As Narvel ran, he kept a close watch on Voidscale's movements. One of the reasons he had managed to survive alone in the Hollow Forest during his previous entries was because of Voidscale's keen sense of impending danger.
The little creature was extraordinarily sensitive to threats and many other subtle cues. Whenever Voidscale shifted his gaze and emitted a low hissing sound, Narvel instinctively veered in the opposite direction of where the creature was pointing.
It was possible that a more powerful or dangerous entity lurked nearby, heightening Voidscale's alertness. Yet, from what little Narvel knew about this place, such a scenario seemed highly unlikely.
At least for now. If a greater threat were present, the Ash Stalkers would have abandoned their pursuit and scattered for safety.
Presently, however, the Ash Stalkers were growing increasingly irritated as they noticed Narvel expertly evading their encirclement as if he could anticipate every one of their movements. They hissed and crackled, their ash-swirled forms flickering in and out of sight among the trees.
They continued their relentless chase, fully aware that Narvel's stamina would eventually falter.
Narvel knew this as well. Just as the Ash Stalkers had their tactics, he had a plan in mind. Recognizing their weaknesses and understanding how best to counter them, Narvel realized that engaging them on the ash-laden terrain would only hand them the advantage.
The Ash Stalkers possessed the uncanny ability to dissipate into mist, particularly when one targeted their vulnerable eyes which also served as their cores, but they could only do this on the ash carpet terrain. The Hollow Forest contained several areas naturally suited to the abilities and advantages of the beasts that roamed there.
This mist-like transformation could only be used in the ashy terrain, and it made them exceptionally difficult to kill.
Moreover, when they traveled in packs, the swarm effect amplified the threat to anyone, let alone a lone individual and his pet. While it was indeed possible to dispatch the Ash Stalkers on the ashy terrain by using the trees strategically. However, this tactic required one to climb high into the branches and engage them from an elevated position, effectively neutralizing their mist advantage. Yet, scaling these trees carried risks that could prove even more perilous than confronting the Ash Stalkers on the ground.
Narvel's second option—the safer alternative at this moment—was to abandon the ashy terrain and lure the predators onto more favorable ground for combat. That was precisely what he was sprinting toward. This strategy is also the reason why Voidscale remained perched on his shoulder, rather than launching an attack on their pursuers.
Narvel slowed his pace, his breaths steady but sharp, each exhale frosting in the frigid air. He wasn't tired, not yet, but he needed to conserve the storm of adrenaline surging through his veins. Ahead, the ashy terrain dissolved into a sea of bioluminescent fungi, their pulsing blue glow stained the fog like spilled ink. This was the border between the ashy terrain and the fungi terrain.
The fungi here were monstrous, towering stalks as thick as his waist and their caps fanning outward like umbrellas made of starlight.
Their glow intensified the closer he got, casting jagged shadows across his face and painting the forest in hues of sapphire and midnight. The ground squelched under his boot, and the air hummed with a low electric buzz that made his teeth ache.
Behind him, the Ash Stalkers closed in. Seven of them, their ash-swirled bodies flickering like living smoke, their yellow eyes burning with predatory hunger.
They hissed, sounding like crackling charcoals tossed into the water. They knew this terrain robbed them of their mist-shifting advantage, but arrogance blazed in their gaze. Thinking that they were enough to take care of this prey whom they assumed had run out of stamina.
Narvel backed towards a massive fungal stalk, its trunk wide enough to shield his back. The Stalkers fanned out, circling him. He gripped his machete and kept it steady as his eyes darted around.
Currently, Narvel wasn't truly worried. He could use his abilities in this place without worrying about the whispers trying to corrupt him. The only thing he needed to watch out for was the exhaustion that came with using his powers.
Voidscale coiled around his neck, the serpent's grey eyes narrowed to slits, its obsidian scales shimmering with violet undertones. A low, rumbling growl from it and it vibrated against Narvel's collarbone.
The first Stalker lunged forward, moving in a blur of ash and its claws raking toward his throat. Narvel sidestepped and slashed his machete upward in a wide arc.
Steel met stone-like material, sending sparks into the air that erupted into a shower of gold and blue. The impact numbed his arm, but he pivoted, driving his foot into the creature's side. This caused the Ash Stalker to stagger to the side, with ashes swirling where Narvel's foot had struck.
Voidscale vanished in a plume of violet smoke, reappearing midair behind the Stalker. The serpent's tail lashed like a whip, aiming for its glowing yellow eyes. But the Stalker, as though it was expecting this, the Stalker twisted, blocking the strike with its other claw. Voidscale hissed, dissolving into smoke again before reappearing on Narvel's shoulder.
The Stalkers attacked in unison this time. Claws grazed Narvel's shoulder, drawing blood; another swipe tore through his sleeve. He ducked, rolled, and swung his machete in a wild arc, driving them back.
'Now!' Narvel snarled, slamming his palm against the swollen cap of a fungal stalk. The bulbous growth burst in a wet explosion, releasing a swirling storm of glowing spores that hung in the air like suspended stardust. The Ash Stalkers recoiled, their yellow eyes narrowing against the sudden brilliance, their ash-swirled bodies flickering as their movements slowed, just for a heartbeat.
And it was at this moment that Narvel struck.
He activated True Double, one of his attributes, and a surge of raw energy flooded his veins.
The first time he had discovered this attribute, its meaning had eluded him until he realized it wasn't only about creating a copy of himself, but also amplifying what already existed.
Doubling his potential. Now, he channeled it into Strength and Speed, his muscles coiling as his stats surged: Strength 4 to 8, Speed 6 to 12. With his Dexterity already at 11, the machete in his hand felt like an extension of his limb.
He lunged at the nearest Stalker with his blade plunging toward its left eye. The creature jerked its head back, but Narvel's enhanced speed outpaced it. The machete grazed its temple, scattering ash like black snow, causing the Stalker to screech, a sound like grinding glass. It was also at this moment that Voidscale struck.
The serpent's fangs sank into the Stalker's shoulder and shadowy mist erupted from its jaws. As the creature writhed, Voidscale whipped its tail in a blurred arc, striking its glowing yellow eye with precision.
Poof.
The Stalker's form collapsed, its ash body dissolving into a shower of cinders.
'One down.'
Narvel pivoted, his machete already slicing toward a second Stalker. The blade pierced its eye, shattering its core with a single slash. The creature then detonated into a cloud of cinders, its final scream swallowed by the electric hum of the fungi.
'Five left.'
The remaining Stalkers pressed closer, slashing their claws in furious arcs. Their yellow eyes blazed with a cold rage as they attacked.
Narvel then activated his second attribute: Mind's Eye.
The world sharpened in his eyes, and the trajectories of the Stalkers' attacks materialized as ghostly afterimages, premeditated strikes in the form of glowing red lines. Their claws moved sluggishly as if they were dragging through tar.
This didn't apply to them alone as Narvel's body lagged too.
'Too slow.' He thought.
Even though this attribute was somewhat broken, it only provided his mind with the capability of foresight, but left his body vulnerable.
Gritting his teeth, he reconfigured True Double, canceling the boost it was providing his strength attribute and rerouting it towards his speed, tripling his Speed to 18. The stat surge burned through him like wildfire, but even with this, his body struggled to keep pace, his speed only moving a notch under the observation of his Mind's Eye.
Focus.
Precision.
He traced a suitable path for his machete, a single, flawless arc. And then when he was certain of what he had done, quickly deactivated Mind's Eye.
Swish!
The blade blurred as it sliced through the air.
Five strikes in one motion, faster than the Stalkers could react. Each strike found a yellow eye, each impact creating a muffled crunch.
The creatures erupted into showers of ash, their dying hisses merging with the forest's eerie hum.
Narvel staggered as his vision swam.
Blood streamed from his nose, as a migraine exploded behind his eyes. Veins bulged along his neck and temples, throbbing like live wires.
The spores settled. The blue glow softened.
He had won.
But the use of his attributes demanded payment…