Quest sat against the tree, arms crossed, staring out into the dark forest. The silence was comforting, the kind that allowed his thoughts to drift into the calm chaos of his mind. It wasn't trust that let him watch over the sleeping group—it was instinct. Someone had to keep watch, and he trusted himself far more than anyone else.
The rustling started faintly. At first, it could've been the wind or some small animal moving through the underbrush. But Quest's sharp ears picked up the subtle irregularity, the intentionality of the movement. Something—or someone—was out there.
He didn't move, didn't make a sound. His breathing stayed steady as he tilted his head slightly, his senses on high alert. Then he saw it, just a faint shimmer of moonlight reflecting off steel. The axe came from his right, an arc of death aimed for his neck.
In a fluid motion, Quest's hand shot up, catching the weapon mid-swing. His grip tightened like a vice, halting the attacker's momentum entirely. Without hesitation, he yanked forward, pulling the assailant off balance before hurling them into a tree with bone-crunching force. The body slumped to the ground, unmoving.
The forest came alive with movement as more figures emerged from the shadows. Ten in total, armed with a variety of crude weapons—knives, bats, and makeshift spears. Their faces were painted with desperation and malice, their intent clear: kill or be killed.
Quest stood, his towering frame illuminated by the faint glow of moonlight breaking through the canopy. His expression remained cold and detached, but his muscles tensed like a coiled spring.
"You should've stayed in the shadows," he muttered, his voice a low, icy growl.
The first attacker lunged, a man wielding a rusted machete. Quest sidestepped with ease, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it until the machete dropped. He drove a knee into the man's gut, doubling him over, then finished with a brutal elbow to the back of the head. The man collapsed, unconscious—or worse.
Two more rushed him from opposite sides. Quest ducked under a swing, grabbing one attacker by the throat and using him as a human shield against the other. The second man hesitated, giving Quest the opening to throw his makeshift shield into him, sending both to the ground in a heap.
One of the attackers, a woman with a jagged spear, tried to stab him in the back. Quest spun, catching the spear mid-thrust. With a powerful yank, he pulled her off her feet, snapping the weapon over his knee before driving the broken shaft into her chest. She gasped, clutching the wound, before collapsing.
A bat-wielding assailant swung for his head, but Quest caught the weapon mid-swing. He ripped it from the attacker's hands and used it to deliver a devastating blow to their knee, dropping them with a scream.
Another attacker lunged with a knife, slashing wildly. Quest grabbed their wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. He then headbutted them, the impact so forceful it sent the attacker stumbling backward, blood pouring from their nose.
The final three circled him, hesitating. They'd seen enough to realize this wasn't an ordinary man they were dealing with. One made the mistake of charging anyway, and Quest countered with a brutal uppercut that sent them airborne before they hit the ground, unmoving.
The last two attackers tried to retreat, but Quest was on them in an instant. He grabbed one by the collar, lifting them off their feet, and slammed them into the ground with enough force to leave a crater. The final assailant froze, dropping their weapon and raising their hands in surrender.
Quest stared at them for a moment, his dark eyes unyielding. "Run," he growled, his voice like ice cracking over a deep lake.
The survivor didn't need to be told twice. They stumbled into the forest, disappearing into the darkness.
Quest stood amidst the carnage, blood and broken bodies littering the forest floor. His breathing was steady, his gaze cold as he surveyed the aftermath. Slowly, he turned and walked back to the camp, his movements calm and deliberate.
The group was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the violence that had just occurred mere yards away. Quest leaned against the tree again, wiping the blood from his hands on a rag he'd taken from one of the attackers.
"They won't thank me for this," he thought, his expression unreadable. "But that's not why I did it."
The forest fell silent once more, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind.