As they proceeded into the woods, the air grew thick with the scent of decay. The petrified cypress trees stood like tombstones in the thickening fog, their branches draped in rotting moss that hung like tattered funeral veils. As they moved, a low, guttural vibration—a sound that was half-roar, half-moan shattered the silence of the bog.
They tucked the camp into a hollow behind a limestone shelf. Abandoned tents sat shredded in the wind, and supplies lay scattered in the mud.
A massive iron cage, etched with the runes of Elven magic, sat in the center of the camp. Inside was a Wetlands Kodiak, but the creature was unrecognizable. Its fur had fallen out in weeping, black patches, and a frantic, abyssal glow that suggested the beast's mind was gone, replaced only by a hunger for violence.
The bear caught their scent and went into a frenzied rage. It rattled the iron bars, then threw its entire weight against the massive steel trap bolted to the floor that held its rear foot. With a sickening sound of tearing sinew and cracking bone, the bear shredded its own limb, pulling its mangled stump free from the trap to launch itself toward the cage door.
The iron groaned and buckled.
"Regy, Dane, now!" Crispin shouted.
Regulus responded instantly, splitting a significant portion of his mass to summon Dane. Both units shifted into their massive Shadowmane forms—charcoal-red predators with golden manes and iridescent hydra scales. They moved in perfect synchronization, circling the Kodiak as it burst through the buckled gate.
The Kodiak lunged at Regy with a speed that defied its rotting frame. Its claws, dripping with black, viscous ichor, scraped across Regy's iridescent scales with a screech of grinding stone. Dane counter-lunged, his massive jaws closing around the bear's neck to drag it away from Crispin. The Kodiak didn't flinch at the pain; it swiped backward, its strength doubled by the necrotic corruption fueling its muscles.
Bethany loosed an arrow from the periphery. She tracked the bear's erratic, twitching movements even through the swirling mist. An arrow buried itself deep in the bear's shoulder, but the creature barely acknowledged the strike. Crispin stepped in, the Shadow-Twilight spear humming as he drove the obsidian tip into the bear's flank. The flesh felt like cold, wet clay, and the wound did not bleed—it only hissed.
"It doesn't feel pain!" Crispin warned. He dropped the spear and uncoiled Void Lash. He dashed backward and planted his feet, ready to strike and move.
Regy and Dane worked in perfect unison, their Sovereign Hybridization allowing them to merge the Shadowmane's agility with the Hydra's relentless resilience.
Regy unleashed a jet of refined blue fire that cauterized a patch of the bear's fur, causing the beast to stumble. Seizing the opening, Dane slammed his full mass into the Kodiak's chest, pinning it long enough for Crispin to deliver a final, precise thrust through the creature's heart.
The bear collapsed, its body dissolving into a puddle of black sludge that hissed against the wet moss.
LEVEL: 6 (Crispin)
[225→889 / 1400]
LEVEL 7→8 (Regulus)
[1498→556 / 1800]
MAS: 21 KG→55 KG | COH: 101→131 | ASC: 43→60
PRC: 77→90 | SPL: 23→37 | SPD: 49→61
Silence returned, heavier than before. Crispin's gaze drifted toward the far side of the enclosure, where the mist clung to the ground like a shroud. He froze. A body lay slumped against a stack of crates, partially hidden by the shredded canvas of a tent. It was an elven scout, still clad in dark, flexible gear.
The wounds on the Elven body were horrific and unmistakable. A massive, sweeping blow caused a cave-in, mangling the man's chest. The very beast they had been breaking had mauled him.
Crispin and Bethany moved with grim efficiency to collect the gear. They stripped the cloak and the light armor from the corpse, stowing them away in Regy's liminal storage. Lying in the mud next to the scout were two long elvish kukris. Elegantly made and long; decorative silver filigree etched the curved blades, yet the balance and the razor edge made it clear they were to be used.
Crispin picked them up, the weight feeling natural in his hands. He took the leather holders, buckling the straps until he belted one kukri to each of his thighs.
They moved to investigate the rest of the camp, their boots treading over discarded Elven artifacts and broken vials. Inside a partially standing command tent, they found a table covered in vellum surveys. Crispin spread out the maps.
The wetlands featured detailed surveys, which marked the precise locations of high-level mythic territories. A prominent X marked the cabin where they had slept, signaling it as a target that had already recognized and disregarded. Their current location was also marked; the script read Wetlands Kodiak, also struck through with an X.
The rain intensified again, a cold deluge that threatened to wash away the evidence. Crispin pulled a large, treated salamander skin from his pack and held it over their heads like a makeshift roof. Bethany huddled close to him, the warmth of their bodies a sharp contrast to the damp chill.
With steady fingers, they redrew the map and documented their findings. Bethany described the Kodiak's state—the corruption's progress, the self-mutilation, and the absolute loss of instinct.
"This isn't just poaching," Bethany whispered as she sketched the cage's runes. "They aren't taking these animals. They're breaking them."
"And they're watching us," Crispin added, looking at the X through their cabin. "We aren't the hunters here, Bethany. We're the interference."