Harry stepped forward, although his heart hammered against his ribs. The sound in his chest felt too loud, like it might betray him. Each breath scraped his throat as he lowered his body, muscles tight, senses stretched thin. The forest seemed to lean inward, branches tangled like watching fingers. Even the ground felt alert beneath his boots.

  They sneaked into the forest, tracing the sound. Slow steps. Careful weight shifts. No one spoke now. No one dared. Leaves brushed against their legs, damp and cold. Somewhere ahead, something breathed. Not fast. Not slow. But patient.

  There the monstrous animal was. It stood in a clearing where the trees bent away from it, as if afraid to touch it. It had the body of a lion, massive and rippling with muscle, its fur matted and darkened with old blood. Yet it had seven heads, each moving with its own awareness, each alive in a way that felt wrong.

  The head of a man sat at the center, its face twisted into something that looked like delight. Its eyes were sharp, too intelligent. The head of a tiger snarled beside it, lips pulled back to reveal long, curved fangs. The head of a leopard moved restlessly, eyes darting, calculating.

  The head of a monkey chattered softly, fingers twitching as if itching to grab something. The head of a snake swayed in slow, hypnotic motions, tongue flicking in and out. The head of a dog sniffed the air again and again, nostrils flaring. And towering above them all, the head of an elephant loomed, its eyes small and unreadable, its trunk coiling and uncoiling with quiet menace.

  The boys flinched. Larry felt his heart jump so hard it hurt. His fingers dug into the dirt without him noticing. “It looked scarier than in the diagram,” Cole whispered, his voice barely existing, more breath than sound.

  No one corrected him. The boys remained rooted in their hiding spot. Knees bent. Shoulders hunched. Weapons held but forgotten. Fear didn’t let them attack the beast. It wrapped around them, heavy and suffocating, making even the thought of movement feel impossible.

  The beast sniffed with the head of the dog. A deep, wet inhale. Its head snapped towards where the boys were. The dog’s eyes locked onto the bushes, its lips pulling back to expose teeth slick with saliva. Slowly, deliberately, the massive body shifted. One step. Then another. The ground trembled faintly beneath its weight.

  Then it began to walk closer to them. “He knew we are here,” Larry whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

  Harry reacted instantly. He placed his hands across his mouth, signaling him to keep quiet. His eyes burned with urgency. One sound now could end everything.

  But Collins gritted his teeth. “What is the need for hiding when we came here to hunt?” he asked, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

  Harry turned his head slightly toward him. “We must study the beast enough to know its seeing pair of eyes,” he whispered, each word carefully measured.

  Collins shook his head. His jaw tightened. “They are all cowards,” he said to himself. His eyes flicked from the beast to the others, contempt flashing in them. “I will use this opportunity to prove my superiority,” he proposed, more to his pride than to anyone else.

  Before anyone could grab him, before anyone could breathe his name. He jumped out of the hiding. “No, Collins,” Harry screamed, the word tearing out of him. But Harry was already too late.

  Collins bent his mouth and blew a whistle. The sharp sound sliced through the forest, echoing against the trees. Birds burst from the branches overhead, screeching as they fled.

  The beast turned fully toward him. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” the human head said in excitement, its lips stretching into a grin that was far too wide. “A human dare cross to my forest.”

  Its other heads reacted at once. The tiger snarled louder. The snake hissed. The monkey laughed, high and shrill. The elephant head rumbled deeply, like distant thunder.

  “I guess I will have a good meal for breakfast today.” The boys froze. “He can talk,” Harry lamented, his stomach twisting.

  “Only in your dreams,” Collins growled, forcing bravado into his voice. He brought out his arrow and drew it back, muscles straining. The beast jumped once, the movement explosive, then lunged towards him.

  Collins released his arrow. It flew through the air, slicing clean and fast, and landed on the human skull with a sickening crack.

  The beast hissed.

  The sound was deafening. All seven heads screamed at once, the noise colliding into something unbearable. Its body slammed into motion, faster now, stronger, rage flooding through every limb.

  Collins turned and began to run. The beast chased him with ferocity, claws tearing through earth and roots, its laughter echoing behind him.

  “We have to help him,” Harry echoed, already moving. “No,” Cole insisted, grabbing his arm. “He brought this upon himself.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Harry hesitated for half a heartbeat. Then Master Fen’s words struck him like a blow. “If you remain united, your chances of returning alive would be higher.”

  Harry tore his arm free. He turned to them, his voice cutting through their fear. “Everyone come out now,” he commanded.

  And he jumped out of hiding. The boys followed. Not because they wanted to. Not because they were brave. But because something in Harry’s voice left no room for refusal. They broke from cover and ran, branches snapping, breath tearing from their lungs as they chased after Collins and the beast.

  Soon the beast overtook Collins. Its massive tail whipped around with brutal speed and slammed into his back.

  Collins flew.

  His body smashed into a tree with a dull, crushing thud. Bark exploded outward. He dropped to the ground in a heap.

  “Ahh!” he groaned.

  For a second, it looked like he wouldn’t rise. Then he forced himself up, pain etched across his face. His hands shook as he drew his sword, the metal scraping free with a harsh sound.

  He planted his feet and faced the towering creature. “Do you think you can harm me with that Sword?” the beast mocked, its human head tilting with amusement. “Give it up. You are as good as dead.”

  The beast attacked. Collins, it raised him from the ground with its horn. His body lifted like it weighed nothing, feet kicking uselessly in the air. A sharp, wet sound escaped his mouth as pain tore through his stomach. His sword slipped from his fingers and struck the ground below. His scream never fully formed. It stayed trapped in his throat, choked by shock.

  But Harry and the rest boys arrived just in time. Arrows flew across all direction, snapping through the air with frantic speed. Shafts struck fur, flesh, horn. Some bounced off uselessly. Some sank shallow. One buried itself near the leopard head’s eye and drew a furious snarl. The beast roared, the sound splitting into seven overlapping cries. Its grip loosened.

  Collins dropped. He hit the ground hard, rolling once, twice, clutching his stomach as blood soaked through his tunic. The beast let go of him completely and turned to the rest of the boys.

  “Whoa!” the human head boomed, laughter dripping from every word. “The gods gave me a lot of food today.” Its heads moved in a slow circle, eyes counting, measuring. Tongues flicked. Teeth clicked together.

  He counted them with his eyes. “Thirteen animals for my meal.”

  “Hahahaha.”

  The laughter echoed through the forest, bouncing off trunks and leaves, crawling under the boys’ skin. Then the beast lunged at them.

  It attacked with its horn and tail, the movements wild and devastating. The elephant head swung first. The horn cut through the air and struck three boys at once. Their bodies lifted and slammed into trees with dull, hollow sounds. Branches snapped. Leaves rained down.

  The tail followed, a blur of muscle and fury. It swept low and high, catching legs, ribs, backs. One boy spun through the air like a broken doll. Another hit a tree headfirst and dropped without a sound.

  Harry felt the wind of it rush past his face as he rolled aside. Bark exploded inches from his head. Pain screamed through his shoulder where a flying body struck him. He gasped but forced himself up, eyes burning, breath ragged.

  Around him, boys cried out. Some shouted names. Some didn’t shout at all. But Collins saw an opportunity.

  The beast was busy with the boys. Its heads snapped in different directions, overwhelmed by movement and noise. Collins pushed himself up, teeth clenched so hard his jaw shook. Blood blurred his vision, but he forced his legs to move.

  He ran.

  He stepped on a tree trunk, using it as leverage. His foot slipped, then caught. He flew upward, propelled by desperation more than strength. His hands closed around his sword. He swung with everything he had left.

  The blade flashed. The dog head fell off. It hit the ground with a wet thud, rolling once before stopping. Blood sprayed across leaves and bark. The severed head’s eyes were still open, its mouth frozen in a half-snarl.

  For a heartbeat, the forest went silent. Harry was the first to see it. “What have you done, Collins?” he growled, horror ripping through his voice.

  The beast froze for a brief second. All six remaining heads went still. The laughter vanished. The human face twisted, not with pain, but with something darker. Something colder.

  “You have made the worst mistake of your life,” he hissed. The air felt heavier. The ground seemed to sink beneath their feet. Then it lunged at Collins once again.

  This time, the snake head raised up. It struck. Collins dodged, barely. The fangs missed his throat by inches and slammed into the tree behind him, cracking bark like glass. He stumbled, tried to regain balance.

  But the beast struck quickly again. This time faster. This time stronger. The snake head twisted midair and sank its fangs into Collins’ shoulder. Flesh gave way. The bite landed deep.

  Collins screamed. Then the sound cut off. His body stiffened instantly. His sword dropped. His eyes went wide, then empty. The color drained from his face as if something had been pulled out of him. He collapsed onto the forest floor, unmoving.

  Not dead. But still. The boys gasped. One fat one among them, Sammy, let out a broken sob. His legs shook violently. Warmth spread down his trousers, darkening the fabric. “Is he dead?” he asked, his voice thin and cracking.

  No one answered him. The beast turned toward them. This time, it didn’t exchange words. Its remaining heads lowered. Its muscles tightened. Its breathing changed. Something about it felt wrong now. Bigger. Denser. More dangerous.

  “He cut the wrong head,” Harry breathed. His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Now the beast is more powerful.” The beast lunged at them.

  One by one, it routed them, charging, striking, flinging bodies aside like debris. A horn caught one boy and crushed his ribs. A tail smashed another into the ground so hard the earth shook. Screams filled the air, then broke apart, swallowed by chaos.

  “Run,” Harry echoed. They burst into a sprint. Branches whipped at their faces. Roots grabbed at their feet. Breath burned in their lungs as they scattered, no longer a group, just frightened bodies fleeing through trees.

  The beast chased after them. Its steps thundered behind them, relentless, closing the distance. Leaves and branches exploded in its wake. Its roar chased them, loud enough to shake their bones.

  Sammy couldn’t run as fast as the others. Fear made his feet tremble. His legs felt heavy, unresponsive. He tripped over a root and fell hard, palms scraping against the dirt. He tried to get up, sobbing, crawling instead.

  The ground shook. The beast overtook him.

  The elephant head lowered and grabbed him with its horn, lifting him screaming into the air. His arms flailed uselessly. His cries cut off as the snake head struck.

  The fangs sank in. Sammy went still immediately. His face drained of color. Then he fell down like a dead person.

  Harry and the eleven others ran to a hiding. Their breath came heavy, tearing at their chests. “We have to figure out the right head,” Cole said.

  Harry paused, forcing air into his lungs. “Which head among the heads could be its right head?” The thought struck hard. Sharp. “This test was built to test our IQ.”

  Larry turned to him. “What are you talking about?” Harry pointed at him. “You have a human head because you are human.” Larry frowned. “What does that have to do with this?”

  Cole’s eyes widened. “Therefore, the beast will have a lion head because it is a lion.” “Exactly,” Harry said. “We cut off the lion head.” No one spoke. They only nodded.

  “But what if you’re wrong?” Max asked. Harry looked at him. “Then we are all dead.”

  Silence swallowed them.

  Leaves quivered above as something massive shifted nearby. A low growl rolled through the forest, slow, measured. Not charging. Waiting. As if it were listening.

  Sweat slid into Harry’s eyes, burning. His fingers trembled on the weapon’s grip, slick despite how tightly he held it. He wiped his palm on his trousers and tightened his hold again. Diagrams flashed through his mind. Lessons. Fen’s calm voice, always saying less than he knew. Tests never screamed their answers.

  A branch snapped.

  Every head snapped toward the sound. One boy clamped a hand over his mouth, choking back a sob. Another’s spear rattled softly as his grip tightened, knuckles pale.

  “We don’t get a second mistake,” Cole whispered.

  Harry nodded once. His throat felt raw. He leaned closer, voice barely a breath. “We distract it. Keep its other heads watching. I go for the lion.”

  “What if it sees you?” Larry breathed. Harry didn’t answer. He adjusted his stance instead. The growl came again. Closer. Heavier.

  The ground pulsed beneath their feet. Harry rose from the hiding, slow, deliberate. His legs screamed to run. He didn’t. A shadow shifted between the trees, and the leaves stilled, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.