The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 40: The Maw Forest (2)

The force of three hundred men and women walked quietly through the forest.

Raynoel led the vanguard with a handful of elite scouts, while a group of stern, battle-hardened Saints brought up the rear. Izikel, flanked by Sophia ahead of him and Lyzah trailing close behind, was nestled somewhere in the protective heart of the formation.

No one spoke. The only sounds were the muted rustle of boots against dry leaves and the occasional snap of a distant branch. Crickets chirped in the underbrush, birds cawed far above, and now and then a lone wolf howled at the fading light. But amidst it all, it was the rhythm of footsteps—soft, deliberate, and persistent—that stood out the most. It made Izikel more aware of just how many people were moving with him. Three hundred souls, yet the silence pressed like a weight on their shoulders.

As he walked, a thought came to him, unbidden.

’If they couldn’t mine these crystals, then how did they get them?’

He furrowed his brow, turning it over in his mind, but no answers came. Eventually, the question faded like a forgotten echo, and he let it go.

Then, like a blade cutting through air, Sophia came to a sudden stop.

Izikel halted reflexively, nearly bumping into her. Lyzah stopped just behind him, catching herself with a quiet grunt. Up ahead, Raynoel noticed the break in rhythm. His posture stiffened. In an instant, he gestured for the group to pause, then began walking back to the center.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur as he reached Sophia, hand resting cautiously on the hilt of one of the two swords strapped to his back.

Sophia didn’t respond with words. She simply raised a finger to her lips.

Silence.

She closed her eyes, letting her breath slow. Every muscle in her body was still, her brow creased in concentration. Then, after a few long seconds, her eyes snapped open, tension lining her jaw.

"They’re here," she whispered.

Raynoel didn’t hesitate. He nodded once, the steel in his gaze igniting like a spark in dry wood. His blade came free with a practiced motion, catching a glint of moonlight as he barked, "Saints, take formation! Secure the druids!"

Steel hissed as swords were unsheathed in perfect synchronicity. The ground bristled with readiness.

"Make sure they’re well-secured," Raynoel repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but firm.

Sophia glanced up into the thick boughs above and gave a sharp nod. "Follow me."

Before Izikel could say a word, she grabbed both him and Lyzah under their arms, then leapt. In three precise jumps, she landed them all atop a wide branch nestled high above the forest floor.

She set them down gently, barely rattled by the effort. Izikel had no time to feel embarrassed—it was done so fluidly, like she’d done it a thousand times before. Her eyes scanned their perch, and she slid the spear from her back with a practiced flick of her wrist.

"Be careful not to fall."

Izikel and Lyzah both nodded silently, gripping the thick branch beneath them for balance. It was sturdy enough, and they had room to crouch safely.

Peering down, Izikel saw soldiers melting into the trees like ghosts. Some clung to trunks, blending with bark and shadow, while others—like Raynoel—remained on the ground, moving with the stillness of predators.

What struck Izikel the most was that no one had seen anything. They all moved solely on Sophia’s word. No sign, no sound, yet everyone obeyed her unease like it was divine truth.

Even she seemed tense now, sweat forming on her brow as her eyes flicked across every shadow, every rustle of leaf and twitch of branch.

Then Raynoel, perhaps doubting the silence, called out softly, "Soph—"

"Shh!" she hissed, cutting him off mid-word, her hand snapping up in warning.

A heartbeat later, from the gloom between the trees, something emerged.

Izikel’s breath caught in his throat.

It was huge. Reptilian. Towering.

A Maw Beast.

Its body was covered in dark, reflective scales, the color of ancient stone. It moved on two powerful legs, with muscular arms ending in three hooked claws. A long tail dragged behind it, counterbalancing its every step. It stood as tall as a man, but was far longer—perhaps fifteen feet from snout to tail.

It reminded Izikel of dinosaurs, but only scarier.

Despite its size, it moved with eerie quiet, like the forest itself made space for its passage. It sniffed the air, wide nostrils flaring, then stepped forward again, talons barely disturbing the leaves beneath it.

Izikel blinked—and Raynoel was gone. Completely vanished. One second there, the next... air.

Smart, Izikel thought. Fighting that thing could be suicide.

The creature crept toward one of the crystal clusters lying innocently near a tree root. It sniffed it curiously, then opened its mouth wide and crunched it between its teeth like candy glass.

Izikel’s eyes widened. Those crystals—that couldn’t be crushed by ordinary means—were crushed like nothing.

Then, a shriek echoed through the woods. Definitely not human.

Another Maw.

The one below paused, its meal forgotten. Lifting its head, it loosed a deafening screech of its own, the kind that made bones vibrate and blood run cold. Its jaw opened wide, jagged fangs glistening with drool and remnants of stone, and from deep within its throat, it summoned a cry of terror.

Izikel flinched.

Even Sophia reeled slightly, and she rarely showed fear. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

From the shadows, more beasts emerged. Four. Then five. Maybe more, Izikel couldn’t tell.

They moved with the same quiet dread, sniffing the air, eyes cloudy and unused. They were blind—but not helpless. Their nostrils flared, tracking scent. Their ears twitched. They knew someone was near.

Then it happened.

A soldier on the ground stepped on a twig.

Snap.

All the beasts froze. One tilted its massive head to the side, then began to turn, slowly, toward the sound.

The others followed.

The soldier tried to back away, careful and measured. He shifted left—but a beast was there. He turned right—another one, even closer.

Panic flared in his eyes. He stepped back—and bumped into a tree.

He froze, afraid that he was too loud. A moment passed. Two. No reaction. He exhaled shakily, thinking he’d escaped notice.

Then—sniff.

From behind him.

A loud, chilling inhale.

The "tree" he’d leaned on wasn’t a tree at all.

It moved.

Its scales rippled.

Its jaws opened.

And in that split second, the soldier realized his mistake.

He had been standing against death itself.