The morning after their pact, the expedition rose with the sun. The light filtered through the thin veil of mist above the road, painting the grass in gold. Dew clung to boots as they broke camp, the distant hum of insects and the occasional birdcall filling the silence. The air carried the scent of damp earth, and every sound seemed sharper in the early calm.
They had barely covered a mile before trouble found them. A rustle in the tall grass to their left turned into a sudden eruption—sleek, striped predators known as steelclaw panthers burst forth, their claws gleaming like polished silver. Their eyes glowed with a feral intelligence, muscles rippling beneath striped hides as they moved with deadly grace. The squads reacted instantly. Shields snapped into place with a metallic clang, spells lit the air in bursts of fire, ice, and light, and the crack of bowstrings sang as arrows flew. Velra's voice rose above the chaos, sharp and commanding.
"Hold the line! Front squad, brace! Mages, suppress left flank!"
Drathan moved with measured efficiency, his expression half-bored, half-focused. Shadows coiled around his hands like living serpents. He caught one panther mid-leap, its body twisting unnaturally as it was dragged into a yawning slit of darkness. A heartbeat later, he spat it back into reality directly in Kenshin's path. Lightning cracked—ZZZRAKKT!—as Kenshin blurred forward, his blade leaving a streak of white-hot current that split the beast open. The scent of ozone and singed fur thickened the air.
"Next one, bro, toss it my way too!" Kenshin shouted, his grin manic as sparks danced across his skin.
The synergy between the squads was tested as more panthers emerged, their claws screeching against raised shields. Velra barked another order, "Rotate! Don't let them pin you down!" A formation shift rippled through the adventurers as spears thrust outward, catching another beast in the gut. Mira's knives flashed, darting into exposed tendons, her movements precise and calculated.
The battles rolled through the morning—one danger flowing into the next like an unending tide. Marsh serpents slithered from hidden pools, scales glistening with a slick oil sheen, their hiss slicing the air as they lunged with open maws lined with fangs. Each strike landed with bone-rattling force—THWACK!—against shields and armor. Air-shrieking hawks dove from the sky in deadly arcs, their wings whistling like razors through the air, talons sparking as they raked across wards and helmets.
Drathan sighed as he launched a void ripple, banishing a serpent for just long enough that Seme's greatsword could split its skull. Too easy… almost boring, he thought, even as sweat dripped down the brows of the less experienced squads. His glitch-born strength dulled the thrill, but the weight of the Demon Lord's whispers pressed into the back of his mind, pulling his focus inward even amid the chaos.
Velra's leadership never faltered. Her tone cut through panic, anchoring the squads with clarity. "Archers, fire in volleys! Healers, rotate center! Don't waste essence!" Her commands kept the formation tight, and though the wilderness pressed them hard, the group's synergy carried them forward. The road behind them grew littered with the signs of struggle—scorched earth, broken arrows, and carcasses of beasts driven back.
Yet even in the constant storm of battle, Drathan's thoughts drifted back to the statue in the temple and the Demon Lord's words. He fought on autopilot, but his mind wrestled with truths and lies whispered across centuries.
By late afternoon, the group reached a clearing beside the main road. The grass here was shorter, the earth worn by years of travelers. A narrow stream cut through one edge of the space, its gentle gurgle a backdrop to the sounds of unpacking gear. Fires were lit, tents raised. The rich, mouthwatering aroma of stew filled the air—tower-sourced ingredients turning the simple meal into something remarkable. Monster meat simmered with rare roots, the broth glinting faintly with restorative essence.
Squad members murmured in approval between bites. The scent was earthy yet spiced, curling in their nostrils and making stomachs growl before the first spoonful even touched their lips. Mira's tail flicked as she leaned back against her pack, savoring the balance of flavors. Kenshin let out a loud groan of satisfaction, thumping his chest. "Damn, this hit harder than any tavern meal back in Tierwyn." Some commented on their limbs feeling lighter, wounds closing faster, their energy pools refilling more smoothly. Healers noted the essence-laced herbs working faster than common medicine. Even Velra allowed herself a faint smile as she set her bowl down. "This stew alone is worth the risk we took in that tower."
Laughter and relief began to replace tension. Squad members leaned closer to the fire, trading stories of their first hunts and close calls earlier in their careers. Mira quietly refilled Drathan's bowl, pretending she wasn't watching him too closely after his fainting spell days before. Seme stretched, cracking her shoulders, then smirked as she jabbed Kenshin with a stick when he reached for thirds before everyone was served.
The trio slipped into their own conversation once the noise of the larger camp swelled. Kenshin grinned through a mouthful of stew. "Yo, if this is how camping meals taste every time now, I ain't ever complaining again."
"Don't get used to it," Seme muttered, though a rare smile tugged at her lips. Still… it feels good. Almost like home for a second.
Mira glanced at Drathan. Her inner thoughts lingered, He plays it cool, but whatever happened in that temple still weighs on him. If he falls again, can I pull him back? She lowered her gaze before anyone noticed the softness in her eyes.
Velra, sitting slightly apart with her squad, kept her tone light during her banter with them, but her mind gnawed on darker thoughts. They're strong. Stronger than they admit. If I can keep them tied to this alliance, we might actually survive the bigger threats. But if Drathan's secrets run too deep… She shook her head, forcing herself back into the present with a sip of stew.
After dinner, Velra motioned Drathan aside. They walked beyond the fire's glow, shadows stretching in the low light. She asked him again about what had happened in the temple, pressing for details. Drathan deflected at first, asking about the fan. Velra recounted her squad's trials—the library, the poisoned medicines, the weapon-forged chamber—and the injuries suffered along the way.
When Drathan mentioned the statue, Kenshin appeared out of nowhere, smirking. "Yo, this about bro passing out? Told you, Velra, it's 'cause he been spending too much time with that red-haired shorty from the other squad."
Velra ignored him, offering the deal: only ten percent of their find owed. Drathan countered with thirty for the fan, adding one condition—if he discovered its secret, Velra would know. They shook on it.
Later, around the fire, Drathan, Kenshin, Seme, and Mira agreed to keep the statue and its truth between them. Trust was scarce in this world, and their secret could tip unseen scales.
The night wore on, not just in quiet reflection but in bursts of laughter and teasing. One squad started a game of dares, challenging each other to balance spoons on their noses or sneak extra rations. Another group of adventurers swapped outrageous tales of brothel visits back in Tierwyn, half the camp laughing, half rolling their eyes. Kenshin couldn't resist tossing in a few dirty jokes, earning a chorus of groans and a smack to the back of his head from Seme. Mira buried her face in her blanket, ears pink despite herself. Even Velra cracked a smile when one of her healers quipped about trading medical herbs for a "different kind of stamina potion" after a long night.
By the time the fire had burned low, the camp was a mix of banter, flirtation, and weary contentment. Tension faded under the stars as the squads finally let themselves act like people instead of soldiers. The wounded were checked one last time, salves applied, and bandages tightened. The fires dwindled as sentries took their posts along the road's edge. Above, stars glimmered bright in the unbroken dark, watching silently over warriors who had survived another day. In that fragile peace, bonds were being forged just as strong as steel.