The Lost Guild: Beginning

Chapter 8: Silver Arrow

As I carry Gale's limp body toward Lira, the battlefield pulses with chaos. Max's expression hardens, his features drawn tight with barely restrained fury. Crimson flames interlace with the orange, transforming his fiery whips into instruments of utter devastation. Wherever they lash, swaths of monkeys collapse in heaps, the ground littered with their charred remains. Max is unrelenting, a beacon of controlled rage amidst the pandemonium.

Nodding grimly at Lira, I pass Gale to her and sprint back toward Roland. My heart pounds. I hope you're still holding on.

The battlefield is a cacophony of snarls, screeches, and the relentless clash of metal and magic against flesh. As I near Roland, a wave of relief floods me—he's still standing. The towering warrior swings his colossal blade with the force of a tempest, cleaving through the oncoming tide of primates.

Reorienting myself, I shove aside any notion of keeping secrets and hurl Roland's sword toward him. His eyes widen in shock, but he catches the weapon deftly. For a fleeting moment, his gaze meets mine, and the unspoken understanding passes between us. He tightens his grip and resumes his unyielding crusade, the ground trembling beneath the weight of his strikes.

Drawing strength from the metallic tang of blood saturating the air, I summon Bloody Claws. A surge of mana courses through me, but something new takes shape. The blood pooling on the ground quivers and converges toward me, defying gravity. It crystallizes into gauntlets of deep red, pulsating faintly with an eerie glow. The claws extend from the base of my fingers, razor-sharp and shimmering like malevolent jewels.

What's going on? A quick glance at my mana tells me it's sitting at a dangerously low twenty points. No time to question it now.

The claws hum with latent power, and a savage grin spreads across my face. Guess I'll rip everything to shreds.

Letting Blood Rush overtake me, I charge into the fray. Each swipe of my crystalline claws rends flesh, shattering bone with grotesque ease. Blood sprays in every direction, painting the ground in violent strokes. My movements grow faster, more fluid, and each kill fuels my momentum. I become a whirlwind of death, carving through the horde with unrelenting precision.

Through it all, I remain wary. Learn from your mistakes, Adam. Don't get too caught up this time. I carve a path around the group, granting them fleeting moments of reprieve. My stamina dwindles to thirty, my health to seventy.

Pain from countless minor wounds gnaws at me, but the rush of battle keeps me going—until Roland's booming voice cuts through the haze.

"Adam, MOVE!"

Before I can react, Roland barrels into me, sending me sprawling across the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of me, but I scramble to my feet, heart racing.

When I glance back, my blood runs cold. Roland stands where I had been, an aura of crimson energy encasing his massive form. A jagged stone the size of my head juts from his chest, crushing the metal of his armor inward. Blood seeps from the wound, pooling at his feet.

"Roland!"

The titan sways but stays upright, his breaths ragged and labored. My eyes catch the flicker of my Charisma stat: zero.

I forgot—how could I forget?! Guilt claws at my chest, sharper than any wound.

Through the blur of my shame, movement draws my attention. A large monkey, its fur scorched and smoldering, fails to swing between the trees and crashes to the ground. Its broken body thrashes for a moment before its fiery gaze locks onto us.

The boss.

Adrenaline surges as I grab Roland with my talons, careful not to worsen his injuries, and hurl him toward the center of our formation. It's crude, but it gets him out of immediate danger. Lira rushes to his side, her face pale with worry.

"Max, cover me!" she shouts.

Max doesn't hesitate. His flaming whips lash out again, carving a path toward Lira and Roland.

The ground beneath us rumbles ominously, cracks spider webbing through the dirt. Then, with a deafening roar, it erupts. Shards of rock and earth rain down, and I barely manage to keep my footing.

The monkeys scatter, retreating into the dense shadows of the forest. Then I see it—a blur of white, descending with terrifying speed.

It's going for the center.

Ignoring the protests of my battered body, I activate Blood Rush at five mana per second, the highest ever channeled. Every muscle in my body cries out in pain as my vision sharpens, and time seems to slow. I sprint toward the boss, my claws extended. With a feral roar, I hook them into its thick hide, redirecting its trajectory.

The creature crashes into a massive tree, shattering it on impact. Splinters and leaves rain down as the monkey pulls itself upright, its eyes blazing with fury.

It locks onto me, and I meet its gaze head-on.

I'll hold you here as long as I can.

With my stamina hovering at a precarious twenty, I adjust Blood Rush to conserve energy. The beast charges, its massive fists smashing toward me. I brace myself, using the gauntlets to deflect what blows I can, redirecting the force away from my vulnerable body.

But I'm no hand to hand fighter. Its onslaught is relentless, each strike hammering through my defenses. My health plummets to thirty, and numbness creeps into my limbs.

Darkness edges my vision, and the shimmering gauntlets begin to crack and crumble.

Not yet.

Summoning the last vestiges of my strength, I rake my claws across its face. The talons find purchase, tearing through its left eye. The beast howls in agony, momentarily blinded.

It raises both fists, ready to crush me—but Roland crashes into it like a red comet.

"Nice timing, big guy."

Roland engages the beast, his twin swords flashing in the dim light. His movements are slower, his strikes less precise, but he fights with the unyielding determination of a man who refuses to fall.

Suddenly, a flurry of shadowy daggers streaks through the air, embedding themselves in the beast's arm. The damage is minor, but tendrils of dark energy seep from the blades, wrapping around its torso and pinning its left arm.

Roland presses the advantage, his swords carving deep gashes into its hide.

From the corner of my eye, I see Gale. Supported by Max, he holds a massive bow of radiant silver light, a weapon formed entirely of mana. Lucius moves with surgical precision, eliminating the remaining monkeys that threaten their position.

Gale's lips move, uttering words I can't hear. Power gathers around him, coalescing into an arrow of pure light.

The energy radiates across the battlefield as Gale draws the bowstring.

With a practiced motion, he releases. The arrow streaks across the distance, a blazing comet that cuts through the chaos.

"Roland, get clear!"

Roland disengages and dives to the side just as the arrow hits its mark.

The impact is cataclysmic. The boss's torso disintegrates in an explosion of light and blood, raining down blood and gore. The remaining pieces collapse into the dirt, lifeless.

The battlefield falls silent.

A smile tugs at my lips as the darkness finally overtakes me.