Ch 90 - A Booby Trap

I slipped out of the sewer, emerging into a desolate wasteland of shadow and ruin. The skeletal remains of a mansion loomed ahead, its broken walls clawing at the moonlit sky like a forgotten relic. Silence hung heavy—no footsteps, no whispers, just the wind rattling through the emptiness. I crept toward a rocky outcrop, my pulse hammering as I spotted the crevice: a jagged slit in the stone, barely wide enough for a body.

Peering inside, I saw the narrow, manmade passage stretching into darkness. It was clear this had been built as an escape route—perhaps by some long-dead noble. How Miguel had discovered it, I couldn’t guess, but it was a stroke of luck for me. Even the Zephinya soldiers wouldn’t know about this path.

Taking a deep breath, I squeezed into the crevice, my shoulders brushing against the cold stone. The passage was old, its walls lined with cobwebs and the occasional scuttle of mice. The air was damp, carrying the faint scent of earth and decay. I moved carefully, wary of booby traps, but most seemed to have been disabled or decayed over time.

The faint sound of the infant’s cries guided me, echoing faintly through the tunnel. I followed the sound, my footsteps soft against the uneven ground. Eventually, the cries faded, replaced by the faint glow of light ahead.

I quickened my pace and emerged into a clearing, where the pale light of their torch illuminated the surroundings. The entrance was nearly hidden by moss and overgrown foliage, providing perfect camouflage for the passage. Beyond it lay the forest—the outside world of the Zephinya borders.

As I glanced outside, faint voices reached my ears. Ducking low, I crept toward the sound, my breath coming shallow and steady.

Miguel stood with a couple, meeting two strangers. One of the strangers was a tall, lean man, an axe slung over his shoulder, tattoos weaving intricate patterns across his body. The flickering torchlight carved shadows across his chiseled frame, lending him an almost statuesque presence.

His voice was deep and commanding as he spoke.

“Are there only two of them? Not three?” he asked, narrowing his piercing eyes.

Miguel gestured lazily to the infant cradled in the woman’s arms. “Technically, this is the third,” he replied with a smirk.

The tall man’s gaze swept toward the entrance, sharp and deliberate. My heart pounded as I instinctively crouched lower, careful not to make the slightest noise. His movements were deliberate, his posture poised for trouble.

“Fine,” he said after a tense pause. “Let’s move. The sun’s coming up, and I don’t want Zephinya scouts sniffing at our heels.”

He turned to the couple with an air of authority. “I’m Sandro, a D-ranked adventurer. I’ll guide you to the next safe house. Stay close and keep quiet.”

He pointed to a shadowy figure perched in a nearby tree. “That’s Nick, a D-ranked scout. He’ll watch our flank as we move.”

I followed his gesture, spotting a wiry man slipping down from the branches with practiced ease. Adjusting the goggles perched on his head, Nick’s sharp gaze swept the area. Pockets brimming with tools and gear, he radiated the careful precision of a seasoned scout.

“Enough talk,” Nick snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Zephinya guards are on edge after the attack on the capital. Patrols have doubled, and the borders are tight. We need to move now or risk getting caught. This’ll be our last run for a while—don’t mess it up.”

The group exchanged nods, falling into line behind Sandro, their movements urgent yet purposeful.

I remained hidden, my mind racing as adrenaline coursed through me. This was it—my chance to escape. If I could follow them unnoticed, I might finally slip beyond the kingdom’s grasp and into freedom.

But first, I had to stay quiet—and stay sharp.

Knowing the party had a scout, trailing them unnoticed was a near-impossible gamble. I lingered at the cave’s entrance, watching their torches flicker like fireflies through the trees until the last ember vanished into the black. Thirty agonizing minutes crawled by—each second an eternity—before I dared to step out.

Dawn still hovered beyond the horizon, but the darkness felt less complete, almost translucent. Shapes emerged where shadows should have reigned. Somehow, my vision pierced through the gloom.

Could this be another ability I’d gained from becoming undead?

The realization chilled me more than the night air. Even in pitch-black caves, I’d seen unnaturally clear, sharper than any mortal gaze could fathom. But there wasn’t time to ponder my unsettling transformation. Survival was my only concern now.

Scouting for their trail wasn’t difficult; the disturbed path spoke plainly to me. Yet scattered tracks of wild beasts mingled with theirs, prompting me to stay alert. This forest was alive with dangers, and hunger drove predators as fiercely as desperation fueled me.

I followed the human trail downhill, weaving through brambles and jagged outcrops designed to thwart pursuit. Above the treetops, pinpricks of light drifted like will-o’-the-wisps—Zephinya scouts patrolling the forest borders, their lanterns sweeping the canopy. I moved without a torch, shrouded in the shadows, blending seamlessly with the night.

The trail began to fade as morning mist crept in, swallowing footprints and broken twigs alike. Anxiety gnawed at me. At this rate, I’d lose them. Desperate, I surged forward recklessly. My only shot at escaping this forsaken land was reaching the group ahead. Dying in these wilds wasn’t an option.

The border now far behind, I ventured into the unguarded no man’s land. The trail grew faint but remained enough to guide me. Until my boot snagged a wire.

Twannng

A balloon shot out of the bushes, bursting at face level with a wet pop. Thick, sticky nectar splattered over me, clinging to my clothes and skin. The sweet floral scent was overwhelming, saturating the air around me.

“Booby trap!” I hissed, panic surging. Poison? My heart raced, but I felt no symptoms. Only the cloying, honey-like aroma surrounded me.

They know

My mind spiraled as footsteps crashed through the underbrush ahead—fast, relentless. They were already on me!

I spun and bolted, the uneven slope treacherous beneath my feet. Loose soil slid, roots clawed, branches tore at me, but I shoved forward, lungs burning.

“East flank! Now!” their voices erupted behind me.

The cursed nectar clung to me like a brand, marking me for pursuit. Every rustling leaf was a hunter’s whisper, every shadow a predator’s glare. They didn’t need eyes; the fragrance did their work for them.

Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Sandro carving through the foliage, his axe a battering ram. Behind him, Miguel advanced with calculated precision, their eyes locked on me.

“You led them straight to us, fool!” Sandro’s roar cut through the forest like a thunderclap.

Miguel’s tone was cold, methodical. “Doesn’t matter. Silence him before the scouts catch wind.”

Heart pounding, lungs burning, I veered sharply—a desperate gamble forming in my mind. I was betting everything on faint tracks I’d spotted earlier, tracks that might just offer salvation.

I pivoted, racing back toward that spot, my eyes darting to the ground, searching frantically for the trail. Behind me, Sandro and Miguel thundered after me, their relentless pursuit closing the distance.

Then—I saw it.

A faint path, nearly swallowed by thick undergrowth. Holding my breath, I plunged forward, shoving through the bushes, ignoring the sting of branches clawing at my skin.

The trail led me to a rocky outcrop—and the gaping maw of a den. My pulse spiked. Footprints. Fresh ones. Leading inside.

No way in hell was I going in there.

Instead, I inhaled sharply and let out a wild, desperate scream.

“Aaah!”

Then I dove—hurling myself into the nearest bush just as Sandro and Miguel crashed into the clearing.

Sandro skidded to a halt, instincts flaring. “Stop!” he barked, scanning the den’s entrance. His grip on his weapon tightened. “Fresh tracks.”

Miguel, still charging, barely slowed. “What’s the matte—”

A low, guttural snarl cut him off.

From the den’s shadows, a massive rock-faced pantheress emerged, her amber eyes burning like molten fire. She crouched, muscles coiling, claws scraping the ground in a menacing arc.

Sandro shoved Miguel aside a split second before she pounced. Her claws slashed through empty air where he had just stood. Miguel hit the dirt, cursing as he rolled to his feet.

Sandro braced himself, axe raised—only to be struck square in the chest by the pantheress’s tail, a solid whip of jagged stone. He flew backward, crashing into the ground.

Miguel lunged, catching him before he could slam into the rocks. The two barely steadied themselves—now face-to-face with a furious predator, locked in a deadly fight they hadn’t seen coming.

Crouched in the brush, I held my breath. I’d noticed the pantheress’s tracks earlier—smaller ones alongside hers, likely cubs. A fresh litter meant she was fiercely protective. Thankfully, I hadn’t crossed her path. But Sandro and Miguel hadn’t been so lucky.

I didn’t wait to see the fight’s conclusion. As claws met steel, I slipped deeper into the forest.

The wilderness, once my enemy, had now become my ally. In the midst of this nightmare, hope finally flickered. Carving a new path downhill, I moved swiftly yet cautiously—careless mistakes were no longer an option. I knew one of their scouts was likely waiting ahead, so my only choice was to vanish and escape into the forest, toward that settlement of sorts.

The No Man’s Lands were notorious for their danger: lawless, untamed fringes of the kingdom. Some were patrolled by military forces, others by adventurer guilds trying to maintain a fragile semblance of order. Occasionally, adventurers would clear a particularly hostile area and rebuild it into an independent city-state governed by its own guild—a place where anyone could vanish and start anew, free from the kingdom’s reach. That was precisely the refuge I sought.

At dawn, the first light filtered through the canopy, painting the forest in soft hues of gold and green. The chirping of birds provided a stark contrast to the tension coiled in my chest. I felt a cautious happiness at having escaped those relentless pursuers, though I knew that the wild beasts were the true peril.

The sticky nectar clinging to my skin was unbearable—leaves and debris stuck to me like a second skin, and its scent had attracted every insect in the forest. I had to wash it off before another passing adventurer mistook me for some rare monster. While searching for an exit, I heard the sound of rushing water. A smile spread across my face as I followed the sound eagerly.

The stream was clear and fast, a lifeline cutting through the forest. Without hesitation, I plunged into it, scrubbing the nectar from my skin with frantic urgency. The cool water washed away not only the filth but also the weight of my exhaustion. I drank deeply, the water soothing my parched throat as I cleaned myself up.

Soon, however, a chill set in; my clothes clung uncomfortably to my body. It didn’t matter—I had to keep moving, at least until I was safely beyond their reach. I figured that following the stream might lead me to a settlement, for any semblance of civilization would likely be near water. Yet, I soon realized that the stream flowed in the opposite direction of the Zephinya kingdom, making it the safer option as long as I didn’t lose my bearings.

Standing at the stream’s bank, I noticed something peculiar drifting overhead—a cluster of balloon-like objects, grey and almost ethereal. “A bird?” I wondered. At first, they appeared harmless, drifting lazily like balloons. Then, their shapes contorted into jagged, menacing forms before plummeting toward me with terrifying speed. Instinctively, I threw myself aside, narrowly avoiding the crushing impact as the objects shattered on the ground, scattering sharp splinters that grazed me.

My heart pounded as I scanned the area. Rocks littered the ground, pulverized by the impact and sending tiny fragments flying. I suffered only minor scrapes before my regeneration kicked in.

A low, mocking voice drifted from the trees. “You’re quick on your feet.” I turned to see an ugly mug of a man twirling his mustache at the top of a rock, his gaze predatory. It was Miguel. He casually manipulated the floating objects with lazy ease, sending them aloft as if they were mere toys. Clearly, he had tracked me down.

Despite his ability to hurl these stone-like balloons with deadly precision, I maintained my composure. I took a slow step back and smiled, feigning calm. “So, you left your poor comrade with the panther all alone? How cruel.”

Miguel scoffed. “Ha! He can handle a mere cat on his own. That’s why we split up—to tie up loose ends.” His smirk deepened as he added, “It was too easy tracking you. I knew you’d come here; you had to wash off that sticky nectar eventually, didn’t you?” I realized then that following the stream had been a mistake—they were thinking along the same lines.

Suddenly, Miguel reached into a small pouch and produced a translucent water balloon. As he squeezed it, the liquid inside shimmered before dripping from his fingers. The familiar scent of the nectar hit me instantly. He was signaling for backup—perhaps Sandro, who might have an uncanny sense of smell.

Desperation surged within me, and I forced an easy smile. “Listen, friend. My apologies for using your burrow without permission. There’s no need for this to turn ugly. It’s your fault for not noticing I was tailing you. Now that we’re both exposed, let’s agree to walk away. I won’t mention your secret passage, okay?”

Miguel chuckled, shaking his head. “Kid, you’re new to this, huh? If you can’t pay the toll, then we’ll just sell you on the market. There are twisted bastards who’d pay handsomely for your body anyway.”

He leaped nimbly across the rocky terrain, his floating stones hovering around him like obedient pets. His grin never wavered, and his intentions were unmistakable.

I maintained a polite expression, though my eyes had sharpened. “Hey now,” I said smoothly. “I’d really prefer not to fight. I have some bronze coins and even some tasty monster meat—consider it a peace offering.”

“Bronze coins? Monster meat?” Miguel scoffed. “What do you take me for—a barmaid waiting for tips at a tavern? I have to clean up after my mistakes, so either surrender or die.”

My smile faded, replaced by a cold glare. “Fine,” I muttered. “If that’s how you want it.”

The air between us crackled with tension as Miguel’s confidence remained unshaken. I turned around and bolted, running away. “You little runt! You coward! You think you can escape?!” his roar echoed behind me.

I pushed every ounce of strength into my sprint along the riverbank. Loose pebbles threatened to unseat me, but I couldn’t stop. Behind me, Miguel was relentless; his stone projectiles whistled through the air with deadly accuracy. The first grazed my arm, sending a sharp sting of pain; the second shattered a nearby rock, showering me with fragments.

I knew his magic was a nightmare—turning objects into levitating projectiles—and as long as he had ammunition, I was at a severe disadvantage. I needed to close the distance, to force him into close combat where his projectiles would lose their edge.

The river narrowed ahead until suddenly the ground dropped away. I skidded to a halt just inches from the edge of a cliff. Below, the river cascaded into a roaring waterfall, crashing onto jagged rocks. The fall wouldn’t guarantee death, but it would likely break bones and cause fatal bleeding.

There stood Miguel, grinning like a predator cornering its prey. I clenched my fists and steadied my breathing. Jumping might be my only chance, but it would leave me vulnerable to his counterattack.

Without warning, Miguel flicked his wrist and launched his stone-like spheres at me like cannonballs. I ducked, barely avoiding the barrage as the stones smashed where I had stood, debris lacerating my skin. Using the momentum, I propelled myself forward, closing the gap between us.

Miguel’s smug expression faltered for the first time. He drew a dagger and slashed at me the moment I came within range—a seasoned attack that could have severed my fingers. I leaped back just in time, creating a few feet of distance. But Miguel was relentless; he summoned more stones and sent them flying.

“Listen,” I called out, raising a hand in a placating gesture. “There’s no need for us to kill each other. I don’t want to fight, and I’m sure you’d rather not die. Must we spill blood over spilled milk?”

Miguel sneered, gripping his dagger tightly. “You just tried to feed us to the panther, and now you’re begging for forgiveness?”

His fingers twitched as the spheres hurtled toward me. I dodged again. In a swift move, he lunged at me with his knife, aiming straight for my throat. At the last second, I pulled a thin, glimmering metal wire from my pocket and caught his blade mid-swing, blocking the attack.

“Resourceful, aren’t you?” Miguel sneered. “But if that’s all you have…” I gritted my teeth and wrapped the wire around his dagger, trying to wrench it from his grip. Yet, his hold was ironclad. We struggled in a deadly dance until he deftly lifted his finger from the dagger’s hilt, sending another stone floating my way. Caught off guard, I lost focus. In that brief moment, Miguel’s blade slashed through the wire, snapping it. I stumbled backward—one step, then another—toward the cliff’s edge.

“Shit,” I thought as the dagger plunged into my shoulder. White-hot pain exploded through me; blood oozed from the wound, and panic surged as his projectiles resumed their deadly course. Miguel’s triumphant smirk widened. “Stop struggling already—I’ll give you an easy death.”

I exhaled sharply, my vision swimming. I released his dagger and, with a surge of desperate strength, wrapped my arms around Miguel in a crushing body lock. In that final act, I lifted him overhead.

For a moment, his expression shifted from smug satisfaction to sheer panic. “You bastard! What are you—” he began, but our struggle ended abruptly as we tumbled off the cliff, plummeting headfirst over jagged rocks. The last sound I heard was Miguel’s scream swallowed by the roar of the waterfall.