Chapter 274: They are Odd (5).

They’d been walking for perhaps ten minutes when Arthur stopped again, this time with his head tilted slightly as if listening for something.

Jacob noticed immediately, his hand moving to his axe. “What is it?”

“There is movement,” Arthur said quietly.

Nero focused his hearing, filtering out the ambient sounds of the forest. After a moment, he caught it too. The soft rustle of disturbed undergrowth coming from several different directions at once.

“Brandors, perhaps.” Jacob muttered, his eyes scanning the trees. “Those rabid fuckers must have been drawn in by the scent of blood.”

Jacob’s axe was already in his hand as he asked, “How many you think there is this time?”

Arthur shrugged, “It’s hard to say.”

The rustling grew louder, closer. Through gaps in the undergrowth, Nero caught glimpses of movement—large shapes with matted fur and too many limbs, their heads grotesquely oversized compared to their bodies.

Then they attacked.

The first Brandor burst from the treeline to Arthur’s left, its massive jaws already open in a soundless roar. The creature was easily eight feet long, with four legs that ended in hooked claws and a head that seemed to be mostly fangs and its maw.

Arthur pivoted on his back foot, his sword coming up in a rising slash that caught the Brandor mid-leap. The blade passed through the creature’s torso at an angle, entering just below the ribcage and exiting through the shoulder. The two halves of the Brandor continued forward on momentum alone before crashing into the ground several feet past Arthur.

Two more came from the right. Jacob met them with his waraxe already in motion. The first swing caught both creatures at once, the enchanted blade passing through their bodies and buried itself in a tree trunk behind them with enough force to split the oak clean through.

Jacob pulled his weapon free with a casual tug as the tree toppled.

More Brandors emerged from the forest, their numbers quickly exceeding Jacob’s initial estimate. Nero counted at least twenty, with more shadows moving in the undergrowth that suggested even greater numbers.

A Brandor charged Nero from behind, its claws churning up earth as it closed the distance. Nero spun, bringing his spear around in a horizontal arc that caught the creature across its oversized skull. The impact jarred his arms but the spear held, and the Brandor’s momentum carried it past him.

Before it could recover, Nero reversed his grip and drove the spear down through its spine. The creature spasmed once, then went still.

Arthur was already engaging three more Brandors simultaneously. A horizontal slash opened one’s throat. A downward cut split another’s skull. A thrust pierced the third’s chest.

None of them landed a single hit on him.

One Brandor managed to get behind him through sheer numbers. Its jaws opened wide, targeting the back of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur turned, his blade already moving, and took the creature’s head in a single efficient cut.

Jacob carved through another group of Brandors with devastating swings. His axe moved with brutal efficiency, each impact sending shockwaves through the ground. Trees fell around him, some from direct hits, others simply collapsing from the damage to their trunks.

Nero found himself facing four at once, the creatures spreading out to attack from multiple angles.

He caught the first one with his spear, driving the point through its eye and into its brain. As it fell, he wrenched the weapon free and spun to face the second, which had already closed to within arm’s reach.

Its claws raked across his shoulder, tearing through his coat and drawing blood. Nero gritted his teeth against the pain and slammed the spear’s butt into the creature’s jaw, snapping its head back. While it was staggered, he reversed the weapon and drove it through the Brandor’s throat.

The third came from his left, moving low to the ground. Nero barely managed to bring his spear around in time, catching it across the snout. The blow didn’t kill it, but it bought him enough time to kick the creature in its oversized head, sending it sprawling.

The fourth Brandor leaped at him from behind. Nero heard it coming and tried to turn, but he was too slow. The creature’s weight crashed into his back, driving him to the ground. Claws dug into his shoulders, jaws snapping near his neck.

Then the weight was suddenly gone.

Nero rolled over to see Arthur standing above him, his sword dripping black blood. The Brandor that had attacked Nero lay in two pieces several feet away.

“Pay attention,” Arthur said, already turning back to engage more Brandors.

Nero climbed to his feet, retrieved his spear, and drove it through the skull of the Brandor he’d kicked earlier. His shoulders burned where the claws had torn his flesh, but the wounds weren’t deep.

The battle continued for several more minutes before the attacks finally began to taper off. The remaining Brandors retreated back into the forest depths, their pack intelligence deciding this prey was too dangerous.

Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the occasional groan of damaged trees and the soft drip of corrupted blood.

Arthur cleaned his blade, the enchanted steel repelling the ichor. Jacob retrieved a waterskin and took a long drink before offering it to Arthur, who accepted with a nod.

Neither of them was injured nor did they show any significant fatigue.

Nero stood among the carnage and let out a huff.

“That was more like it,” Jacob said, surveying the field of corpses.

Arthur nodded. “Good warm-up.” His gaze drifted slightly to the Sergeant, but the man didn’t even seem to notice him, staring ahead with a bored expression on his face.

Once they had readied themselves, they started walking again, stepping over Brandor corpses and fallen trees.

Nero followed behind them, checking his wounds. The cuts on his shoulder were merely performative and would soon heal on their own. Thankfully, no one seemed to care much about him, so it would matter either ways.

They walked for another twenty minutes, moving deeper into the Thornwood. The corruption grew thicker here. The trees were darker, their bark almost black, and the undergrowth had taken on twisted shapes that suggested prolonged exposure to corrupted Ein Sof.

Arthur raised his hand again, signaling a halt.

This time, the forest went completely silent, as if every living thing had suddenly ceased to exist. Even the wind stopped, leaving the air heavy and still.

“Something’s wrong,” Jacob said, his voice low.

Arthur’s hand was already on his sword. “I know.”

The ground trembled slightly.

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