The expedition's march began with cautious enthusiasm. Nearly fifty adventurers traveled in a staggered formation along the twisting ridgeline that led out of Tierwyn. The road quickly gave way to uneven dirt paths, occasionally flanked by thickets of bramble and wind-twisted trees. Birds fell silent as the elevation rose, replaced by the low drone of magic-infused wind that made the grass shimmer.
Drathan, Seme, Kenshin, and Mira kept near the middle of the formation, casually observing the mix of squads surrounding them. Towering above them in the front were members of Crimson Order, a B-rank mercenary guild known for their heavy weaponry and even heavier egos. Their leader, a broad-shouldered axe-wielder named Grastus, barked out commands every few minutes.
To the right flank marched the Veilshard Enclave, cloaked in enchanted mantles, whispering spells behind veiled masks. Mostly A-ranks—mages who treated everyone else like they were disposable assets.
Drathan muttered, "Is it just me, or does everyone else here smell like they bathed in arrogance and polished loot?"
Kenshin chuckled. "One of them called us 'local flavor.'"
Seme spat to the side. "Hope the ruins bite harder than their bark."
"Save it," Mira warned. "These types only respect kill counts and explosions. Let's give them both."
The first ambush came near dusk.
A chittering screech pierced the woods—and within seconds, the forest floor erupted into chaos. Ashbeetles, dog-sized and plated in stone-colored chitin, poured from the undergrowth like a living wave. Anything in their path—brush, roots, even fallen logs—was devoured with brutal efficiency. Their flame-tipped pincers hissed and clicked, snatching and melting everything they could latch onto.
Crimson Order rushed to intercept, but even their heavy weapons struggled to thin the tide. Grastus, shouting curses, swung his war axe wide enough to cleave four beetles in a single arc, but more simply filled the space like water surging around a stone.
Veilshard Enclave responded with precision. Mages unleashed frost runes and lightning bolts into the swarm, freezing carapaces mid-charge or shattering limbs with pulses of force. The air thickened with the scent of burning chitin and scorched moss.
Drathan blinked behind two flankers and skewered them with void-tipped daggers, his strikes precise and surgical. Seme anchored the line, her greatsword sweeping wide to block encroachments near Mira and Velra.
Kenshin, meanwhile, darted from one tree to another, charging his energy with every motion—ZAP, FZZT, CRACK—his form little more than a blur of electric blue.
"Don't get too far!" Mira shouted.
"I'm charging up!" Kenshin called back.
He zipped through beetles, shocking one with his palm, another with a booted kick, every movement sending arcs of electricity dancing into the swarm. Static clung to the air like ozone.
Then, with a sharp inhale, Kenshin gathered all the charged energy to his palms. His eyes flared.
"Discharge: Thunderfall!"
He slammed his hands to the ground—BOOOOOM!—and a dome of lightning surged outward, engulfing more than half the remaining beetles. Their forms lit up like lanterns before bursting in synchronized blasts, leaving behind only smoking husks and melted shell fragments.
Even the Crimson Order paused to gape.
Velra called from the rear, "Push to the clearing! Regroup beyond the ridge!"
Drathan warped behind two flanking beetles and executed them with pinpoint void thrusts. Kenshin unleashed a burst of lightning pulse that danced across the beetles' bodies in blinding arcs. Seme bisected one that lunged too close, her blade glowing faintly with an echo enchantment Mira had affixed earlier.
Velra called from the rear, "Push to the clearing! Regroup beyond the ridge!"
By the time they reached the crest, the swarm had been dealt with, but murmurs spread quickly.
"That trio's fast," one mage muttered.
"They don't even use formation," a knight grumbled.
"They don't need to," Mira replied, flicking ichor off her blade.
Later, as they neared the Hollows, the path twisted into sunken glades. Magic buzzed heavier here—trees leaned unnaturally, bark glowing faintly green. They approached an outcropping that overlooked the entrance to the ruins, when the forest around them seemed to still.
Then came the snarl.
From between warped trees stepped something twisted—a variant of the marshwolves they'd fought before. But this one stood nearly seven feet tall, with crystal-like protrusions along its spine and a third eye embedded in its forehead, glowing purple.
"That's not a normal variant," Velra hissed. "It's controlling them."
Sure enough, a new wave of standard marshwolves slinked out behind it, eyes dull and trance-like.
"They're linked," Mira said, knives already drawn. "Take out the alpha—or whatever that is."
The battle was vicious. The mind-wolf warped short distances, blinking unpredictably. Crimson Order's Grastus barked orders, trying to take charge of the front, while his squad charged in only to be outmaneuvered by the warped lunges of the beast. Veilshard Enclave's casters launched waves of arcane magic, trying to trap it with shimmering glyphs, but the creature seemed to predict their incantations—dissipating the spells before they landed.
"Hold formation!" Grastus roared, only to have one of his own knocked flat by a tail swipe.
Drathan, meanwhile, lounged on a thick tree branch, arms behind his head, one leg lazily swinging. "Tried telling them it's not about brute force. But nooo, they like their showy entrances."
From his perch, he casually fired a volley of void bolts, the dark energy swirling midair before striking the beast's haunch. "I'm contributing," he said aloud, mostly to himself.
On the ground, chaos reigned. Marshwolves surged around the squads, some charging at exposed mages, others snapping at heels with frightening coordination. Mira ducked and spun between their attacks, carving clean arcs through their necks while shielding a wounded support mage with her back.
Kenshin zipped through the battlefield, trailing arcs of lightning that whipped the air with each motion. He ducked under a lunging wolf, flipped over another, and slammed his palm down—"Chain Breaker!"—light splitting the earth in a blinding fork that stunned the pack.
The crystal-variant roared, its third eye flaring. It blinked forward again, nearly catching a Veilshard caster, but Seme was already moving.
With a fierce growl, she vaulted through a ring of wolves and brought her greatsword high. The blade pulsed with built-up force, a trail of power humming in the air.
"Back off!" she shouted, feet slamming into the dirt.
With one mighty step, she swung downward. Her blade struck the crystal beast squarely between the shoulder blades, the impact unleashing a concussive wave that cracked the ground beneath it—KRRAAANG! The variant shrieked, all three eyes flaring before it collapsed with a psychic cry.
The remaining wolves froze… then scattered into the forest like shadows on wind.
The battlefield fell quiet.
Several adventurers stared at Seme, stunned. Others glanced back at Drathan still lounging in his tree, now casually peeling an apple.
"About time," he muttered. "My snack was getting lonely."
Velra stood panting. "We're almost at the Hollows. Move quick. Whatever that was… it knew we were coming."