Riven could not calm down. The physician’s explanation about the woman being paraded echoed relentlessly in his mind. And amid that story, for some reason, Melly’s face appeared in his thoughts. Worry pressed against his chest, growing heavier with every passing moment, until he could no longer resist the urge to look for her.

His hand reached for Riftmaker, then he wrapped the blade in cloth to hide it. He had no intention of attracting greedy eyes or provoking unnecessary trouble. Securing it on his back, he drew in a deep breath and opened the door.

The moment the door swung open, damp, frigid air slapped his face. Rain fell in torrents, cascading down like blocks of water. The village road had already turned into a mire of thick brown mud, streams rushing through the narrow trenches. His vision blurred, even a few steps ahead concealed by a curtain of water.

Riven cursed under his breath and reluctantly stayed beneath the physician’s doorway. His legs longed to run, yet in such a storm, it was impossible to see clearly. He waited, though the waiting itself squeezed his chest tighter.

His eyes lifted to the sky. Black clouds churned violently in layers, like ink swirling across a gray canvas. Lightning cracked, etching white scars between the rolling thunderheads. And then the memories struck him. Most vivid of all was the image of young Melly’s face during a storm just like this, when the downpour had drenched them both.

“Melly should be fine, Aria is with her. So why am I so anxious? It must be this damned storm,” Riven muttered inwardly.

When the rain finally began to ease, Riven stepped out again. His boots sank into sodden ground. But after only a few steps, he froze.

The earth.

He felt it. A faint vibration, like the heartbeat of some vast creature pulsing beneath the soil.

He turned his gaze toward the overcast sky. Then he saw it, something that stole the air from his lungs.

Birds.

Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands.

They burst from the forest in chaotic swarms, their formations broken, wings slicing the air with a deafening whir. The flurry of flapping filled the heavens, like countless sheets tearing at once, mingled with shrill cries of panic that pierced the ear.

Riven stood frozen, watching the mass of birds flee the forest. His chest tightened. If even the birds fled, then something far more terrifying was stirring beyond the trees.

And it was.

The tremors beneath his feet grew stronger. He turned, and his eyes widened.

A group of village guards came sprinting down the main road in panic. Their faces were pale, breath ragged, shouts breaking into the storm-soaked air. Some stumbled, others shoved each other aside, all of them consumed by blind terror.

Then, through the rain-slicked street, dark shapes emerged.

Wolves. A dozen of them.

Their bodies were massive, twice the size of normal beasts. Their wet black fur clung to rippling muscle, their eyes glowed with golden light, and drool mixed with blood dripped from their snapping jaws. They tore across the mud with frightening speed, maws wide open.

In an instant, the pack overtook the slowest man. Fangs sank into flesh, a long scream split the storm. The body was dragged, arms flailing uselessly, then bones cracked beneath crushing jaws. Blood sprayed, mingling with the rainwater, painting streaks of crimson across the gray canvas of the village.

Amid the chaos, one guard’s voice rang louder than all the rest. His tone was hoarse, broken, quivering with fear barely masked by his last scrap of courage. He planted himself in the middle of the road, body trembling, wooden spear aimed at the shadowed forest.

“BE—BEAST… A BEAST WAVE!” His voice cracked, rising above the terrified cries of fleeing villagers. “A BEAST WAVE! EVERYONE RUN!”

But his warning had barely left his lips when a wolf the size of a horse lunged from the darkness. Its fangs clamped down on his shoulder, crushing bone and flesh in a single bite.

“AAARGH!” His scream ripped through the storm.

His body slammed into the ground, blood gushing bright against the mud and rain. Villagers who caught a glimpse of him turned pale, realizing the truth of his words: a beast wave, dozens, perhaps hundreds, were already advancing on the village.

From the forest came the howling chorus of beasts, layered and unending, like the opening notes of a symphony of hell.

Riven froze. His chest tightened, his throat locked. But instinct seized control. He turned and ran. His breath rasped, his feet pounded the mud, splashing water with every desperate step. Only one thought echoed in his mind: Melly.

He had to reach his sister.

From side streets, new shadows emerged. A massive bear lumbered forward, its patchy fur marked by wounds, its eyes burning red, each step shaking the ground. From a narrow alley, a pack of half-starved dogs with frothing jaws spilled out, howling in wild chorus.

Beast roars, human screams, and the wingbeats of fleeing birds blended into one. The simple village of wooden homes had turned into a hunting ground, and humans were nothing more than prey.

Riven sprinted, his heart about to burst, Riftmaker weighing heavy on his back. His eyes darted wildly for a path toward the square. Behind him, the thundering steps and roars of beasts drew closer.

His body was still frail from half-healed wounds, but his legs refused to stop, pounding across the slippery ground. Amid the panic, his hands swiftly unwound the ragged cloth around Riftmaker. The blade, white as ice, slowly revealed itself, heavy and cold as if it had a pulse of its own.

He knew he had to fight.

And then it came.

A massive shadow dropped from above. The roof of a crumbling house collapsed as something landed with crushing force. The ground shook violently, blocking Riven’s path.

A giant gorilla. Its drenched black fur clung to its body, its eyes burned crimson with blind rage. Muscles bulged beneath its skin, broader than two men combined. Hot breath steamed from its mouth as it growled, baring massive teeth that could shatter bones.

Riven stopped dead, body stiff. His breath came fast, legs unsteady, but his eyes stayed sharp. He knew one thing: if he lingered too long, the beast wave behind him would catch up, and that would be the end.

The gorilla roared and charged. Its massive fist slammed down, the impact shaking the street, stones cracking, mud erupting in all directions. Riven barely leapt aside in time, tumbling hard before forcing himself back to his feet, knees quaking.

The attacks came in relentless waves. Fists, sweeping arms, even lunging kicks. Riven twisted, ducked, vaulted aside, struggling to keep his breath steady. But his body screamed, lungs burning, as if his old internal wounds were tearing open again.

“No… I can’t last long. I have to end this now.”

His gaze tracked the beast’s movements, watching the rhythm of its strikes, waiting for the one moment its guard would slip. Once, twice, he nearly lost his footing. But then he saw it—a gap. The gorilla’s right arm swung too wide, its flank exposed.

Riven tightened his grip on Riftmaker with both hands. The ice-white blade trembled faintly, as if sharing its master’s resolve. Rain streamed down his face, eyes narrowed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep