A group of about seven people appeared on the hill Tarkan had once used to scout. They were armed. Leading them was a man with a bloodthirsty aura, likely from countless killings.
A huge, ugly scar ran down his face. He looked somewhere between 38 and 47 years old. He stood at the front, clearly their leader.
Two men dressed in all black approached his side and bowed.
"We've scouted the entire area," one of them said. "There's no sign of any living Oryk. All of them were found dead and headless. We suspect it was done by that kid."
The scar-faced man glanced down at Tarkan, who was seated with a gloomy expression. The girl sat quietly in one corner, not making a sound.
"Aron, what do you think we should do?" one of the men beside him asked. "This is the last Oryk nest. If we can't complete the Oryk body parts, we'll fail our client's mission. The deadline is close, we can't afford to waste more time."
