We broke through the treeline and were back on the trail.

  The moment the group saw our pale and grim faces, every conversation died.

  Mary stepped forward first. “What happened? You found something?”

  Jack didn’t soften it. “A body. One of the kids who left early. Torn apart.”

  Gasps rippled through the group, sharp and panicked. Someone swore. Someone else stumbled back like the words had weight.

  Rhea covered her mouth, eyes wide. “A kid? Dead?”

  Lena nodded, voice tight. “He didn’t stand a chance. A monster found him.”

  “What monster?” asked Mark, another with the fighter class. “What’s out there?”

  I answered before panic could spiral. “A humanoid creature. Big, like eight feet tall. Strong. Level nine. We managed to kill it.”

  “You killed it?”

  Disbelief, shock, and fear were all layered in the voice of the woman who asked.

  Jack just tapped a crack in his shield. “It wasn’t easy.”

  Quinn lifted a shaky hand. “It… wasn’t human. It was eating the dead body...”

  That got an even louder reaction. Half the survivors didn’t know whether to hide or run.

  Tom let out a long, grim noise. “So the mountain’s got predators. Great.”

  “This is why we can’t stop for long,” I said, keeping my voice level, controlled. “We follow the trail down, and we stay together. If four of us manage to take it down, with thirty they won’t be a problem.”

  A murmur of agreement followed, uneasy ones.

  Mary stepped closer, touching my shoulder for a moment. “Thank you. All of you. If you need any healing… just tell.”

  “Actually I probably have a bruised arm.” I presented the limb to her, and she put her hand on it, a soft golden glow coming from her hand.

  “Yes, it’s bruised; hold still a second longer.” The glow changed to a light green colour, and the pain started to fade a little.

  “The skill will make you heal faster; consider taking a healing potion if you need it, ok? I won’t have you going around in pain.”

  “Thanks, Mary, I already feel better.” I told her.

  The curse buzzed faintly at the base of my skull again: approval, pressure, the usual sick tangle. I shoved it down.

  Tom clapped his hands once, loud enough to pull everyone’s attention. “Alright! Everyone listen. Form the same marching order as before. Crafters in the centre. Fighters front and back. Eyes open, mouths shut. Let’s move.”

  It worked.

  People started walking again, not confidently, but moving nonetheless.

  I took point with Jack, with Tom slightly ahead of us, scanning.

  Behind us a man in his thirties kept muttering, “A monster. A level nine monster… we’re not ready for this…”

  Another hissed back, “We don’t have a choice. The pillar’s not coming to us.”

  The trail sloped downward more steeply now, loose stones shifting underfoot. Every so often a gust of cold wind swept through the trees, scattering pine needles across the path.

  The further we descended, the more the group compressed together, instinctively huddling as if the trees themselves were watching.

  Tom glanced at me as we walked. “Think that thing was alone?”

  “No,” I said. “I think it’s just the first of many.”

  “And us killing it?” Jack asked quietly.

  I shrugged. “Might buy us a little safety. Or it might piss off whatever else lives on this mountain.”

  Jack made a face. “You’re terrible at reassurance.”

  “I don’t do reassurance with people who can take the truth; we are going to get into more fights. I want at least the most competent combatants to be ready to fight.”

  We continued downward.

  Step by step.

  We kept moving for another hour and a half, the whole line dragging itself down the mountain with all the speed of a dying slug.

  When an old woman finally asked for a break, I almost expected it. She was one of the few who refused the potions, too scared of curses to accept actual help. As if her own frailty wasn’t a curse enough.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  We tried reassuring her earlier, but the woman had just muttered prayers and clutched her golden cross.

  So the group halted. 'Ten minutes,' Tom announced. People practically collapsed. Some sat on their backpacks, others on shields, and some just slumped on rocks or sprawled directly on the trail like they were sunbathing.

  I scanned the surroundings. Out of the thirty-two of them, only two besides my own group were keeping any kind of watch.

  Ridiculous. Absolutely, mind-numbingly ridiculous.

  If I were alone, I’d be down the mountain already. If I were with competent people, I wouldn’t have to worry about someone getting eaten while taking a nap in the open.

  The sheer lack of awareness pressing around me was enough to give me an aneurysm.

  I took a sip from my waterskin, just a small sip, and had barely tucked it back into my pack when I heard it:

  Heavy footsteps.

  Behind us. Fast.

  I turned immediately.

  Two gorg brutes lumbered towards the group; towering, muscle-swollen monsters snarled in our direction. And with them...

  Another monstrosity?

  Something dog-shaped, with a faint hyena face, but stretched, big, and wrong. A metre and a half at the shoulder, all corded muscle and matted fur. Its eyes locked on us with predatory intent.

  Three voices rang at once:

  “Enemy!”

  “Monsters!”

  “Contact from behind!”

  And then the whole group exploded into panic.

  Some scrambled to grab weapons. Others fumbled crossbow bolts with trembling hands. Most screamed. Too many ran.

  Tom and I shouted orders, overlapping each other:

  “Concentrate fire!”

  “Fighters to the back! Shield wall, NOW!”

  “Mages and crossbows! Support from behind!”

  It didn’t matter.

  These people weren’t trained, nor weren’t disciplined. They were barely holding themselves together.

  A handful managed to cast spells. A couple threw their spears, missing wildly and losing their only weapon at the same time.

  My curse seized me by the spine and shoved me into action.

  I pushed through the panicking bodies, firing arcane bullets at the brutes. I tried to charge them harder this time, pouring extra mana into them, but after a certain point, something in the skill resisted, like pushing against a wall.

  The giant dog-beast shot ahead of the brutes with terrifying speed. It lunged and clamped its jaws around an older man desperately retreating.

  The crunch of breaking bones cut through the chaos with horrifying clarity.

  His scream followed it a heartbeat later.

  I moved towards him, but Quinn and one of the competent fighters were already intercepting the beast, distracting it enough for the man to be dragged away.

  Another fighter tried engaging one of the brutes. The other brute was being peppered with magic but wasn’t slowed in the slightest.

  Jack, Tom, and I rushed that one.

  We were almost in melee range when...

  FWOOOOOM

  A streak of fire slammed into the ground behind us, roaring into a blooming inferno. Heat washed over my back.

  We all turned.

  Another gorg, smaller and lankier, but draped in pelts and bones. A spellcaster.

  It swung a gnarled staff, more like a twisted tree, and a sphere of fire coalesced in front of it.

  In my nearly monochrome vision, the fireball burned in vivid, impossible colour, a violent blot of molten orange and gold in a grayscale world.

  For a heartbeat, I hesitated.

  My curse didn’t.

  It stabbed through my skull like a spike.

  I had to help. Had to stop it.

  If I didn’t, more would suffer.

  “I’ll take the mage!” I shouted. “You handle the others!”

  I heard someone yell something back, a warning or protest, but the chaos drowned it under a wave of sounds and urgency.

  I sprinted sideways, weaving through the panicked mob and the melee.

  I held back for a second, just a second, long enough for the fire mage to launch the fireball he was channelling.

  The magic inside it felt swollen, crackling, and dangerous. I had no intention of taking that to the face.

  The curse screamed at me for the delay, pain blooming behind my right eye. I nearly stumbled but forced myself forward.

  I charged the mage.

  Two arcane bullets left my fingers.

  It swung its staff, conjuring a fiery shield that swallowed the projectiles.

  I had his attention now.

  Another ball of flame swelled before it.

  I shot again, aiming for the fireball itself.

  BOOM

  The fireball detonated in its face.

  The gorg shrieked, blistering across its hands and snout. I closed the distance just as it thrust its staff at me.

  A second, smaller fireball appeared and launched instantly.

  I raised my shield. And I threw up an arcane barrier around myself.

  The impact rattled my still bruised arm to the shoulder.

  A bell-like chime exploded inside my skull.

  My ears rang violently, my hearing deadened to a dull, suffocating hum.

  But the barrier held. Barely; cracks covered it.

  I dropped it and pushed forward.

  Up close, the mage was smaller and frailer than the brutes but still seven feet tall, towering over me.

  It swung its staff down.

  Instead of blocking, I used Arcane Push; the cone of force slammed it off its feet and onto its back.

  It shouted something. But I heard nothing but ringing.

  I didn’t slow.

  Didn’t think.

  I brought my mace down.

  It was too soon to cast another push, so I channelled a bullet through the weapon.

  The impact hit with a sickening crunch.

  The head snapped back on the ground. One of its eyes burst thanks to the bullet.

  I drew back for a finishing blow.

  WHOOM

  A ring of fire exploded outward from its body.

  I was too open, with no shield in place.

  I activated the barrier at the last possible instant, and it shattered almost immediately.

  The flames blasted into me and threw me through the air. My back struck a tree hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

  My vision was flickering.

  My cloak was on fire.

  Everything hurt.

  Get up.

  Finish it.

  The need was primal, curse and instinct merging into a single command.

  I staggered upright and saw the mage; it was on one knee, cradling its ruined face, screaming.

  I felt my hand empty; I had lost my mace somewhere. It didn’t matter, weapon or no weapon. It had to die.

  I ran.

  It saw me with its good eye and raised its hand, pointing at me.

  A jet of fire, like a living flamethrower, slammed into my shield. I forced another barrier into existence, the strain scraping raw against my mind.

  The shield deflected the worst. The barrier took the rest.

  I pushed forward, step by burning step, until the shield pressed against something solid, its arm.

  I shoved to the side.

  The jet of fire veered away and Its ruined face stared at me in disbelief.

  I clenched my fist and threw a punch at the destroyed part of its face.

  Arcane Push burst from my knuckles, tearing through my skin, driving into the mage’s skull like a wrecking ball.

  Its head exploded backwards in a spray of dark gore and bone fragments.

  Thud.

  I fell to one knee, breathing hard; a chime rang in my skull, different from the ringing of the curse. A system message. But I had no time to waste now; people were still in need, and my curse won’t let me rest.

  I turned around and saw too many people on the ground, and the remaining were trying to take down the last gorg; it was full of holes, wounds and bolts. But it was refusing to go down.

  Ah, shit.