It had been over three weeks. Besides encountering Ganshka tribes, Ashan hadn't seen a single human member.
'Was no one else teleported here? Or are they all already dead?'
Under the bright light of the pale moon, he concealed the entrance to his hidden cave.
'Taking out all the tribes alone is impossible. I need to find allies... I mean, other members.'
His eyes swirled into grayish-white whirlpools, and he vanished, activating [Conceal]. He moved west, the route choked with lush vegetation.
He recognised many plants and herbs from Old Dhren's lectures.
He switched the siddhi on and off in ten-second intervals to conserve whatever mysterious energy powered it.
'What energy does fuel the siddhi?'
The question struck him suddenly. 'It doesn't feel like prana or atmic. So what is it?'
Moving silently through the night, he kept to the cover of large trees.
The Ganshka wasn't nocturnal, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
***
Swish! Swish! Two arrows thudded into the ground at their feet.
"Shit! Gremlin territory again!" Dris cursed.
"Wait," Roderic said, grabbing his arm. "These arrows are different."
Two figures in Arashen-rank attire emerged from a large, greenish-brown bush. They wore bull masks.
Dris and Roderic tensed, ready for a fight.
One of the masked figures spoke in a hoarse voice. "Follow us."
After a quick, silent exchange, Dris and Roderic fell in step behind them.
"Can we take them?" Dris whispered, clenching his fist.
"Let's see how many there are first. Observe and wait," Roderic cautioned.
They passed through the bush and found a cleverly concealed clearing. Identical bushes formed a perimeter on all four sides, all reeking of Ganshka.
"Fuck! That's strong!" Dris pinched his nose.
Roderic grimaced. 'The stench is seeping into my brain.'
Dris scanned the area. Two large fallen tree logs served as benches, each holding five seated figures. All wore totem animal masks, and every gaze was fixed on the newcomers.
"Well, well. Members of the mighty Team 7," a mocking voice rang out.
A bull-masked figure stood and removed his mask.
"Bear-fucker, you're still alive?" Dris asked, astounded.
Srish's face twisted into a deep scowl. "You're always so full of yourself." His expression turned sinister. "Too bad you missed the show.
Your two precious members had their guts ripped out. The ones with the bows, I think."
'Ballio and Helma.'
"You!" Dris stared, his gaze turning icy, fists clenched.
"He's bluffing," Roderic stated, though his voice lacked its usual certainty.
"Think what you want," Srish said with a dismissive wave. "Anyway, we're short-handed. Why don't you two join us?" He paused for effect.
"But first, grovel on the ground and apologise."
"Fuck you and your apology!" Dris spat.
The other masked members stood, encircling them.
Roderic clicked his tongue. "We're fucked."
"I already knew your answer," Srish sneered. "Then become vestiges for us."
Dris and Roderic stood back-to-back.
"Ten of them. They've consumed vestiges, too.
And Srish has reached the awakened stage."
Roderic calmly assessed their hopeless odds.
"We're alive," Dris muttered steadily.
"What does that mean? I know we're alive for now," Roderic retorted, frustrated.
Dris repeated, more firmly, "We. Are. Alive."
"Kill them!" Srish commanded.
At that moment, a volley of arrows sliced through the air. Srish sidestepped, but several of his followers were hit.
"Who's there?!" Srish yelled.
"Oh, you boys are still alive." Damara stepped into the clearing, slashing aside foliage with her spear. Imla and five other members followed.
"Is Ashan with you?" Imla asked, scanning the area.
A small smile touched Roderic's lips. "You're alive. No, Ashan's not with us. You've got good timing."
"Hmph, I could've handled them," Dris boasted.
Roderic just shook his head.
Srish's face soured.
The momentum had shattered. It was no longer 2 versus 12, but 9 versus 12, with his own forces wounded and disorganised.
"Everyone, reorganise!" Srish barked, shaking his team from their stupor.
"Hey, are you sure you want a battle right now?" Damara asked, pointing her spear toward the sky.
Srish followed her gesture. The pale moon was descending; dawn would break soon. The Ganshka would begin their morning hunts. Their carefully hidden camp was now exposed.
Seething with rage, Srish made the only logical choice. "Retreat!" He shot a final, venomous glance at the group. "This isn't over!"
"Why'd you let him go?" Dris asked, dubious.
Damara sized him up. "Tired."
Dris's jaw went slack.
"Where did you find the others?" Roderic asked, measuring the five new members from the Rat, Wolf, Bull, Leech, and Lion factions.
Imla answered. "We found them surrounded by Ganshka while fleeing the Manuga race. We saved them. They owe us their lives." She glanced at them. "Right?"
They nodded quickly.
Roderic sensed something was off, but a bigger question pressed him. "Manuga race?" Dris echoed, surprised.
Damara clapped her hands together. "Let's fortify this spot as a hideout. Then we can catch up on everything."
***
'Where... am I?'
Cloe opened her eyes weakly.
"You're awake!" Ballio's face appeared close to hers.
"Wha—!" She tried to swipe at him, but her arm refused to move.
"Don't strain yourself. You're still exhausted," he said.
Cloe took a proper look at him. He was staring at her like a child who had found a new toy.
"Sigh!" Helma sighed. "Don't creep her out, idiot. Give her space." She pulled him back.
"Hey, it's not every day you get to see a live Manuga!" he protested.
'Oh. So I'm the first of my kind they've seen up close.'
Cloe assessed them: a petite girl with ash-brown hair and yellow eyes and a boy with light brown hair and eyes.
'If I think about it, this is the first time a human has spoken to me without trying to kill me.'
"Yeah, I don't think you understand us, but can you tell us about your people?" Ballio asked, his sincerity evident.
Cloe remained silent, leaning against the cold trunk of a tree. Patches of pale moonlight filtered through the dense canopy.
"See? I told you it wouldn't work," Helma said, waving a hand.
Ballio's expression fell. "Hmm. Sigh! I wanted to talk about so many things..." He began rambling to himself.
'He... wants to talk? To understand us?' Her green eyes glimmered.'
Could humans and Manuga coexist if we understood each other? ' The strange thought took root in her mind.
"Cloe..." she stuttered softly.
Both humans turned to her.
"My name is Cloe," she said, her voice tired but clear.
Helma was shocked, her mouth slightly agape.
Ballio, however, beamed. "Amazing! You can understand us!"
What followed was a long conversation. Helma eventually fell asleep, but Ballio stayed, enthralled.
"I see! I see! So aside from your animal features, you're not so different from us."
"Yeah," Cloe nodded.
"If you don't mind... why are you all on this island? Where is this island?"
Cloe gave him a strange look. "You don't know? This is a pocket dimension created by the Order of Arishadvarga."
"What?!" Ballio cried out in surprise.
"What happened? Is there an enemy?" Helma jolted awake.
"Helma! We're in a pocket dimension!"
"What's a pocket dimension?" Helma asked, brow furrowed.
"Oh, right!" Ballio turned back to Cloe. "What is a pocket dimension?"
Cloe paused, gathering her words.
"Think of it like a small space, a pocket of reality. It has the same rules as our world... from what I remember and have been told."
She grew quiet, a shadow crossing her features. "We have been held as slaves in this pocket dimension."