Like a beast unleashed, James rocketed into the dense woods, leaving the creature he was sparring with paralyzed in a startled standstill.
"He should change… I have to reach him before anything happens," the creature growled inwardly before launching a silent pursuit after James.
"Curse it! They're actual curses! That Jer—" a bald, sweating boy Jonathan muttered, his voice choked with venom. The sudden, brittle snap of a twig nearby silenced him instantly.
He squinted into the dark foliage, a reckless mix of fading bravado and rising terror churning in his gut.
A low, guttural growl to his left, answered by an equally menacing rasp to his right, acted like a physical blow. Jonathan didn't just feel fear; he physically wetted his pants. His false courage was utterly annihilated for the second time that day.
"Wha-what do you think it is?" Jonathan's teammate, a boy named Mark, inquired in a stammering, reedy whisper.
The other three boys had already begun a surreptitious, backward retreat. One thing was unequivocally clear: whatever was producing those spine-chilling sounds, they wanted no part of it.
"Don-don-don't come out! I have fists!" The devastating quiver in Jonathan's voice rendered his threat a pathetic plea.
Slowly, agonizingly, the source of the noise emerged from the wall of dense foliage.
A figure, its physical details utterly shrouded by the suffocating darkness, was defined only by its ferocious, glowing eyes — eyes that could instantly murder the innocence of a child.
The other boys broke. They were already sprinting away before the figure was fully revealed, leaving Jonathan alone, his fists weakly extended, his legs buckling under an invisible, crushing pressure.
He exerted every ounce of willpower to remain rooted, fearing that any sudden movement would invite a swift and bloody end. He desperately clung to a foolish hope: that the figure might be… friendly.
It was nothing more than a terrified teenager's last, fading fantasy.
Another rustle in the undergrowth momentarily tore the figure's gaze away, and that distraction was the only catalyst Jonathan needed.
He was no longer a fool. His hope was a flimsy tissue of childish animated movies he had binged, and this brutal reality demanded a flight for survival.
The figure, which was indeed the transformed James, lost its predatory focus as its hyper-sensitive ears registered the new disturbance in the greenery. After a couple of seconds, it decisively dismissed the faint sound and finally decided to focus on the 'game' before it.
With its incandescent gaze snapping back to the present, a bloodcurdling howl of pure frustration tore from its throat — its 'game' had dared to escape.
Immediately, it dropped onto all fours and sprang into ravenous action.
Jonathan's feet ceased to register the rough, root-strewn terrain, seeking only the absolute sanctuary of distance. He dared not glance back, convinced that the beast would pounce and devour him in seconds.
Did Jonathan see the creature's full anatomy? No. But its glowing eyes and the primal fury in its voice were a clear, terrifying message: this was not a friendly thing.
◇◇◇◇
Elsewhere, a posse of five followed a path of vestige. Their movements were precise and steady. No one dared to utter a word, fearing detection by any unfriendly presence lurking in the shadows of the forest.
That tense silence was spectacularly shattered when the sight they had sought for grueling hours finally came into view: an orange incandescence that bathed a small clearing holding several camp tents.
There, two male adults sat by the massive entrance of their bus.
They had found their way back to the camp.
Eric sat in the chill night air, his eyes lost in space, his mind obsessing over a dozen catastrophic scenarios. Beside him, the bus driver was half-asleep.
The slightest crunch of feet approaching instantly jolted Eric upright, his frantic gaze falling upon the group of approaching figures.
Like a small child tormented by the worst nightmares, Robert, ever dramatic, dashed toward the bus where Eric and the driver were seated.
"Thank heavens!" Robert gasped, panting uncontrollably. "We've been through… a lot!"
A puzzled Eric was about to interject when Robert noticed a crucial, unsettling detail. Being his usual self, he instantly voiced his concern.
"Where are the other teachers? Why is everywhere so… silent?"
◇◇◇◇
Elsewhere, a frantic, deadly chase was unfolding: an unfathomable entity running down a terrified teenager.
'I swear! If I manage to escape this, I'll change for the good. Heck, I'll start heeding my mom's advice,' Jonathan pleaded silently to an imaginary sovereign entity. A God, perhaps.
The chase should have ended much sooner, if not for the fact that the 'predator' — a nascent monster — was new to this lethal game.
Although now subject to his terrifying, transformed self, James's muscles and nervous system were not yet fully coordinated. When he was supposed to gracefully leap over a thick branch or tilt sharply to the right, he would instead slam his monstrous body into the obstacle with brute, jarring force, thus momentarily slowing his pace.
Of course, Jonathan was utterly oblivious to these flaws. He was far too busy running for his life to turn back and study his relentless pursuer.
However, the transformed James's sheer, raw agility was still far superior to his 'game,' Jonathan, and the chase felt terrifyingly close to its inevitable end.
The moon, having finally peeked from behind its cloud cloak, cast a sudden, stark luminescence on the forest floor.
With a final, desperate leap, James closed the distance. His massive arms stretched out, and his claws protruded, glistening with the moonlight, promising a swift, bloody death.
Time seemed to pause. Jonathan's head was tilted just enough to see the looming danger. The razor claws were dangerously close to his neck, their tips hungry for flesh.
He accepted his fate, one single thought burning in his mind: 'If only I had gone for my own artifact and not after the Red Group's...'
But nothing hurt more than seeing the face of his killer: a furry visage with the distinct, terrifying characteristics of a lycanthrope, its eyes gleaming with an insatiable fury lit by the moon that had previously refused to cast its light.
Jonathan closed his eyes, offering one last, desperate prayer to any sovereign entity to change his 'luck.'
The claw went through.
Except it wasn't his neck. It only grazed his chest, barely leaving an imprint on his skin.
James had missed.
Seconds before impact, another figure, slightly larger but with the same terrifying features as James's transformed self, had slammed into James, knocking him violently aside with itself and saving Jonathan at the last, impossible minute.
Jonathan blinked several times, his mind reeling from the near-death experience, before his legs gave out and he fell, blacking out completely.
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