“So that means... I’m here, mongrel!”

The newcomer stared at Rafi and Nina, scorn and rage twisting his face like bark warped by a storm.

“Yare yare. You do slip, little kitty,” he drawled, a fox-tail curl in his voice. “Without Mr. Treant, I wouldn’t have sniffed you out this fast. Game over. Tell me how you want to die.”

The word death hung cold as frost on leaves, yet the Forest King looked relaxed, like a hunter whistling through tall grass. To him it was simple as humans culling prey; a Demon King hunting Rafi and Nina felt no guilt, only the warm ember of revenge. After all, she’d killed that nameless beast yesterday.

Rafi’s gut knotted like a tightened bowstring, yet she lifted her eyes, calm as still water before wind. There was no contempt in them. Time near a Demon King had taught her one thing: the truly strong are never what you expect, like mountains that look close yet stand far.

“Honored Forest King,” she said, voice smooth as silk over a blade, “we meant no offense. We came for training, nothing more. If we’ve slighted you, name your price. Whatever you want, we can pay. That’s worth more than our two little lives.”

Equal exchange, she thought, hope flickering like a lantern in fog. Trade goods for breath; a fair deal for both sides, if he wasn’t a fool or a hot-blooded idiot.

“Is that so? Hearing it like that... makes sense.”

Hooked, she thought, a fish rising under moonlit water.

“Of course, honored Forest King,” she pressed, bait bright as a coin in sunlight. “Our two lives can’t match what helps your lands grow.”

“Mmm... very reasonable.”

Relief rippled through her like wind through reeds—until his mouth curled with a teasing smile, a thorn among petals. He snapped his head up at a forty-five-degree angle, eyes cutting sideways. His realistic face hardened into sharp-edged JoJo style, all chisel and shadow.

“But I refuse! I, the Forest King, love saying NO to people who think they can bargain with me!”

Another JoJo nerd, Rafi thought, a dry spark popping in her mind, even though she had no idea what JoJo was.

“Uh... honored Forest King, really won’t reconsider?” She kept her tone low as a candle beside a shrine, and sweetened the pot. “Our lives won’t help you. I can also ensure no one steps into your territory again. Let peace take root here.”

He stayed stubborn as the monk who went West for scriptures, head shaking like a bell that wouldn’t still. He wouldn’t quit until her head hung like fruit from a branch.

“I see...” Rafi exhaled, breath white as mist. “So we fight. A five-percent shot at best. This is going to hurt.”

She stomped hard, earth thudding like a drum, and burst forward in a blur like a swallow cutting rain. In her hands, a longbow braided red and blue bloomed, frost and flame twining like twin serpents.

A red-blue ice arrow gathered on the string, glittering like a winter star. She drew to a full crescent.

“Mana Ice Arrows: Three Hundred!”

The arrow screamed into the sky, a streak of light like a comet. It split midair into three hundred twins, every head honed and pointed at the Forest King’s skull, ready to shred it like paper before a storm.

Disdain flickered over his face like a shadow under leaves. He flicked one hand. A gale rose like wolves howling, and the arrows blew away like chaff.

“Tch.” Rafi’s tongue clicked, sharp as a pebble on steel. She spun the bow, and three strange arrows kissed the string, each a different shape, each a different omen. She drew again, the curve taut as a crescent moon.

“Requiem’s Funeral March!”

Whoosh—

The arrows flew and turned mid-flight into three bizarre dog heads, muzzles snarling like nightmares torn from a cave, lunging for the Forest King.

His features wavered like water disturbed by a stone. “Why... how do you...”

Before he finished, the three heads passed through him like ghosts through fog. He staggered back a few steps as if gut-punched by thunder.

Joy sparked in Rafi’s chest like fire catching dry pine. Requiem’s Funeral March didn’t wound flesh; it mirrored fear. Before it hit, it wore the enemy’s terrors like a mask. On impact, it drowned them in that fear, then killed. It wouldn’t kill a Forest King. But it would buy time, like a dam holding one more breath of flood.

“Go! Nina! Run before he shakes it off!”

Rafi grabbed Nina’s hand, fingers tight as a lifeline, and ran, feet skimming the earth like deer through ferns. Nina understood; she followed without a blink, hair streaming like a dark banner.

Thud!

A boulder crashed down ahead, blocking the path like a fallen cliff. From behind, a heavy voice rolled over them like a drumbeat in a valley.

“Yare yare. Didn’t think a little bug could toy with me,” he said, a tired smile sharp as a thorn. “Looks like my training’s still flawed. If word got out, they’d laugh, wouldn’t they? You’ll help me keep a secret.”

He stretched his right hand, palm open like a king expecting tribute. A nearby tree bent with a creak, thin branches coiling like snakes around a boulder, then offering it into his grasp.

“They say the dead keep secrets best.”

He raised the stone high, body leaning back like a drawn catapult. One mighty swing, and he hurled it—an iron moon flung across the sky.

Rafi blinked; the world blurred like heat above sand. The boulder vanished, swallowed by speed.

“Rafi, look out!”

Nina’s eyes cut through motion like hawks over fields. She saw the rock spearing for Rafi, while Rafi stood stunned, a deer before headlights. Nina shoved her aside, palms fierce as fire.

Her nails snapped out, razors blooming like silver thorns. She crossed ten fingers before her chest, a lattice of steel before a storm.

Ting!

Stone met claw, sparks bursting like swarm-fireflies in the dark. The boulder’s brute force crushed down like an avalanche. They held for a single breath, a heartbeat hanging on a leaf.

Then the boulder smashed into Nina, relentless as a landslide.