Barbs snapped from the whip with crisp pops. The leader’s arm went numb beneath the recoil and nearly lost its grip.
“What kind of power is that?” gasped, sensing a pure, tyrannical current inside Jared’s aura pressing hard against his own demonic haze.
Jared saw the hesitation and struck. He blurred forward like an arrow out free of its bowstring, Dragonslayer Sword flashing toward the hooded specter on the right.
The man raised twisting vines in panic, only for the golden arc to shear them clean and hover a whisper from his throat.
“Look out!” the leader barked, yanking his whip back to defend his comrade.
Jared’s mouth curled into a frost-thin smile. He pivoted mid-swing, instead of finishing the kill, the sword swept low, detonating a thunderclap of golden light that shredded the carpet of vines below and hurled a cloud of dust into the air.
Under that swirling veil, seized Flaxseed by the collar and vaulted from the ancient trunk, plunging toward the maze of shadowed trunks deeper in the forest.
“Run all you like!” the whip-wielder roared, leaping after with his two companions close on his heels.
Thus began a breath-stealing chase, one man shielding a friend, veering between boles and bramble, three phantoms streaking behind, boots drumming bark, refusing to relinquish their quarry.
Flaxseed, coughing but resolute, gathered just enough strength to yank talisman paper from his robe.
Quick strokes birthed Wind Charms. He slapped one onto Jared, one onto himself; the pages dissolved into a cool gust that wrapped their legs and lent their flight a precious surge of speed.
“That’s the spirit, Jared!” Flaxseed’s shout cracked through the pines like a starter pistol.
Jared straightened, adrenaline sluicing through his veins. He surged forward, branches whipping past as the gap between and the black-robed pursuer finally began to widen.
Yet ahead, the forest floor trembled, leaves shivering as though beneath the footfalls of some unseen colossus.”
“Not good,” Jared muttered, skidding to a halt. A malignant wave of bestial energy rolled toward him, every bit as suffocating as the aura once radiated by Baldric’s master.
He veered left, hoping to skirt the oncoming surge, but fate, indifferent and swift, had already closed the gap.
From splintered trunks lumbered a bear as tall as a cathedral spire, its hide obsidian, its eyes two blistering coals of hatred.
The creature’s roar smashed against the canopy, a sound born to end conversations and careers alike.
“Blackshade Demon Bear,” Flaxseed gasped, his face drained of color. “Records call it a sovereign of Nine Serpent Mountain’s outer ring, volatile, and strong enough to rival a Divine Transformation Stage cultivator.”
The truth hit Jared like cold iron. Ahead loomed the bear, behind, the black-robed assassin. He was boxed in.
The bear lunged. Air imploded beneath its descending paw. Jared wrenched Flaxseed aside, both rolling clear as a crater erupted where they had stood, spitting stones like shrapnel.
“This just keeps getting better,” Jared growled, eyes darting from the enraged beast to the fast-approaching killer. “We either improvise or die here.”
Flaxseed’s eyes sparked. “I’ve got an idea. Buy me a minute and I’ll lure the bear away with talismans!”
“How sure are you?” Jared asked, steady but urgent.
“Call it educated optimism,” Flaxseed said. “Family scrolls say Blackshade Demon Bears detest the fragrance of Calming Herb. My runic symbols can mimic it.”
