights illuminated the narrow pathways between buildings.
The air felt… different here.
The howlers refused to approach any further.
"What the fuck…"
Lythian panted as watched the howlers slowly backed away. His wounds were still healing, but his body sagged from exhaustion.
Growl.
The howlers, after one last growl, retreated into the forest.
Seven didn't lower his guard. Something about this place kept the monsters at bay.
But whether that was a good or bad thing…
Step.
He took a step forward, gripping his wounded side.
For now, they needed to recover.
"Shovels suit you better than daggers."
"Fucker…"
Step.
As they took a few steps inside the village, a pair of familiar eyes caught sight of them.
A young boy and his older sister stood nearby, watching with curiosity. It was the boy back in the entertainment district who cried after his ice cream fell onto the ground.
"Granny! Granny! There are visitors!"
His sister, more composed, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder with a small smile tugged on her lips.
"Quiet, don't be rude."
Step.
An elderly woman soon emerged from one of the houses, her gaze settling on Seven.
She studied him for a long moment, until she finally recognized him.
"Oh… it's you! The kind young man!"