The Primordial Beast
'Poor guy,' Ackhart thought, looking at the mutilated corpse donning the sect's robes.
One of his arms and both of his legs were long gone, likely consumed by nearby wildlife. But while that alone was perfectly normal for anyone who died in a forest, there was something else about the corpse that made Ackhart actually stop near it.
'How come it decayed so quickly?' Ackhart asked himself, unable to figure out the logic behind this fact.
He was, at most, a single day of march behind the group he was chasing. And even assuming that this poor kid was at the front of the group at the moment of his death, it still wouldn't make any sense for his body to decay so quickly!
'The residual spiritual power should keep his flesh fresh for a few days,' Ackhart thought, taking a knee and leaning over the corpse in search of some clues.
And then he found it.
An injury that didn't fit the image of a monster attack.