As the trio got closer, the trees disappeared, until they reached a mountain-like figure lying in the clearing.

  It was moving as if to breathe. The color was oddly pale, looking more like skin strapped on rocks that would shift constantly.

  Until—

  The heaving stopped for a moment. A wail came, with the disgusting sound of something sodden splashing on the ground.

  Squelch.

  A tall creature crawled out of a cave-like hole. With each step forward it became more confident. From barely being able to crawl, to running like a cheetah.

  More silhouettes approached it. As if welcoming their new family member, while the heavy breathing resumed.

  Ren Lin and Feiyun Xing felt vomit rising up their throats, but they suppressed it.

  Unaffected, Wei Gu set out to fulfill their plans.

  First he needed to find a good hiding spot. Then they would lure one beast there, with Wei Gu damaging it so it can’t do any harm to them. At the end the pair would give it the coup de grace.

  Silently, they climbed their way up a huge crimson tree. The bark was thick and rough against their hands, sometimes thorns would poke them, yet they didn’t let out a sound.

  On top of it, the blue leaves were like a vignette around the scene below them. The Scarlet Mother let out a signal; a cat-like chirp, causing one of the creatures to jump in her mouth.

  She chewed for a bit, then repeated it. This was their chance. As she was doing it for the third time, Wei Gu lifted his hand aiming at the newly-born beast, sending out essence from his ring finger.

  Cleanly, it struck—a ping-pong ball sized essence blast that punched the creature’s shoulder blade without sound or flash. The newborn staggered mid-stride. Then with a crack, turned its head like an owl—toward the crimson tree where the trio perched.

  Ren Lin’s breath caught. The thing’s face was still forming: half-human features stretched over bone too sharp, eyes like fresh bruises blooming open. It sniffed once, nostrils flaring, then locked onto their hiding place with unnatural certainty.

  Even though the monster was limping towards them, gradually it got faster as the pain subsided.

  The others were busy “playing” with another or being eaten.

  When it reached the foot of the tree, its limbs got hit by much stronger blasts. Letting out a weeping groan it collapsed.

  Two figures emerged from the leaves. Feiyun Xing drew his sword while Ren Lin gripped her spear. They both aimed at the head of the creature.

  Her spear thrust downward—then it stopped before it could hit the beast.

  She looked around confused.

  A hand gripped the shaft. Firm. Unyielding.

  Her eyes followed the arm upward.

  A man stood there—ordinary suit jacket, glasses, the same disapproving frown she remembered from pitch meetings. Her former editor.

  “The readers won’t like this, you know,” he said, lips twisting the way they always had when he rejected her drafts. “Side character stealing the spotlight? Nobody roots for the supporting cast.”

  Ren Lin’s pulse hammered. “Shut up.”

  She yanked the spear free and thrust again.

  If it didn’t land now, they would need to find another champion. Because of the prince’s slash it was sure to die in a bit.

  However, the beast twisted aside at the last instant. The tip grazed wet fur. It rolled, came up circling her, movements growing smoother, more deliberate. Almost… practiced.

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  Then it lunged at her.

  Where was Wei Gu? Where was Xing?

  No time. She planted her feet and met the pounce head-on. The beast’s claws raked across her forearm; pain flared hot and bright. She countered with the butt of her spear, cracking it against the thing’s jaw. It staggered. She followed with a low kick to the ruined knee.

  It circled now—faster, smarter. Movements fluid, almost deliberate. Like it was learning from her.

  She thrust. It slipped aside.

  She swept low. It leaped.

  A claw came down; she parried, metal shuddering in her grip.

  With a counter-attack, she tried to pierce it again.

  The creature twisted its head to glide past the thrust and tried to pounce her waist.

  It was more like a swordsman.

  It adjusted distance. Tested her guard. Pressured her openings.

  It was fighting her.

  A strange warmth unfurled in her chest.

  Exhilaration.

  Her technique began to unravel—not from desperation, but from hunger. The spear became a staff. She struck with its butt, with its middle, kicked at joints, flung mud toward its eyes. She stopped fighting correctly and began fighting creatively.

  Her lips curled as a crazed laugh slipped free.

  Her past life had been suffocation—grades, expectations, the slow erosion of will. Forty years of endurance disguised as living.

  Here—

  Here even gravity challenged you. You against the world, but you stood chances even against the heavens.

  Who was she?

  An author letting others dictate her plot?

  No.

  She was the protagonist.

  Everyone is the protagonist of their own story.

  Claws raked her side. Something cracked along her ribs. Her thigh burned where teeth had grazed. Every movement hurt.

  And yet the thrill did not fade.

  The beast adapted faster than she expected. It caught her next thrust between forearm and bicep, twisting the spear aside. Its other claw raked down her side—deeper this time. Hot blood soaked her tunic.

  She didn’t care.

  With a raw roar she put everything into one final thrust. Spear tip aimed straight for the throat. The world narrowed to that single point. Gravity pulled; she fought it. Muscles screamed; she ignored them.

  The champion answered with anticipation. Ready for the climax.

  Her boot slipped in the mud.

  She fell hard, spear clattering away. Before she could roll, the creature was on her—weight crushing, claws pinning her shoulders, fetid breath washing over her face.

  So this was it.

  Her eyes drifted shut. A black vignette swallowed the scene.

  In blood and mud, her time has come.

  She forced her eyes open.

  “I want to see how it ends.”

  Instead a hand reached down—sleeved in filthy white, streaked with earth and old blood. Strong fingers closed around her wrist.

  She looked up.

  He was there—hair like a night-sky, sharp features softened by exhaustion, eyes steady in a way that cut through the haze.

  “Ren Lin,” he said quietly. “It’s me.”

  She let him pull her up. Legs shook.

  “Did… I fight you?”

  A faint, tired smile.

  “Don’t worry. We killed it. Now take its blood. Write your name on the Scarlet Mother.”

  Behind him the newborn lay still, head half-severed by Feiyun Xing’s blade with a hole poked by her spear.

  Wei Gu stood a few paces away… waiting.

  Ren Lin looked at her trembling hands. At the ichor pooling around the corpse.

  Then at the colossal, breathing mountain in the distance.

  They dragged the champion’s corpse between them—Ren Lin and Feiyun Xing each gripping one mangled arm, the body leaving a wide, glistening trail through the bruised earth. The ichor was thicker than blood, almost tar-like, clinging to their boots and sleeves. Every few steps the weight shifted unnaturally, as though the thing still dreamed of rising.

  Wei Gu walked ahead, silent, red robe untouched by the filth. He did not look back. He did not need to. The path he chose curved wide around the clearing’s edge, skirting clusters of silhouettes that still milled near the Scarlet Mother’s maw. Whenever another champion approached them, he would scare it with his essence.

  When they reached the base, the view was worse.

  The pale skin stretched over stone pulsed with faint violet veins that branched like lightning frozen in flesh. Fissures opened and closed with each breath—wet mouths exhaling mist that smelled of iron and honey. Cave-like orifices dotted the lower slopes; from some dangled pale, boneless limbs that twitched in slow farewell. The ground beneath their feet was spongy, warm, alive.

  Ren Lin and Feiyun Xing lowered the corpse. It slumped wetly. Ichor pooled beneath its severed neck, dark and glossy.

  Feiyun Xing knelt first. He dipped two fingers into the thickening blood, then looked at Ren Lin. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and old tears, but his eyes burned with something new—something unbroken.

  “You first,” he said.

  She hesitated only a heartbeat.

  Then she knelt beside him.

  The blood was warm against her fingertips—almost fever-hot. It clung like syrup, reluctant to let go. She drew her hand along the pale skin. The flesh accepted it greedily; the line sank in, glowing briefly violet before fading to a dull crimson scar.

  Two characters—her name.

  After they both wrote their names on it a burning sensation was felt. For Ren Lin it was around her upper arm, for Feiyun Xing it was on his shoulder.

  Unlike the feather mark, this one felt like a punishment.

  So the same red wave Wei Gu had on his ankle found its place on them.

  Clarity came slowly. The violet world diffused back into red and blue.

  Wei Gu let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the couple. A bittersweet feeling was embedded deep in his heart.

  But now was not the time for any celebrations. The Scarlet Mother was angry now. Champions were her protectors; anything else she birthed was her food.

  A bubbly angry signal came from the mountain in front of them.

  The whole earth vibrated.