Struggle

"Master! Master! Wake up! Wake up!"

The little Tauren murmured weakly as he carried Tamara on his back and trudged forward with difficulty, a black tide surging behind him.

He had long since been exhausted to the point of dizziness. Sweat streamed down his fur and into his eyes, his chest heaving violently as his contracting lungs seemed ready to suck out even his heart.

Even if she was a slender woman, his master was still an adult Tauren. Her weight was not something an eight-year-old calf could bear.

Tamara's heartbeat was still strong, proving that her unconsciousness was not a serious problem. With sufficient rest, she would soon be lively again.

But the problem was that they did not have that kind of time.

Enemies were flooding in from every direction. All around them, those terrifying rifts continuously spewed out Nightmare creations, raising wave after wave of foul stench.

Hearing the disturbance behind him, Sian braced his master's limp body, gritted his teeth, grabbed the bow at his waist, and turned to fire an Arcane Shot.

As precise as ever—and it was a rare double kill. Two flesh aberrations were sent sprawling by the arrow, then brutally devoured by the companions surging up behind them.

Their companions showed no concern for brotherhood. They tore at the arrow-struck creatures with serrated fangs, greedily sucked down the filthy flesh and blood, and continuously let out satisfied growls. It bought them a little more time.

The shrill screams were quickly drowned out by the mad biting. Watching that cruel scene, Sian's face turned pale. It was not hard to imagine what would happen if they were caught.

Fortunately, these aberrations were terribly unintelligent, their minds filled with nothing but the desire to feed. That was the only reason he had been able to distract them again and again.

But this method was becoming less and less effective, because the rifts were constantly spewing out aberrations, twenty-four hours a day without rest.

As their numbers increased, their appetites grew larger and larger. The time he could buy grew shorter and shorter, and one or two bodies were quickly no longer enough to satisfy them.

Cold sweat continuously beaded on Sian's forehead. He pounded his head hard, hoping to think of a way to save both their lives before despair arrived.

Another rustling sound came. Sian's heart jumped, and he tried to raise his hunting bow to fight back, but the instant his hand lifted, the longbow silently fell.

Only then did he notice that three fingers on his right hand had been sliced bloody by the bowstring.

But those twisted creatures would not give him time to rest. In the brief moment he froze, two flesh beasts pounced on him.

His master was thrown aside. The two creatures knocked him to the ground, sprawled across the little Tauren's back, and savagely bit into his shoulder.

Blood splattered everywhere. An agony that pierced to the bone shot straight into his mind, and little Sian let out a heart-rending scream before struggling desperately.

He clutched his neck tightly and used every ounce of strength to choke those wildly biting maws, but the aberrations were simply too strong—and there was more than one. No matter how desperately he struggled, it was useless.

His strength drained rapidly. His struggles grew weaker and weaker, his cries more and more faint, sending the two beasts into even greater frenzy.

Fangs pierced his arm. The arm he used to block them was easily thrown aside, and before Sian's despairing eyes, the gaping maw was about to bite through his throat.

Was he going to give up...

At that final moment, his mother's face suddenly flashed through his mind. He suddenly remembered the vows he had made. That lingering echo struck his soul like a heavy hammer, drawing an enraged roar from him.

A scarlet shockwave burst from his small body, violently blasting away the two aberrations that had been crouched atop him, ready to enjoy their meal.

It all happened far too quickly, so quickly that he did not even have time to react to what had happened.

By the time he came back to his senses, the two disgusting flesh aberrations were already lying some distance away, curled up and howling.

A shudder ran down his spine. Sian immediately realized that this was his last chance.

So he threw himself forward with all his strength, pinned one flesh creation beneath his full weight, fiercely gripped the other by the throat, then drew his axe and chopped down at their necks with all his might.

The two corpses collapsed limply. Sian let out a long breath, then slumped to the ground.

His strength had been completely drained, and both arms were nearly numb. A chilling sensation came from the savage wound on his shoulder. Worse still, his sense of pain had already dulled.

A weary body or a weary mind alone was torment enough. When both were exhausted, perhaps that could be called a dead end.

Sian lowered his head tiredly. Enemies surrounded him on all sides. On a lonely hill, an archer with no ammunition or supplies was making his final stand, and his ultimate fate would be an inescapable end.

But so what?

He had already experienced the despair of losing someone he loved. No matter what, he did not want to go through that nightmare again. No matter what, he could not give up!

His master's haggard face entered his view.

At that moment, Sian remembered how she had desperately used her body to shield him from the explosion. He let out a long breath, and suddenly felt filled with strength.

Little Sian coughed violently. He fumbled all over himself, dumping everything he had at his feet in one go.

His mind raced, hoping for a sudden flash of inspiration.

Medicinal wine, a handkerchief, Peacebloom Pollen, an empty potion bottle, dried Purple Lotus, a quill, spare bowstrings, two hand axes, a bow, and seven or eight arrows.

He picked up the medicinal wine, pulled out the stopper, gritted his teeth, and poured it directly over his shoulder. The wine stung the savage wound painfully, making him hiss for quite a while before he recovered.

After catching his breath, he picked up the half-full bag of Peacebloom Pollen. He swallowed, then stuffed it back into his clothes.

He had just fed some to his master, and there was not much left. He had to use it sparingly.

Next, he noticed the dried Purple Lotus.

This was what had remained after the High Priest used it on him. He had originally planned to give some to his master, but had not dared to because of the risks.

Anyone familiar with herbalism would know that Purple Lotus had a remarkable effect—inducing sleep.

Interestingly, most potions that used Purple Lotus as their main ingredient came with the side effect of putting people to sleep. Take Sleeping Potions, for example. Although they could greatly restore the user's mental and physical strength, anyone who drank one would fall into a deep sleep regardless of the situation. Using such a potion in battle required careful consideration of the pros and cons.

Then there were Dream Potions, a rather interesting kind of potion. They allowed the drinker to gain dream-sight, observing dangerous places as if their soul had left their body.

Of course, how could an ordinary person possibly leave their body? The more common belief was that the drinker's vision slipped into an extra plane—the great Emerald Dream.

The dark tide stirred again. Those hungry flesh aberrations opened their gaping maws, drool dripping as they stared greedily at the feast ahead.

Sian's hair stood on end under those greedy stares. He gritted his teeth, endured the sharp pain in his fingers, gathered Arcane energy, and fired another arrow. As expected, it killed another flesh aberration.

But something unexpected happened!

This time, the delicious body did not stop those greedy creatures. They viciously trampled over their companion's corpse and charged madly forward.

It's over! Sian's mind nearly froze for a second.

But then he suddenly realized that the monsters were not charging at him!

Several shrill squeaks came from within the black slaughterhouse, then silence returned.

It was probably a nest of pitiful prairie marmots. They had survived famine, escaped hunting and explosions, only to meet their end here.

As he took in the scene before him, the little Tauren's eyes slowly widened. A terrifying guess gradually entered his mind.

Excitedly, he pulled out his herb pouch, drew an arrow, moistened the tip with saliva, rolled the arrowhead through the Peacebloom Pollen, then nocked it and fired.

The arrow quickly disappeared into the black tide, causing a small disturbance amid the waves of flesh aberrations.

Sian gasped for breath, joy at escaping death surging through his chest. He had finally discovered the secret behind how these Nightmare creations hunted!

They did not track by scent or sight. Their simple brains were not capable of analyzing such advanced signals!

What they chased was actually very simple—the thing every living creature possessed: life force!

Sian picked up the medicinal wine bottle, bit down on the wooden stopper and yanked it out, then dumped all the Peacebloom Pollen from the herb pouch, along with the crushed dried Purple Lotus, into it.

The essence of the herbs was fully extracted. Though drying and crushing had weakened the potency somewhat, it was still an irresistibly tempting gift!

Come on, bastards! If you want life force, I'll give you life force! So much that you won't know east from west!

The little Tauren rose shakily to his feet. He took a deep breath, then used all his strength to hurl the full bottle of medicinal wine.

Never doubt a hunter's aim. Sian saw it clearly: the bottle shattered on one unlucky creature, drenching it from head to toe.

The next moment, terrifying howls erupted from the Nightmare army, and chaos broke out.