I closed my eyes for a moment.
A stone was kicked to my right. A crackling of leaves came from the left. And just ahead, the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking.
Three directions. Three targets. Distance... eighty meters.
They were running.
I opened my eyes.
"Chi!" I fired the first arrow.
"Chi!" the second.
"Chi!" and the third.
Three sharp sounds cut through the air at the same time. I saw the bodies being hit. They recoiled from the impact, the arrows pushing them back a few steps. One of them let out a high-pitched, desperate scream. Another fell to his knees. The third tried to scream, but the sound died in his throat.
It was my strength. My body was no longer the same. Ever since I absorbed those damn centipedes, I felt something different pulsing under my skin. More firmness. More agility. And a strength that didn't match the body of a boy.
I wasn't just an archer. I was something more than that.
I quickly ducked, spinning to the side and moving away. I needed more space, a new line of fire. They were on alert now.
Then I heard it.
"Find him! NOW!!" a man's deep voice echoed through the forest.
They drew their swords. The sound of metal scraping came from the sheaths. My ears were already accustomed to these noises. I felt them as part of me. As if it were my territory.
Seven. Seven remained.
One of them was closer. The sound of his breathing was louder, more irregular. His nervousness was overflowing. He turned his head from side to side, looking for any clue. His steps were short, hesitant.
He took a step forward.
"Thunk!"
The arrow pierced his head cleanly. He fell immediately. No scream. No resistance.
Until someone, gasping, shouted:
"It's Zaatar! It's Rillen's son!!"
I hid again behind another tree, lying on my stomach on the ground, the bow steady in my hand. I watched their movements. The man who shouted threw himself behind a tree. I saw him trying to control his breathing. His sword was shaking. He didn't dare move.
The commander did the same. But he was tense. I could see it in his eyes—even from a distance. He knew he was cornered. And that gave me the advantage.
"Hey, you coward!" he suddenly shouted, his voice loud but trembling. "Didn't your father teach you how to be a man?! Come out and settle this with me hand to hand!!"
"Say something!!" the commander's voice sounded nervous, impatient, trying to provoke me, trying to elicit a reaction.
He didn't know where I was. There was no way to break the distance. And that desperation... was my greatest ally.
I didn't answer.
"Hey! Are you listening to me, you cow—..."
He didn't have time to finish. One of the veterans, angry, punched the tree trunk next to him hard.
"Chi!"
The arrow pierced his neck almost instantly. Precise. Lethal. His body was thrown against the same tree he had punched, as if the forest itself had fought back. He fell there, his eyes still open, his mouth wide open, unable to utter a last sound.
"He's dead!! Marco is dead!!" one of them shouted, his high-pitched voice of panic cutting through the dawn.
"He's going to kill us all!! Why did you bring us here?!" another shouted, looking at the commander as if he had already accepted his own death.
Chaos ensued.
Even veterans... even experienced warriors... none of them were prepared for this. And they knew it. Masters of combat could face monsters, armed men, even soldiers in open fields. But not an invisible hunter in the shadows. Not someone who was silence itself.
They were in enemy territory. And that enemy... was me.
No shields. No crossbows. No chance.
The commander took a while, but his voice finally returned:
"Let's retreat!!! We're retreating!! We're not going back in!!"
His voice trembled. I tried to imagine his expression. Probably his eyes fixed on every corner, sweating cold, cursing the day he took this job. He shouldn't have. No one should have.
They didn't move. Not yet. They stood there, motionless, as if every fallen leaf around them could hide my next arrow. For two long hours, no one dared to take a single step.
The first one to move did so slowly. Each step was a test. When he didn't fall dead, the others finally began to move as well. Quickly, almost running.
"He just wanted to give a warning this time. Let's go back," muttered the commander, as if trying to convince himself. His voice was relieved. Empty.
I watched them retreat. One by one. Like rats leaving a burning basement.
My father had told me, "Don't kill them all. Let them spread the story. A blind massacre. Fear... that spreads."
I understood now. Letting them live was more powerful than burying them here.
I also knew that this was just a test. Of those two families. They wanted to know if we still had strength. If we could still protect our lands. Protect our home.
A breeze cut through the forest, and the leaves responded with a soft whisper. I looked up. The sun was beginning to rise. The light filtered through the treetops, creating patches of shadow and brightness on the ground, as if a golden river were flowing there.
I stood there for a moment, breathing deeply. The sweat began to dry on my skin, and with it, the tension of that hunt. I followed them for a while longer, just to be sure. And when I was sure they were gone... I allowed myself to return.
I walked to the spot where I had tied up my horse.
But I only found the tracks.
I let out a long sigh and scratched the back of my neck, tired.
(Was I robbed?) I thought, frowning as I looked at the tracks in the dirt.
I crouched down slowly, running my fingers over the marks left on the ground. The footprints were recent. The weight of the hoof was deeper than before. The horse had been agitated... or had run.
But not alone.
There were human marks too. Light, quick footprints. An uneven stride, as if they were pulling the animal in a hurry. The ground was still damp in places — perhaps from dew or perhaps... from sweat.
I began to follow the tracks in silence.
The thief—or whoever it was—wasn't a complete idiot. He was trying to stay off the main trail, probably afraid of being seen. But he didn't have my training. He didn't know the forest like I did.
With every step I took, my body readjusted to hunter mode. My eyes analyzed everything. The weight on the ground, the broken branches, even the scent left in the air. It was a subtle, woody, slightly sweet scent.
(A woman?) I wondered.
If so... well, that meant she was either desperate... or too daring.
The footprints began to move further and further away from the clearing, heading toward a stretch of denser vegetation, where few people dared to enter without knowing the paths.
I smiled to myself.
Bad idea.
The forest here had belonged to my family for generations. Every root, every rock, every shadow... I knew them as if they were part of me.
I lowered my body and continued crawling with the bow still in my hands, my eyes alert.
If this person wanted to test me... they were about to find out what it was like to be the hunted.