Ryan POV
The tree line hums with something that isn’t quite silent.
I notice it before Emily says anything—the way the birdsong cuts out in patches, like the forest is holding its breath in sections instead of all at once.
Daniel doesn’t notice. He’s too busy swinging his sword through the air in practice arcs, grinning like we’re about to do something fun instead of something that could get us killed.
"Quiet," Emily says, crouching at the edge of the clearing. "Something’s moving."
I crouch beside her, following her line of sight. At first I see nothing but undergrowth and shifting shadows.
Then the shadow resolves into shape—three creatures moving low to the ground, lean and quick, fur a mottled gray-brown that blends almost perfectly with the dead leaves beneath them.
"Ridgebacks," Emily murmurs. "Low-level pack hunters. Faster than boars, less raw strength. They compensate by working together."
"Working together, how?" I ask.
"Flanking. Isolating the slowest target. Don’t get separated from us, whatever happens."
Daniel’s already stopped swinging his sword, sliding into something closer to focus.
"How many levels are there?"
"Four to six, usually. Low enough that one isn’t a problem. Three at once, moving in sync, that’s different math."
I study them instead of reaching for my sword. One of the three keeps glancing toward the other two before it moves. Another hangs slightly back, head low, watching rather than advancing.
"That one’s not attacking," I say, nodding toward the one holding position. "It’s watching us decide what to do first."
Emily’s eyes flick to it, reassessing.
"Good catch. Means it’s probably the one that breaks for a flank once we engage the front two. Watch your sides when this starts."
"When, not if," Daniel says, rolling his shoulders.
"They’ve seen us. It’s happening either way."
As if summoned by the sentence, the lead ridgeback’s head snaps fully toward us.
The stillness breaks all at once—the thing surges forward low and fast, claws tearing into the dirt, and the other two peel off in opposite directions exactly the way Emily predicted.
"Spread out!" she calls, already moving. "Don’t bunch up!"
Daniel breaks right to meet the flanking animal, sword raised, confidence loud in every step. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
I move left, putting distance between myself and both of them the way Emily taught me, keeping my footing steady instead of rushing forward.
The lead ridgeback goes for Emily.
She doesn’t retreat. She times it—waits until the creature is fully committed to the leap, then sidesteps at the last possible moment, blade already cutting across as it passes.
It yelps, stumbling into the dirt, but rights itself fast, snapping its head back toward her with a snarl that sounds almost frustrated.
My ridgeback circles instead of charging. Cautious. I plant my feet, sword low, watching its weight shift between paws, waiting for the tell Emily told me to look for—the slight dip before a lunge.
It comes low, aiming for my legs instead of my chest. I bring my sword down just as it dips, catching it across the shoulder before the bite lands. Not a kill. Not close. But it recoils, snarling, blood matting into its fur.
"Don’t let it circle behind you!" Emily shouts, somewhere to my left, still locked with the lead one.
I pivot with the creature instead of standing still, keeping it in front of me even as it tries to drift sideways.
It’s faster than the boars, reacting to my movement almost as quickly as I make it, adjusting angle before I’ve fully committed.
Daniel’s fight is louder—more motion, less precision, his opponent snapping at his sword arm while he swings wide, overcommitted strikes that connect but cost him balance every time.
"Daniel, smaller swings!" I call out, echoing what I learned on the training dummy without even thinking about it.
He grunts something that might be agreement, tightening up, and his next strike lands cleaner, drawing a yelp from the creature in front of him.
Mine lunges again. This time I’m ready for the angle—sidestep right, blade already moving, and it catches across the ridgeback’s side as it passes, deep enough that it stumbles and doesn’t fully recover its footing before I’m on it again, finishing the strike.
It collapses into the dirt.
One down.
I turn just in time to see Emily finish hers—a clean, economical strike across the throat that drops it instantly, exactly the kind of efficient, no-wasted-motion combat she demonstrated back at the training dummy. She’s already moving to help Daniel before the body finishes dissolving.
Between the two of them, the last ridgeback doesn’t last much longer. It’s smart enough to recognize bad odds—tries to break for the treeline instead of continuing the fight—but Emily’s faster, cutting the retreat short with a precise strike before it gets more than a few steps.
Silence returns to the clearing. Real silence this time, not the holding-breath kind from before.
"That wasn’t bad," Emily says, catching her breath, sword lowering. "For a first pack fight."
"Not bad?" Daniel says, incredulous, nursing a scrape along his forearm. "I got three cuts for that one thing’s one. I’d call that a win with a discount."
"You got careless twice," Emily says. "Both times you swung wider than you needed to. Ryan adjusted his angle instead of forcing the fight. That’s the difference." This chapter is updated first at g.com.
I look down at my sword, blood drying along the edge, and think about how different this felt from the boars. Not harder, exactly. Smarter.
Like the creature on the ground had actually been thinking about how to beat me instead of just charging blindly.
"They coordinate well for level four to six monsters," I say.
Emily’s expression shifts, something thoughtful passing behind her eyes. "You noticed that too."
"The one that hung back. It wasn’t just slow. It was waiting to see what we’d do before committing to a position."
"Could be instinct," Daniel offers, wiping his blade on a patch of grass. "Pack animals do that in real life too, right? Wolves and stuff."
"Could be," Emily says, but she doesn’t sound fully convinced, and neither am I. There’s a difference between animal instinct and the kind of patient, calculated hesitation I watched play out thirty seconds ago. I don’t say that part out loud. Not yet. Not with the hidden quest notification still sitting unexplained in the back of my mind, and the shopkeeper’s warning circling right behind it.
*If you notice a pattern, that pattern is the answer.*
Emily crouches beside the fallen ridgebacks, checking the drops with the same clinical focus she gave the boars days ago.
Standard loot—fur, fangs, small amounts of gold. Nothing glowing. Nothing the system refuses to name.
Some of the tension in my shoulders eases at that. Small mercy.
"We should keep moving," she says, straightening up. "There’s a cluster of quests further in. If we clear a few more of these, we’re well on our way to C-rank faster than I estimated."
"Please tell me the next ones are easier," Daniel says, flexing his scraped arm.
"They’re not," Emily says, already walking. "They get harder every tier up. That’s the point."
Daniel groans but follows anyway, falling into step beside her, already recovering his usual energy, already talking about which quest to hit next like the fight thirty seconds ago barely registered as a blip.
I linger a moment longer, looking out past the clearing toward the deeper treeline, where the shadows seem thicker, more deliberate somehow than they should be for simple foliage.
Something out there watches differently than three pack hunters looking for an easy meal.
I can’t explain how I know that. I just do.
"Ryan." Emily’s voice, further ahead now. "You coming?"
"Yeah." I force my attention back, falling into step behind them. "Right behind you."
But as we move deeper into the forest, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever’s out past the treeline isn’t finished watching.
We’re barely twenty steps further when the undergrowth around us erupts into motion—not from one direction, but from all of them at once, shapes breaking from the shadows on every side until we’re boxed in, completely surrounded, with nowhere left to retreat.