Surviving The Beast World With My 'Sassy' System-Chapter 25: Surprise Attack

As they hurried through the forest, the moon cast a bright silver glow over the towering trees, its light spilling in dappled patches across the grass and low shrubs. Even with that brightness, the warriors carried a makeshift torch — a thick length of dried wood wrapped tightly in strips of oily beast hide, smeared with rendered fat, and bound with thin sinew. When lit, it burned with a steady amber flame, spitting occasionally as the fat melted and dripped. Crude, but reliable.

Still, compared to the moon above, the torch looked almost shy — its little flame swallowed by the night’s brilliance.

Lavayla, slung carefully across Garrick’s broad back, shifted with each step he took. He tried his absolute best to keep the movement smooth, controlling the rise and fall of his stride, but even so, her unconscious body swayed gently. Their pace wasn’t too fast — they stayed in the middle of the formation to avoid sudden jolts — and it wasn’t too slow either. Just steady, enough to keep distance from anything hunting in the dark.

As the night deepened, the forest grew louder.

Distant howls. The ripple of wings. The soft but unmistakable crunch of heavy paws stepping somewhere far — or perhaps not so far — between the trees.

Everyone bristled, their senses sharpened. The three other warriors who had turned into their panther forms had their shoulders hunched slightly forward. Ears turned toward every sound. Tails low, ready for movement. The kind of defensive tension that came from knowing a beast could leap out of the underbrush at any moment.

"Just a little more," Drak murmured from the front, voice low but firm. "We’ll reach the post soon — the one we can take shelter at."

Ressha glanced over. "Is it the same one we used on the way here?"

"Yes."

A wave of quiet relief passed through the group.

The marked post — a hidden refuge known only to the Panthers — was tucked so deep in thick brush and layered foliage that even experienced hunters overlooked it. Predators rarely lingered there; the terrain was too uneven for prowling, the ground too tangled for comfortable nesting. In short, it was a pocket of safety in a forest.

And honestly, traveling at night was dangerous even for seasoned Beastmen. Darkness hid the worst threats: silent vine-crawlers, venomous lizards camouflaged like bark, thick-rooted carnivorous plants that sensed warmth before movement. One distracted step was all it took for a beast — or a person — to vanish before anyone even realized what had happened.

So they moved cautiously.

As they moved, they turned their heads occasionally.

Finally, after what felt like an endless stretch of tense walking, the terrain dipped slightly — the telltale sign they were close.

They slipped past a cluster of broad-fanned ferns and rounded the edge of a moss-covered boulder.

And then they saw a narrow stone hollow tucked beneath the roots of an enormous ancient ironwood tree — the kind whose trunk was thicker than a hut and whose roots rose from the ground like huge, twisted ribs. Moonlight trickled through the leaves above, catching on the slick moss that draped the roots. From the outside, it didn’t look like a shelter at all — more like a deep shadow, a wrinkle in the earth itself — but Panthers had carved this refuge generations ago.

The entrance was half-blocked by a curtain of layered branches and dark vines woven to look natural, impossible to spot unless you knew exactly where to look. The air around it was oddly still... almost too still.

Tila slowed down, frowning. Something prickled at the back of her neck.

Her eyes narrowed and she stopped. "Ressha... something’s wrong."

Ressha stopped and looked around. Her jaguar instincts flared instantly. She took one silent breath and caught the scent buried beneath damp leaves and moss.

It was a rotting scent.

Before she could open her mouth to warn Drak—

The night’s stillness was shattered.

A massive blur lunged out of the darkness and barreled straight toward Garrick.

Garrick’s instincts snapped to life. He twisted sharply, bending low without breaking Lavayla’s position on his back. The beast’s jaws snapped shut where Lavayla’s torso had been a heartbeat earlier, teeth clacking together with a sound like grinding stone.

Its claws raked across Garrick’s forearm instead—deep, burning lines of pain—but Garrick didn’t falter.

The creature skidded across the earth, landing in a crouch.

Every Panther stared.

It was a Burrowback Mauler — or rather, a mutated one. Normally the size of a large boar, this one stood nearly to a grown man’s chest, its hide plated in rough, bark-like scales that blended seamlessly with the forest floor. That was how it had stalked them — probably lying still.

Its eyes glowed a vicious, blood-red. Jagged tusks curled out from its lower jaw, wet with saliva that sizzled where it hit the ground. Its broad paws flexed, revealing claws like hooked stone shards.

Tharn lunged first, letting out a guttural snarl.

But the creature was faster than expected.

It whipped around, its massive paw slamming into Tharn’s side mid-charge. The blow sent him sliding across the soil, digging trenches with his claws as he fought to regain footing. He hit a fallen log hard but sprang up again, rage burning in his eyes.

The Mauler didn’t even look at him.

Its gaze locked—again—onto Lavayla.

Drak’s voice echoed across the clearing:

"GARRICK! BEHIND US! EVERYONE, SHIELD THE HUMAN!"

The order was instinctively obeyed.

Garrick moved back, cradling Lavayla securely, while the rest of the foraging group surged forward, shifting as they ran.

Sela’s sleek black panther form glinted under the moonlight, the white streak down her spine a stark contrast. Vira expanded into her massive ocelot form, spots rippling across muscle far larger than any normal ocelot’s.

Nima elongated into her tall, lean serval body — every line of her built for explosive, blinding speed and Ressha erupted into her jaguar form, towering above the others, her scarred eye glowing with fury.

The remaining warriors shifted into black panthers, forming a living wall around Garrick.

The Mauler, blocked from its target, let out a throaty, furious roar. It swung its head, saliva flying, and began slashing wildly at the Panthers.

Its huge claws smashed into the dirt.

Teeth snapped inches from Vira’s throat.

A tail like a thick root whipped around, nearly catching Nima’s hind leg.