(Whispering Wood, next to Silverbrook Town, Western Province)
“Well—maybe that was your mistake.”
“Sorry?”
“I said, maybe that was your mistake,” Gareth repeated, slower this time.
Eric didn’t bite. Gareth had been grumbling about this mission since day one. It was just noise now. Shut up Gareth, not now.
“We were commissioned by Lady Ariana. How exactly were we supposed to say no?” Eric muttered, stepping over a damp root—then slipped slightly, catching himself on a low-hanging branch.
“Oh, come on. You think I believe that?” Gareth hopped over the root easily, smirking.
Eric didn’t answer. Just drew his dagger and sliced through a curtain of thorns that snagged his cloak.
“I mean, I guess I’m lucky you haven’t played hero in this town yet,” Gareth added, lifting the clintstone lantern. The pale blue glow lit their path, pushing back the dark between trees.
Eric stopped, turned slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t bring us another stray, alright? This mission’s cursed enough without dead weight.”
Eric exhaled hard through his nose. “Alright. How about this—without my kindness, you’d have been—tch.” He turned and kept walking.
“I’d have been what?” Gareth asked, following.
Silence.
“Hey. Answer me.” Gareth reached out to his shoulder, catching some strands of his red hair. “I would’ve been dead? By your hands? Is that what you’re saying?”
Eric turned fully, eyes cold. “Yes. You’d have been fried down to the bone. Charred. Crispy. Gone. And you wouldn’t have had the chance to bang half the women in the Helpful Piggies, so how about you shut the fuck up—for once—about how I do things.”
Gareth gave a low laugh. “Fucking Saint Eric spared my life. I'm truly blessed.”
He conjured the mission dossier in one hand, letting it hover as glowing text flickered across the surface. “Look at this again—Archy and Gideon are captains. We’re not. So why did the old hag send us in after them?”
“If you hate the mission so much,” Eric snapped, “maybe don’t beg to tag along next time.”
Gareth raised his voice, “How could I let you go alone? You’d get yourself killed—and I’d have no one to talk to in the—”
Eric’s hand clamped over Gareth’s mouth. Now what do we have here.
“I’ve got a mana read,” he whispered. “Detection rune just spiked.”
Gareth’s eyes sharpened. “Them?”
Eric narrowed his focus on the arc of glowing script floating by his arm. “Doubt it. This mana trace isn’t human. Follow me!”
He moved closer to the direction of the detected mana. He stopped and crouched low, pointing past the bush ahead. Just beyond it, a clearing—a small camp.
“Drakkens,” he muttered. “Pretty standard. We’ll take the long way around. No need to start something against those lizards.”
He rose to stand when a sharp pain tore through his leg. “Agh—shit!” He stumbled, eyes dropping.
A snake. Its fangs buried deep in his calf.
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Gareth moved fast. One hand clamped over Eric’s mouth, muffling the cry. The other flashed with steel—
A clean slice. The snake’s pink head hit the ground. Non venomous Butter snakes huh, thank God.
But the damage had been done.
The brush rustled.
Figures emerged—Drakken warriors. Broad, lizardlike, sharp-eyed. Each held a weapon carved from bone. Behind them came two sorcerers, robed and silent, his wooden staff tipped with a faintly glowing blue orb.
"Good one, Eric," Gareth muttered.
Eric gritted his teeth. "Shut up. Let’s just deal with this."
"Five warriors, one caster," Gareth noted. "You sure we can’t just talk this out?"
Eric flexed his fingers. Fire flickered at his fingertips. "Look at them charging. I think negotiations are off the table."
The Drakkens charged.
Gareth moved first—shield raised, spear crashing down like a thunderclap. He slammed one reptilian warrior aside, dented another’s ribs, and impaled a third straight through the gut. The spear twisted free with a wet snap.
Eric stayed close. He hurled a blaze pearl into the fray. Fire erupted—violent, searing. One Drakken dropped instantly, scales blackened, its limbs twitching as the flames consumed it.
Then came the sorcerers.
One lifted its staff, hissing through fanged teeth. Lightning cracked from its palm—a jagged bolt that hammered Gareth’s shield and sent him sliding back a step.
Eric caught movement to the left—another caster, orb glowing cold blue. Ice. Seriously? Ice too?
The Drakken sorcerer snapped its staff downward, releasing a burst of jagged icicles.
Eric raised a barrier. Crack! The shards exploded across it harmlessly.
He retaliated with a blaze pearl—dead center. The explosion ripped through the caster’s torso. The glow in its orb died with it.
But more came from the camp—dozens now.
The Drakken warriors hissed as they closed in, some gripping twin bone blades, others crouched low like beasts, slinking in the dark. One lunged at Gareth, snapping its jaw toward his throat. He ducked and drove a spear clean through its snout.
Another flanked Eric—he caught its claws with a barrier, but its tail whipped around, slamming into his side. He hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs.
He rolled to his feet just in time to see Gareth conjuring a second spear, blood running down his arm.
"I can take them," Gareth growled.
Dark clouds formed overhead, accompanied with occasional lightning flashes.
The first cold raindrops hit his face. Shit.
His flames dimmed. "This isn’t going to work," Eric muttered, heart pounding. "We need to retreat."
"You sure?" Gareth didn’t sound worried. Just curious.
"They’ve got frost magic. I’ve got fire. And now it’s raining." Eric wiped blood from his mouth. "Do I need to draw you a chart?"
Gareth smirked. “Fair point.”
Eric raised one last blaze pearl—not at the enemy, but straight into the air. It detonated high above, sending out a wave of heat that staggered the advancing Drakken. "Move!"
They turned and ran, boots slamming into the soaked forest floor, creatures hissing behind them. Navigating the forest at night was bad enough. Doing it with a dozen bloodthirsty creatures on their heels? Worse. Rain pounded against the leaves, turning the ground slick. Eric followed the mana traces he’d left behind, leading them back toward Silverbrook.
"Eric, you sure we’re going the right way?" Gareth shouted over the downpour.
"Yes! Just stay close and think about that warm cup of beer waiting for us."
Gareth gave a short laugh. "Heh. When was the last time we got drenched like this?"
"You mean like the time we had to wrestle those three giant Ice-gators under a freezing river?"
"Ah, yeah. That was fun."
Eric snorted. "Fun isn’t the word I’d use."
"And whose fault was that?" Gareth asked. "Oh, right. Yours as well. Just like this one, you just had to accept Lady Ariana’s mission."
"This, again?! She’s our guild leader. How was I supposed to say no?"
"Anyway, still don’t get how that old geezer Sigrid knows her in the first—wait, look out!"
The path ahead disappeared. Slick mud and loose rocks. A sheer, treacherous slope.
Too late to stop.
They slid.
Eric cursed as the ground gave way beneath him. Mud and stones tore past as he tumbled. Gareth reacted fast. A hand gripped Eric’s collar, yanking him back. With his other hand, Gareth summoned his shield, angling it beneath them.
They rode the slope down, the shield carving through mud and debris. At the bottom, Gareth dug the shield into the ground, bringing them to a jarring stop. Breathing hard, Gareth glanced over. "You good?"
Eric wiped mud from his face, shivering. "Thanks."
The forest around them was eerily silent, save for the rain.
"Shit! My mana traces leading to Silverbrook. They’re gone."
"Yup," Gareth said. "That might as well happen."
Eric exhaled sharply, running a hand through his drenched hair. I guess I'll just continue the search.
Gareth leaned back against a tree, unconcerned. "Take your time. Not like we’re in the middle of nowhere, lost in the dark, soaked to the bone, and being hunted by trolls or anything."
Eric shot him a look.
Gareth grinned. "What? Just keeping things optimistic."
Just wait for me Archy, I'll return your favour for once.
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