BADAGUINBIR
The ground trembled as the snow broke beneath them, a suffocating haze of white obscuring the air. Bada's focus had been locked on her opponent—the pot-helm woman—when a dreadful sound like bones snapping in succession came along. Bada turned, her gaze sharp, and froze at the sight before her.
A creature hunched over a mangled body just behind El Ritch, feeding on the body with grotesque fervor. She couldn't tell if the body belonged to the boy he had fought or another unlucky participant. She didn't even know El Ritch was alive or not, at that moment.
The creature was an abomination—a monstrous amalgamation of flesh and bone, its gut hanging loose, its limbs twisted backward in a way that defied nature. Upon noticing them, it raised its head, snarling and screeching, bowing its horrific form to pounce.
"A beast here?" the pot-helm woman exclaimed, her voice a mixture of shock and confusion.
Before Bada could respond, the pot-helm woman's left arm was torn away in a flash of movement.
There was another.
The second amalgamation burst from the snow to her side, its jaws dripping with the blood of its last kill. It screeched as it turned to them, its intentions clear. The second beast had struck the pot-helm woman in the blink of an eye, its jagged claws ripping through her left arm with a sickening tear.
Her blood splattered across the snow as she staggered back, her severed limb hitting the ground with a muted thud.
The pot-helm woman gave a grunt of pain but didn't falter, her body trembling as she tried to stem the bleeding from the gory stump where her arm had been. She was Bada's enemy—had been, moments ago—but now?
An ally.
Bada acted on instinct, swinging the blade in her right hand with precision, unleashing a silver arc that cleaved through the creature's malformed body, splitting it in half. The abomination writhed for a brief moment before falling limp, its grotesque limbs twitching in death.
How...? It was weak...Bada didn't have the time to think about that now.
"Jol!" Bada roared, and her companion was already moving.
The amalgamation in front of El Ritch pounced, aiming to finish the boy's unconscious form after the mangled body. Jol snapped his fingers, swapping places with El Ritch just as the creature's claws tore through the space where the boy had lain.
Jol stumbled back, steadying himself as he faced the beast. It lunged at him again, but this time, Jol was ready. He drove his fist into its twisted jaw—or what could be called its jaw—and sent it crashing into the snow.
"The boy—check him!" Bada barked at the man with the shortsword.
The man nodded, kneeling beside El Ritch's body, pressing his ear to his chest. A tense silence followed before he shouted, "Alive!"
Relief swept over Jol's face, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. It was enough to make Bada grit her teeth. This is not the time to drop your guard.
Bada bent down, scooping up a handful of snow and coating it with mana, turning it into a makeshift weapon. "Jol!" she roared again, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Jol snapped his fingers without hesitation, swapping himself with the enchanted snowball just as the beast pounced again.
The amalgamation collided mid-air with the snowball, its momentum carrying it into the ground. Jol reappeared beside Bada, his grin wide despite the situation. He had been grabbing her hand where the snowball had been, His hands are warm... she let it go as quickly as he'd taken it.
The man with the shortsword jogged over, El Ritch's limp form in his arms. He handed the boy off to Jol, his expression grim but resolute.
"I am grateful for you saving Nada," he said, bowing slightly to Bada.
Bada returned the gesture, her expression unreadable. Gratitude wasn't something she was used to receiving so she simply bowed instead of being able to say anything.
As the group regrouped, the battlefield quieted, save for the faint groans of the defeated amalgamations.
"Let's move," Bada said sharply, her eyes scanning the trees. "Fast!"
She was certain more would come.
____________
The snow beneath her feet felt heavier, as if it was pulling her down.
Walking for about a minute or two her eyes widened with the weight of the scene before her. Bada's eyes widened, and for a moment, the world blurred. Agun and Misti.
Her gaze fell on Agun's mutilated body first. His limbs were torn apart, scattered haphazardly like discarded toys. His exposed back was shredded, the flesh hanging in jagged strips, and his intestines spilled from his torso, staining the snow a deep crimson. His head was missing, his identity erased in the most grotesque way imaginable.
Behind him lay Misti, her body no less horrific. Her face was unrecognizable, torn through until only the raw muscles of her cheeks and jaw remained. One of her eyes was gouged out, leaving an empty socket, while the other dangled grotesquely from its sinew. Her limbs had been ripped away, her bow lying nearby in shattered, blood-soaked pieces. The stench of death was overpowering, the unmistakable foulness of excrement after their death had leaked out. Agun was in a position covering her body as if protecting her. His death was painful, everybody could see.
Jol stepped forward, his usually playful demeanor absent as he looked down at their corpses. His face was impassive, but Bada could feel the tension radiating from him. The others—Nada and the man with the short sword—stayed silent, their presence almost ghostly. Even the distant screeches of the beasts seemed to fade away as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
The world had stopped entirely.
Bada facing such emotions again where she couldn't be expressive made her grit her teeth. It was dreadful, both the scene and what she had been feeling.
"Let's go," Jol said softly, his voice devoid of its usual vitality. There was no hesitation in his steps as he turned, and they all followed without a word.
They found shelter in a small den-like alcove, just large enough to keep them hidden. No fire was lit; it would only invite death. The air was thick with tension as they crouched in the dark, trying to piece together what had happened.
"It wasn't a silver-grade beast," Nada, the pot-helm woman muttered, her voice low but strained. "Even a gold-grade beast wouldn't kill them like this. Not outright." She paused, her eyes darting toward the forest as a branch snapped in the distance.
Everyone froze, their breathing shallow, their bodies tense.
Minutes passed like hours, but nothing came. Nada exhaled slowly, then continued, "It had to be... a special-grade beast."
Her words hung in the air like a death sentence.
A special grade means destined death, there is no escape unless it is killed. They have been marked by now, at least.
The man with the short sword worked quietly beside her, changing her blood-soaked bandages. He applied ointment first, his movements precise but hurried, before binding her wound tightly with warm cloth. The ointment was to clear of the beast's saliva, to prevent any infection from forming over her amputated arm.
"I will at least take one of them with me," Jol said suddenly, his voice breaking through the silence like a hammer clanging on an anvil. "The one that killed Agun and Misti—"
Bada didn't let him finish.
In a flash, she grabbed him by his collar, pulling him close. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough weight. "Who the hell do you think you are?" She needed to remind him of the reality.
Jol's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.
"If Agun and Misti couldn't do it, what makes you think you can?" she hissed, her tone biting. "Make it make sense, Jol. You're not invincible, no matter what tricks you've got up your sleeve. We need to survive first."
For a moment, they locked eyes. Jol's bravado faltered, his expression crumbling under the weight of her words.
Bada released him, her hands trembling as she stepped back. "We don't have the luxury of pride right now," she said, her voice softening but no less firm. "We stick together, or we all die. That's the only choice we've got."
Jol looked away, his jaw clenched, but he nodded.
El Ritch, laid beside him curled up in the cold. The cold was certain cause of death if not the beasts. They cannot lit up a fire and if they did, they would risk provoking a special grade beast. They could now only depend upon the manager and the chief.