Click.

  Eight minutes. Fifteen seconds.

  Click.

  Three hours. Nineteen minutes. Fifty-two seconds.

  Click.

  Five hours. Thirty-three minutes. Two seconds.

  Click.

  The homely man wrote the time in his journal as he followed the group.

  Initially, he did it out of obligation, but now it was simply a habit.

  He was too weak to help in combat. He didn’t know how to apply bandages or cook. What he knew how to do—and was good at—was writing.

  Time. Situations. Resources. Everything was there, written on the pages of his journal.

  Why is that stubborn man so prone to dismissing the facts? Can’t he understand it’s impossible to take everyone with us? I know his heart is in the right place. Mine is too.

  His eyes settled on Rust’s back.

  But I’m being logical. That’s all. If we could keep those people with us, of course I would agree. But they’re becoming a burden. Two died in combat in the last three days. Seven are injured. We have enough resources to tend to them maybe once or twice more, and then what?

  Let them die from infection? Or worse, let their blood attract more of those beasts? He’s selfish. Letting the suffering of a few jeopardize the whole group. Their injuries are drawing more beasts to us… three packs in just five days already. It will be impossible to cross this swamp like this.

  The man glanced at the women and the uninjured men. Their faces were lined with worry, eyes fixed on the ground as if searching for answers to a situation they knew had none. The truth was simple: resources were low, and the injured were slowing the group down.

  They know it too. Why don’t they speak up? Fools. Tell him what you think. Tell him it’s unsustainable. Our pace is slow… every time we stop to let them rest, we’re attacked… it’s unsustainable!

  Let them fall into the mud like they will anyway. He glanced at the small group of injured. The tending isn’t enough to keep them alive much longer. Their wounds are likely infected already. Amputating would kill them too.

  “Come,” Rust said without turning, trying to guide the people through the harsh swamp. “Stay together and keep walking!”

  His words carried weight, but not enough to lift the spirits of the group. Most of the uninjured wore cold, distrustful eyes—unsure of a man who wanted to save everyone while he could barely save himself.

  A minority, however, felt it was a matter of honor and agreed with keeping the injured; if they were in that situation, they would want help too.

  The injured themselves had dead eyes. They walked knowing their time was short. Some fought recklessly, hoping for a quick death to free them from the dungeon. Eating dog meat was barely tolerable; drinking blood for hydration was a nightmare... but it worked.

  They had underestimated the dungeon, or overestimated themselves. What mattered was that coming here had been a mistake.

  No coin could pay for such.

  Now there was no way out except to complete the dungeon or die.

  Death was the quicker option.

  Giving up was easier than trying, but who could blame them?

  Click.

  Four days. Eight hours. Forty-one minutes. Twenty-six seconds.

  The man wrote in his journal:

  Our group has been ambushed six times in the past few days. Eight have died—three today alone. The number of injured has grown. Their wounds have worsened. They can’t keep up anymore. It’s not just unsustainable; it’s impossible to progress like this.

  Rust, however, remains a fool. He clings to his naive philosophy of goodness, or whatever you’d call it. It makes no sense and needs no proper name. I’ve spoken with the others; most agree with me.

  It’s true he’s the most skilled among us, but that’s no reason to act this way. We must convince him. If he disagrees, we part ways. Let him tend to all these people alone and without our resources. I dare him!

  On another note: Over the past few days, we’ve found traces of another monster. Fur samples were left behind—highly resistant. Its footprints are far larger than a dog’s. It seems to be moving away from the moon, deeper into the swamp. Thankfully, we haven’t encountered it. Or perhaps, unfortunately, we have not.

  Also, I’m officially getting a new clock once I leave. One that can register more than one week at a time, preferentially.

  Click.

  Six days. Nineteen hours. Fifty-eight minutes. Eleven seconds.

  Something strange has happened. We found more traces of that creature. People are scared, but the threat from the dogs has lessened. According to Rust, that’s not a good sign. If weaker beasts leave an area, it’s likely because they’re afraid of something. Were the dogs afraid of our group? I doubt it.

  Anyway, I’ve convinced more people to speak to Rust with me. I knew I wasn’t the only one with a half-functioning brain. But truthfully? I think Rust sees it too. His eyes look… dead? How to put it. As if he’s lost hope but forces himself to act normally. Appearances don’t matter to me, and they don’t matter to most of us.

  He must leave these people behind, or we will leave him. It's been decided.

  Click.

  Six days. Twenty-three hours. Three minutes. Nine seconds.

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  Strange. Very strange. Rust has gone quiet. He hasn’t spoken a word in hours. The other men tasked with guarding the group are quiet too. They see something we don’t. They won’t answer when we ask… that only makes it more suspicious.

  Well, it’s almost time. I hope he understands our concerns and stops being so rigid in his ideals. It would be a pity to part ways with a man I consider capable—if idealistic.

  Click.

  Six days. Twenty-three hours. Thirty-one minutes. Thirty-five seconds.

  We gathered and spoke with him just as the group stopped to rest. It was surprisingly… easy? He agreed as if his mind were elsewhere, though he remained conscious enough to refuse outright killing the injured. He only agreed to stop spending further resources on them. I get that—I never took him for a killer. The injured also seemed to relax, as if a weight had been lifted… Some even ran off. I suppose they understood they were holding the group back, and knowing they wouldn’t be helped further eased their guilt.

  Still… during the conversation, we heard a loud growl. It came from the woods... not too close, but there. It was different from the howls of the dogs. Unusual, but one problem at a time. At least the main issue has been resolved. The group’s pace should improve now. At least, I hope so.

  Click.

  Six days. Twenty-three hours. Thirty-eight minutes. Fifteen seconds.

  I wasn’t wrong. We heard it again. The growl was closer. I felt something strange in my body when I heard it, a weight, a pressure, as if the shadows were pressing down on me. But damn it, this place is all shadows. All the fighters are on alert. Rust himself didn’t seem surprised, but he’s already ordered us to keep moving.

  We’ve walked away from the resting spot, but we’re not far. Whatever it is, I don’t want to find it. It’s probably that creature… Was it following us? Was it because of the injured?

  Click.

  Six days. Twenty-three hours. Forty-two minutes. Six seconds.

  It has found us. Whatever this is.

  Its body is large, covered in dark fur, with a head bearing no features except a mouth.

  It’s fast. Too fast. I can’t see it clearly. Rust can. I think he dodged an attack! I believe he’ll save us—

  The journal was splashed red as it fell into the mud, crushed under the headless body of the man. His head had been torn apart in an instant by the mere touch of the monster’s fist.

  The creature turned its massive body toward the injured and dashed toward them.

  “Run!” Rust shouted, but it was too late. Most were killed in seconds. Then the monster turned toward the others and bolted again.

  Without wasting a moment, Rust rushed forward, sliding through the mud in an attempt to slash the monster’s leg. His blade was stopped by the creature’s fur.

  The monster brought its fists together and smashed the ground. Rust had already rolled away, but the shockwave rattled his body.

  Some people were already running. The group had lost any formation in an instant.

  Immediately, the monster pursued Rust, striking relentlessly. Rust could barely dodge by predicting its moves. The monster was stronger and faster than him, but simpler.

  But then—

  Rust’s foot caught on an overgrown root. He lost his balance and fell back. The monster’s instincts flared—it had overcome the biggest threat. Just before its fists connected, it stopped. Dark blood spilled from a wound as a wounded man stood before it, holding a spear that had pierced through the faceless head.

  “Thanks—” the man began, before his body was turned to paste by a direct hit from the creature. It wrapped its fists around the spear and snapped it, growling in a mix of pain and fury.

  Rust understood the sacrifice. He wouldn’t let it be in vain.

  He rolled back and stood up. His emerald eyes scanned the battlefield. Most had fled, but three men remained, eager to fight.

  He would trust them. He had to.

  “Aim for its head,” he said. “Support me!”

  They agreed as one, and the battle resumed.

  The monster pressed forward, missing strikes as Rust waited patiently for an opening.

  Its head is weak. I need one move.

  Meanwhile, arrows flew toward the creature but had little effect, only forcing it to occasionally raise its hands in defense. How could it see arrows moving that fast?

  Another man approached from behind, wielding a heavy axe. His strong frame suggested he could cut through anything.

  The last man was preparing something with a clay bottle and a piece of cloth. He struck stone against stone, trying to produce a spark.

  Rust kept dodging, keeping the monster occupied.

  Both he and the axeman did a decent job keeping the creature busy while the others acted as occasional support.

  Unfortunately, no matter how many exchanges they made, Rust could not break through the monster's defenses.

  Past the initial injury, it seemed the beast had learned to be cautious around these humans.

  Minutes passed with no results.

  Rust's mind was eager to win, but his body was tiring. He glanced to the side—he was not the only one on the brink of exhaustion.

  If only I could use aura!

  The axeman made a mistake. He couldn't dodge properly; the creature's fist grazed him, sending him tumbling backward to the ground.

  Seizing the chance, the monster went for the kill. It quickly approached the fallen man and raised its leg to stomp.

  Shockingly, the axeman managed to dodge by rolling aside.

  The beast would not miss twice. It raised its leg again.

  Down!

  Mud splashed in a great radius, flying up to the trunks of dead trees.

  The man, however, was alive.

  At the last second, Rust had rushed forward and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him away from certain death.

  That act, however, came with consequences.

  Rust sacrificed his balance and now found himself at a disadvantage.

  The monster advanced, ignoring the axeman for now.

  It struck first. Rust barely dodged.

  Then the second and third strikes came. Rust could not dodge both.

  He raised his blade to defend his abdomen. Metal met a devastating punch that sent him flying.

  His back hit a tree as the impact reverberated through blade and body.

  The archer's efforts to distract the monster failed. It steadily approached Rust.

  For a single second, the eyeless creature seemed to exchange a gaze with Rust, who lay at its feet.

  Emerald eyes met pale nothingness.

  That single second stretched far longer inside Rust's head.

  Am I dead?

  I guess I am...

  I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

  Arm raised, the monster prepared the final blow.

  Pssh!

  Suddenly, a flame caught cloth. It spread quickly, nearing a small clay pot.

  The pot flew toward the monster's back, shattered on impact, and spread flames across its fur.

  What—!

  Rust rolled aside, leaving the monster alone with the fire.

  The flames wouldn't last long. The creature's screams would soon end, and it would become far more dangerous then. Rage was already a powerful fuel.

  He wouldn't let that happen.

  Rust stood up.

  Three steps forward.

  In front of the creature.

  His saber drove through the flames, through skin, through the back of the monster's head, then upward—splitting the skull vertically.

  Dark blood sprayed toward the heavens, splashing trees, mud, and bodies.

  The monster took a few erratic steps before stumbling and finally stopping.

  It fell to its knees, then collapsed to the ground, dead.

  In the depths of the swamp, under the gaze of the azure moon, survival had won again.

  Rust was looking at the monster body, the flames already extinguished... probably thanks to the mud.

  Blood flowed between his teeth, an overbearing metallic taste dominating his mouth. He spat onto the mud, the crimson fluid mixing with the dark earth beneath his feet.

  His ribs screamed with every breath.

  He pressed a hand to his side, feeling the shift of broken bone beneath bruised flesh. The axeman was already being helped up by the archer, both of them looking at Rust with expressions he couldn't quite read—relief, perhaps, or something closer to disbelief that they were still... there.

  The creature's body lay motionless, dark blood still seeping from the split skull into the mud. Steam rose from its fur where the flames had caught, the smell of burnt hair and cooked flesh joining the ever-present stench of decay.

  Rust's saber hung loosely in his grip, the blade still dripping with the monster's black blood. He stared at it for a long moment, watching each drop fall, before finally allowing himself to breathe.

  "We need to move," he said, his voice rough. "More will come."

  The others nodded silently. There was no celebration. They had survived. That was enough...

  As they gathered what remained of their supplies and prepared to continue, Rust cast one last glance at the fallen beast. Its eyeless face stared at nothing, frozen in the moment of death.

  Then, he observed the whole area, before finally looking above.

  How many more, oh Gods? he wondered. How many more before this ends?

  There was no answer.

  He turned away and guided the others into the swamp's deepening shadows, the azure moon their only help through the endless nightmare.