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 they arrived in Silverbrook. It was just noise now.

  “I was commissioned by Lady Ariana. How exactly was I 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.

  Eric didn’t answer. Just drew his dagger and sliced through a curtain of thorns that snagged his deep red guild coat.

  “I mean, I guess we're quite lucky you haven’t played hero in this town yet,” Gareth added, lifting the clintstone lantern. The pale green-blue glow lit their path, pushing back the dark between trees.

  Eric stopped and turned slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You know what I mean. Just don’t bring us another stray this time, 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 flirt with half the women in Orchid Lovers, 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. Thank you very much!”

  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. You’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 were buried deep in his calf.

  Gareth moved fast. One hand clamped over Eric’s mouth, muffling the cry. The other flashed with a dagger—

  A clean slice. The snake’s pink head hit the ground. Eric's gaze followed as the head flapped. Non-venomous Butter snakes huh, thank God.

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  But the damage had been done.

  The brush rustled.

  Figures emerged—Drakken warriors. Broad, lizardlike, sharp-eyed. Each held a weapon carved from bone. Two sorcerers followed, their robes dragging in the leaves.

  "Good one, Eric," Gareth muttered, holding his laugh and shaking his head. A spear and a shield materialized in his hands not long after.

  "Shut up. Let’s just deal with this."

  "Five warriors, two casters," Gareth noted. "You sure we can’t just talk this out?"

  Eric flexed his fingers. Flames sparked at his fingertips. "Look at them charging. I think negotiations are off the table."

  The first Drakken lunged. Gareth caught the blow clean with his shield—crack!—the bone sword scraped off with a shower of sparks.

  He bashed forward with his full weight. The reptilian warrior staggered back, scales crunching under the rim of the shield as it crashed into its jaw.

  One tooth flew.

  Gareth didn’t stop.

  He twisted and slammed his spear into the second warrior’s side, denting the ribcage with a sickening crack—the force crumpled the lizardman's posture.

  The third came in with a downward slash. Gareth ducked under the blade and surged upward like a spring—spear-first.

  The tip punched through the underside of the Drakken’s jaw and up into its skull. The thing spasmed once, then went limp.

  He yanked the spear free with a wet snap, its shaft steaming in the cold air.

  Eric stayed close. He materialized a blaze pearl on the tip of his trigger finger, a small and focused ball of fire. He snapped it into the fray.

  Fire erupted—violent, searing. One Drakken dropped instantly, scales blackened, its limbs thrashing 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, 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 dematerialized his weapons. “Fair point.”

  "Now look away," Eric formed a blaze pearl, overcharged it, and flung it straight into the air. Mid-arc, it cracked—then detonated in a searing white flash.

  For a heartbeat, the forest turned to daylight. A thunderclap followed, sharp and close. The Drakken staggered, blinded, hissing in pain as they shielded their eyes.

  “Let's go!”

  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.

  "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 the 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.

  Gareth leaned back against a tree, wiping mud off the fabric parts of his light armor. "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 favor this time.

  -