Leon had already slipped deep into the forest, branches snapping beneath his boots as the towering mass of flesh lumbered behind him. He didn't run recklessly, nor did he crawl at a snail's pace, his stride was deliberate, measured, just enough to keep the creature's fury fixed on him. The abomination's hatred burned like a tether; it had not forgotten the moment Leon cleaved off its master's head. That insult was carved into whatever twisted consciousness still lingered inside it, and Leon intended to exploit that obsession for as long as he could.
But then, the golem like creture slowed.
And stopped.
Leon's pace faltered, his eyes narrowing as he turned, blade in hand, to face the colossus. The creature stood rooted among the trees, silent, and menacing, its aura of death still poisoning the air around it. It did not advance. It did not retreat. It simply stared, as though it had grown tired of the chase.
