Chapter 223: The Missing Flock and the Smell of Blood
Horren stood a short distance behind, his bow already drawn and angled toward the horizon, the arrow between his fingers steady.
"Something startled them, perhaps?" he asked, voice low.
"Or they’re just cautious," Arlok said from the side, his poleaxe resting against his shoulder as he scanned the open field.
A few feet to the side, Shima crouched low beneath the broken shadow of a crooked tree, her fingers drifting across the bent grass and splintered stems.
"They’re close. Something big passed through here too, and not long ago either."
She murmured with keen observation.
Arlok stood a bit further back, he lifted his head and drew a long breath through his nose. The wind shifted direction and brought with it the scent of river water, damp soil, and something faintly musky mixed among it all.
He exhaled through his teeth with a grunt.
"Wind’s against us," he muttered, gaze narrowing toward the far grass. "If we move any closer without a plan, they’ll smell us before we see them."
Yerin’s hazel eyes flicked upward, her gaze reading the drift of leaves and the slant of disturbed grass before she gave a short nod.
"Then we stay downwind," she said, voice lowered into a near-whisper. "Conceal your mana and move slowly without noise."
And so they did — slipping forward one by one through the tall grass, their movements careful as they skirted around the area of loose dirt and slipped between dry twigs.
Ruvian observed the landscape in slow, methodical passes and then, through the quiet distance, he saw it — roughly 20 meters ahead, half-shrouded by a patch of brittle grass, a Crestbeak Fowl stood in the clearing.
The creature was massive, hunched form grazes with the absent rhythm of a creature at peace. Its limbs were rooted in the earth with clawed, scaled legs.
Its dark-brown plumage layered in coarse, dirt-matted feathers. And at its front, a thick, curved beak drove into the soil, pecking and tearing at the ground in search of insects or rootflesh.
The avian was utterly unaware of the eyes now locked upon it.
Horren positioned himself carefully, his bow already drawn, the string pulled restrained without a sound. While beside him, Yerin raised two fingers and flicked them downward in a subtle motion.
Arlok lowered his center of gravity, feet angling for balance, poleaxe angled just slightly behind him in readiness. While Shima slid a half-step to the right, angling to cut off any route of escape should the creature panic and bolt toward the ridge.
Everything was in motion as they all already prepared for such situations during their practice.
But then, a sudden cold pressure pressed into Ruvian’s chest, creeping all over his blood vessels.
’Wait. Something isn’t right.’
His eyes narrowed slightly; the fowl itself was too still. Its head dipped and rose in an oddly machinelike rhythm.
’Shouldn’t Crestbeak Fowl always be travelling in flocks of five or six at minimum, especially in open plains like this?’
’So, where are the others?’
Ruvian narrowed his eyes.
Maybe it got separated from its group?
Then, a chill of realization crawled up his spine.
’No, wait... even if some wandered off, this bird’s behavior lacked the nervous alertness of a creature separated from its kin.’
’.....’
Then, he noticed a familiar scent. It was faint and buried beneath the layered smells of grass. But undeniably, it was there.
’This... smells like blood.’
The scent rose upward in a thin, iron-laced thread, masked by the wind, muted by the dirt, but still fresh.
Ruvian slightly leaned toward Yerin.
"Yerin. Tell everyone to stop. Now." (+50PP)
He whispered.
Yerin’s eyes flicked toward him, surprise flickering for the briefest second before instinct took over — her hand lifted with authority. And across the clearing, each member of the team froze mid-crouch, weapons held ready but unmoving, their eyes darting for meaning behind the sudden command.
"Why?"
Yerin asked, voice low but edged with tension. Her gaze sharpened as it moved between Ruvian and the still-grazing beast beyond the grass.
"It got us."
Yerin frowned. ’Got... us?’
"The Voidspawn in front of us—"
Ruvian continued, almost reverently.
"—is not a Crestbeak Fowl." (+50PP)
Ruvian had skimmed through the novel enough times until even the marginal creatures had become as familiar to him.
Because of that, he was entirely sure that the thing in the clearing was no Crestbeak Fowl!
"Do you know what it is then?" Yerin asked.
Ruvian shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. But if I had to guess, it’s probably a type of Voidspawn capable of either controlling other Voidspawn... or mimicking one."
Yerin’s eyes, usually decisive, now carried hesitation.
Going near an unknown Voidspawn was too dangerous. As the leader, she had to think not only about herself, but was best for the team.
"Let’s retreat for now."
That was the most logical response.
Ruvian agreed too.
But then, the earth itself murmured its disquiet.
Arlok’s eyes dropped to the ground. His stance shifted with the smallest fraction of a step. Beneath him, the soil was faintly moving.
’Huh?’
His face darkened.
He did not like what his instincts were trying to tell him, but there was a warning in that subtle quiver beneath his boots, in the ground.
Shima’s gaze was also drawn towards the weak disturbance in the earth.
She began to trace the tremors of the ground. The soil shivered too lightly, too deliberate to call it natural.
Then, her eyes lifted once more toward the lone Crestbeak Fowl in the clearing. That was when she saw its eyes — glassy, depthless, not the dull serenity of docility of what it should, but with the absolute vacancy of a creature that had long past death.
And along the creature’s hindquarters, the plumage parted around a raw, sunken wound — a place where flesh had been ruptured inward.
The edges were dark with coagulation.
Then, a recognition began to seep into her thoughts.
’Shit.’
Shima inwardly cursed.
Immediately, she opened her mouth and pressingly warned everyone.
"It’s a Bloodvine!! Move. NOW!!!!!!!"
Almost at the same instant, the Crestbeak Fowl’s lifeless head twisted toward them with a sickening snap.
The ground beneath it suddenly bulged before ripping apart.
Thick crimson vines burst from the earth, their surfaces slick and dark like fresh blood. They writhed wildly as though possessed, rushing toward the group with frightening speed. Every vine stretched forward, reaching for anything it could wrap around.
Shima was the closest.
One of the vines shot straight at her!
Fortunately, years of training reacted before her mind could fully catch up.
She casted [Lightning Step].
Lightning-aspected mana surged through her body, filling her muscles with explosive speed. Her feet barely touched the ground as she darted sideways in a flash, escaping the Bloodvine’s strike by little more than a breath.
A loud crack echoed through the air.
Boom!
The vine slammed into the spot where she had been standing only a heartbeat earlier, carving a long trench across the ground and sending dirt flying in all directions.
Arlok, meanwhile, was not as fortunate.
Speed had never been his greatest strength. What he possessed instead was a body built to withstand punishment.
The crimson vine lashed across his chest before he could get out of its path.
He casted [Body Enhancement].
Mana flowed through his body at the last moment, hardening his muscles and bones as he instinctively reinforced himself.
’Haaa fuck.’
He inwardly grumbled.
The impact landed with terrifying force!
Whack!
The Bloodvine struck him like a giant whip, sending a shockwave through his entire body. His feet left the ground as he was thrown into the sky.
"Warn them sooner, you damn bratttt!!—"
His voice echoed across the field before gradually fading into the distance.
Ruvian, on the other hand, realized it a fraction too late.
His mind was still piecing everything together when the Bloodvine had already begun its attack. By the time danger finally registered in his instincts, the crimson vine was already upon him.
’Shit...’
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[Chapter 223: The Missing Flock and the Smell of Blood]
Plot Points= 12,305
