Chapter 68.1: The Bloodhounds Inside the Lonelywood's Forest: The Encounter
Year 0003, IV-VII Month: The Imperium
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The BloodHounds Pursuit
Within a few days of information gathering, the two bloodhounds sent to find the retired captain Sandeval had already eliminated those who survived the Grimfang ambush. It was an added stipulation in their individual missions to eliminate cowards who couldn't finish their objectives. The underworld's rules are ruthless and merciless; they do not cater to anything but success and power. Such is the nature of the man known as Bo Banal, the leader of the Corvus Underworld Group and the Zargos Mercantile.
He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, masked in holy light while simultaneously shrouded by darkness—a master of deception who wielded both sacred and profane influences to maintain his iron grip on the criminal networks that sprawled across multiple territories.
Now his bloodhounds were out for blood, their crimson trail already marking the deaths of every surviving member of that failed mission except for Sandeval. Each elimination had been swift, clinical, and final—a testament to their reputation as the most feared hunters in the underworld.
Retracing Sandeval's steps wasn't an easy task; he was a person of few words who left minimal traces of his passage. But they had a crucial clue: he was a survivor of this very forest they now stood before, its ancient canopy stretching endlessly into the horizon. Returning to familiar territory was a psychological pattern humans exhibited when desperate or cornered, and these bloodhounds understood this phenomenon intimately. For as long as they had been tracking humans across various terrains and circumstances, it remained a consistent behavioral pattern.
However, there was a significant caveat: how would they find him within a forest so vast, expansive, and inherently dangerous? The answer lay in a simple truth—wherever humans tread, traces of their presence linger. Given Sandeval's minimalistic nature, they assumed he had left subtle but detectable signs scattered throughout this wilderness. Fingerprints of his existence: burnt wood from campfires, residual mana signatures from spell usage, blood stains from hunted animals, disturbed vegetation patterns. These elements could be traced and tracked even after considerable time had passed; some traces endured far longer than others, especially to those trained in the art of pursuit.
They began moving through the forest with remarkable speed, their confidence evident in every stride. They possessed the required strength, cunning, intelligence, and specialized skills to back up their legendary reputation. Defeating boss-ranked monsters was no trivial task, but creatures ranked below that threshold? Like slicing butter with a heated knife—effortless and precise.
Soon enough, they discovered traces of human activity embedded in the forest floor. There were animal blood stains that had been present for weeks, somewhat diluted by the recent rainy week but still detectable to their trained senses. Putting themselves in Sandeval's position, this must have been the aftermath of a hunt by an amature hunter. He wouldn't have been careless enough to leave such obvious blood stains on the forest ground under normal circumstances, which suggested either desperation or injury. Logically, they redirected their search toward streams and other water sources, where they might uncover additional clues about their target's movements and current condition.
He could also be constantly moving, never establishing a permanent camp, shifting locations daily to avoid detection. These were tactical considerations they formulated based on the behavioral patterns Sandeval had exhibited throughout his documented escort career and civilian life.
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The Hunted
Meanwhile, Sandeval remained locked within a cavern, making no sound or complaint. He neither moved unnecessarily nor spoke unless directly addressed. His weathered face bore only the weight of profound remorse, though he was kept well-fed at August's insistence—a gesture meant to preserve some semblance of humanity in their treatment of their captive. Of course, many would argue he didn't deserve such consideration given his past actions. But the boy wasn't driven purely by murderous intent; compassion still flickered within him, even as it battled against the reserved anger and deep-seated hatred toward those who had slaughtered his family in cold blood.
Sandeval, for his part, had already surrendered his will to live, waiting with grim patience for his captors to end his suffering. The weight of his guilt and the knowledge of his impending fate had drained all fight from his spirit. He existed now in a liminal space between life and death, sustained only by August's mercy and his own stubborn biology.
Unbeknownst to them all, the bloodhounds had already infiltrated the forest floor, their presence like a malignant shadow creeping through the ancient woods. Currently, Aetherwing was not conducting his usual inspection rounds of the forest perimeter, having been called away on other matters.
But sooner rather than later, blood would be spilled upon the forest floor, and the fragile peace they had built would be shattered.
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Life in Constant Revolution
Life continued its relentless forward march. The villagers had been diligently repairing various structures around their settlement, maintaining the flourishing garden fields that had become their pride and sustenance, patrolling the village perimeter with renewed vigilance, and adhering to their crucial daily training regimens that encompassed everything from basic physical exercise to advanced combat drills.
They had recently experienced another abundance, with significant surplus from their latest harvest. After the rains had ceased several days prior, the plants seemed to have grown with almost supernatural vigor. The harvest had exploded in both quantity and quality, as if the very land had been blessed by the life-giving precipitation. Since yesterday, they had been systematically harvesting their food crops and medicinal herbs, working in coordinated shifts to maximize efficiency while maintaining the plants' health.
Even the fruit-bearing trees August and Angeline had planted two years ago had begun producing their first substantial harvest, their branches heavy with colorful, aromatic offerings. Genuine smiles of accomplishment and joy were etched across every face in the community. They had been tending these plants with dedication and care since the moment they were first planted as seeds, and now those seeds had literally borne fruit to nourish their bodies and souls.
Given this extraordinary bounty, a celebratory feast was planned for the coming days. They would allow the garden beds to rest for several weeks while preparing them for the next planting cycle. Their seed stores were impressively stocked with numerous varieties, including root vegetables and tubers that had been carefully preserved and strategically planted throughout different sections of their agricultural area.
Of the twelve established garden beds, two were specifically reserved for Aunt Theresa's collection of village-grown medicinal plants. Some of these specimens had been carefully transplanted directly from the deeper forest regions—rare varieties not easily found outside this particular ecosystem. But here, within their protected boundaries, such plants flourished abundantly. This botanical pharmacy brought immense joy to Theresa as both an herbalist and healer. Her mood had been absolutely delightful for the past several days, accompanied by gentle humming and childlike skipping as she selected mature leaves and fruits to grind into healing concoctions.
The other villagers who maintained their own individual plots of land shared in this overwhelming joy. There was something profoundly satisfying about nurturing something from seed to harvest, about literally reaping what one had sown through patience and care.
August, however, remained busy with more pressing concerns. He had ventured into the forest alone, systematically searching for something—or rather, someone—who decidedly should not be present within their sanctuary.
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It Has Begun
Several hours earlier, Aetherwing along with his Peregrine Partner had commenced his daily aerial ascent to hunt for food for his growing family. August typically accompanied them on his master's back during these excursions to gain some aerial view of their land, while the younger chicks remained in the village to socialize with the human residents. Kirpy, the most social of the chicks, had already developed a particular attachment to Bren and could regularly be found perched nearby.
After reaching optimal hunting altitude, Aetherwing's keen senses detected a pair of auras comparable in strength to Boss-ranked Beasts. More concerning, these entities appeared to be actively searching for something specific within the forest boundaries. Recognizing the immediate threat this represented, he quickly transmitted an urgent alert to August.
"Lad, it seems we have an unwelcome company. They appear formidable—by my assessment, their power levels are comparable or near Boss Rank Beasts. Exercise extreme caution. While I believe you could handle one of them in single combat, you remain relatively inexperienced fighting human opponents of near-peer or those with superior capability. Remember, humans can be far more ruthless and unpredictable than any beast. These particular individuals radiate bloodlust—they've come here to kill. I will provide support if the situation demands it."
August felt the foreboding sensation of violence and death encroaching upon their peaceful territory. If these individuals possessed the power their auras suggested, they were undoubtedly master-level combatants. Accelerating toward the forest lodging house, August shouted a warning to his companions near the gates: "They're here!"
Angeline and Christopher initially appeared confused, but comprehension dawned quickly. They immediately activated their Party Chat System to communicate with the other team members.
**[CHRIS AND GEL: THEY ARE HERE!!! PREPARE FOR COMBAT!!!]**
Everyone currently working in the fields immediately abandoned their tasks. The four newest villagers appeared shocked and confused by the sudden, coordinated movements of their companions. Andy quickly voiced their concern: "Is everything alright?" The expressions on the veterans' faces were grim, but Theresa snapped back to leadership mode and provided a concise explanation: "Those people hunting for Sandeval have arrived."
Upon hearing this revelation, the newcomers' faces drained of color. Hiraya began hyperventilating and trembling uncontrollably as tears welled in her eyes, the full weight of their situation crashing down upon her.
The combat-oriented team members sprinted toward the main house and retrieved their equipment with practiced efficiency. Within sixty seconds, they were fully battle-ready, their preparations a testament to countless drills and the urgency of their current circumstances. As previously discussed, Theresa would remain with the non-combatants, including her children and the newest villagers, providing protection and maintaining morale during the confrontation.
Red kissed Theresa with desperate tenderness before departing with the others. "We'll be back!" He didn't linger, knowing that prolonged goodbyes might weaken his resolve when strength was most needed. Theresa understood perfectly what this confrontation could mean for all of them, but she could only offer her prayers for their safe return.
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Know Thy Enemy
Shortly after the emergency message rang out, those currently stationed at the forest lodging began experiencing understandable panic. Fortunately, Jonathan was present to maintain order and focus. "Get a grip, children! Remember your training protocols and don't hesitate, even though our opponents may appear human!"
Bren and Betty visibly gulped, their nervousness palpable. Sandeval, hearing the commotion outside his makeshift prison, called out with growing concern.
"Hey! What's happening out there?"
Jonathan, his nerves frayed by their deteriorating situation, shouted back at the older man with barely contained frustration. "Be quiet, you old fool! It appears your associates have successfully tracked your scent to our location!"
"What?!" Sandeval froze momentarily, then urgently continued, "Then release me so I can fight alongside you! If they've sent someone to track me down, those must be the legendary Corvus Bloodhounds! I am their primary target, but if they discover you here, everyone will be killed along with me. They are infamous for leaving no witnesses behind!"
Jonathan's blood ran cold. These were the famed bloodhounds whose reputation had reached even their almost-secluded frontier village? The implications were terrifying.
**[JONATHAN: DO NOT ENGAGE, I REPEAT DO NOT ENGAGE. THEY'VE SENT THE BLOODHOUNDS!!!]**
The teams currently converging on the forest lodging felt cold sweat breaking out across their bodies. The adults especially understood the gravity of this revelation. August, however, remained hyper-focused, his mind fixated on avoiding escalation while preparing for the worst-case scenario. With this devastating news, it seemed that mortal danger had indeed found its way to their sanctuary.
After several minutes of urgent travel, August reached their forest lodging and knocked on the reinforced door. "It's me." The door opened to reveal Jonathan standing with his shield raised defensively. Upon seeing August alone, Jonathan quickly scanned the area behind him. "Oh, it's just you, lad. Where is my daughter?" August replied, "The last time I checked, she was still outside the village gates when I left them, but we should verify their status immediately."
**[AUGUST: Gel, are you with the others?]**
**[ANGELINE: Yes, we're moving toward the rendezvous point now.]**
**[AUGUST: Exercise extreme caution and do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Wait for us if they approach your position.]**
**[CHRISTOPHER: Roger that, little boss man.]**
When they received confirmation of the team's status, everyone felt a measure of relief. August surveyed his immediate teammates—Bren and Betty appeared visibly unnerved by their precarious situation. "Guys, stay calm. If everything goes according to plan, we won't need to resort to bloodshed."
His words were meant as reassurance, but deep within his heart, he already sensed the foreboding presence of death knocking at their doors.
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The Close Encounter with the Bloodhounds
The two Bloodhounds were rapidly approaching what they believed to be Sandeval's last known position. They halted abruptly, sensing something fundamentally wrong with their immediate surroundings. What had been a vibrant, noisy forest ecosystem moments before had become eerily silent—no animal sounds could be detected within several hundred meters of their current location. They remained motionless for several additional minutes, confirming that this unnatural silence was indeed real and not a temporary phenomenon.
Processing this disturbing information, they quickly shifted into full combat readiness. They began systematically searching their surroundings for any indication of movement, sound, or concealed threats. But there was nothing—not a single sign of life presented itself.
What they could not have known was that they had inadvertently entered Aetherwing's sphere of protection, a mystical domain where no animal or insect dared to tread. This powerful ability remained completely hidden from their detection, despite their considerable skill level and experience.
A few moments later, the distinct sounds of labored breathing reached their ears—not from beasts, but unmistakably human. Their trained ears recognized these patterns intimately.
They pursued the source of these sounds, moving with predatory grace through the undergrowth. However, the movement patterns suddenly ceased, and the four individuals they were tracking began redirecting toward a completely different area. Confused by these sudden tactical changes, the bloodhounds began following at a distance carefully calculated to avoid detection while maintaining visual contact.
High above them, Aetherwing and his hunting partner (mate) circled silently through the clouds, monitoring every movement and continuously updating August on the bloodhounds' exact positioning and intended direction.
August and his team were already moving urgently in a predetermined direction when Aetherwing contacted him regarding the close encounter between the bloodhounds and the other team members. They now possessed confirmed intelligence about who was stalking them through their forest. To avoid leading these deadly pursuers directly to their lodging, they made the tactical decision to redirect toward another section of the forest where they could confront these invaders on more favorable terms.
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Prepare for a Full-On Confrontation
When they were certain they had achieved sufficient distance from both the main village and their forest retreat, the pursued team stopped near a creek of flowing water. They maintained the pretense of being unaware they were being followed, taking the opportunity to drink from the running water while attempting to calm their frayed nerves and prepare mentally for what was to come.
August and the rest of his team had already positioned themselves in strategic ambush points in case direct confrontation became unavoidable. Concealed by Aetherwing's mythical influence, even those team members who were not experts in stealth techniques were hidden seamlessly among the foliage, appearing to be natural parts of the forest environment. Meanwhile, August had positioned himself high in the canopy of a particularly tall tree, weapons drawn and ready to strike at a moment's notice.
The bloodhounds continued observing from their concealed position, analyzing the situation. Why had these people fled to this specific location? Was something of value hidden in this particular area of the forest?
After several minutes of patient surveillance, the two bloodhounds exchanged meaningful glances before executing a dramatic transformation. They shed their predatory demeanor and adopted civilian facades—appearing to be nothing more than a concerned elderly man and his attractive daughter. They hastily donned civilian clothing over their combat gear before approaching the group with carefully rehearsed desperation.
They presented themselves as lost souls who had been wandering the forest for an extended period, unable to escape what they described as the maze-like confusion of the wilderness. Their performance was flawless, designed to extract information while appearing completely harmless.
They slowly approached the group currently resting near the water source, deliberately making their presence known by stepping on twigs and pushing through thick undergrowth. Their perfect disguise was now complete; they would extract vital information from these people and eliminate them afterward, leaving no witnesses to report their presence.
The targeted group, already acutely aware of the approaching presence, felt their nerves spike at the deliberate footsteps on twigs and obvious movement through the underbrush. Despite their anxiety, they struggled to maintain composure and appear natural.
"Who's there?!" Red raised his voice in a deceptively casual inquiry, playing his part in the dangerous charade.
The footsteps drew steadily closer, and within moments, two oddly dressed strangers stood before them in the small clearing.
"Oh, oh, thank the heavens, young man! My daughter Olivia and I have been lost in this accursed forest for several days now. We've been running away from various beasts and became separated from our traveling group during a particularly vicious attack. Have you perhaps encountered them anywhere in this forest? Please, I desperately need to know if they're still alive. My name is Banog, by the way."
The old man's performance was masterful, his desperation appearing genuine while his question cleverly fished for information about escaped slaves or Sandeval's whereabouts.
Red immediately recognized that this supposed father was attempting to determine whether they had encountered the escaped slaves or their prisoner. His instincts screamed danger.
"Unfortunately, we're experiencing a similar situation. Our hunting group has been in the forest for several days as well. After all this time, we've also become disoriented and lost our way. We only stopped here to quench our thirst and rest briefly. We haven't seen any of your companions—I'm sorry we can't be of more help."
The elderly bloodhound's trained senses detected subtle changes in the heartbeats, eye movements, and body language of the people standing behind Red. These micro-expressions and physiological responses confirmed that this man was lying to him. The deception was skillful but not perfect.
"That's perfectly alright—no need to apologize for circumstances beyond your control. How about we travel together for a while, at least until we can find our way out of this forest maze? There's safety in numbers, after all."
A barely audible click of tongue escaped Red's lips as he realized what this old man was truly thinking. It was clear they had seen through his deception, and the situation was rapidly deteriorating. Red decided to disengage from this increasingly dangerous conversation, no longer willing to continue the charade with the supposed lost traveler.
**[RED: I believe he's attempting to gather intelligence about our activities. I'm going to end this facade immediately.]**
**[AUGUST AND THE REST: Understood. We're in position and prepared.]**
"Unfortunately, sir, we won't be able to accommodate that request at this time. We need to move quickly to track down specific prey before the trail goes completely cold," Red replied with forced politeness.
The elderly bloodhound exchanged a meaningful glance with his female partner, and both began subtly positioning their concealed blades for immediate action.
"Very well then—this is farewell. Good luck with your travels and hunting."
Red simply nodded and began turning away when suddenly the female bloodhound launched herself at his exposed back with lightning speed. August was quick enough to notice the high-velocity attack, deflecting the assassin's blade and managing to prevent a fatal strike, though Red sustained a significant wound in the process. Worse yet, the blade had been coated with a fast-acting poison that immediately began coursing through his system.
The other team members sprang into coordinated action, launching a carefully planned barrage of strikes that were easily deflected by the elderly bloodhound's superior skill and experience.
"Ha! I knew something was amiss the moment we entered this unnaturally silent section of forest. So you were already aware of our presence and had been preparing for this confrontation. Very well then—I suppose we'll need to paint this forest floor with your blood!"
The battle was about to unfurl into a scene of complete carnage, where survival would depend entirely on each combatant's hidden trump cards, tactical superiority, and sheer determination to live. The peaceful forest would soon witness a clash between predator and prey, where the line between hunter and hunted would be drawn in blood.