The primordial beast's claws scraped against the tree with a force that sent vibrations through the trunk.
The beast was climbing with terrifying speed, its eyes fixed on Argolaith with a gleaming, predatory focus.
He knew he had mere moments before the beast reached him, and with his heart pounding, his thoughts raced to the only option left to him.
There was no more room for hesitation, no more time for second-guessing.
Argolaith gripped the branch beneath him with one hand, while his other reached for another dagger at his belt.
His fingers closed around the hilt, the cold metal comforting for just a second before he realized the gravity of his situation. The beast was fast, too fast for him to climb higher, and the distance between them was closing rapidly.
The creature's claws slashed at the bark beneath him, sending splinters flying, as it pulled itself up.
Its massive jaws snapped at the air, drooling with anticipation. With one final push, the beast lunged, its body twisting in mid-air, a blur of fur and rage.
Argolaith had no time to think. In one desperate motion, he threw himself sideways, twisting his body with the agility of a seasoned warrior.
His right arm shot forward, and the dagger found its mark—a clean strike to the creature's eye.
The beast howled in fury and pain, rearing back with an enraged roar, but its momentum was lost.
The primordial beasts claws scraped across the tree trunk, leaving deep gouges in the wood as it tried to regain its balance.
Argolaith did not wait to see if the beast would recover.
With his body, fueled by desperation and adrenaline, swung his legs upward and grabbed another branch. The moment his hands gripped the new hold, he pushed himself higher.
The beast, still blinded by the pain in its eye, was slower this time, snapping at the air and swiping wildly.
Argolaith's muscles burned from the effort of scaling the tree in such a short span of time, but his mind was sharp, and his senses were honed.
He didn't give the creature a chance to catch up. Instead, he climbed higher, using every ounce of strength in his limbs.
The canopy above was thick with leaves, and he forced himself to move faster, swinging his legs over branches and using them to propel himself upward.
The beast, too, was relentless. It clawed its way up, roaring with frustration.
As Argolaith neared the highest branches, he saw the primordial beasts claws sink deep into the bark just beneath him.
The beasts chest was heaving, its body heaving with exertion. Argolaith, his heart hammering in his chest, pulled out his final dagger from his belt.
His breathing was shallow, but he focused all his energy on the task ahead.
The creature lunged one more time, but this time Argolaith was ready. He twisted in the air, his body moving with the grace of a seasoned fighter.
He reached down, and with a swift, decisive motion, plunged the dagger into the beast's throat.
The creature's roar was silenced as its blood poured from the wound, staining the tree trunk below.
It struggled for a few more moments, claws scraping against the wood, but then it collapsed, its body going limp as it fell, lifeless, to the forest floor below.
Argolaith, his chest heaving with the exertion of the battle, hung from the branch for a few moments longer, catching his breath.
His heart was still racing, but the adrenaline that had fueled him through the fight was slowly ebbing away, replaced with a heavy weariness.
The fight had been brutal, and he knew he had barely survived. But it was over. The beast was dead, and he was still alive.
He allowed himself a moment of relief before he began the descent. His limbs were sore, and his body ached with the effort of the climb and the fight.
Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he pushed through it. He had no time to waste.
The creature's body lay crumpled below, a reminder of the dangerous forces that inhabited this forest.
Argolaith felt a twinge of pity for the creature—it had only been defending its territory, just as he had been. But survival came first.
As he made his way down the tree, his mind wandered back to his mission. The mountain was still ahead, looming in the distance like a silent sentinel, and his journey was far from over.
He had learned much from the fight—the importance of remaining calm under pressure, of using his surroundings to his advantage, and of trusting his instincts.
But there was still much to be done. He had come too far to stop now.
He landed lightly on the forest floor, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth.
The sun was high in the sky, though its light filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
His sword and daggers were sheathed once again, his satchel slung over his shoulder.
His gaze swept across the forest, still on high alert, but the only sounds now were the rustling of the leaves in the breeze and the distant calls of creatures hidden deep within the trees.
Argolaith wiped the sweat from his brow and took a moment to steady himself. The fight had drained him, but there was no time for rest.
His goal—the mountain—was still hundreds of miles away. He had no idea what lay in wait for him beyond the forest, but his resolve was as firm as ever.
"Onward," he muttered to himself, pushing forward into the depths of the forest once more.
He began walking again, the weight of the forest pressing on him, the air thick with the smell of moss and damp earth.
The strange, mythical creatures of the Forsaken Forest were a constant presence in his mind, but now, he could not afford to focus on them.
He had a greater purpose ahead of him—one that had been with him since he had first stepped out of the town of Seminah, all those weeks ago.
"My five trees i shall find them and take their lifeblood."
They were his true destination. These legendary trees held the key to unlocking his magic, to gaining the power he had long dreamed of.
Argolaith had spent countless hours in his cabin, studying old tomes, researching the ancient magic tied to the trees.
Legends told of their ability to grant untold power, but only to those who were worthy of them.
He had left the safety of his home to search for them, and now, after weeks of travel, he wasn't even close to finding them.
But his journey was not over. He had to find the trees—the elusive, mystical entities that had eluded adventurers for centuries.
It was said that they were hidden in the heart of the forest, waiting for the right person to claim their power.
The more he thought about it, the more determined he became. He had fought too hard to turn back now.
There was no room for doubt, no time for second-guessing. The mountain was close. The trees were waiting.
As Argolaith walked, the terrain began to change. The dense forest that had surrounded him for so long started to thin out.
The trees grew taller and more sparse, their branches spreading wide, casting long shadows on the ground.
The air became cooler, the scent of pine and damp earth giving way to something sharper—an ancient, mineral scent that he could not quite place.
He was getting closer.
Hours passed in silence, his thoughts still consumed with the journey ahead. The mountain grew larger with every step, its jagged peaks cutting into the sky.
It was an imposing sight, one that stirred a sense of awe in Argolaith, but also a growing unease.
What waited for him on the other side of that mountain? What dangers would he face in the pursuit of his Five Trees?
There was no telling what lay ahead. But Argolaith was undeterred. His resolve remained unshaken.
The sound of rushing water broke his reverie. A river, wide and swift, flowed before him.
Its waters gleamed in the sunlight, sparkling like liquid crystal. He approached it cautiously, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger.
The river was fast-moving, its current powerful enough to sweep away anyone who tried to cross it without caution. He needed to find a way across.
A fallen log, weathered and slick, lay across the river like a natural bridge. Argolaith didn't hesitate.
He crossed carefully, his balance perfect as he made his way to the other side. The mountain was now just a few miles ahead. He could feel it. He could feel the magic in the air, thick and heavy with ancient power.
And with that sense of purpose, Argolaith continued onward, leaving behind the river and pressing forward toward the mountain.
The next stage of his journey had begun. His Five Trees were close, and with them, the power he had long sought.