The Deviljho turned its head toward me, its mouth still dripping with brain matter and broken bone. It sniffed.
I could see the marks on its body—old scars from battles that would've killed other monsters. This was no ordinary beast. It was famine given form.
Its tail twitched.
The remaining hunters shouted, trying to draw its attention.
One of them slammed a Great Sword into its leg.
The Deviljho ignored the pain.
Then, in one smooth, unnatural motion—it lunged again.
Another scream.
Another bone snapped.
I didn't wait to see who died next.
I ran.
Branches whipped across my face. My breath burned. I didn't know where I was going.
All I knew was this:
I was a prey.