The ground didn't shake.
It crunched.
Heavy, synchronized footsteps stomping on the dark moss.
From the shadows of the massive trees, they descended. Not ghosts. Not magical entities.
Flesh and bone.
They were humanoid, but twisted by the brutal environment of the second layer. Their skin was thick, resembling hardened bark and dried blood. They had no eyes, only deep, scarred pits. They hunted by sensing vibration.
In their hands, they carried crude, massive blades carved from the jaws of dead beasts.
Maren didn't wait. She shoved her daughter behind a thick root, leveled her steam-pistol, and aimed at the closest one. "What are they?"
Kael stepped back, his eyes darting across the trees. "Natives. The survivors of this layer. They eat anything that doesn't belong."
The hunters moved. Fast. Violent. Physical.
Corvin lunged. His silver arm swung, meeting a jagged bone-blade.
The impact rang through the forest like a cracked bell. Corvin pushed forward, his metal hand slicing cleanly through the hunter's chest.
Thick, black blood sprayed across his silver armor.
But they didn't stop.
Dozens dropped from the canopy. They didn't attack wildly; they formed a perfect, tightening circle around them. Spears and heavy blades pointed directly at Corvin.
Maren cocked her gun, her finger trembling on the trigger. "Don't take another step!"
The hunters parted.
Their leader stepped forward. A massive mutant, his chest covered in scars, dragging a hammer made of a solid boulder. He smelled of rotting meat and wet earth.
He didn't look at Corvin. He sniffed the air.
"Metal," the leader growled, his voice thick with phlegm and dirt. He spoke the old human tongue, but broken and harsh. "Dead skin. You bring rot to the living forest."
Corvin raised his fractured blade.
If it was a physical fight, he was ready to butcher them all.
But the leader slammed his boulder-hammer into the ground, halting his hunters.