CHAPTER 22: IN THE FOREST

The forest seemed alive again, but not in a way they liked. Every leaf that moved, every branch that creaked under its own weight, every breath of wind against the treetops was now a disguised threat.

There was a metallic smell in the air—not the natural, rain-rusted kind, but the artificial kind carried at the waist of men.

There was something sweet and sickening, as if the scent of cheap magic was trying to cover the real odor of sweat, dried blood, and tanned leather. Kaela sensed all of this even before opening her mouth.

Her sense of smell was her guide. And at that moment, the guide screamed for her to run.

But she couldn’t run all the time.

Her paws were covered in mud and sticky leaves. The accumulated weight on each muscle ached deeply, as if nails had been driven into her tendons.

Ahead, Nyssa was dragging herself at an irregular pace, her plops growing slower and more sluggish.

The slime could barely maintain a stable form—her silhouette wavered between feminine and amorphous every minute, as if the effort to maintain a "desirable" appearance had become impossible. And indeed, it had.

They had been fleeing since Kaela smelled it in the forest. From the moment she instinctively knew they were being hunted.

Not by the hunger of a natural predator. But by the greed of men. The bounty of five hundred coins was no joke.

The entire town had gone mad with that promise. And loose monsters... were money in the form of living flesh.

"I can’t... anymore..."

Nyssa murmured for the third time, melting a bit more against a rock.

Her voice came out like bubbles bursting in warm water.

Kaela didn’t respond. She stood still, her body hunched and breathing heavily.

Her golden eyes scanned the area around.

Twisted roots, dense bushes, trunks too thick for someone to move without making noise. She heard nothing for now.

But she knew they were close.

Still, they needed a moment. A single moment of rest.

Kaela guided Nyssa to a clearing ahead. Small, circular, covered in moss and dry leaves.

The ground was less waterlogged there, and there were large stones at the corners, useful as partial cover.

They stopped. At last.

Kaela leaned against a lichen-covered stone, her shoulders heaving. The pain in her flank throbbed—a deep scratch she received while passing through thorny branches.

The claw was stained with dried blood. But she ignored it.

Nyssa spread slowly across the ground, trying to maintain her form. Her body oscillated in greenish hues, murky, indicating severe exhaustion.

Small bubbles rose to her surface as if her breathing was failing.

For a time, the silence was almost comforting.

The forest calmed. Normal sounds returned: the croaking of frogs, the distant flapping of wings, the buzz of decomposing insects.

The cold wind against her skin was a distant reminder of safety. For a few minutes, Kaela almost believed they were far enough. That the tracks had been lost.

But something was bothering her.

It was... an absence.

The void left by Eren’s presence.

Kaela looked to the side, where he would normally be, with that bored expression and hunter’s eyes that saw far beyond what he said.

The way he positioned himself before a fight, how he kept the two in different places but connected, always ready to act together.

There, alone, everything seemed messy. Improvised. Directionless.

Nyssa moved her gelatinous head, staring at the sky through the opening in the trees.

"He... he will really be there, right?"

Kaela didn’t answer. The doubt was there. Buried. But present.

Then, a sound.

Tling.

A bell. Small, almost ridiculous.

But loud as a death sentence.

Kaela stood up instantly, claws ready, eyes wide. She looked around. Saw nothing. But she knew what it was.

An alarm wire—tied to some bush. They had passed over it.

"Damn."

Nyssa’s eyes widened, struggling to recompose herself.

"Wh-what...?"

Kaela turned her body, instinctively taking position between the slime and the edge of the clearing. Her eyes never stopped moving. Her breathing slowed to hear better.

First footsteps. Then shadows.

Three. No... four. One stayed further back. Two armed with nets. One with a spear. The last one... perhaps with magic.

It was hard to tell. Their faces were covered with thick cloths. Careful movements. But slow. Human.

They thought they were in control.

Kaela growled low, her teeth bared.

"Stay behind me — she said."

Nyssa dragged herself, but the anxiety was already making her form oscillate again. Tremors. She wanted to trust Kaela, but the fear was greater.

Kaela didn’t blame her.

But she hated it.

Because alone, without him there, they didn’t know what they were doing.

The encirclement began.

And the fight... was about to start.

Kaela didn’t wait.

The moment the hunters stepped into the clearing, she launched herself like a living arrow.

Her paws dug into the earth with brutal force, her muscles tense like ropes about to snap.

The first enemy didn’t even see what hit him—he only felt the weight of a feline beast with open claws smashing his shield with a dry crack, followed by the impact of his body against a tree trunk behind him.

He fell without breathing.

The others shouted. Not in panic, but surprised. They had underestimated. The creature was not just any beast.

Kaela rolled on the ground and positioned herself behind a moss-covered stone, her eyes fixed on the three remaining. The second hunter raised a net. The third was already throwing a flask with a shimmering liquid.

Nyssa, hesitant, stood up as best she could, her form oscillating like trembling jelly, and hurled part of herself like a whip of viscous mass. It struck the feet of the man with the net, causing him to slip. But the fourth hunter, the one furthest back, threw a flaming torch directly at her body.

The impact made Nyssa scream. A wet and horrible sound, like steam escaping from inside a living being. She quickly recoiled, shuddering, while part of her body bubbled. The fire didn’t last long, but the psychological damage was greater than the physical.

Kaela roared, furious, and zigzagged across the stones, using the trees for partial cover.

She leaped over a bush and sank her claws into the shoulder of the potion man, pushing him to the ground. But now she was too far from Nyssa.

A mistake.

She realized it too late.

Nyssa tried to move. Regroup. Retreat. But the net flew.

Fast. Precise.

She barely had time to change shape before being enveloped by thick strands covered with small magical barbs. Each touch of the material emitted sparks.

The pain wasn’t physical. It was... magical. As if something was trying to collapse her essence from within.

The slime screamed. Her eyes closed, her form dissolving in panic. She trembled, convulsed, but couldn’t escape.

Kaela heard the sound and turned her face in the middle of the next leap. Her claw hit a trunk, missing the enemy. She fell to the ground, rolled, and got up again — but now they were separated by three men between her and Nyssa. And all of them were armed.

She hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough for the enemy to throw another vial.

Kaela dodged with a leap, but lost her rhythm. She backed away, growling loudly. Her chest heaved. Her flank bled. She moved to the side, looking for an angle — but now there was more distance. No clear strategy.

If the master were here... he would know how to position us better...

The thought arose silently, simultaneously.

Nyssa, inside the net, moaned, and between each gelatinous vibration, Eren’s image appeared — with cold eyes, constant calm, that damned bored voice saying: "Don’t move. Wait for the signal. You cover the left flank. Kaela cuts from the side."

None of that was happening now.

Kaela was in the middle of the brush, surrounded, growling alone.

Nyssa was on the ground, trapped, trembling.

The forest was too hot, too suffocating, full of noise.

Control had been lost.

The plan... never existed.

The smell of fear and burnt iron already dominated the clearing.

Nyssa moaned, trapped inside the pulsating net, feeling each spark of pain like needles vibrating inside her mind.

Her body spread out and contracted, trying to escape, but the activated runes on the threads acted like magical chains — forced the form to remain stable, rigid, and vulnerable.

It was as if her very essence was being pulled from within.

She thought she would dissolve right there.

Thought the next blow would be the end.

Thought she would be sold, caged, perhaps studied, sliced in a laboratory, or delivered to some masked, lab-coated sadist.

But the roar came before that.

Kaela.

The beast leaped as if the very ground had launched her.

Open claws, eyes ablaze. The first man who tried to lift the net again received the claw at his neck — the bone blade pierced through leather and flesh, tearing the sound from the throat in a single gesture.

The second hunter tried to turn to react, but Kaela was already upon him. The impact of the feline body knocked them both into a cloud of dust and leaves, followed by dull cracks: ribs breaking, jaw dislocated, blood spat to the side.

The third took a step back.

Kaela stared at him for a second.

He fled.

The sound of hurried footsteps vanished among the bushes, and silence returned with violence.

But there was one more.

The last hunter, with reinforced armor on his chest and cheap iron shoulder pads, approached cautiously.

He had a short axe in one hand, a vial in the other. His posture said it all: he wasn’t impulsive. He was waiting for an opening.

Kaela tried to advance, but staggered.

The previous blow to her side was deeper than she thought. The wound bled steadily now. Her left shoulder didn’t respond properly.

Her hind paw trembled. Her breathing was uneven, panting, full of contained spasms of pain.

The man noticed. He advanced.

Nyssa screamed.

Kaela tried to retreat, but her back hit a stone. She was trapped for a moment. The axe rose, ready for the strike.

Then Nyssa moved.

She didn’t think. She just acted.

She slid across the ground with impressive speed, even in her state, and leaped against Kaela’s body like a living wave.

She enveloped the entire feline, covering her like a liquid armor, clinging to her skin, her fur, her wounds.

And there, between pain and despair, something inside the slime awakened.

It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t strategy.

It was instinct.

Nyssa’s structure changed completely. The gelatinous mass gained density, became darker. The interior bubbled with chemical heat.

Small sparks began to rise from her surface — a dense, greenish vapor smelling of acid and burnt wood.

The hunter hesitated. But it was already too late.

He advanced, axe raised, aiming for Kaela’s head.

The impact came — not with the blade, but with the reaction.

When the axe touched the slime covering Kaela, the metal began to sizzle.

The heat increased. The acid, activated by contact, spread quickly. His arm trembled, his hand released the weapon, and a second later he was screaming, trying to tear his forearm from the armor.

The iron piece smoked. Part of the inner leather had already been corroded. His skin underneath looked burned by boiling oil.

He threw himself backward, hitting the bushes, letting out desperate howls. He fell to the side, rolled, tried to rub his arm on the ground. But the magical burn wasn’t just physical. It was as if something had clung to his soul.

Kaela, still wrapped by Nyssa, opened her eyes.

She breathed, panted, felt pain all over.

But she was alive.

The slime released her slowly, her form returning to a less dense state, though still vibrant. The edges burned a little, a sign of overload. But she was fine.

Kaela stood up with difficulty. Her eyes searched around — only bodies. And a man crawling away.

She didn’t pursue him. She no longer had the strength.

Nor did she need to.

The victory wasn’t pretty.

It wasn’t clean.

But it was victory.

She fell to her knees, her body pressed to the ground. Blood still trickled. Her breathing was a faint roar.

Nyssa lay down beside her, eyes dull but relieved.

"We... did it..."

Murmured the slime, her voice weak.

Kaela did not respond.

She only thought of two things.

The silence of the clearing.

And the absence of the master.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The smell was the worst.

Neither the cuts on her ribs, nor the burn on her shoulder, nor the dried blood sticking her shirt to her body caused as much discomfort as that viscous odor of rotting fish mixed with mold and rust.

It was like living inside a forgotten basement in the heat. A place where things die and are ignored.

Eren was curled up in the corner of the cart, under old rags and hollow crates, his body folded in an uncomfortable position for hours.

The wheels creaked beneath him at regular intervals, and the sound of the horses was distant, muffled by the wood. With each jolt, his arm throbbed — the old wound had opened a bit. Not infected yet, but getting closer.

He didn’t sleep. His body threatened to shut down, but his mind refused. He was used to it. Pain was manageable. Hunger, bearable. Fatigue, surmountable. What he couldn’t accept was failure.

A faint glow appeared at the edge of his vision.

He blinked.

The [System] reacted.

[Status of Active Links]

[Kaela – Life: 38% | State: Injured | Recent combat detected]

[Nyssa – Life: 41% | State: Exhausted | Excessive use of magical energy]

The lines were in dull red, not flashing in critical alert yet, but dangerously close.

Eren remained silent.

There was no change in his breathing. No visible tension on his face.

He just processed.

They faced something. Three, maybe four enemies. No plan. Acted on impulse. Survived.

They blinked again. Small drop in Kaela’s status — 36%. Then back.

They’ll keep losing strength if they don’t find shelter. If they die, I lose investment. I lose time. I lose control.

The cart jolted more violently, and a box toppled beside him. He didn’t move.

He remained there, motionless, sweating, breathing slowly.

[Distance to Meeting Point: 1 day and 4 hours]

[Current physical state: Unstable | Recommendation: immediate rest]

[Passive Mode – Presence Detection: OFF]

He ignored all the recommendations.

He looked at the wooden ceiling above him, dark and uneven. He thought of the forest. He thought of how the sound of their fight must have echoed. He thought of how the smell of blood drew attention.

He thought, and concluded.

If they died now, all the effort made would have been thrown away.

All the dirt, the pain, the humiliation, the escape from Barovik, the coins given, the lies told, the promises broken — all thrown into a fire snuffed out before its time.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

And thought.

If they die before I get there... all of this was for nothing.