The spearman's screams were abruptly cut short, replaced by the wet, tearing sounds of the Direhorn Wolf's savage attack. Kael, hidden in his alcove, felt a wave of nausea. The brutality was sickening, but he forced himself to keep watching, his 'Keen Mind' desperately trying to process the rapidly deteriorating situation.
Just as the wolf seemed to be finishing its gruesome work on the fallen spearman, the leader of the tribal group burst from the root-choked hollow. He was alone, his heavy club already stained with something dark and viscous – not fresh blood, Kael noted, but something older, like the grime from within the ancient passage. His face was a mask of fury and alarm as he took in the scene: his last remaining man being mauled by a massive, horned wolf.
"Graaaah!" The leader roared, a sound of pure rage, and charged towards the Direhorn Wolf without hesitation. He moved with surprising speed for his size, his club held high.
The Direhorn Wolf, momentarily distracted from its kill, looked up, its muzzle dripping with blood. It met the leader's charge with a ferocious snarl, abandoning the now-still spearman. The two powerhouses collided with a force that seemed to shake the ground.
The leader's club came down in a vicious arc, aiming for the wolf's head. The wolf, agile despite its bulk, ducked partially, the blow glancing off its thick, horned brow with a dull thud. It retaliated with a snap of its powerful jaws, narrowly missing the leader's arm.
Kael watched, a unwilling spectator to a primal battle. The leader was strong, his movements practiced and brutal. He fought with a desperate ferocity, clearly skilled in combat. The Direhorn Wolf was a whirlwind of claws, teeth, and horns, its red eyes burning with feral intensity.
[System Analysis: Tribal Chieftain (Humanoid). Level: 7. Threat Level: High. Traits: Seasoned Warrior, High Pain Tolerance, Berserker Tactics (Potential). Notable Abilities: Power Attack (Club), Intimidating Shout.]
Level 7. The leader was even stronger than the wolf. But the wolf was faster and had natural weaponry. It was an even match, for now.
Kael was truly caught. The fight was happening mere feet from his hiding spot. Any attempt to flee now would almost certainly draw the attention of both combatants. His 'Stealth' was good, but not good enough to escape two high-level threats locked in a life-or-death struggle.
He clutched his Crude Shortbow, an arrow nocked, but he didn't dare raise it. Who would he even target? If he helped the leader, what would stop the man from turning on him next? If he helped the wolf (an absurd thought), he'd be facing a wounded, enraged Level 7 warrior. His best option, it seemed, was to remain utterly still and pray he went unnoticed.
The sounds of the battle were deafening – the wolf's snarls, the leader's war cries, the sickening crunch of blows landing. The leader took a nasty gash on his leg from the wolf's horns, but he fought on, his club a blur, landing several heavy hits on the wolf's flanks and back. The wolf, in turn, managed to sink its teeth into the leader's shoulder, drawing a pained roar.
Both were taking damage. Both were bleeding.
Kael noticed Corvus and the other Shadow Crows had vanished entirely. They were smart enough to stay far away from a fight of this magnitude. He wished he could do the same.
The Sylphwing Quill in his tunic seemed to vibrate more intensely now, not just with the ambient energy of the hollow, but with the raw, violent energies being unleashed by the fight. His perception felt almost painfully sharp; he could see the spray of blood, the desperate glint in both the man's and the wolf's eyes, the subtle shifts in their balance and footing.
Then, the dynamic shifted. The leader, roaring, landed a devastating blow with his club directly on the Direhorn Wolf's snout. There was a sickening crack. The wolf yelped in pain, stumbling back, its red eyes momentarily dazed.
This was it. The leader had an opening. He pressed his advantage, raining down blows on the stunned wolf.
Kael's mind raced. The wolf was going down. If the leader killed it, he would be wounded, but victorious. And then what? Would he search for what attacked his men inside the hollow? Would he notice Kael's hiding spot, or the signs of his earlier investigation?
A desperate, incredibly risky thought flickered through Kael's mind. If the leader was sufficiently wounded and distracted after killing the wolf… could Kael use 'Aimed Shot' to finish him? It was a dark thought, a murderous one, but this was a world of survival. These men had come armed, looking for something in a place Kael had also found. They were an unknown, a potential future threat.
But could he bring himself to do it? And could he even succeed? A wounded Level 7 warrior was still a Level 7 warrior.
Before he could fully process the thought, the Direhorn Wolf, with a final, desperate surge of adrenaline, lunged one last time, not with its teeth, but with its horns, goring the leader deeply in the thigh.
The leader screamed, a sound of pure agony, and stumbled back, his club falling from his grasp. He clutched his bleeding leg, his face contorted in pain.
The wolf, however, was spent. Its movements were sluggish, its breath coming in ragged gasps. The blow to its snout had clearly been devastating. It swayed on its feet, then collapsed onto its side, whimpering.
Both combatants were now critically wounded, potentially dying.
The forest fell into a sudden, shocking silence, broken only by the leader's harsh, pained breathing and the wolf's weak whimpers.
Kael's moment had come. What would he do?