Chapter 17: Bone Appétit
Corven dodged the arrow with effortless grace, simply stepping to the side without losing a fraction of his momentum. The arrow whistled past his face, missing by inches.
The bandits didn’t wait. Eight of them surged forward, blades raised, their war cries ringing through the trees like a savage chorus.
"Die, demonspawn!"
"Rot in hell!"
The shouts came from all sides—rage, fear, bravado. It was less about strategy and more about keeping their nerves steady in the face of something they didn’t understand.
Corven let out a short, nervous laugh, momentarily surprised they’d chosen to charge all at once.
"Bit of an overcommitment, in hindsight." he muttered under his breath, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Oh well."
With casual confidence, he jumped—vaulting clean over the heads of the swordsmen below. His cloak fluttered behind him like a black wing.
All eight of them skidded to a stop, eyes wide, necks craning up as Corven soared overhead. Their expressions twisted with disbelief.
And before they could recover, Corven landed silently behind them, his boots barely crunching the earth. He didn’t even glance back as he sprinted toward the archer at the rear.
"W-Wait—!" the bowman stammered, fumbling for another arrow, panic blooming in his eyes.