I Only Tame Dragons

Chapter 142 Domains of Terror

"Everyone retreat into the jungles!"

The urgency in their words spurred the others into action.

Von took the lead, carving a path through the panicked crowd, while Frigid and Silphie flanked Lydia to ensure her safety.

Around them, chaos reigned. Players stumbled and tripped in their haste to escape. Guilds turned on each other, shoving others aside to clear their own path. The rats were gaining, their screeches growing louder, their monstrous forms inching closer.

"We won't make it if we don't pick up the pace!" Von yelled, his usual composure replaced by genuine panic.

"We'll make it," Horizon growled, his sword cutting through anyone foolish enough to block their way. "Stick together, and don't stop running."

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Behind them, the swarm continued to devour everything in its path. The players who fell too far behind didn't even have time to scream before they were consumed. It was chaos. It was carnage. And it wasn't over.

As the guild sprinted toward the nearest dune, Lydia stole a glance over her shoulder. The sight of the endless, writhing horde filled her chest with icy dread. She clenched her fists and forced herself to focus on the path ahead.

Just as everyone thought the jungle was their safe haven—a sanctuary away from the chaos of the desert—a blood-curdling scream tore through the air, halting Horizon and his group in their tracks. The sound of pure terror sent shivers down their spines, and every instinct screamed at them to prepare for the worst.

"What now?" Lydia sighed, her voice barely audible as she clutched her blades tighter.

Von raised a hand to silence the group, his sharp gaze scanning their surroundings. The jungle, once an inviting canopy of green and safety, now seemed to close in on them, its shadows darker and its sounds more menacing.

Then, through the dense foliage, they saw it.

Enormous beasts rampaged through the forest, their movements shaking the very ground. Trees the size of towers were uprooted as if they were mere twigs. The beasts were not just massive—they were terrifyingly powerful.

Each one radiated an aura of menace, their bodies glowing faintly with energy that marked them as far beyond anything a typical adventurer could handle.

"These aren't just any beasts . . . ," Silphie murmured, her voice tight with fear though sounded bored all the same. "Their stats . . . They're as strong as a hundred dungeon bosses combined!"

Horizon's heart sank as he processed her words. This wasn't just an obstacle; it was a massacre waiting to happen.

"We're not dying here," he said firmly. "Not today."

The others exchanged glances, their fear giving way to grim determination. They tightened their grips on their weapons, readying themselves for the fight of their lives.

"Lydia, Von," Horizon said without turning around, "keep us covered. Silphie, watch our flanks. Frigid, back me up."

"And what about you?" Lydia asked, her voice steadier now.

"I'll keep this thing busy," Horizon replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "While we fight through this thing, think of a way to escape as well. We can't dally here longer."

As the serpent lunged, the group sprang into action, their movements synchronized despite the chaos.

Meanwhile, the Flesh-Eating Rats outside seemed to attack anything that dared to linger in the desert, their relentless swarms devouring everything in their path. Yet, curiously, they avoided the forest entirely, stopping short of the dense jungle as if bound by some invisible force.

On the other hand, the beasts within the forest never ventured beyond their territory. It was as though an unspoken rule governed these monstrous entities, dividing the dimension into two distinct domains of terror.

For the guilds trapped in this brutal game, it was a grim choice—face the unending, ravenous tide of rats in the desert or brave the forest beasts, whose strength and ferocity were unmatched. Neither option promised safety, but survival demanded a decision.

Some guilds, unable to cope with the overwhelming odds, chose to forfeit. The game's rules were merciless: forfeiting would cost them their chance at victory, but at least it would spare their lives. For those who were unwilling or unable to continue, it was a bitter but necessary choice.

Others, however, were stubborn, determined to fight until the very end. These were the guilds that refused to give up, clinging to the faint hope that they could outlast the week and emerge victorious.

But this wasn't just a test of strength or skill—it was a game, and every game needed a winner. The creators of this cruel competition had ensured that survival, while difficult, wasn't entirely impossible.

The beasts in the forest, though undeniably strong, were not infinite in number. Some of them, while formidable, could be defeated with strategy, teamwork, and sheer determination. Defeating these creatures provided not only brief moments of respite but also valuable resources—hides, meat, and even rare items dropped by the fallen beasts.

This balance created a delicate ecosystem within the forest. Guilds who dared to hunt the weaker beasts found themselves rewarded with precious supplies, while others chose to hide and avoid conflict, conserving their strength for emergencies.

However, not all beasts were manageable. Some were far beyond the abilities of even the most experienced guilds, roaming the jungle as apex predators. These creatures served as constant reminders that danger was never far away.

Horizon's guild was among those who had decided to press on. The forest was no paradise, but it offered a glimmer of hope—something the endless swarm of rats in the desert could not.

The serpent was massive—easily the size of a two-story building, with scales that shimmered like molten gold under the dappled sunlight piercing through the jungle canopy. Its fangs, glinting with venom, could tear through flesh and bone in a single strike. The beast slithered with alarming speed, weaving through the thick undergrowth, its slit pupils fixed intently on Horizon and their group.