But to his surprise, they released their hold on his leg.

Neither creature struck again immediately.

Instead, both stepped closer, looming over him, regarding him with an intense and silent scrutiny.

At first, Timothy was caught up staring at their glowing eyes, mesmerized and analyzing his next move.

But then one of the creatures let out a guttural, rumbling sound.

The other followed with a slightly less rough tone, almost like tuning its vocal cords.

Then a voice broke through, ragged and halting:

"Why… are… you… Here… human?"

It spoke loudly, as if deaf or unused to forming human words.

Timothy stared at the beasts, astonishment flickering across his face.

Creatures speaking human language were no surprise in his line of work, but these were different.

He was curious, but before he could answer, a low vibration began rumbling through the ground beneath them all.

Both monsters exchanged sharp glances, then suddenly bolted toward the cluster of shelters.

Timothy hesitated for only a breath.

Part of him wanted to chase them down and finish the fight while they were distracted.

He started to rise, intending to follow, when a drop of rain splashed against his cheek… then another… and another.

He froze, realizing that rain was beginning to fall and that for some reason, these creatures seemed to fear it.

He wasn't naïve enough to linger. Keeping his guard up, Timothy decided to follow them instead.

But as he approached the outskirts of the camp, his eyes widened in shock.

Just ahead, where the rain had quickly pooled into what looked like an innocent puddle, a massive beast exploded upward out of the water.

Its body was sleek, scaled, and sinuous, somewhere between a sea lion and a serpent.

Had Timothy not seen it himself, he would have sworn it impossible: as though a sea creature had erupted from solid ground through a puddle no larger than a manhole cover.

Suddenly, Timothy understood why the four-armed creatures were fleeing.

They weren't retreating from him.

They were running from other monsters.

Before Timothy could collect his thoughts, the four-armed creatures had already made it past the shelter perimeter, swatting away the aquatic beasts that occasionally lunged out from the puddles forming rapidly across the terrain.

He leapt after them, wary of every step.

The puddles weren't harmless, they were death traps.

Even he wasn't spared; creatures burst from the ground in his path, forcing him to twist, duck, and evade with every dive they made.

Eventually, he reached the inner shelter zone.

To his surprise, it was empty, no people, no guards, only flickering firelight at the center and makeshift huts scattered across uneven ground.

But the danger wasn't over.

More puddles spontaneously formed around the perimeter, creating a loose circle of lurking threats.

He realized he'd gotten too close.

The puddles surrounded the shelters and him.

There was nowhere else to go.

Beasts continued leaping from the puddles like predators in an aquarium, scanning for prey.

That left Timothy only one option: shelter. As he made a move toward one of the huts, he noticed for the first time that its base was elevated, raised slightly off the unstable ground.

Before he could process the detail, the door to one of the shelters creaked open.

In an instant, something yanked him inside, weightless and sudden.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He barely had time to brace before he was slammed, not violently, but with controlled force, onto the floor.

A foot pressed against his chest.

Except, it wasn't exactly a foot.

Not human.

More like a padded paw… or a clawed limb.

Heavy.

Strong.

Non-human.

His eyes scanned the room.

It was cramped, poorly lit, but filled with glowing red dots that slowly came into focus.

Eyes.

Red gemstone eyes.

Twelve of them.

Six four-armed creatures were packed into the shelter with him.

Timothy drew a breath, only for the clawed foot to suddenly flex.

Sharp claws slid out, pricking against his chest, a silent warning: Don't breathe too deep.

He exhaled slowly.

The silence was thick.

They were all watching him.

He let his eyes roam the dim shelter, noting the tight, crude construction.

The space was barely livable, even for two, let alone six fully-grown, fur-covered, broad-shouldered beasts.

The silence was broken by a wet, throaty grunt.

Then another.

Some of the creatures snorted or made other strange nasal noises, almost like they were clearing their throats or communicating in some guttural language.

"You are far from your party, human," one of them rasped suddenly.

The words were broken, strange, like someone chewing rocks while trying to speak.

The others shifted aside to reveal a figure at the back.

This one had only one glowing red eye socket, the other wasn't glowing, sitting in what looked like a crude throne of stones and cloth.

It was larger, older, or just more dominant.

Timothy assumed this was the leader.

He knew he should respond.

These creatures had speech, reason, and possibly even civility.

But the remark wasn't a question.

Still, he chose to speak.

"Where are the people who lived here?" Timothy asked, eyes flicking across each face.

They stared back, clearly understanding the question… but none of them responded.

Not until the one-eyed leader spoke with a guttural hiss:

"Dead..."

The word echoed.

Cold and Final

Timothy's brow furrowed.

'So I was late?' he thought.

But something didn't sit right.

If they're dead… I can just choose to purge the place.

But still..

No scarf...

No armor...

'These creatures are stronger than I in raw power. Maybe slower, but not by much. I've got my skills, sure, but most of them are meant to help me escape, not dominate in a battle'

His thoughts were interrupted as the leader continued:

"…We are the only survivors left." And then another throaty snort.

Timothy's confusion deepened.

Survivors? he thought, staring into the lone glowing eye.

Then the creature raised its voice, this time tinged with hostility:

"Why are you here, human?!"

The question echoed with more force, more clarity.

Timothy met its gaze.

His mind was sharp, and fear was something he'd long grown past. He kept his voice steady.

"You mistake me. I didn't come with a group. I came alone. I followed a group of monsters here after being told that people lived in this place...actual people."

At that final line, the foot on his chest pressed harder.

The claws scraped skin.

His ribs creaked from the pressure.

Pain lanced through Timothy's chest, but he never flinched.

His eyes remained sharp, analyzing the crowd.

He'd already picked out the weakest one among them.

If these creatures decided to kill him, he'd make sure a few went down with him, his escape skill was already fully recharged.

One of the monsters let out a low, guttural growl.

The others echoed it, rippling through the cramped shelter.

But the growls weren't aimed at Timothy.

Instead, all eyes turned toward the one-eyed leader, who still stared at him in silence.

Then, without warning, the noise in the room dropped to an eerie, breathless hush.

Everyone seemed to be listening for something.

Even the leader tilted his head toward the door.

Outside, over the faint hiss of dripping water, came a new sound, a wet, rhythmic slapping, like something crawling out of a hidden pond and dragging itself across the earth.

It wasn't the rain.

The rain had already stopped, leaving only the damp hush of dripping foliage.

This sound was deliberate, heavy… predatory.

A collective tension seized the room.

All the monsters froze, eyes wide and glowing, barely even breathing.

Timothy stayed utterly still.

From his vantage point on the floor, all he could see were red gemstone eyes glinting in the darkness.

Then the shelter door creaked.

Slowly, ominously, it began to swing open, pushed from the outside.

Before it could open fully, one of the four-armed creatures lunged with explosive force.

There was a wet, rending sound as it grappled something just beyond the threshold, claws tearing into flesh.

A spray of dark blood misted the doorway as the creature shredded whatever had entered, ripping it in two.

A monstrous roar shattered the quiet.

Chaos erupted outside as answering roars rose all around the camp.

The splashing of water echoed in every direction.

More shapes burst from puddles like predators springing from hidden traps.

All the monsters in the shelter surged into motion, pouring out the door one after another, weapons raised, fangs bared.

Even the one-eyed leader finally moved, but not in panic, he was deliberate, every step radiating lethal precision.

He wasn't just a fighter; Timothy could feel it in his bones:

This creature was a weapon.

The leader paused at the door, his massive frame blocking the entrance.

Then he swung it wide open, revealing the battlefield beyond.

Outside, the scene was both savage and strangely beautiful.

Patches of grass glowed with vibrant neon green, casting eerie light over the churned earth.

Blood splattered across it in vivid streaks of crimson.

Yet much of the grass had turned a pale, luminous yellow.

This strange vegetation seemed to absorb the spreading blood, soaking it up as if trying to erase the carnage.

Despite the violence, the illuminated grass transformed the battlefield into a surreal, almost mesmerizing landscape