The night was calm, but too calm for Arriel's liking.
The stars hung like scattered crystals above the camp, the flickering lights of watch lanterns dancing across tents that were slowly winding down for the night. Inside one particular tent near the edge of the humanitarian camp, Arriel tightened the last strap of his vest while Lira adjusted her cloak's enchantment seals. Kell was already holding a folded cloth bag with their tools and listening device.
"Let's move," Arriel said in a hushed voice, drawing aside the flap of the tent.
But before they could even step fully into the open night, they stopped.
In front of them stood a dozen masked figures clad in black, their presence silent but suffocating. Magic pulsed faintly around them—Hero-level pressure that weighed on the skin. At their front, standing calmly with arms crossed and dark cloak swaying, was Commander Elle.
Behind her, standing slightly to the side, was a man they all recognized—Zem. The mask hung slanted atop his head like a hat, revealing his sharp eyes and ever-smiling lips. His curved blade remained in its sheathe, resting easily at his hip.
"Hand over everything," Elle said coldly.
Lira narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean everything?"
"Everything you've gathered about the auction, Iskiel, and the slave ring." Her voice was steady and firm, not cruel, but completely unyielding. "This operation now falls under direct jurisdiction of the Mirdia High Command. We will take it from here."
Arriel's hand hovered over his belt pouch. "Is this… Prince Vanhil's order?"
Elle's gaze was unreadable. "Do not ask questions you already know the answer to."
A long silence followed. Arriel could feel his instincts resisting—his pride screamed not to give in. But they were surrounded. Heroes. All of them. If they resisted, they wouldn't make it three steps.
Lira reached into her satchel and slowly pulled out the memory orb, the enchanted audio disc, the parchment maps. Her lips were tight. She handed them to Elle.
"Good," Elle said, nodding once to her subordinates. "Your effort was noted. But from here on, stay out of it."
She turned and vanished in an instant—along with the rest of her masked team.
Except Zem.
Zem stayed behind, his steps slow and deliberate as he walked up to Arriel. The two boys stood eye-to-eye under the moonlight.
"You're funny," Zem said softly. "Chasing lions while you're still learning to crawl."
Arriel said nothing. He didn't flinch either.
Zem tilted his head, eyes half-lidded. "Next time you poke too hard into the dark… it might just poke back."
Then, like a gust of wind, Zem vanished.
The silence that followed was heavier than anything else.
They returned to their tent without speaking. Once inside, Arriel threw down his cloak and sat on the rolled-up bedding. Lira was the first to break the silence.
"Well," she muttered, pulling off her gloves, "that's that."
Kell let out a long sigh, slumping into a seat on the floor. "We were this close. Just a few more nights…"
"They didn't just want to take over," Arriel said quietly. "They wanted to erase our trail."
"They won't even credit us," Lira added bitterly.
Arriel didn't reply immediately. He stared down at his hands. He had trained hard, leveled up, risked his life—only to be shoved aside the moment they got close to something real.
"This isn't just about slavers," he said finally. "This is about power."
Kell looked at him. "You mean Prince Vanhil?"
Arriel shook his head. "No. I mean us. We're still not strong enough to be at the table. They see us as kids playing at heroics."
Lira leaned back, crossing her arms. "So, what? We just give up?"
"No," Arriel said, eyes firm. "We get stronger. Not just level. Influence. Allies. Knowledge. If we want to really change anything… we can't be pawns."
The silence returned, but now it was different.
Determined.
Resolved.
Lira gave a small smile. "Then let's get back home. We rest. We train. We level. And one day…"
Kell finished her sentence. "We come back. For real this time."
Arriel nodded.
The fire that had nearly been extinguished inside them… now roared again—burning hotter than ever.