The sun slowly set over the Blade Mountains, casting long shadows over the jungle. Over the past hours, they had ventured deeper into the jungle, the trees growing taller by the hour.
The dense canopy loomed high overhead, blocking out most of the sunlight.
In the jungle night set in quicker than usual; the thick canopy blocked out the light. Thus far, they had gone unmolested, but monsters were definitely out there.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a distant roar shook the forest. The horses pulling his wagon snorted nervously. Osmal stood atop the wagon, eying the forest warily. Atop the wagon, he couldn't even see the central wagon about a hundred feet away, so thick was the foliage. Even so, being up here was better than walking, though the constant bumps were grating on his nerves.
A soldier walking next to the wagon swore under his breath.
"What unspeakable horror just made that sound. I'm not getting paid enough for this shit," he muttered.
Osmal threw the man a glance.
"Wait, You're getting paid?" Osmal joked.
The soldier chortled, giving him the side eye.
"Didn't know members of the sects had a sense of humor," the soldier said.
Osmal shrugged.. He gestured towards the other three sect members taking up the rear guard slightly out of earshot.
"Most of us don't. Most members of the sect have sticks up their asses," Osmal said.
The soldier raised a brow.
"What do you mean by that?"
Osmal shrugged again.
"I mean, those two guards getting injured earlier wasn't an accident," Osmal said conspiratorially.
The soldier threw a glance at the wagon where the two injured soldiers were being carried. The wounds were not life-threatening, but they were still enough to put the soldiers out until the fort.
"You four don't seem too bad," another soldier remarked, eying Pilo, Vulsa, and Winser.
"Whatever," Osmal shrugged.
So much for doing a good deed. Putting that thickheaded soldier from his mind, Osmal went back to his watch. It was tedious and nerve-racking.
Their journey once entering the jungle was slow, the wagons slowly plodding along the canopy so thick that branches brushed against the sides.
Visibility was so low that he wouldn't be able to see a monster until it was right upon them. Not a pleasant thought, considering this place was infested with everything from venomous snakes to ravenous monsters.
Not to mention the damned insects. Osmal slapped a massive fly on his arm, the stench of blood filling his nose as it splatted.
The damned bugs just wouldn't shut up, the sacadas a constant drone in the background.
The jungle was never silent. Which was why it took him a minute to notice. There was still the occasional sound of a distant bird, but the bugs' constant noise had all stopped.
Alarmed, Osmal settled himself atop the carriage, tuning out the clop of hooves and the creak of leather as best he could.
He dug deep, drawing energy from his core. All the while, he cast his net.
His iron web technique was useless in combat, and from the state of his cave, not so great at defence either. On the other hand, it was decent when it came to surveillance.
It took him long seconds to pull on enough energy from his core, like pouring thick syrup from a jug. He gathered his sluggish energy into thin threads of his power, casting them out like a spider spinning its web.
The threads entered the jungle, the wisps following as the carriage moved. The threads fanned out, each person lighting up to his mind's eye. Pilo, Winser, and Vulsa shone the brightest, each having a distinct flavor to their power.
Those three likely had their own means, similar to his. Would they even tell him if they detected something? Osmal would rather eat his own dirty sock than trust his life to them.
As expected, his diligence paid off. Just beyond the treeline, out of sight, his tendrils brushed over first one, then a hoard of them. They moved silently, his technique making them light up in his mind.
Heart-racing Osmal swept the forest, his core dipping below half as he strained his senses to cover the whole caravan.
A pit settled in his stomach as he took in the scope of the danger. Dozens of monsters were gathering, just out of view. Most gave off only a faint glow, while one shone like a beacon, giving off a powerful bloodlust.
Osmal swore under his breath. It was a coordinated assault, led by a powerful alpha, the pack nearly fifty strong by his estimate.
Taking a deep breath, Osmal opened his eyes and stood.
"They are coming!" Osmal warned, his voice carrying to the guards below.
"Whose coming?" One asked lazily, leaning on his spear.
"Monsters! The whole caravan is under attack. Prepare yourself!" Osmal shouted.
As if his words were a command, the monsters attacked. They surged from cover, the raptors a coordinated pack.
Covered in dark feathers, they were a head smaller than a human, dashing forward on two legs.
Judging by their large beaks and clawed feet, they were not herbivores. The oversized chickens were surprisingly quick, letting out low grating sounds as they attacked.
One of the soldiers below blew on his horn, the alarm filling the air. A mad scramble ensued, with the soldiers scrambling to form a line of defence.
It was easier said than done. The monsters came from all sides, and given how few soldiers they had relative to the area they had to cover, they had no chance to protect everything.
Screams filled the air as the monsters attacked in a coordinated blitz. At least fifteen of them surrounded his wagon, where the soldiers clumped up at the rear, fanning out to block them off.
Never slowing, the monsters snapped and lunged just out of reach of the soldiers' spears.
From atop the wagon, Osmal was at the center of the mayhem, with the three other sect members with their backs to the wagon using the soldiers as meat shields.
Osmal took in the chaos, frowning as none of the monsters committed, just probing the spear wall.
From his elevated position, Osmal looked up and down the line. Unprotected, or slow, Caravan workers screamed as they were dragged from the wagons, the monsters snatching anything they could get their beaks onto. Too smart, too coordinated.
He swore internally. The monsters quickly began dragging the unprotected, screaming caravan workers back into the jungle. All the while, the others harassed the soldiers, lunging and snapping at them. The monsters were not even trying to take down the soldiers, just distract them.
As quickly as it came, the attack was called off. A long trilling sound filled the jungle, the sound making his skin crawl as the alpha called for retreat.
Just like that, the raptors pulled back, the distant screams of caravan workers fading into the jungle. Pilo and Winsor took that chance to leap over the gathered soldiers. Like jackals, they attacked when the raptors turned to run.
Pilo threw a spear with superhuman force, piercing one clean through the chest. Another had one of its legs cut off with a blade of stone.
Vulsa leapt atop the screaming bird, finishing off the wounded one with a sickening crunch as she smashed its head with the heel of her boot.
The gathered soldiers at the rear watched with wide eyes at the shows of power. A few were lightly wounded, but not a single one had been killed.
Witnessing such power, the soldiers moved forward, whispering excitedly as they cautiously approached the three sect members and the dead monsters.
Osmal scoffed internally. The soldiers had already forgotten they had been used as meat shields not moments ago. They actually looked at the members of the sect like they were heroes. That wouldn't last long.
Osmal peered down at the man and woman teaming his wagon.
The two looked pale as sheets, having hidden inside during the ordeal.
"You two okay?" Osmal asked.
They nodded numbly.
Osmal looked up and down the line of wagons. Taking in the blood smears. By his guesstimate, at least five were taken by the raptors.
He was curious to go check, but curiosity killed the cat. It wasn't long before Captain Ustad made his way down the line.
He looked in a foul mood, like someone pissed in his coffee. His mood brightened, ever so slightly, when he noticed the two raptor corpses already harvested for their cores.
Osmal had gotten a peek when Vulsa pulled the core from the monster's chest. It was a weak core, but with enough of them, it could help advance his cultivation.
Even cups of water could eventually fill a pond. It was lamentable that he hadn't stepped in.
The two even accrued merit for the kills, with Winser looking peeved that Vulsa stole his kill. It was probably just one point of merit, but every bit helped.
The captain finally turned to Osmal.
"They say you are the one who sounded the alarm?" The captain asked, his tone curt.
"Yes," Osmal admitted, seeing no need to lie..
The captain pulled his official emblem from his coat, only usable by himself..
"Give me your sect token,"
Osmal did as asked.
His earlier complaints were washed away as two sect merits were transferred to his token.
The captain nodded.
"Good work, your early warning saved some lives. Without you, this disaster would have been much worse," Ustad growled.
"Any time," Osmal said.
He tucked his token away in his sleeves, noting that the others were watching him with greedy gleams in their eyes.
Such was the natural order. Osmal had just acquired something they wanted. It was quite the lucrative exchange. He hadn't even fought and gained such a harvest.
His fingers itched for more, remembering the lists of rewards on offer. It was just peanuts for now, but with enough peanuts, a squirrel could survive the winter.
The following night was sleepless, the soldiers jumping at the slightest rustle of leaves. The caravan had left the area of attack, traveling for about an hour before making camp for the night. No one wanted to linger where the stench of blood was heavy in the air.
Some had suggested they go looking after the ones taken, but it was rightfully rejected. More were likely to be picked off if they strayed from the path into the dense jungle.
The first night passed without incident, with the following day much the same. People were on edge, shadows under their eyes as they pitched camp for another night.
Osmal was tired, but still, he carefully set up his iron web technique around his tent before sleep. Covering the whole camp was just impractical. Too costly.
Sleep was fleeting, the chitter of insects a constant drone. Eventually, he drifted off.
He was awoken by a pained scream. By the time he scrambled from the tent, the threat was gone, nothing but a pile of blood where a woman had once been.
She had gone to take a piss and been grabbed. No one had even seen it happen; they just heard the screaming.
"It's those feathered bastards again, I just know it," Ustad spat, kicking at the dirt.
"Seems like their work. What's the plan now captain?" The caravan master asked, nervously eying the dark jungle.
Ustad scowled. "Let's increase the number of pickets. No one leaves the circle of wagons during the night. I will not lose half of our caravan to monsters," Ustad ordered.
With that, they went three more days without any more losses. People were still wary, but no one was as jumpy anymore. They were hopefully out of the pack's territory.
That hope was crushed, only a week out from reaching the fort. A soldier was taken, one who hadn't even shouted out an alarm. Ustad was furious.
The man didn't say it outright, but it was likely because the soldier had fallen asleep on watch. Ustad turned to Osmal, who was standing next to Pilo and Winser nearby.
He looked like he had just swallowed a lemon.
"Don't suppose you three would be willing to use your special methods to help out?" Ustad asked.
Osmal cracked a predatory smile.
"We would love to, but protecting your soldiers and the workers is not a part of our assignment. We are to guard the wagons," Osmal said. He let the silence draw out for a moment before continuing. "But we are not unreasonable. Perhaps additional merit could sway us," Osmal said.
Pilo and Winser shared a glance. They weren't privy to his scheme, but both of them understood the way the world worked.
Ustad clearly understood he was scamming him, but judging by his sour look, he didn't have better options.
With gritted teeth, Ustad pulled out his officer's emblem.
"Two merits for each night you stay on watch," Ustad muttered through gritted teeth.
Osmal gave the man a regretful look. "Two is just not enough. It will put great strain on my core to overwork it that much," Osmal said.
Ustad swore.
"Three merit per night, and that's highway robbery," Ustad said, looking ready to come to blows.
Osmal smiled. "You have got yourself a deal, captain. My comrades and I will do our best to keep the caravan safe while you sleep," Osmal said.
With that, the captain strode away in a foul mood. Pilo grinned. "That was some quick thinking."
Osmal nodded. "A man's gotta make a living somehow," Osmal said.
Winser snorted. "No need to explain yourself to us. Glad we could hop on the gravy train," Winser said.
Osmal didn't even feel bad about extorting the captain. It wasn't the captain's personal merit. And the captain was getting exactly what he wanted.
When word got out to the others, the caravan would be a lot safer going forward. Thus far, none of the sect had been willing to overexert themselves. But, with merit on the line, they would actively use techniques to protect the caravan.
He was right. The next couple of days went a lot better for the caravan. They were attacked twice more, but this time, the sect members were there.
Three raptors were killed, and only one more soldier was taken. It was unfortunate to lose another, but still a win in his book. After that, they were not attacked again.
After another week, Osmal finally caught a glimpse of the tall walls of the fort embedded in a cliff.
From atop his wagon near the rear, he looked back down the trail. His net was cast wide, probing the forests.
He couldn't feel them out there anymore. The raptors had stopped following a few hours ago. He got the unsettling feeling the Raptors hadn't given up.
Future caravans were going to struggle with the same pack, only now, they would have better tactics.
Osmal turned his attention back to the approaching fortress walls. Thankfully, that was no longer a him problem. They had a tide to deal with. But first, the fort.
At a glance, he took in the colors of a half dozen noble houses from the kingdom of Adro. Alongside were the Red Sky pavilions' colors flying large, right next to the blue spring banners.
Looked like a shitstorm, and he hadn't even gone inside yet.