The Devouring Knight
Chapter 41 - 40

Chapter 41: Chapter 40

Two Weeks Later

The reality of the forest had set in.

The captains now sat in their camp treating wounds, while Lumberling and Skitz continued to hunt.

In just two weeks, the captains had caught a glimpse of how terrifying this place truly was. Monsters lurked in every direction, each one more dangerous than the last. Giant, venomous insects crawled beneath their feet. Carnivorous plants lurked in shadows. Even the skies weren’t safe—winged predators could descend without warning.

They were constantly on guard, always watching, always tense. Even resting was a gamble, with ambushes breaking what little sleep they could grab.

Only the shelter they’d carved into a cave offered them a brief respite. And even then, every hour tested their stamina, resolve, and will to fight.

That Evening

Lumberling and Skitz returned to the cave, their arms full of monster meat and materials.

"Yo. Still alive, I see," Lumberling joked, a grin cracking through his tired face.

"We’re fine, Lord," Gobo2 replied, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Good. Skitz, start the fire. Anyone injured, form a line. First come, first served."

Treating wounds, eating monster stew, and preparing for the next onslaught had become a nightly ritual. Then, while the others slept, Lumberling would spend hours reading medical texts and training manuals before heading back into the night alone—hunting spiders and bats to refine his Concealment skill. Only Skitz was able to keep up with this unrelenting pace.

A Week Later.

They were once again deep in battle, facing another group of Bloodthorn monsters.

"Gobo1, Gobo2—right flank! Two more incoming!"

"Aren, fall back half a step—hold position!"

"Takkar, Gorrak—well done. Brace for the next wave!"

Their coordination had improved. They moved like a unit now, their combat sharper and faster than before.

But then—

"GRRRRAUUUNNNGGHHHH!"

A guttural, thunderous roar rolled through the forest, shaking the trees and sending chills down every spine.

"My Lord," Skitz muttered, tense.

Lumberling’s face darkened. "Captains, retreat! Back to the cave, now!"

They hesitated for only a second before following orders, falling back and looking over their shoulders.

Out from the forest came a monstrous form, crashing through brush and tree alike. It was the Vine Serpent, one of the deadliest monsters recorded in Krivex’s books.

Fifteen meters long, its body was a blend of bark-like scales and vine-covered flesh. It glided silently except for the chaos it left in its wake.

It saw them—and charged.

Lumberling barely dodged its massive maw, the jaw unhinging impossibly wide. Skitz was already at his side, weapons drawn.

The Vine Serpent struck again, slamming down like a tree trunk. Together, the two blocked its strike, but were pushed back several meters.

’It’s strong,’ Lumberling thought, arms numb.

He launched a counterattack, pole-vaulting over its tail and stabbing his spear down into its spine—but it wasn’t enough. The monster shrieked, and its tail smashed Skitz into a tree.

"Skitz!"

He couldn’t help him now.

The serpent lunged again. Lumberling ducked and sliced at its throat, black blood spraying, but still it fought.

Then—

"Blackbind!"

Skitz’s voice, cracked but defiant. Chains erupted from the earth, binding the serpent for a heartbeat. Just enough for Lumberling to catch his breath.

But more trouble came.

Bloodthorn monsters charged from behind the serpent, answering its call.

"Shit—they’re working together?"

Then—

"My Lord!" a voice called from behind.

Lumberling turned to see his captains, bruised but defiant, weapons drawn.

"I ordered you to retreat," he growled.

"We’re sorry for disobeying," Aren said, stepping forward. "We’ll accept any punishment later—but please... let us fight."

Lumberling paused. Their eyes were steady, their resolve iron.

"...Fine. Prepare to meet the enemy. Don’t die."

He locked eyes with Skitz. No words were needed. Both rushed toward the serpent.

"Gorrak, lend me your hammer!"

Without hesitation, Gorrak hurled his warhammer toward Lumberling, who caught it mid-run with one hand. The hobgoblin already had a backup club strapped to his hip—he knew the weapon would be put to better use in his Lord’s hands.

Lumberling tossed his bloodied spear aside. It had barely scratched the Serpent Vine’s steel-like hide. A blunt weapon might do better.

’I’m not doing what those idiotic manga protagonists do,’ he thought grimly, eyeing the serpent’s yawning mouth. ’There’s no way I’m diving in and killing it from the inside. I’d be mulch in seconds.’

The serpent reared back, jaws wide, preparing to strike.

Lumberling didn’t flinch.

He planted his feet, muscles tensing, eyes locked on the monster.

Wait for it...

The serpent lunged.

At the last second, Lumberling launched upward, clearing the snapping maw by inches. Mid-air, he raised the hammer with both hands, then brought it down like a meteor crashing to earth—straight onto the crown of the serpent’s skull.

BOOM.

A thunderous crack rang out as Lumberling’s hammer slammed into the Serpent Vine’s skull, the ground trembling beneath its massive coils. Shockwaves rippled through the creature’s body—and through Lumberling’s arms. He felt something give in his wrist, a jolt of sharp pain lancing up to his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

Hammer Shock.

A skill he hadn’t used in months. The force of it surged down the warhammer and into the beast’s skull, causing the serpent to convulse violently.

But the stun didn’t take hold.

Instead, the monster screamed—a guttural, unholy sound that shook the leaves from the trees.

That’s when Skitz moved.

Leaping off a broken stump like a missile, he drove his sword straight into the serpent’s massive eye. The blade sunk deep, and the Serpent Vine howled in pain, rearing back like a cobra and thrashing wildly.

It slammed its head into a tree—once, twice, a third time.

"Gghhaaah!"

Skitz let out a cry as his body was whipped around, crushed against bark and stone. But he held on, both hands clenched around his sword hilt, refusing to let go.

Below, Lumberling didn’t waste the moment. He pounded the hammer again and again into the creature’s spine, ignoring the searing pain in his arms.

Crack.

Smash.

Crack.

The repeated skill use strained him beyond comfort—his forearm screamed with micro-fractures—but he didn’t stop.

This had become a contest of endurance now.

A contest of will.

The Serpent Vine thrashed harder, flinging its body like a whip through the air. With a final heave, it dislodged Skitz and sent him soaring through the canopy.

The serpent’s maw opened wide beneath him—ready to swallow him whole.

Skitz twisted midair, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He pulled a small, rune-marked orb from his pouch.

"Eat this," he muttered, and tossed it downward.

Just before the serpent’s jaws snapped shut, Lumberling appeared in a blur, catching Skitz with one arm and crashing to the forest floor in a crouch. Cracks split the ground where his boots landed.

He ran.

Hard.

"Hold on—"

Behind them, a muffled BOOM shook the trees.

An explosion tore through the Serpent Vine’s throat from the inside—Skitz’s Detonation Seal doing its work.

Lumberling skidded to a stop behind a ridge and laid Skitz down gently.

"Stay put. You’ve done enough."

Skitz gave a faint nod, pain twisting his features. He activated his stealth skill and vanished into the foliage, too broken to fight, but wise enough not to drag his Lord down with him.

Lumberling turned back toward the serpent, his eyes hard. Smoke drifted through the trees like low-hanging mist. The serpent was still moving—barely.

Its battered body twitched. One blind eye oozed black blood. The explosion had gutted it from the inside, but it hadn’t died yet.

The Vine Serpent screamed as Lumberling’s hammer landed again—bone cracked, scales dented, but the beast still writhed in defiance. His arms burned, his breath came in gasps, and each swing sent fresh bolts of pain shooting up his spine. His wrists were already bruised, maybe even fractured. He couldn’t tell anymore.

Sweat stung his eyes. The iron stink of blood and crushed bark choked the air.

The Serpent coiled once more, about to slam its tail into the retreating captains. That’s when Aren stumbled, breath heaving, his blade too dull to pierce what remained of his last foe. One foot caught a root—he slipped.

"Aren!"

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