Chapter 12: The Harbinger's Song:The Sylvanbrook Mission!1.2

Jaeck's grip tightened around his axe hilt. Mashel braced his spear, his gaze locked on the approaching figures. Eziel nocked an arrow in his bow, a determined glint in his eye. The hunters had become the hunted.

The moon cast an eerie glow through the forest canopy as the shadowy figures emerged from the trees. The trio's initial shock morphed into raw disgust as they beheld the monstrous forms before them.

Dire wolves they were, indeed, but twisted parodies of their former selves. Some were grotesquely maimed, their mangled bodies a testament to a brutal past. Others lumbered forward, exposed ribs jutting from their decaying flesh.

"Undead?" Mashel rasped, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Eziel, the seasoned ranger, shook his head. "No," he growled, a flicker of urgency in his eyes. "Still alive." He uncorked a potion and downed it quickly, readying himself for the inevitable clash.

Jaeck, his gaze locked on the approaching pack, confirmed Eziel's assessment. "He's right, Mashel. You can't sense their life force with your class. But Eziel, with his ranger's intuition and arcane senses, can tell they're not walking corpses."

"Orders, boss?" Eziel's voice was a low murmur, his gaze locked on the mutated wolves.

Jaeck, his voice firm, laid out the plan. "Positions, everyone. These wolves are off. Mashel, mid-range. Eziel, disappear into the shadows and pick off strays. I'll handle the frontlines."

With a silent nod, Eziel melted into the darkness, unseen by the approaching beasts. Mashel spun his spear with practiced ease, taking an inside stance. "Southern God Style: Rage Taunt!" Jaeck roared, a crimson mist erupting around him as his eyes flared red.

The wolves, enraged by the challenge, let out a deafening snarl and charged. Mashel met them head-on, expertly deflecting attacks with his spear, knocking them back with precise maneuvers. Jaeck, a whirlwind of fury, cleaved through any wolf that dared approach, his axe a deadly scythe. From the shadows, Eziel's arrows found their mark, silently taking down any creature that slipped through the others' defenses.

It was a dance of coordinated carnage, a testament to their years of fighting together. Each member played their part flawlessly, leaving the battlefield littered with the broken bodies of their monstrous foes.

"There's no end to them!" Mashel bellowed, his voice strained as he parried a wolf's attack.

Jaeck, mid-swing, roared back, "Use your skill, Mashel! Time to thin the herd!"

A glint of understanding passed between Eziel and Mashel. "Right," Eziel confirmed, using his mana sense to gauge the battlefield. "Twenty-meter radius for maximum effect."

Mashel, known for his rare skill, grinned grimly. "Southern God Style: Rare – Blood Rain!"

With a powerful stomp that cracked the earth, Mashel launched his spear skyward. An arcane sigil blazed to life above them, catching the spear and replicating it into a deadly storm. Fifty spears, imbued with arcane energy, rained down with devastating force. The wolves, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught, crumpled under the relentless barrage. Their numbers dwindled rapidly, their blood staining the forest floor crimson.

Despite its limitations, "Blood Rain" proved devastatingly effective against the unarmored wolves. Victory seemed within reach, just an hour more and the tide would definitively turn in their favor.

A sudden, chilling howl pierced the air, unlike any they'd heard before. Mashel, still desperately deflecting attacks, found his vision twist and invert in a sickening moment.

"Mashel!" Eziel's horrified scream echoed from the shadows. The sight that met his eyes sent a wave of icy dread crashing through him.

With a single, brutal swipe, Mashel's head was torn from his body. A monstrous wolf, far larger than its brethren, stood in his place, Mashel's head dangling from its blood-soaked claws.

"Stay hidden, Eziel!" Jaeck roared, his voice raw with grief. "Skinwalker!" he bellowed, his explanation a desperate attempt to contain his own terror. This wasn't just another beast; it was a creature classified as an intelligent beast.

Fear gnawed at Jaeck's resolve, a cold dread he hadn't felt in years. He wouldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had lost Mashel, but he wouldn't lose Eziel too. This fight had just taken a horrifying turn.

The Adventurer's Guild's records echoed in Jaeck's mind – a chilling catalogue of monstrous foes. Even the most fearsome beasts paled in comparison to the horror now confronting him. Intelligent creatures, Skin Walkers were parasitic nightmares that infested normal animals, twisting them into grotesque parodies. The telltale sign – a gruesome skull mask formed from the victim's own flesh – was unmistakable upon the monstrosity before him.

This Skin Walker dwarfed its kin, a towering brute standing on its hind legs in a chilling mockery of humanity. Razor-sharp talons protruded from its massive paws, and a skull-like head gleamed with malevolent red eyes. The very air crackled with a malevolent energy.

Despair threatened to engulf Jaeck. This wasn't a fight; it was a death sentence. The battle was lost the moment they stepped foot in this cursed forest.