On the road, Molly lowered her horn and charged through another wave of incoming monkeys. Bodies bounced off her golden armor, claws scraping uselessly against reinforced plating. She never slowed, hooves pounding steadily forward as if this were a casual stroll.
Ulon leaned forward on the driver's bench, fingers twitching.
Shane noticed without looking.
"Do you wish to join the fun?"
Ulon grinned, teeth showing.
"Am I allowed to?"
"It's your choice," Shane replied calmly. "But these are nothing compared to our target. I'd rather you save your mana."
Ulon watched the battlefield—Maddy carving through the air, Petra cutting relentlessly, Klaus shooting lazily, Kiel laughing with every recoil. And Shalotte.
"…Yeah," he admitted. "No need for me to intervene. I don't want to stain my robe."
Shane nodded once.
After his third reload, Klaus flicked the cylinder shut and finally lost interest, "I'm done. Take care of the rest."
He stored both revolvers back into his mindforger with a faint shimmer of displaced air, the weapons dissolving as if they had never existed. His shoulders loosened slightly, tension draining out of him now that he'd decided he was done contributing.
He glanced sideways.
Kiel was still firing.
The boy had braced one knee against the wagon roof, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as he lined up another shot. The revolver bucked in his hand; he yelped, laughed, and immediately fired again.
"You owe me twenty-seven silver already," Klaus said flatly.
Kiel didn't even look back.
"I'll pay later!"
"That's not how debt works," Klaus retorted.
Click.
Kiel rolled his head toward Klaus.
"Mr. Klaus."
Klaus didn't move.
"Another… pellet… please?"
Klaus sighed and materialized six rounds into his palm. The bullets glowed faintly, runes etched so finely they were almost invisible. He flicked them toward Kiel one by one.
"These are bullets, not pellets," he said. "And they're trapped."
Kiel caught each one effortlessly, fingers closing around them with practiced ease.
"Pellets, bullets," he said cheerfully. "Same thing."
Klaus stared at him for half a second.
Then, he decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Another monkey dropped, spinning end over end into the canyon wall.
Time passed quickly than expected, and the battle reached an hour.
The swarm thinned—not all at once, but gradually, like rain tapering into drizzle. The shrieks grew more spaced out, echoing farther apart as fewer bodies fell. The canyon itself began to change. The oppressive walls pulled back, widening just enough to let more light spill in.
Sunlight crept along the stone, revealing streaks of dried blood and claw marks etched deep into the rock.
Molly snorted as she charged through the last cluster without breaking stride, golden armor smeared and dented but intact. Her hooves struck a steadier rhythm now, less frantic, more purposeful.
On the driver's bench, Shane never slowed the wagon.
His posture remained composed, reins steady in his hands. He watched the road ahead with the same calm focus he'd had since the first scream echoed through the canyon, as if the ambush had merely confirmed something he already knew.
Klaus closed his eyes briefly and activated his echolocation.
The world sharpened—not visually, but spatially. Stone, movement, distance. Two presences lingered behind them, skirting the edges of the chaos with controlled efficiency.
They hadn't struggled.
"They're professionals," Klaus murmured.
The words barely carried over the wagon's rumble.
Shalotte flinched anyway.
"What did you say, Mr. Klaus?"
"Nothing."
Klaus opened his eyes and let the skill fade. He scooted forward and sat at the edge of the wagon roof, legs dangling over the side. Dust puffed beneath his boots as they swung lightly with the wagon's motion.
"I'm tired," he said.
Ulon, still perched beside Shane, let out a short, incredulous snort.
"Tired? You've done nothing after the first minutes of the fight."
"Yeah, it was tiring to watch them," Klaus replied. "I'd like to lie down, but these two keep moving."
He glanced toward Kiel and Shalotte.
Kiel fired again, missed, then laughed like it was part of the fun.
Just as Klaus started to doze off, the road sloped slightly upward.
With it came fresh air—warmer, cleaner, less thick with the metallic tang of blood. The canyon walls fell away, sunlight finally touching the road in full, warm beams.
By the time they cleared the mouth of Al'Qatl Canyon, the last screech had faded into nothing more than memory.
Inside the wagon, Maddy finally exhaled.
She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until her shoulders sagged slightly. She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her glove, eyes flicking upward every few seconds anyway—habit refusing to let go.
Petra adjusted her grip on the scythe, flexing her fingers. The blade hummed faintly, then quieted. She didn't relax, exactly, but the tight line of her shoulders eased by a fraction.
Shalotte leaned against the wagon's frame, staff resting against his shoulder. The purple glow around its tip dimmed to a faint ember. His legs trembled—not enough to collapse, but enough that he shifted his weight and pretended it was intentional.
Kiel collapsed backward onto the roof with a dramatic groan, limbs splayed, chest heaving. He stared at the sky, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, a grin still carved into his face.
"That was…" he panted. "Amazing."
"…Wait."
He counted on his fingers. A realization hit him harder than the gun's recoil.
"…Oh."
Klaus opened one eye.
"One hundred and eighty silver."
Kiel groaned.
"That's robbery."
"You agreed to the price,"
"I didn't think I'd enjoy it that much!"
He complained loudly, dramatically, while still pulling out a pouch from his storage ring. After a moment of exaggerated reluctance, he tossed the pouch to Klaus anyway.
He then lay back fully this time, staring at the sky.
"Worth it," he muttered.
Klaus ignored him, stored the pouch in his storage, and lay back beside Kiel.
He immediately shut his eyes and activated Echolocation.
For him, danger spares no time, he needs to keep his guard up.