THE RISING BASTARD SON-Chapter 34 - - - Flame Bear

Flame Bear -

The tension among the soldiers was rising like steam off hot steel.

The flame bear loomed closer—each thunderous step a hammer blow to the hearts of those in formation. The creature’s blazing hide crackled and hissed, embers dripping from its fur like molten rain.

Kelvor Dask stood in the defensive line, shield in hand, sweat pouring down his face. He was young, barely past his first campaign. And now, he was staring death in the eyes.

His grip trembled.

His instincts screamed at him to run. Who in their right mind would fight a creature like this? A walking inferno. A beast of burning rage.

He wasn’t the only one feeling that terror. It was evident in the eyes of many—seasoned fighters who’d stared down men, not monsters.

Kelvor took one hesitant step back.

Then—

A voice cut through the panic like a blade.

"Everyone!" Kadran’s voice was loud and sharp, commanding attention. "I know this beast is stronger than anything we’ve faced. It could wipe out all of us. But if you follow my orders—we survive."

He paused.

"And if anyone tries to run... I swear on the gods, I’ll hunt your soul through the gates of hell."

His last words were ice-cold, and they froze whatever flight instinct had taken root. The soldiers straightened, fear still in their eyes, but now laced with grim resolve.

They had no choice now.

They would fight—or die with blades in hand.

Kelvor swallowed hard. He was no hero. He had joined the Crimson Iron for coin, not glory. But now? He just wanted to live to see the next sunrise.

At the rear, Garrik clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He was supposed to be the calm one. The reliable one. The second-in-command who never broke. But as the flame bear roared again—louder, closer—something cold twisted in his gut.

He’d seen beasts before. Even monsters. But not like this.

This thing didn’t feel natural. It felt like a nightmare given flesh and flame. The kind of creature that shouldn’t exist, the kind that made old men whisper prayers and veterans stare into their cups.

And now it was here. Breathing. Burning. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

And marching toward them.

Garrik wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, hoping none of the soldiers saw how badly his hands were shaking. He couldn’t let them see him like this. If he panicked—if he showed fear—it would spread like rot. He couldn’t let that happen.

He turned sharply toward the guards behind him, forcing his voice to stay firm.

"Shut your damn mouths and stay in line!" he barked, harsher than usual. Not out of anger. Out of fear. "Ulgar! Take three guards on the rear—three on each side. Don’t let a single slave run, or we all burn."

"Yes, sir!" Ulgar replied, moving quickly.

The guards moved fast, surrounding the terrified line of slaves. The weaker ones whimpered, but none dared disobey with Garrik’s eyes on them. Sam watched all this unfold, heart pounding, caught between awe and dread.

Garrik exhaled slowly. His heart was pounding against his ribs like a war drum. His mouth was dry. He cast a glance at the slaves—shivering, wide-eyed, looking to the soldiers like they might be salvation. They had no idea they were standing behind a man who was seconds away from running.

He wanted to flee.

He truly wanted to turn around and sprint into the woods, away from the fire, the roar, the death that was coming.

But his legs didn’t move.

Not because he was brave.

Because he was ashamed.

Because part of him remembered the rookies looking up to him. The slaves whispering behind him. If he ran, they’d run too. And if they ran—they’d die first.

So he stood there, sword trembling in his grip.

"Come on, Kadran," he muttered under his breath. "Don’t get us all killed..."

Meanwhile, in Kadran’s mind, strategies swirled like a storm.

This beast was unlike anything he’d expected—but his instinct for survival was strong. He’d faced monsters before. And he wasn’t planning to die today.

Not after finding that strange, silent girl. Not before cashing in on this beast’s core.

He turned toward his inner circle—veterans he trusted with his life.

"Voss. Brelk. Kaelrick. Jarik. Rovan. Myric." He pointed to each one. "You six—surround the beast. Flank it from all sides."

He stepped forward, eyes burning with ruthless focus.

"I’ll draw its attention. When I give the signal, you hit it with everything you’ve got. Magic, blades, traps—I want that thing torn apart."

His voice rose, filled with fire of its own. "This is our chance, boys. That core will fetch us a fortune. We kill this bastard, we rise. Riches. Power. Fame. A feast to drown the gods!"

The group roared back, weapons raised.

"Yes, boss!"

Their fear gave way to greed. To purpose.

To battle-lust.

The flame bear let out another roar, then charged—trees splintering behind it, flames billowing with each bound.

Kadran didn’t hesitate.

He ran straight toward it.

----- FOR YOUR INFORMATION-------

The current strength of Kadran’s patrol force stood at 60 guards.

Ten of them were stationed at the rear to guard the slaves—shields up, weapons ready, eyes scanning for any runner or ambush. The remaining 50 soldiers were now preparing to face the living nightmare charging through the Elderwyn woods.

Among these 50 were a mix of rookies and seasoned fighters. But seven of them stood out—soldiers handpicked by Kadran for their unique skills and brutal efficiency:

Voss, Brelk, Kaelrick, Jarik, Rovan, Myric, and Kadran himself. These seven formed the elite strike team, often deployed when death came too close for comfort.

As the flame bear roared, flames swirling around its body like a cloak of war, Kadran activated his Taunt skill.

A wave of red aura pulsed from him—sharp, hostile, unmistakable. The flame bear’s molten eyes snapped toward him, ignoring the others. Bloodlust focused entirely on one man.

Exactly as Kadran planned.

The beast halted mid-charge, steam hissing from its nostrils. The ground smoldered where it stood.

Kadran raised his gold-plated shield, gleaming even under the ash-dimmed sky.

"Let’s dance, you overcooked mutt," he snarled, voice low and venomous.

A moment later—

Brelk activated his buff, a sharp pulse of green light enveloping Kadran’s frame. All of Kadran’s physical stats surged by 10%, enough to withstand a monstrous charge for a few more precious seconds.

Simultaneously, Rovan extended his hand, fingers trembling as he summoned more power than he should have. His buff extended across the entire battle line, raising all allies’ stats by 5%—small in number, massive in scale.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the strain. Blood dripped from his nose. But the energy pulsing through the formation made every soldier feel just a little more alive.

Kadran’s smirk widened.

He pounded his chest with his fist.

"Come, child," he bellowed. "Come to your father!"

As if it understood the insult, the beast let out a shriek of rage and charged.

The ground quaked.

Kadran stood his ground, shield locked, bracing—

BOOOOM!

The impact thundered like a collapsing mountain. Flame met gold. The shockwave knocked up dust and scattered loose branches. Kadran was forced back several paces, boots digging trenches in the scorched earth.

The bear staggered too—momentarily halted by the blessed shield and the strength behind it.

"Now!" Kadran roared. "Attack! Everyone, bring it down!"

Swords gleamed. Arrows flew. Magic flared.

The battle had begun.

[ End of Chapter ]

[ Please read Author note ]

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