***Chapter 23: Bonds Forged in Blood***
**THE JOURNEY TO CYBAL CITY - WITH REFUGEES**
Thirty children. Eight prisoners. Three adventurers. Seven horses between them.
The logistics were a nightmare.
Hexia rode at the front, his mind already calculating the ogre cave's layout based on Astrid's maps. Behind him, Sirenia managed the middle group—children riding double on horses, some walking, all exhausted but safe. Lhoralaine brought up the rear with the bound prisoners, her twin swords visible as silent threat.
And walking beside Hexia's horse, refusing offers to ride—Kiara.
"Tell me about the ogres," she said suddenly.
Hexia glanced down at her. "Why?"
"Because I want to learn. You're about to fight them. I want to understand how you think about combat."
"You're persistent."
"You promised to train me. Training starts with observation." Her emerald eyes were sharp, focused. "So. Ogres. What's the plan?"
Hexia was silent for a moment, then surprised himself by actually explaining.
"Thirty-five ogres in caves. That's not random—it's strategic. Caves provide defense, limits approach angles, create choke points. An organized war band, not mindless monsters."
"So you can't just charge in."
"We *could*. I'd survive. Sirenia and Lhoralaine might not." He gestured toward where his companions managed the rescued children. "This is their promotion quest. They need to prove they can handle A-rank threats. Which means I'm support, not primary offense."
"That seems backwards. You're the strongest."
"Strength isn't everything. They need experience, confidence, proof they can handle the impossible." He paused. "Also, if I do everything, they'll never grow. And we're about to spend years fighting things worse than ogres. They need to be ready."
Kiara absorbed this. "What's your role then?"
"Emergency backup. If something goes catastrophically wrong, I intervene. Otherwise? I watch, assess, and trust them to handle it."
"That's harder than fighting yourself."
"Much harder." His lips twitched. "Watching people you care about risk their lives while you do nothing? That's its own kind of torture."
"But you'll do it anyway."
"Because it's necessary. They deserve the chance to prove themselves." He looked at her directly. "Remember this, Kiara—being strong isn't about doing everything yourself. It's about knowing when to step back and let others grow."
She nodded slowly, filing the lesson away.
Behind them, one of the younger children started crying—overwhelmed by exhaustion and residual trauma. Lhoralaine immediately moved to comfort her, lifting the girl onto her horse, whispering soothing words.
"Your companion," Kiara observed. "The blonde one. She's different from the silver-haired woman."
"How so?"
"The silver one—Sirenia—she fights like you. Efficient. Precise. But Lhoralaine fights like she's trying to prove something. There's desperation in her technique."
Hexia's eyebrows rose. For a fifteen-year-old with no formal training, Kiara's observation was disturbingly accurate.
"Lhoralaine has... history. Mistakes she's trying to atone for. Things she's working through." He chose his words carefully. "She's rebuilding herself. That's why her fighting style carries that edge—she's fighting her past as much as her enemies."
"And the silver-haired one?"
"Sirenia fights like someone who's found her purpose. Like she knows exactly why she's here and what she's protecting." He paused. "They're both strong. Just in different ways."
"Which one do you love?"
Hexia nearly fell off his horse.
"What—how did—I don't—"
"You look at them differently," Kiara said with the brutal honesty only teenagers possessed. "Sirenia gets soft eyes. Lhoralaine gets complicated eyes. You clearly care about both but can't choose."
"That's... that's not..." He sighed. "How are you this observant?"
"When you're helpless and waiting to be sold, you learn to read people. It's survival." She shrugged. "So? Which one?"
"It's complicated."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have." Hexia rubbed his temples. "Can we please focus on the impending ogre battle instead of my romantic confusion?"
"Fine. But we're coming back to this topic during training."
"We absolutely are not."
"We absolutely are."
Sirenia's voice called from behind. "Hexia! We're approaching the village! The one the ogres have been raiding!"
Saved by geography, Hexia urged his horse forward, leaving Kiara smirking at his retreat.
---
**THE VILLAGE - AFTERNOON**
The village of Millbrook was small—maybe two hundred people on a good day. Currently, it looked like a war zone.
Burned buildings. Damaged walls. Frightened faces peering from behind barricaded doors. The ogres had been thorough in their terrorizing.
The village elder—a weathered woman named Greta—met them at the gate. Her eyes widened at the procession.
"Lord and Lady preserve us. Are those... children? What happened?"
"Slave traders," Hexia said simply. "We eliminated the problem. Now we're here for yours. The ogres?"
"Still in their caves three miles north. They raid every few days—take supplies, livestock, sometimes people." Greta's face hardened. "We've lost fifteen villagers to those monsters. The guild finally sent help?"
"We're here for a promotion quest, but yes—we're eliminating the ogres. All of them."
"All thirty-five?" Greta's voice carried doubt. "No offense, but there's only three of you and—" She paused, really looking at Hexia. "Wait. You're *him*. The chosen hero. The one from the trial."
"News travels fast."
"It's been two days since an angel and demons appeared in Briarkeep. Everyone within a hundred miles knows." She studied him with new respect and wariness. "Can you really handle thirty-five ogres?"
"I can. The question is whether my companions can." He gestured to Sirenia and Lhoralaine. "This is their test. I'm just backup."
"They must be exceptional warriors if the chosen hero trusts them."
"They are." He glanced back at the children. "We need temporary housing for rescued victims. And guards for eight prisoners. Can you provide that?"
"Of course. We'll care for the children until proper arrangements can be made." Greta called orders to villagers, who began organizing accommodations. "The prisoners?"
"Slave traders. They've agreed to testify against their network. Keep them alive and secured until we can transport them to Cybal City."
"With pleasure. We've had dealings with slavers before. None pleasant."
As the children were led to safety, Kiara approached one last time. "I'll help here. Keep them calm. Keep them safe."
"Thank you." Hexia dismounted, met her eyes. "When we return from Cybal—assuming we survive—I'll keep my promise."
"You'll survive. You're too stubborn to die." She smiled—fierce and certain. "Now go show those ogres why choosing violence was a terminal mistake."
---
**THE OGRE CAVES - PLANNING**
Three warriors stood on a ridge overlooking the cave system. Below, crude fortifications marked the ogres' territory—bone piles, warning totems, the unmistakable signs of organized habitation.
"Thirty-five targets," Sirenia said, surveying with tactical precision. "Multiple cave entrances. Probably interconnected tunnels. If we're not careful, they'll flank us."
"Or collapse the caves while we're inside," Lhoralaine added. "We need a plan that doesn't involve getting buried alive."
Hexia nodded approvingly. Good instincts. "What do you propose?"
They exchanged glances—the kind of wordless communication that came from adventuring experiences.
"Draw them out," Sirenia said. "Make noise. Challenge them. Get them into open terrain where we can use mobility."
"I can handle close combat," Lhoralaine continued. "My blade dance works best with space to move. If we can separate them into smaller groups—"
"I'll provide support," Sirenia finished. "Lightning strikes. Battlefield control. Keep them off-balance."
"Solid plan." Hexia pulled out a small stone from his pouch. "Use this. When you're in serious danger—and I mean *serious*, not just 'this is hard'—crush it. I'll know immediately and intervene."
"You're giving us a panic button?" Lhoralaine's tone carried equal parts amusement and appreciation.
"I'm giving you insurance. There's a difference between proving yourselves and dying pointlessly." He pressed the stone into Sirenia's hand. "Pride isn't worth your lives. Understood?"
"Understood." She pocketed it carefully. "What will you do?"
"Watch from here. Track the battle. If ogres try to flank or ambush you, I'll redirect them. Think of me as overwatch."
"That's... surprisingly hands-off for you."
"This is your quest. Your promotion. Your moment." He met both their eyes. "I trust you to handle this. Now go show the guild why you deserve A-rank."
They descended toward the caves, weapons ready, moving with the coordination of people who'd learned to fight as a unit rather than individuals.
Hexia settled on the ridge, his crimson eyes tracking their progress. His hand rested on his sword hilt—ready but not drawn.
This would be interesting.
---
**THE BATTLE BEGINS**
Sirenia approached the largest cave entrance, her Thunder God staff crackling with gathering energy. Lhoralaine flanked her, twin swords held ready.
"HEY!" Sirenia's voice echoed across the cavern. "ANYONE HOME? OR ARE OGRES TOO STUPID TO RECOGNIZE A CHALLENGE?"
The response was immediate.
Roaring. Footsteps like thunder. The ground literally shook as ogres emerged from multiple cave openings—eight feet of muscle and rage, wielding clubs carved from whole tree trunks.
Thirty-five monsters. All focused on two women who'd just insulted their intelligence.
"Contact!" Lhoralaine grinned despite the odds. "Let's dance!"
**Sirenia's Opening Move**
"**ARC LIGHTNING!**"
Blue-white electricity exploded from her staff, chaining between the nearest five ogres. The voltage was precise—enough to stun, to disrupt, to create openings, but not instantly lethal.
This was about technique, not raw destruction.
The lightning jumped from target to target, muscles seizing, movements disrupted. The ogres stumbled, roared in pain and confusion.
"Now!" Sirenia called.
**Lhoralaine's Blade Dance**
"**FURY!**"
Her body glowed with crimson energy as the enhancement magic activated. Every injury would make her stronger. Every hit would fuel her power.
She dove into the stunned ogres like a tornado made of steel.
"**BLADE DANCE!**"
Her twin swords became invisible—just silver streaks tracing patterns through the air. She spun, leaped, flowed between the massive creatures with grace that made combat look like choreography.
First ogre—diagonal slashes across both legs. Hamstrings severed. It crashed down, roaring.
Second ogre—thrust through the throat. Arterial spray. It clutched its neck, drowning in its own blood.
Third ogre—she went low, swords tracing horizontal cuts across its ankles. Tendons parted. It fell like a dropped tree.
"Three down!" She called out.
"I count four on my end!" Sirenia's voice carried satisfaction.
**The Counter-Attack**
But the ogres weren't mindless. Their chieftain—largest of them all, with tribal markings and a club that could pulverize stone—roared orders in their guttural language.
The remaining twenty-eight split into three groups.
Ten charged Lhoralaine directly—overwhelming force to crush the blade dancer.
Ten moved to flank Sirenia—recognizing the mage as the primary threat.
Eight circled wide, trying to escape the battle entirely. Running for reinforcements? Attempting to reach the village?
From his ridge, Hexia's eyes narrowed. The flanking group threatening Sirenia was manageable. The direct assault on Lhoralaine was brutal but within her capabilities with Fury active.
But those eight runners...
He moved.
**Hexia's Interception**
The eight ogres never saw him coming.
One moment they were running through the forest, clubs at ready, thinking they'd escaped the battle.
The next, a figure in black appeared directly in their path.
"Gentlemen." Hexia's voice was conversational. "I believe you're going the wrong direction."
They stopped, confused. Then hostile. Then they charged.
Mistake.
**Guillotine** x4.
Four heads rolled before the other four processed what happened. Hexia's sword had traced four perfect horizontal strikes in the time it took to blink.
The remaining ogres froze, intelligence finally overriding aggression. This wasn't prey. This was apex predator wearing human skin.
"You have a choice," Hexia said pleasantly. "Return to the battle and die fighting my companions. Or run away and live. Choose quickly."
They ran.
Hexia let them. Message delivered—trying to flank or escape meant encountering something worse than the two women currently dismantling their war band.
He returned to his overwatch position.
---
**The Battle Continues - Sirenia's Control**
Ten ogres surrounded Sirenia, clubs raised, moving with surprising coordination. They'd learned—spread out, attack from multiple angles, don't bunch up for her lightning.
"Clever boys." Sirenia's staff spun, energy building. "Let's see how clever you are when physics gets involved."
"**STORM CRAZE!**"
A massive hammer of pure electricity materialized above her staff—twenty feet tall, crackling with power. She brought it down with devastating force.
**BOOM.**
The impact didn't just hit one ogre—it created a shockwave. Every creature within fifty feet was thrown backward, muscles convulsing, nervous systems overloaded.
The hammer vanished. Ten ogres lay twitching on the ground, unable to coordinate movement.
Sirenia walked among them, staff glowing with healing energy—but not for mercy.
"**Regeneration**—on myself."
Her own fatigue vanished. Bruises faded. The toll of maintaining combat-level magic erased.
Then she systematically finished each downed ogre with precise lightning strikes to vital organs. Efficient. Professional.
"Ten more," she reported.
---
**The Battle Continues - Lhoralaine's Fury**
The remaining ten ogres had landed hits. Three solid club strikes that should have shattered bones, collapsed lungs, ended the fight.
Instead, Lhoralaine was *smiling*.
"**FURY** really is wonderful magic," she said conversationally while dodging a club that cratered the ground where she'd stood. "Every wound makes me stronger. Faster. More dangerous."
She wasn't wrong.
Her movements had become supernatural—speed that made her blur between positions, strength that let her parry club strikes that should have shattered her swords.
"**RAZOR'S EDGE!**"
A cross-slash—both swords moving in perfect X-pattern. The nearest ogre's head separated from its body so cleanly it seemed like magic rather than steel.
"Nine."
She flowed into the next target—under a club strike, inside its guard, twin swords tracing diagonal lines across its torso. It looked down at the X-shaped wound, confused, then fell apart as gravity claimed the separated pieces.
"Eight."
The remaining ogres actually retreated. Survival instinct finally overriding orders.
But Lhoralaine's Fury was fully activated now. The more they'd hurt her, the more powerful she'd become.
"**SEVEN DEADLY SINS!**"
Her ultimate technique. Seven consecutive attack patterns, each deadlier than the last, each covering massive area.
**Pride**—she launched upward, coming down in spinning descent that bisected three ogres vertically.
**Greed**—horizontal spin at ground level, severing legs, hamstrings, anything below knee height.
**Wrath**—straight-line charge with both swords extended, impaling two ogres simultaneously and carrying them backward into a cave wall.
**Sloth**—she stopped moving, let them come to her, then struck with impossible speed at every attack, each counter-strike removing limbs or heads.
**Envy**—mirrored movements, switching sword hands, attacking from unexpected angles.
**Gluttony**—pure aggression, overwhelming offense that gave no chance to defend.
**Lust**—the final pattern, beautiful and terrible, a dance of death that left the last ogre in pieces so small identification was impossible.
Silence fell across the battlefield.
Lhoralaine stood in the center of carnage, breathing hard, covered in blood—none of it her own. The Fury enhancement faded, leaving her exhausted but triumphant.
"Thirty-five," she said quietly. Then louder: "THIRTY-FIVE! All dead!"
From the ridge, Hexia allowed himself a small smile.
They'd done it. Without his direct intervention. Without crushing the panic stone. Just two B-rank adventurers facing impossible odds and emerging victorious.
He descended from the ridge as Sirenia and Lhoralaine met in the center of the battlefield, both grinning with the wild satisfaction of surviving something that should have killed them.
"Not bad," Hexia said as he approached. "Sloppy in places, but not bad."
"Sloppy?!" Lhoralaine's indignation was playful. "We just killed thirty-five ogres!"
"And took unnecessary hits doing it. Sirenia—you bunched up twice, giving them multiple attack angles. Lhoralaine—your Fury enhancement is powerful but makes you reckless. You took three club strikes you could have dodged."
"But we won."
"You survived. There's a difference." He softened. "But yes. You survived impressively. You worked together. You adapted to tactics. You earned A-rank."
Sirenia wiped blood from her face. "Does that mean you're proud of us?"
"I'm always proud of you." The words came easier than he expected. "Now let's collect the heads for proof of kill and get back to the village. We have a ship to catch tomorrow."
"Heads?" Lhoralaine looked at the carnage. "All thirty-five?"
"Guild requires proof. Start collecting."
"This is going to be disgusting."
"Welcome to adventuring." Hexia pulled out a large sack. "At least they're already dead. Could be worse."
"How could it be worse?"
"They could be alive and complaining while we did it."
Despite everything—despite the exhaustion, the blood, the absurdity—they laughed.
Real laughter. The kind that came from surviving impossible odds together. From trusting each other with their lives and that trust being proven valid.
As they gathered ogre heads (which was exactly as disgusting as anticipated), Hexia found himself... content. Not happy—happiness still felt foreign. But content. Present. Part of something larger than his own emptiness.
Maybe this was what having companions meant. Not being alone in the horror. Having people to laugh with while doing terrible, necessary things.
"Hexia?" Sirenia's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For trusting us. For letting us handle this ourselves."
"Thank you for not making me intervene and steal your moment."
"We couldn't have done it without your training."
"You could have. It would have been messier and taken longer, but you would have found a way." He finished stuffing the last head into the sack—grotesque trophy shopping complete. "Ready to tell the village they're safe?"
"More than ready. And then?"
"Then we prepare for Cybal City. For the ship to Ironforge. For meeting the second hero."
He looked at the mark on his hand—the hexagram pulsing steadily.
"One down, five to go. The real quest starts now."
---
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
*The promotion quest completed. Two B-rank adventurers ascending to A-rank through blood and blade and teamwork.*
*Thirty-five ogres dead. Eight slave traders captured. Thirty children saved. One fierce-eyed girl waiting to be trained.*
*Tomorrow brings Cybal City. Then a ship. Then another continent. Then the Void Hero—princess of dwarves, wielder of darkness, the second piece of a puzzle that would either save the world or watch it burn.*
*But tonight? Tonight they rest. They clean ogre blood from their clothes. They laugh about the absurdity of it all.*
*Because tomorrow's horrors require tonight's humanity.*
*And they're learning—slowly, painfully, together—how to be human even while becoming heroes.*