The sound was the first thing to change.
It wasn't a roar or a scream. It was something else—a faint whisper, almost lost amidst the rustling of leaves and the crackling of branches underfoot. But Ryan heard it. Perhaps because he was expecting something. Perhaps because he was on guard. Sometimes, caution sharpens the senses. It makes the ear more perceptive, the eye more alert, the skin more sensitive to any change in the atmosphere.
Kayan raised his hand. A silent signal. The team froze.
The air had changed too. It grew heavier, more humid. As if the forest was breathing, its cold breath on their necks. Ryan felt a shiver run down his spine. Not from the cold. From the feeling that eyes were watching them . He knew this feeling.
Kayan whispered. There was no fear in his voice, but his hands were lit with faint flames, ready. The fire gleamed in his eyes, reflecting his anxiety.
"They're here."
Ryan looked around. The trees were dense, the shadows deep. The darkness was pierced by silver threads of faint light seeping through the branches. Every shadow could be an enemy. Every sound could be an attack.
Then he heard the whistle.
It was sharp, short. Then another followed, from a different direction. They were communicating. They were planning. They were surrounding them.
Kayan ordered.
"Scatter!"
But before anyone could move, the ground exploded in front of them.
It wasn't a bomb. It was a root. A massive, black, twisted root, covered in sharp needle-like thorns, shot from beneath the earth like a giant serpent. It struck Kayan in the chest with tremendous force. The sound of breaking bones was heard—at least one rib. Kayan flew backward and crashed into a huge tree. The sound of his body hitting the hard trunk echoed, the bark splintering from the force of impact. He fell to the ground, gasping, trying to catch his breath. His face was pale, sweat pouring from his forehead.
Celine screamed, her voice terrified.
"Kayan!"
But there was no time to worry. The roots were multiplying. They grew everywhere, twisting, striking, trying to wrap around their feet. They emerged from the earth like hungry serpents, searching for warm flesh.
Ryan jumped back, avoiding a root that was coiling around his left foot. He felt the root's roughness as it passed his leg, tearing part of his trousers. An ice sword formed in his right hand—the blade transparent, sharp, reflecting the faint light like a broken mirror. He struck a root heading toward his face. The blade cut through the woody fibers as if they were paper. The sound of flesh being cut was heard—not real flesh, but similar. The severed root fell to the ground, writhing for moments before withering.
Lin had fired several water arrows toward the source of the roots. Her arrows were fast, precise, cutting through the air like small rockets. But the roots were many, moving quickly. They dodged the arrows skillfully, or used other roots as shields.
Celine was trying to control the other plants in the forest. She knelt on one knee, her hands on the ground, begging nature to respond. She was trying to slow the roots' advance, make the soil less fertile, hinder the enemy's growth. But the other plant user seemed much stronger.
Celine screamed. Sweat poured from her forehead, her fingers trembling. She was almost crying.
"I can't control them!,He's stronger than me! My spark is running out!"
Mara stood in front of Lin, protecting her. Her face was determined, her green eyes sharp. She raised her hands, lifting chunks of earth from beneath her feet. She used small rocks, compacted soil, dead roots. She shaped them into a temporary shield. The pieces rose and gathered, forming an irregular but solid barrier.
The roots struck the shield repeatedly. Each strike left a deep crack. Mara struggled, grinding her teeth so hard Ryan could hear them squeaking. She tried to maintain the shield's integrity, but the cracks were widening.
Mara shouted. Her body trembled with effort.
"It won't last long!".
Ryan was thinking. He was trying to see the full picture. There was a strong plant user, attacking them from a distance. They couldn't see him. They didn't know where he was. They were only receiving blows. This wasn't a fight. It was a siege. A hunt. And they were the prey.
Ryan shouted.
"Lin!, Firearrows in all directions! It doesn't matter if you miss! Just make him move!"
Lin didn't ask why. She trusted him, or perhaps she was desperate. She raised her hands, focusing all her remaining spark. She fired fifteen water arrows in a complete circle. The arrows formed quickly, then shot out like shooting stars, leaving bright blue trails in the cold air. They went in every direction—toward the trees, toward the ground, toward the sky, toward anywhere an enemy could hide.
They didn't hit anyone. But they forced the plant user to move.
Ryan heard quick footsteps to the left. Light, fast, frightened.
he shouted, pointing.
"There!".