Chapter 790: Findir’s Mission (3)
Despite the chaos rapidly approaching, Findir didn’t flinch. He didn’t panic, didn’t even shift his weight. His calm was absolute, a stillness so deep that it would have put even Aisa, a sniper renowned for her unshakable focus, to shame. Instead, he remained utterly composed, his mind as clear as a tranquil lake.
Without a sound, he moved. His eyes flicked upward, locking onto the thick, massive branches of the tree looming above him. In a swift, fluid motion, Findir scaled the trunk, using his hands and feet to expertly climb from one sturdy branch to another. His movements were precise and deliberate, his body blending seamlessly with the natural contours of the tree until he reached a spot just below the dense canopy.
There, amidst the thick branches, he stopped. Closing his eyes again, Findir stilled his breath. His pulse slowed to a near imperceptible rhythm, his chest barely rising and falling. It was as if he had vanished from the world, his presence hidden beneath a shroud of wind that whispered through the leaves.
It was an ability so subtle, so refined, that it could only be achieved through years of honed skill. Though there were techniques and magic designed to cloak one’s presence, Findir had mastered it to such a degree that he could replicate the effect through sheer will and experience alone. His heartbeat, his breath, everything slowed to the point where he seemed almost dead, invisible even to the sharpest eyes.
From his perch high above, he waited. Below, the enraged monsters and the frantic leopard would pass, completely unaware of his hidden form in the trees.
Just as Findir expected the leopard to dart past him, something unexpected happened. The sleek, muscular creature rushed beneath the tree, only to pivot and leap straight up towards him. Its powerful legs coiled like springs, launching it upwards with alarming speed. Findir’s eyes widened ever so slightly, though his composure never faltered. Theories raced through his mind in the split second it took for the leopard to ascend.
Had the elf cast some kind of tracking spell? Maybe the leopard had left some form of magic in his shadow back in the prison, allowing it to follow him no matter where he went. That would explain how the creature had honed in on his position so effortlessly, even though Findir had cloaked his presence. There was no other explanation—the leopard must have been tracking him all along.
As the leopard’s claws grazed the lower branches, Findir’s mind snapped back to the present. He took in the scene below, his attention now drawn to the hulking shapes of the monsters that had been chasing the feline. The beasts thundered into view, their massive forms making the forest floor tremble beneath their weight.
The first creature was a towering, tusked boar-like monster, its hide a tough, gnarled armor of spiked bone plates. Its yellow eyes burned with fury as it snorted, steam billowing from its nostrils with each breath. Its tusks were easily the size of tree trunks, curling outward in vicious arcs that could easily tear through the thickest of trees.
Behind it came another, larger beast—a hulking, bear-like creature with fur as black as night, but with jagged spikes protruding along its spine. Its claws were as long as daggers, and its maw dripped with thick saliva, its lips peeled back in a snarl that revealed rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. Its glowing red eyes were locked onto the leopard, and the rage in its roar echoed through the forest, shaking the leaves loose from the branches.
A third creature joined the chase, a serpentine beast that slithered between the trees. Its scales shimmered with an iridescent glow, changing colors as it moved, making it nearly invisible against the shifting light of the darkening forest. The snake-like monster’s body coiled and undulated with unnatural fluidity, its venomous fangs bared, dripping with a glowing, toxic substance that sizzled as it hit the ground.
Findir took it all in with a detached calm, analyzing the threats. These creatures were powerful, their sheer size and aggression terrifying to most, but Findir’s experience with combat gave him an edge. Even as they closed in, he didn’t panic. Theories and plans swirled through his mind as he assessed the situation, ready to move or strike if necessary.
But the leopard—now nearly at eye level with him—seemed to have other ideas. It wasn’t attacking. Instead, it paused briefly, meeting his gaze with its golden eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever magic had linked them was guiding it back to him, not as an enemy, but as an ally.
As Findir watched in disbelief, the monstrous creatures—once grounded by their hulking forms—began to sprout enormous, leathery wings from their backs. The transformation was swift, almost unnatural, and their massive bodies, despite their bulk, now lifted into the air with surprising grace. The boar’s tusks gleamed under the pale moonlight, and the bear’s jagged spikes shimmered as it flew upward. Even the serpentine beast, already fluid in its movements, slithered through the sky like a streak of darkness, all of them now in pursuit of the leopard, which was mere meters away from Findir.
Findir’s mind raced as he weighed his options. Run or fight?
If he chose to flee, the leopard would inevitably find him again—possibly dragging even more creatures in its wake. Escape would become impossible. But staying to fight brought its own obvious risks: death or, at the very least, severe injury. Either way, neither option seemed favorable, and the ticking seconds only pushed the danger closer.
His eyes darted to the monstrous creatures gaining on the leopard, then back to the approaching feline, and a question shot through his mind: What would Orion do in this situation?
Suddenly, an idea blossomed in his mind—a dark, unsettling one. A twisted grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, a grin that disturbed even him. If he could make it to the orc camp injured—injured by these beasts—it would make his story far more believable. He could claim that the trolls had sent these monsters to stop him from reaching the orcs, heightening the tension between the two races. After all, these creatures, with their immense size and ferocity, could easily be mistaken for agents of the trolls. And the injuries they’d inflict—brutal, raw wounds—would bear no distinct signatures, unlike those inflicted by regular weapons or claws.
The claw marks of the bear, for example, were so large that a single swipe would cover most of Findir’s body. The mauling of such creatures could easily be passed off as troll-inflicted injuries. This ruse would allow him not only to rid himself of the threat posed by the monsters but also to eliminate the leopard in the process, severing any magic that tied him to the elf.
Of course, the thought of killing the leopard did give him pause. He imagined the elf’s fury back in the prison when he realized his pet had been slain. The elf would undoubtedly be enraged, likely seeking revenge against Findir’s companions. But Findir had confidence in Orion. Orion always had a plan. And if not, Findir believed his comrades could handle the elf in his moment of rage. They were strong enough—or at least, he believed Orion could find a way to neutralize the threat.
The pieces fell into place in his mind like a perfectly laid trap. With this, he could achieve several objectives at once: gain the trust of the orcs, rid himself of the pursuing monsters, and sever his connection to the elf’s leopard. It was dangerous, but the risks were worth the rewards.
With a slow, deliberate breath, Findir steeled himself. He would fight—not to win, but to survive just long enough to pull off his plan. He had faced worse odds before, and his cunningness had never failed him.
As the monsters closed in, his unsettling grin remained, his mind already working on how best to make this encounter work in his favor.
Without warning, the panther’s golden eyes locked onto Findir’s for just a brief moment before it abruptly leaped off the tree. Its sleek body darted into the air with the swiftness of a shadow fleeing the light. But just as it disappeared from view, something unexpected happened.
The panther twisted mid-air, spraying a thin, shimmering mist back in Findir’s direction. The mist glowed faintly in the dark, catching the moonlight in a fleeting, almost ethereal gleam. Findir inhaled instinctively, and the moment it touched him, his senses went into overdrive. His skin tingled, and the air around him seemed to grow thicker, heavier. It wasn’t just any magic—this mist was some kind of tracking or scenting spell, marking him as prey.
His eyes widened in realization.
With a terrifying roar, the monsters—now mid-flight—shifted their attention from the fleeing panther to Findir. The boar-like creature let out an ear-piercing squeal, its tusks gleaming as it charged toward him. The bear followed, its immense wings sending gusts of wind as it barreled straight at the tree where Findir had been perched. Even the serpent, with its glowing eyes, fixated on Findir, its body twisting unnaturally as it homed in on him.
The mist had done its work. Now, the monsters saw Findir as their target.
"Dammit," Findir muttered under his breath, his mind racing once more as he assessed his quickly deteriorating situation. The beasts were coming for him—and fast.
There was no more time to plan. His earlier calm and calculated demeanor had to give way to swift action, but as the ground-shaking roars of the creatures echoed through the forest, his unsettling grin returned.
This was exactly what he needed.
