The team’s mood was light as they moved, laughter threading through the cool morning air.

  For the first time since entering the White Portal, the weight in their steps had less to do with fatigue

  and more to do with pride.

  “Three days in and still standing,” Rixor said, swinging his hammer across his shoulder as they climbed

  a low ridge. “That’s gotta count for something.”

  “Count it,” Calen said. “Let’s see, one hundred and three of those horned things, the cat, the bees, the

  rabbits, and the bird. What’s that get us?”

  Bash opened the log on his wrist display, the holographic numbers reflecting off his fatigues. “Three hundred nine from the herd. Twelve for the cat. Eleven thirty-seven from the swarm.” He paused, doublechecking the final line. “Plus the three from the last fight.”

  “Fourteen seventy-six total,” Nyra said with a grin. “Not bad for a bunch of rookies.”

  “Feels like we’ve been doing this for months,” Darik said. “Not two days.”

  “Could be worse,” Taren said, tightening the strap on her holster. “We could be dead.”

  Rixor barked a laugh. “With this lineup? Doubtful.”

  Bash let them talk as they walked. He could feel the confidence building again, the fatigue masked by

  small victories. His thoughts, though, kept circling back to the same thing, the brief electric jolt he felt

  every time a creature fell.

  It wasn’t pain, exactly almost every time something dies near me,” he thought back.

  “An accurate analogy. ”S-C said in his mind. , just a sharp reminder that something unseen was

  happening each time essence released into the air and chose him. He didn’t bring it up. Not yet. Feels

  like someone flicking my heart

  By midday, the terrain began to change. The dry plains gave way to denser growth, clusters of trees,

  thick roots crossing the path, and damp soil that clung to their boots. The sound reached them before

  the sight of it: a low, rhythmic thunder.

  “The river,” Liora said quietly.

  They pushed through the brush and emerged at the edge of a wide flow, the water bright silver under

  the light. Across the river, tall trees leaned over the opposite bank, their leaves dark and waxy. Five

  large birds perched along the ridge beyond, each with four broad wings folded tightly against their

  sides. They were enormous, easily three meters tall, beaks sharp as knives.

  Nyra was the first to notice them. “They’re watching us.”

  Bash followed her gaze. The birds were perfectly still, predators assessing. “Keep eyes on them,” he

  said.

  The water itself was alive. Thousands of sleek, silver-bodied fish swam upstream in a tight current,

  leaping intermittently, flashing scales in the sun. The sheer number was staggering, an endless, shifting

  ribbon of motion.

  “Spawning run,” Calen murmured. “Looks like it goes on forever.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” Rixor said, crouching to look closer.

  Nyra adjusted her rifle scope. “Only one way to find out if they’re aggressive.” She lined up a shot

  before anyone could stop her.

  “Wait...” Bash started.

  The rifle cracked, echoing across the water. The shot missed by inches, refracted through the current

  and splitting the surface instead of piercing it.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the water bulged.

  One of the fish broke the surface and fired a narrow stream of water with the force of a bullet.

  It struck like lightning. Rixor moved without thinking, stepping in front of Nyra. The shot hit his

  shoulder, tearing through the fabric and cutting a shallow but clean line across the muscle.

  “Shit!” he hissed, stumbling back.

  “Contact!” Bash shouted, drawing his sidearm.

  The fish that had fired lingered near the surface, mouth open as if charging another shot. Bash didn’t

  hesitate. One of his knives flashed, flying in a perfect arc and sinking straight down its throat. The

  creature convulsed once and floated to the top.

  Bash felt it immediately, a pulse, faint but unmistakable, rippling through his chest like a short electric

  sting.

  “And another minor essence pulse detected,” S-C said.

  Bash exhaled slowly through his nose. “Same as the bees,” he thought. “Tier One Common feedback.”

  “Correct. Non-harmful.”

  “Did anything unlock?”

  “Negative. No new pathways detected.”

  He gave a small nod to himself, irritation fading into focus as he waded forward to retrieve his knife

  and the floating body.

  The rest of the river stayed calm.

  No swarm. No retaliation.

  “Looks like they don’t care about each other,” Calen said cautiously.

  Bash waded cautiously knee-deep, grabbed the floating fish, and hauled it onto the bank. Its body

  gleamed wetly, scales catching the light. One of them glowed faintly along the flank, a soft blue

  shimmer.

  He retrieved his knife, then used it to pry the glowing scale loose. “Tier One Common,” he said after SC confirmed.

  “That tracks,” he added silently. “Could’ve guessed it from the pulse intensity.”

  “Your readings were consistent,” S-C replied. “Resonance strength aligns closely with tier level.”

  Bash gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Guess I’m getting a feel for it.”

  “Developing sensory correlation is expected. Continue observation.”

  He slid the scale into his pouch and straightened, scanning the still surface of the water as the faint echo

  of the pulse faded from his chest.

  Rixor was still holding his shoulder, blood seeping through his sleeve. “Could’ve been worse,” he said

  through clenched teeth. “Would’ve taken Nyra’s head off.”

  “Sit,” Taren said sharply. She was already digging through her kit. Her hands trembled slightly, not

  from fear, but from inexperience. “Let me try.”

  Rixor gave her a doubtful look but obeyed, sitting on a nearby rock. “You sure you know what you’re

  doing, healer?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But we’re going to find out.”

  She took a deep breath, focusing the way she remembered Jouk describing ability control, through

  intent, not force. A faint glow built around her palms, white at first, then shifting into soft gold. She

  pressed them lightly against the wound.

  The glow pulsed, faltered, then steadied.

  Rixor winced but didn’t pull away. “Warm… feels weird,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Good weird or bad weird?” she asked, concentrating.

  “Both.”

  For several seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Then the blood stopped seeping. The edges of the cut

  knit slowly, tissue reforming beneath her touch. It wasn’t fast, it was raw control, her will forcing the

  energy into focus. Sweat beaded along her forehead as she held the glow steady.

  When it finally dimmed, the wound had closed to a thin line.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Rixor flexed his arm experimentally. “That’s… actually pretty damn good.”

  Taren leaned back, exhaling hard. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to instant miracles. That took a lot of

  what I had.”

  Bash gave her a nod. “Still better than bleeding out. Nice work.”

  He turned back to the water. The current was full of movement again, hundreds of silver shapes

  weaving and glinting below the surface.

  “Refraction will deflect most shots,” S-C said. “Compensate downward for submerged targets.”

  “Got it,” Bash muttered, then relayed the instruction aloud. “Aim low. The water bends the line of

  sight.”

  “Copy,” Nyra said, adjusting her rifle.

  The next few hours turned into controlled chaos.

  They learned quickly: the fish were aggressive only when threatened, and the water shots came from

  just beneath the surface. But once one died, it sometimes triggered others to attack, as if drawn to the

  vibration.

  Every kill brought another faint jolt through Bash’s chest, mild, but relentless. By the twentieth, it had

  become a constant rhythm, like a heartbeat out of sync.

  “Persistent essence discharge detected,” S-C reported calmly. “Annoying pattern.”

  “No kidding,” he thought grimly.

  Rixor adapted poorly at first. He swung wide whenever a fish leapt, but the water distorted their

  position; his hammer hit empty space more often than not. The misses came at a cost. Every time he

  struck water instead of flesh, a jet of pressurized fluid hit back, smacking into his torso, shoulders, and

  arms. Even with high durability, the impacts left bruises and shallow cuts.

  “Gotta say,” he muttered between swings, “not my favorite environment.”

  “Try aiming instead of guessing!” Calen shouted, loosing another arrow. His shots fared better,

  occasionally piercing the surface to impale a fish mid-leap. But one ricocheted off the water wrong and

  came back at a bad angle, his cry of pain broke the steady rhythm of the fight.

  A water shot had hit him square in the forearm, punching clean through the muscle. Blood spattered

  across the rocks.

  “Calen’s down!” Liora yelled.

  Taren dropped to her knees beside him. “Hold still.”

  The wound was bad, nearly a hole. The edges sizzled faintly where the water had struck, like the

  energy inside it burned on contact. Calen’s face was dull, sweat beading instantly.

  “Just do it,” he hissed.

  Taren took a deep breath, forcing her focus again. The light flared to life around her hands, but the

  intensity sputtered. She steadied it, whispering under her breath as she pushed the glow into the wound.

  The flesh trembled beneath her touch, veins glowing faintly gold.

  The first attempt failed, the wound sealed halfway, then tore open again with a wet sound.

  “Come on…” she whispered, jaw tight. “Work, damn it.”

  The second try was better. The light pulsed in slow waves, deeper, more controlled. Calen’s breathing

  slowed. His color started to return.

  When she pulled her hands away several minutes later, the hole was gone. Only a dull mark remained.

  She slumped back, exhausted, chest rising and falling heavily.

  “That’s… better,” Calen said, flexing his hand weakly. “Still feels like fire, but better.”

  Rixor chuckled. “Guess our healer’s getting faster already.”

  “Shut up,” Taren said, half laughing, half breathless. “Next time, dodge.”

  They kept at it until the light began to shift. The pile of silver-scaled bodies on the riverbank grew

  steadily, dozens, then hundreds. The air smelled faintly of wet stone and iron.

  By the end, everyone was exhausted. Taren’s energy was nearly spent; she’d patched Rixor six more

  times and Calen twice more after glancing hits.

  Bash stood watch over the growing pile, eyes flicking between the water and the sky. Each time

  another fish died, another pulse ran through his chest. They were minor shocks now, dull and rhythmic,

  matching the low-level essence readings S-C had identified.

  “Still no unlocks,” he thought quietly.

  “Affirmative,” S-C replied. “Resonance remains shallow. T1G patterns only.”

  He exhaled, frustration low but steady. “So I get all the pain and none of the reward.”

  “Inaccurate. You get data.”

  He almost smiled. “You and your sarcasm.”

  “I’m still learning from you.”

  When the current finally began to thin, the water settled. The fish no longer surfaced. Bash signaled the

  halt, and the team began harvesting.

  They worked methodically, cutting out the glowing scales one by one, stacking them in mesh bags.

  Each fragment shimmered faintly blue, small, delicate, harmless. The rhythmic sound of blades slicing

  and scales clinking into the bags was almost calming after the chaos of the fight.

  Rixor knelt beside the pile, flexing his newly healed arm, looking at the pile. “Just about halfway

  through,” he muttered. “Feels like we’ve been here for hours.”

  “You have,” Taren said, half smiling as she sealed another bag. “You’re just slower than the rest of us.”

  “Careful,” he shot back, “some of us are the reason you’re still breathing.”

  The banter drew a few tired laughs, a release of tension. Nyra shifted position to reach another fish, her

  rifle laid across her knees. The river murmured beside them, calm and deceptively peaceful.

  Then Bash stopped. His knife froze halfway through a cut. A prickle ran down the back of his neck.

  He looked up.

  Above the tree line, five shadows circled in widening loops, large, graceful, and silent except for the

  faint beat of four wings each. They weren’t just gliding anymore; they were watching.

  “Movement,” Bash said quietly.

  The others followed his gaze just as one of the shapes let out a shrill, echoing cry. The call split the air,

  sharp and metallic.

  The remaining four peeled out of formation and began diving straight toward them.

  “Drop the bags!” Bash barked, standing fast. “Form up, defensive!”

  The river erupted in reflected light as the team shifted instantly, fatigue gone, weapons snapping into

  ready position around the half-harvested pile of glowing scales.

  The birds across the river were gone.

  “Eyes up,” he said sharply.

  Nyra followed his gaze. “They were perched there a second ago.”

  A sharp, echoing cry split the air.

  Five shapes cut through the clouds, broad wings glinting in the light, diving straight toward them.

  Rixor stepped in front, hammer ready. The others moved quickly into a circle, weapons up, backs to the

  pile of fish.

  The air filled with the rush of feathers and the shriek of descent.

  The first of the four-winged predators leveled its flight path, shadow sweeping over them.