Chapter 56: No Ordinary Hunt.

Chaos erupted the moment steel met flesh.

The two hunting parties slammed into the Herald’s advancing horde not as allies bound by necessity, but as rivals chasing the same blood-soaked prize. The rain-slick street became a killing ground, boots splashing through water and gore as monsters, hunters, and fleeing civilians collided in a single, roaring mass.

Kade carved a path straight toward the Troll King.

He moved with ruthless precision, twin xiphos flashing in tight, controlled arcs as he cut through lesser creatures that strayed too close. There was no wasted motion in him. No flourish. Every step shortened the distance to his true target. His hunters flowed around him like extensions of his intent, maintaining formation even as chaos surged at their flanks.

A goblin burst from behind an overturned car, rusted scimitar raised as it lunged toward a screaming survivor. One of Kade’s hunters, an assassin by trade if the paired daggers were any indication, blurred into motion. Steel flashed once. Clean. Efficient. The goblin’s head separated from its shoulders in a crimson spray, tumbling end over end before the body collapsed in a twitching heap.

In the same breath, the archer moved.

She released an arrow without breaking stride. The shaft punched cleanly through a charging knoll’s eye socket, snapping its head back violently as it crumpled mid-run. She skidded across wet asphalt, boots scraping for purchase, already reaching for another arrow. A second knoll leapt from behind a wrecked sedan. She caught the arrow mid-shaft, pivoted her body just enough for the creature’s claws to miss her throat, and drove the arrow upward into the soft flesh beneath its jaw. Her knee came up at the same time. The force was brutal and precise, hitting the butt of the arrow up. Bone cracked. The arrowhead burst through the top of the knoll’s skull as its body folded lifelessly against her.

They were not fighting desperately.

They were executing.

On the opposite flank, the Bloodclaws surged forward like a laughing avalanche.

They had no formation. They had hunger.

A massive hunter, wielding a maul the size of a suitcase, roared with delight as he brought the weapon down on two goblins at once. The impact reduced them to wet paste, bone fragments, and brain matter splattering across the street and nearby storefronts. He laughed harder, swinging again before the remains even finished falling.

Another Bloodclaw, a woman with jagged bone piercings lining her arms and neck, materialized a serrated short spear in one hand and a hatchet in the other. She charged straight through a knot of fleeing civilians, shoving them aside with brutal indifference. A man stumbled and fell beneath her boots. She kicked him hard enough to send him skidding across the pavement, clearing a path straight into the heart of the chaos.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” she screamed, voice hoarse with exhilaration.

A kobold lunged at a small child nearby, claws outstretched. The Bloodclaw reached it first. She hacked the creature’s arm clean off, kicked its knee sideways as it screamed, and drove the spear down into the back of its skull when it hit the ground. She did not slow. She did not look back. She ripped the weapon free and hurled herself into a cluster of goblins and knolls, spinning, hacking, and stabbing like a woman possessed.

They were not protecting the helpless.

They were weaponizing them.

Civilians became obstacles. Panic became cover. Screams masked Bloodclaw’s movement, and the confusion allowed them to surge deeper into the battlefield unchecked.

And it worked.

The Troll King roared.

The sound rolled across the street like grinding boulders, shaking glass, and rattling teeth. It swung its massive club in a wide, annihilating arc, the air screaming as the reinforced lamppost tore through rain and mist. Asphalt shattered where it struck, chunks of road and debris exploding outward.

Kade ducked beneath the swing, the wind of the passing weapon snapping his coat and hair back. He drove forward without hesitation, both xiphos punching into the Troll King’s left calf, sinking to the hilt. The monster’s hide resisted for a fraction of a second before giving way. Thick, oil-black blood gushed out, steaming as it hit the rain-soaked ground.

The Troll King bellowed in agony and rage, its free leg kicking out wildly. Kade was already gone.

He rolled clear as the massive foot slammed down where he had been, cracking pavement. His hunters moved instantly, arrows, throwing stars, and bolts slamming into the monster’s joints and exposed flesh, drawing its attention and buying him space.

“The leg,” Kade shouted, voice sharp and commanding. “Focus the left leg!”

A Bloodclaw heard him.

A man wielding a flaming greatsword grinned widely, eyes gleaming through rain and smoke. Instead of joining the effort, he pivoted mid-run and charged a Bastion hunter who was locked in combat with a knoll. The blade came down in a single, brutal arc, cleaving through monster and ally alike. Both bodies fell apart at his feet.

“That’s for getting in my way!” the Bloodclaw howled, laughter echoing as fire hissed against the rain.

Kade caught the kill from the corner of his eye.

A muscle twitched sharply along his jaw, irritation flashing through him, but he did not break formation or turn his head. He knew better than to let anger drag his focus away from the real objective. Chaos was inevitable when the Bloodclaws were involved. Control came from discipline. Control came from ignoring everything that did not matter.

His attention snapped back to the Troll King.

The creature staggered beneath the relentless assault. Its left leg had become a mangled ruin, flesh shredded open by blades, arrows, and relentless strikes. Thick black blood spilled across the pavement, mixing with rainwater into oily streams that crawled toward broken drains. Each step it took left a crater in the fractured asphalt. For a brief, fragile moment, it looked as though the giant might collapse under the accumulated damage.

Then Kade saw it.

The flesh moved.

The deep wounds began to crawl shut with grotesque persistence. The torn muscle twitched and pulled itself together. Congealed blood hardened like tar, sealing ruptured veins. The torn edges of its calf stitched themselves closed in slow, horrible motions, as if invisible hands were forcing the monster back into shape. It was not fast enough to erase their progress, but it was fast enough to erase hesitation.

Every second wasted was a second returned to the monster.

The realization settled cold and heavy in his chest.

It was healing.

“Boss, the Troll King has a high regeneration rate!” the woman ranger shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of rain and steel. She loosed another arrow without pause. The shaft slammed into the Knoll’s head, burying deep until only the fletching remained visible.

“Fuck!” Kade roared, frustration bleeding through his otherwise controlled tone as he circled wide, blades angled low. Rain streaked across his face, mingling with monster blood as he searched for a new opening.

Around them, the battlefield churned without mercy.

Bastion hunters pressed forward with calculated movements, shields locking and separating as they attempted to cripple the Troll King’s mobility. Bloodclaws surged through the gaps like wolves chasing the scent of blood, their laughter rising above the screams of dying monsters and civilians alike.

One of them leapt.

The Bloodclaw hurled himself high into the air with a feral scream, boots leaving the ground in a powerful launch. “ARRRRRRRGGGGGH!” His voice ripped through the storm as he descended toward the Troll King’s head, fist raised overhead, flames licking along his gauntlet as he prepared to deliver a finishing strike.

For a split second, it looked like he might succeed.

The Troll King moved.

Its massive hand shot upward with brutal speed, fingers snapping shut around the hunter’s torso mid-flight. The impact knocked the breath from him instantly, his scream collapsing into a strangled gasp. Mossy green eyes, dull yet disturbingly aware, focused on him with cold recognition.

The world seemed to slow.

The Bloodclaw struggled violently, clawing at the thick fingers crushing around his ribs. His boots kicked uselessly at empty air. Panic flooded his face as the truth set in. He was not the predator here.

He was prey.

The Troll King tightened its grip.

Bones cracked loudly enough to cut through the clash of weapons. Armor buckled inward. The man’s body folded grotesquely as pressure crushed the life from him. The scream that escaped him lasted only a moment before it broke apart into wet silence. The giant squeezed once more, reducing him to something limp and shattered.

Then it tossed him aside.

The corpse flew through the rain like discarded refuse, slamming into the rusted shell of a wrecked vehicle with a hollow, final thud before sliding slowly into a gutter choked with blood and debris.

For a heartbeat, even the Bloodclaws hesitated.

Their laughter faltered. Weapons paused mid-swing. The realization settled over them that this was no ordinary hunt.

Then the Troll King roared again, louder than before, a thunderous bellow that rolled across the battlefield and shook loose dust from shattered storefronts. Its wounds continued to knit together beneath the rain, flesh pulling tight, muscles thickening as if strengthened by every drop of spilled blood.

The hunt had only just begun.

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