The Monstrous Hero-Chapter 45 - 44: Wrong Foot

Unfortunately enough, the exit portal never came.

And it was slowly getting late.

The sun was gone, swallowed whole by the horizon, and the only light left came from the dying orange glow bleeding through the clouds. Everything else—trees, dirt, blood, and their own shadows—was fading into one big smear of darkness.

So, yeah. They had no choice but to camp.

The clearing near the cliff was as good a spot as any. The edge dropped into an endless black pit of water that moved slow but deep, the kind that swallowed sound. You could hear it if you stood still—the low slosh of the current, the occasional snap of something breaking the surface.

They set up camp at the clearing, under a big tree whose branches spread out wide like twisted ribs. The smell of iron and rot still stayed in the air, the remnants of goblin guts that stained the dirt and even though they’d walked miles away from the battlefield, it didn’t feel like enough.

No one complained though. There wasn’t much left to say.

They just... moved. Mechanically.

Z-34 muttered something about the air being cursed, G-25 grumbled about his legs, and 27-C was busy pretending she wasn’t dead tired. Liu Xian stayed quiet, his face pale and blank, while B67 trailed behind him like a stray that didn’t know where to go.

When it came time to fetch firewood, it was Liu and the kid that got the job.

Figures.

B67 didn’t complain—not out loud, at least—but his face said enough. His eyes darted around like he expected a goblin to leap out at any second. Every crack of a twig underfoot made him flinch, and every time that happened, Liu Xian would glance over his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, not even when B67 tried to fill the silence with nervous mumbling about "how dark it was" or "how quiet the place felt."

Quiet was an understatement. It was suffocating.

Liu Xian bent to pick up another fallen branch, the bark rough against his palms. When he straightened, the faint sting of the cuts on his hand caught his attention again. He flexed his fingers — the skin was itchy.

So was B67’s. He noticed the kid scratching absently at his own palm, little flakes of dead skin clinging to his fingertips.

"Hurts," B67 muttered under his breath.

Liu glanced at him for a moment — long enough for their eyes to meet — then looked away.

They gathered what they could and headed back.

By the time they returned, their arms were full of damp branches and dry twigs. The others had already cleared the space, digging a little pit with the butt of their blades. Z-34 was trying to spark flint while G-25 hovered behind him, cursing at the smoke that wasn’t even there yet.

It took longer than it should’ve, mostly because everyone’s hands looked like shit.

Their palms were peeling—literally. The skin, raw and pink, stung every time they moved. The acidic blood and guts of the goblins had done a number on them. They didn’t realize it while fighting, adrenaline masking everything, but now that things were still and quiet, the pain decided to make a dramatic entrance.

Z-34 hissed under his breath, shaking his hand out. "Goddamn acid blood freaks..."

G-25 scratched at his wrist, only making it worse. "Feels like it’s crawling under my skin."

27-C didn’t say anything. She just stared at her hand, which was way better than the others thanks to the glove she wore.

The fire finally sparked to life after what felt like an hour of effort. The orange light flickered across their faces, warping the exhaustion into something softer, almost human. The warmth spread quick, biting at the cold air. For a moment, the flames made it easier to breathe.

They didn’t talk much after that.

Everyone looked half-dead. 27-C and G-25 sat closest to the fire, trading quiet whispers about watch shifts. Z-34 was lying flat on his back, staring at the stars through the tree line like he was waiting for them to form a damn portal.

In the end, they agreed two people would sleep while four stayed awake, rotating every few hours.

First turn awake: Liu Xian, Z-34, 27-C, and B67.

The others lay down, curling into themselves near the flames. It wasn’t comfortable—the ground was uneven, the dirt still tacky with blood—but it was better than dying from exhaustion.

Liu Xian sat a little apart from the group, watching the fire. His sword rested beside him, cleaned as best as it could be, though faint streaks of goblin gore still clung to the blade. B67 sat close to him, hugging his knees, eyes darting between the fire and his teammates.

Z-34 paced a little near the cliff, muttering under his breath. He couldn’t stand still, probably afraid of his own thoughts catching up. 27-C kept her focus outward, scanning the treeline.

It wasn’t hard to believe something was still out there.

The night carried strange sounds—the distant rustle of leaves, the faint splash of water below, and sometimes, the low creak of wood bending in the wind. Once or twice, Liu thought he saw something shift beyond the glow of the fire but every time he looked directly, it was gone.

Time dragged. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Minutes stretched.

Z-34 eventually slumped down near the fire, resting his elbows on his knees. "I’m so fucking tired," he groaned, voice low.

No one answered.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking into the flames. "Figures."

The fire crackled, spitting out sparks. One of them landed on Liu Xian’s sleeve, but he didn’t even react.

B67 shifted beside him, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think... we’ll get out in the morning?"

Liu didn’t answer right away. Then finally, after some moments said, "Maybe."

For a while, no one spoke again.

Just the crackle of fire, the sigh of wind, the quiet rhythm of tired breathing. The forest almost seemed to settle with them, the noise dying down until the only sound left was the heartbeat of the fire

Z-34 was the first to break it—of course he was. He stood from where he’d been sitting and stretched, rolling his shoulders until the bones popped. The firelight caught the edge of his jaw before he stepped closer.

He stopped beside Liu Xian, hovering for a second. Then, with a low grunt, he crouched down and sat beside him—too close.

Liu Xian tensed immediately. His hand twitched subtly toward the hilt of his blade, though he didn’t grab it.

Z-34 pretended not to notice. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching the fire dance like it had all the answers. His voice came out softer than usual, lower, as if trying not to sound like the same guy who had punched Liu hours ago.

"Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing sideways with a half-smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Seems like we started off on the wrong foot."

Liu didn’t respond.

Z-34’s smirk faltered a bit. He turned back to the fire, staring into it as if the flames might make conversation for him. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath, "thought so." Then, louder, forcing a chuckle, "But hey, how about we do something about it, huh?"