Klaus walked back toward the group, his steps slow and deliberate. The sand burned beneath his bare feet, but it was nothing for him. The rock formation no longer felt like a battlefield. Two tents had already been set up—slightly crooked, one leaning suspiciously to the left—while a fire pit crackled nearby. Thin smoke drifted upward, carrying the rich smell of stew that cut through the lingering scent of blood and scorched sand.
A metal pot hung over the fire, bubbling softly. Something meaty rolled to the surface, then sank again.
For the first time in the day, the place almost felt… livable. Minus the burned sun, of course.
Far from the tents, Shane's familiar was busy with what he clearly believed to be important work. Cukuz—the small, bat-like creature—fluttered low over the sand, his leathery wings kicking up tiny clouds as he gathered handfuls of sand with clumsy enthusiasm. He piled them into a crooked mound, squeaked proudly at his creation, then immediately dove onto it, scattering sand everywhere.
Unsatisfied, Cukuz glanced toward the wyrm's corpse where Delle was still feasting messily, jaws working with wet, crunching sounds. His wings twitched. Slowly, carefully, he began to hop-fly in that direction.
He didn't make it far.
A sharp shadow swept over the sand. Zevy, already back in his hawk form, descended in a blur of feathers and precision. His talons closed gently—but firmly—around Cukuz's scruff, lifting the squirming bat-creature off the ground before he could protest.
Cukuz squeaked, wings flapping uselessly.
Zevy didn't even turn his head. He landed on a nearby rock and pinned Cukuz in place with one talon, sharp eyes scanning the camp like a watchful sentinel.
Cukuz crossed his tiny arms and sulked, hanging upside down in defeat.
Shane noticed Klaus immediately.
His eyes flicked down to Klaus's feet, then back up to his face.
"You're barefoot," Shane said flatly.
Klaus glanced down as if he had only just realized it. "I forgot to bring a spare or two. The one I wore burned to a crisp during my fight."
Shane reached into his storage ring and tossed something toward him.
"Catch."
Klaus caught the boots mid-air with one hand. They were sturdy—dark leather, reinforced soles, clearly meant for combat rather than comfort.
"Oh?" Klaus said, turning them over. "You spoil me."
"They're not yours," Shane replied. "They're my spare."
Klaus slipped one on and immediately winced. "Tight," he muttered, forcing his heel in. "Very tight."
"They're not your size," Shane said calmly. "They're mine."
Klaus looked up at him. "Bring bigger size next time."
Shane ignored his comment and gestured toward the fire. "Sit."
Klaus obeyed without complaint, lowering himself onto the sand beside the fire pit. The ground still held the day's heat, seeping through his clothes and into his skin, uncomfortable but tolerable. The flames crackled steadily, spitting sparks into the air, and for once the sound was loud enough to drown out the desert's endless, whispering wind.
Kiel hurried over before Klaus could even settle properly. He carried a plate piled high with stewed boar meat, thick slices swimming in dark gravy. His grin was wide—too wide—and carried the kind of pride only someone who hadn't nearly died five times that day could still afford.
"Here you go, Mr. Klaus!" Kiel said, thrusting the plate forward. "First serving."
Klaus blinked, then raised an eyebrow as he accepted it. "First?" he echoed, amused.
Kiel nodded eagerly. "Boss said you almost died the most."
From across the fire, Ulon barked out a laugh. "Everyone almost died," he said loudly, waving a chunk of meat like it was evidence. "You just did it in the worst way. That's one way to earn special treatment."
Klaus shrugged and scooped up a bite, chewing slowly. His expression softened—just a little. "Not bad," he said. "A bit salty, though. I've survived worse days for worse meals."
Maddy shot him a sharp look from where she sat, arms tightly crossed. "Eat slowly," she warned. "Your body just regenerated. Kiel said you were basically a massive charcoal with opinions. You lost almost all your limbs. Choking to death after that would be the lamest possible ending."
"Yes, mother," Klaus replied smoothly.
The pebble hit his shoulder a second later.
Maddy didn't look sorry. She turned her attention to Shane instead. "Boss," she said, voice clipped, "except for Petra, who's still sleeping, everyone's here. Is this meeting about the raid? And don't dodge—was it a failure?"
Then she glanced back at Klaus. "If it failed, I'm blaming him."
Shane had just lifted his own plate when he paused. He exhaled quietly and lowered it again. "Impatient as always, Maddy," he said calmly. "At least let us finish eating before discussing business."
He looked around the circle, then added, "The raid was fruitful."
"…And dangerous," Klaus said, finishing for him.
The casual sounds of eating stopped almost immediately.
Maddy frowned. "What does that mean?"
Shane rubbed his temple. "This," he muttered, "is why I prefer meals without strategy talks." Then he straightened. "The bears have had enough of us poking around."
Maddy leaned forward. "And?"
"They set a trap," Shane said evenly. "A deadly one, at the very least."
Shalotte stiffened. He adjusted his footing, nearly tripping over a rock before catching himself. "A-are we in trouble, boss?"
"No," Shane replied. "Not yet. They don't know it was us. The trap was meant for anyone reckless enough to steal from them."
Ulon scratched his chin. "So we're putting the raids on hold?"
"Yes," Shane said. "But not because of the merchants."
Ulon tilted his head. "Then because of what?"
Shane's gaze hardened slightly. "Because we're going to war."
The fire popped loudly.
For a moment, no one spoke.
"…Care to explain?" Ulon finally asked, his usual grin gone.
"We encountered the Keepers," Shane said. "They're recruiting subjugators. For a war."
Kiel's eyes lit up. "When, boss?"
"Shut up, kid," Ulon snapped, then looked back at Shane. "You said you met them during the raid. Are you saying they caught you?"
"No," Shane replied. "The trap was noisy enough to draw attention, but far enough to avoid suspicion. They approached us—and offered a generous commission."
He paused. "However, I believe they may start connecting the dots soon. And suspect us of stealing goods from the merchants."
Klaus sighed theatrically. "Ah. My spectacular performance was wasted."
Then he smirked. "Still, I doubt they'll do anything."
Ulon narrowed his eyes. "And how can you be so sure, Slouch?"
"Because," Klaus said calmly, "they need people. Desperately."
Shane nodded. "The Keepers don't care about small crimes. They care about the bigger pictures—war, rebellion, and their own interest." He scanned the uneasy faces around the fire. "Even if they suspect us, they lack proof. Klaus left no mana residue on the trap, and none of us used mana during the escape."
Maddy let out a breath she'd been holding. "Good. Worst case, I can talk our way out."
"Maybe," Shane said.
Kiel snorted. "Maddy, every time you say that, we get punched."
She glared at him. "Shut up, brat."
"I'm just saying," Kiel continued. "Like that time some drunkards bumped into Petra. You said you'd 'just talk' and—boom—full brawl."
"That was different," Maddy snapped. "This is this. That is that."
Shane raised a hand. "Enough. Everything's settled for now. We have a month to prepare."
Maddy's expression sobered. "Prepare for whom exactly?"
Shane met their eyes, one by one. "Aegulus's goblins."