Chapitre 52: The last loyalty
Borne, galloping on horseback, kept glancing back over his shoulder.
The pack of Frostfire Hyenas was still relentlessly pursuing him.
Their eyes glimmered with cold blue and searing red light, like death's emissaries lurking in the darkness.
Frostfire Hyenas, rare dual-element magic beasts, wielded both the powers of flame and frost. Their cruelty sent a shiver through Borne's heart.
He knew their behavior well.
They wouldn't strike when their prey was most full of energy.
They preferred to prolong the chase, wearing down their prey until it was utterly exhausted. Then, in the final moment, they would launch their lethal attack.
This patience made the Frostfire Hyenas the nightmare of veteran hunters.
Twilight was falling, and the dim, blurry light of dusk shrouded the landscape.
Borne could feel the eyes of the Frostfire Hyenas upon him.
The wind howled in his ears, and his heartbeat quickened, matching the pounding rhythm of the horse's hooves beneath him.
His warhorse, though strong, could not keep up this breakneck pace for long.
Borne could clearly feel the horse's breathing growing heavier, the sound of its hooves becoming labored.
He could sense the Frostfire Hyenas drawing closer, nearly ready to strike.
But just when they seemed poised to deliver the fatal blow, they would pull back, as if toying with him, savoring this deadly game of chase.
Sparks of fire and frost flickered intermittently across the hyenas' bodies.
"They're toying with me…" Borne gritted his teeth, cold sweat forming in his palms.
A fierce desire to survive surged within him.
He couldn't die like this, couldn't let these beasts dictate his fate.
But in this desolate landscape, surrounded by endless sand and dust, it seemed even nature conspired against him, denying him any chance of escape.
His breath grew rapid, and his grip on the reins tightened, as if he might tear them apart.
Borne spun around once more, pulling out his bow and aiming at the Frostfire Hyenas chasing him.
But their speed and agility made it nearly impossible for him to hit his target.
The hyenas moved with swift, graceful motions, easily dodging his arrows.
His anxiety and despair grew stronger with each miss.
He could hear the deep, mocking laughter of the beasts, as if they were taunting him with cruel amusement.
They knew his arrows were useless yet still kept their distance, clearly enjoying this deadly game of pursuit.
The last arrow flew but again missed its mark.
Cursing under his breath, Borne tossed the bow aside, now weaponless.
In a desperate bid to survive, he had cast aside every tool at his disposal, hoping only to gain a little more speed.
The laughter from behind swelled, a chorus of victorious mockery that echoed relentlessly in his ears.
The Frostfire Hyenas chased him with a slow, deliberate pace—sometimes drawing near, other times hanging back—playing with him as they waited for him to deplete his strength and spirit completely.
A chilling sensation crawled down Borne's spine, more than just the cold air.
It was the power of the Frostfire Hyenas.
Frost and flame spiraled behind him, ready to claim his life at any moment.
The warhorse beneath him panted heavily, its gait faltering, and still, there was no sign of escape ahead.
The mocking laughter grew ever closer.
Suddenly, a crushing sense of pressure surged from behind, as if the very air had frozen in place.
Borne's warhorse sensed it too, its entire body trembling.
Before Borne could react, the horse gave a violent leap, its front legs kicking upward, sending him crashing to the ground.
He hit the earth hard, gasping as he lifted his head.
In horror, he saw his faithful warhorse surrounded by the Frostfire Hyenas' flames.
Its agonized cries pierced the air as its body was engulfed by fire, writhing helplessly in its death throes.
The flames devoured the horse's fur, skin, and even its bones, consuming it entirely as it succumbed to a fiery demise.
The scorching flames burned the horse's skin, filling the air with a nauseating stench of charred flesh and blood.
The warhorse's limbs convulsed violently, struggling in vain to escape the fiery torment, but the relentless flames sapped its strength, leaving it helpless.
Its skin melted away at a horrifying pace, exposing muscle and bone beneath, with sizzling flesh crackling in the heat.
Borne watched in horror as his once-vibrant companion was reduced to a blackened husk.
The horse's eyes, now dull and lifeless, still gazed at Borne through the flames.
Those eyes, full of excruciating pain, held a lingering sense of loyalty and sorrow.
Even in its final moments, the horse used every bit of its fading strength to look at Borne, as if bidding one last, silent farewell.
That unwavering loyalty and bittersweet goodbye seared into Borne's heart in an instant, a memory he would never forget.
As the flames consumed the horse's body, it eventually collapsed in utter stillness.
Its limbs ceased their frantic movements, and it lay there, engulfed in silence, a charred remnant of what it once was.
Borne felt as though an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, squeezing out every breath.
His chest heaved, his breathing rapid, yet he could do nothing but watch helplessly as the tragedy unfolded.
His mind seemed to shut down. Everything before him left him feeling powerless.
His body was rigid, his limbs numb, void of any strength, even the will to stand seemed to have abandoned him.
The horse that had fought by his side in countless battles, his most trusted companion, was now a pile of ashes on this desolate land, never to rise again.
Borne's voice trembled as he muttered under his breath, repeating the same phrase.
"No... no... this isn't real... this can't be real."
His eyes stayed fixated on the scorched remains, as if desperately waiting for a miracle, some impossible reversal of fate.
That warhorse had been with him through life and death, a partner he trusted more than anyone. And now, it lay dead, never to move again.
He kept muttering, as if trying to console himself with lies, to escape the harsh reality before him.
But the brutal truth mercilessly shattered the last shreds of hope in his heart.
The dying embers of the flames drifted into the air, and the smell of burning still lingered.
Surrounding him, the Frostfire Hyenas began to form a half-circle, slowly closing in on Borne.
Their deep, guttural laughter echoed through the air, filled with mockery and hunger, as they eagerly awaited the final kill.
"This can't be real..." Borne's voice grew weaker, his chest heaving so violently he could barely catch his breath.
Suddenly, the leader of the Frostfire Hyenas let out a low growl, as if issuing a command. The other hyenas immediately stopped in their tracks, slowly backing away to create more distance between themselves and Borne.
They weren't in any hurry to attack.
Frostfire Hyenas savored watching their prey struggle in fear and despair, preferring to draw out the agony rather than quickly tear their victim apart.
The leader of the pack fixed its cold, piercing gaze on Borne, its eyes glinting with the thrill of tormenting its prey.
It snarled softly, as if declaring that the hunt was far from over, and that Borne was nothing more than a plaything in their cruel game.
The hyenas began circling Borne slowly, their eyes never leaving him, but still withholding the final strike.
They were waiting, watching for him to collapse under the immense pressure of fear and pain.
Borne attempted to crawl forward, struggling to reach his fallen horse's lifeless body.
But just as he made his move, the leader of the hyenas let out a guttural growl, its jaws gathering cold energy.
A chilling wave of frost filled the air as the leader opened its maw, the icy power coalescing into a sharp, lethal icicle.
In a flash, the ice spike shot from the hyena's mouth, moving as fast as lightning.
Splat!
Before Borne could even react, the ice spike had already pierced through his left thigh.
A searing pain surged through his nerves, overwhelming him in an instant.
A stifled groan of pain escaped his lips as his body collapsed to the ground, helpless.
The ice spike embedded itself deep in Borne's thigh, freezing tendrils of cold spreading through his flesh, threatening to freeze his blood.
Blood gushed from the wound, mixed with frost, quickly forming a pool of crimson ice on the ground.
"Ah!" Borne gritted his teeth, desperately trying to suppress the excruciating pain.
But the icy chill continued to seep into his body, the agony intensifying with every passing moment.
The leader of the Frostfire Hyenas watched him with cruel amusement, its eyes glimmering with cold malice, clearly relishing Borne's torment and helpless struggle.
The remaining Frostfire Hyenas sneered as they closed in, eagerly awaiting their next round of torment.
Borne lay on the ground, his breathing ragged.
The searing pain was overwhelming, pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness. Yet, he gritted his teeth, refusing to surrender.
His fingers slowly clawed at the dirt, trying to drag his battered body forward.
Every inch he moved sent waves of agony through him, but his eyes remained locked on the now ash-covered remains of his fallen warhorse.
"Radish... Radish…" His voice was hoarse and broken, filled with unspeakable grief and despair.
In this moment, the looming threat of the Frostfire Hyenas faded into the background.
There was only one thing that filled his mind: his warhorse—Radish.
Blood dripped from his left leg, staining the ground beneath him, and every movement made the icy pain in his wound flare up.
Yet, his gaze never wavered from the spot where his loyal companion had fallen.
With all the strength he could muster, Borne dug his hands into the dirt, pulling himself forward.
His fingernails tore against the rough ground, splitting open and bleeding, but he didn't care.
All that mattered was reaching Radish.
"Radish…"
His world had shrunk to that one single focus—his horse, the steadfast partner that had saved him in countless battles.
Each inch he crawled was an agony beyond words.
Each whispered call for his horse was an outpouring of his crumbling soul.
Borne no longer cared about the danger surrounding him; he only wanted, in this final moment, to die beside his faithful warhorse.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone