The first bird hit like thunder.

  It dove from the clouds, four wings slicing through the air, the wind pressure alone forcing everyone to

  brace. Dust and river mist whipped around them in violent spirals. Bash’s hand snapped up.

  “Contact, open fire!”

  Sidearms cracked in unison.

  Taren and Bash unleashed overlapping bursts, rounds streaking upward through the haze. Their bullets

  struck true, but the air itself fought them. The high-pressure winds slowed each round mid-flight,

  blunting their impact. Sparks and shallow dents rippled across the birds’ armored feathers, but nothing

  more.

  Nyra’s rifle thundered beside them, the sharp blue arcs of her shots cutting through the storm like

  lightning. Yet every beam twisted in the turbulence, veering wide before they could find a target. The

  distortion bent her aim, scattering blue streaks harmlessly into the sky.

  Feathers drifted, but no blood fell. Each flap of those massive four-winged forms only made it worse,

  turning the air itself into a living shield. The gusts rolled over the team in violent waves, throwing up

  curtains of dust and water vapor that blurred everything beyond a few meters.

  “Minimal damage!” Taren yelled over the roar.

  “Keep the pressure up!” Bash barked, firing again, even as the wind folded around the bullet trails,

  draining their strength. It was like shooting through water, every impact too soft to matter.

  Calen loosed an arrow, the shot nearly perfect, until the next downbeat of air twisted the trajectory and

  sent it spinning wide.

  “Damn it!” he hissed, shielding his eyes.

  The pressure surged. Dust exploded upward, pelting their armor. Visibility plummeted to almost

  nothing;

  The birds beat their wings in unison, and the downburst hit like a wall. Bash slid half a step backward,

  boots grinding deep into the dirt. The gale screamed around them, drowning out the sound of their

  weapons as the battlefield dissolved into chaos and haze.

  Every attempt to aim vanished into chaos. Their shots weren’t landing, they weren’t even reaching.

  “Everyone hold position!” Bash shouted, voice muffled by the roar.

  The world became wind and noise, gravel stung skin, leaves tore free from the trees, the air itself

  screaming. Bash could barely see Rixor ten feet ahead, braced behind his hammer like a wall against

  the gale.

  Then the tornadoes began.

  They weren’t full-sized storms, but concentrated pillars of spiraling wind that twisted out from beneath

  the diving birds. Each one tore across the ground, scattering debris in every direction. The sound was

  deafening, sand grinding, the deep drone of wings merging with the storm’s howl.

  “Eyes up!” Bash barked. “Keep firing, short bursts, save your rounds!”

  He and Taren fired into the flashes of shadow overhead, the only shapes visible through the swirling

  dust.

  Rixor took the brunt of it, a wingtip clipping his shoulder and sending him stumbling. A moment later,

  claws raked across his backplate, enough to draw blood. He grunted, swung back blindly, and the

  hammer connected with a heavy crack that sent feathers scattering through the storm.

  “Mid-range can’t see!” Nyra yelled. “No visuals, no shots!”

  “We’re blind!” Calen shouted, shielding his bowstring. “Can’t hit what we can’t track!”

  A gust tore through, nearly knocking Bash off balance. He tasted grit and blood.

  Then Nyra’s voice cut through again, sharper this time: “Wind! Mineral’s resistant to wind! Darik,

  Liora, use what you learned!”

  “What the hell do you mean use it?” Darik shouted back. “We barely know how...”

  “Just do something!” Bash roared. “Get this dust down so we can shoot!”

  The two mineral users exchanged a glance, panic, then resolve. Liora thrust out her palms, Darik

  mirrored her on the opposite flank. The air rippled around them as faint grey light bled from their

  hands, pulling particles inward. The howling storm shifted, thinning, the dust drawing together like

  metal to a magnet.

  Seconds later, two dense orbs of compacted dust hovered in the air, heavy, motionless, unnatural, and

  the rest of the field cleared.

  “Visuals up!” Nyra shouted, snapping her rifle into position.

  Her shot cracked the silence. A blue arc tore through the sky, slamming into one of the diving birds.

  The creature spasmed midair, stunned, its flight pattern breaking.

  “Hit confirmed!” she called.

  Bash saw the opening instantly. He sprinted forward, drew, and hurled one of his knives. The blade

  flashed red mid-spin and buried itself in the joint of the creature’s nearest wing. The Razorvein

  imbuement bit deep, blood sprayed outward in a thin mist as the metal twisted inside the wound. The

  bird shrieked, flailing, losing altitude but still trying to climb.

  “Stun again!” Bash yelled.

  Nyra fired before he finished the word. The second shot cracked through the air, blue lightning

  streaking into the same bird. The stun hit harder this time, the beast’s body went rigid, its remaining

  wings faltering. It dropped like a stone.

  Rixor didn’t wait for it to crash.

  “Now!”

  He and the melee trio, Liora, and Darik, rushed forward, their silhouettes cutting through the clearing

  storm. The impact shook the ground when the bird hit, flapping and screeching, two wing still half working.

  Rixor swung his hammer upward, smashing into its neck; Darik followed with a slash across its face,

  Liora with a downward strike that pierced just under the eye.

  Bash closed in and felt it, a massive jolt in his chest, not enough to floor him, but enough to send a

  shock through every nerve.

  “Tier One Advanced wind signature confirmed,” S-C reported in his mind.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” he grunted, steadying himself.

  The others didn’t notice his brief stumble; to them it looked like he’d ducked under another gust. The

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  air still howled, whipping sand and feathers around as the other four birds began to dive again.

  “Same plan!” Bash shouted. “Lock them down, clear the dust!”

  Liora and Darik raised their hands again, focusing through the strain. The wind fought back harder this

  time, resisting their pull, but the minerals flared brighter, their cores resonating as they gathered the

  airborne sand into tighter spheres. The moment visibility opened again, Nyra’s rifle fired.

  The second bird froze mid-flight, dropping fast. Bash moved without thought, one knife to the front

  wing joint, another to the same side second wing. Both hit true. Blood and feathers exploded outward,

  and the creature’s body twisted as it crashed into the dirt.

  Calen’s arrow flew immediately after, spearing clean through its skull just before impact. The bird’s

  momentum carried it skidding across the ground.

  “Target down!” Bash yelled.

  Calen staggered. His bow dropped, a choked sound tearing from his throat. He fell to one knee,

  clutching his chest.

  “Calen!” Taren shouted, sprinting toward him.

  But the fight wasn’t done.

  The third bird swept low, claws scraping sparks off the rocks as it passed. Bash turned, sidearm barking

  in his hand. Three rounds struck center mass, nothing fatal but enough to stagger it. Nyra fired again,

  another stun burst slamming into its chest. The beast wobbled, wings folding, and crashed directly

  between Rixor and Liora. They dove on it instantly, weapons rising and falling in brutal rhythm until

  the movement stopped.

  Another jolt hit Bash’s chest, sharp, electric, fleeting. He bit back a curse and pressed a hand to his

  sternum.

  “Confirmed secondary pulse,” S-C noted calmly. “Still no ability resonance detected.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” he hissed inwardly.

  The fourth came screaming down from above, claws extended. Bash rolled aside, felt the wind tear

  past. Calen, back on his feet, pale but steady, fired an arrow that punched through one of its wings. The

  bird reeled, spinning off-balance.

  Rixor took the opening and leapt, hammer swinging. The impact echoed like a crack of thunder as the

  bird crumpled.

  Another pulse, Bash again. His muscles twitched involuntarily.

  Why me? he thought. Why only me?

  S-C’s response was quiet. “Unknown. Energy transfer prioritizing proximity… perhaps.”

  He didn’t reply.

  The last bird circled high, watching the carnage below. Blood mist drifted on the wind. Then, with a cry

  that shook the valley, it dove.

  “Last one!” Bash shouted. “Drop it before it reaches us!”

  Nyra fired. The shot grazed its wing.

  Calen drew back, breath steady, and released. The arrow streaked upward, slicing through one of the

  creature’s lower wings, and straight into its chest. The bird shrieked, wings locking, body twisting

  midair before crashing into the shallow water beside the riverbank.

  When the echo faded, silence filled the space it left behind.

  Everyone stood still, panting, staring at the scattered remains of feathers and broken wings. The air

  finally settled, the wind dying down to a gentle current that carried dust away from the battlefield.

  Calen dropped his bow and bent over, gasping. “That… was all of them.”

  Rixor grinned through exhaustion. “Nice shooting, bow-boy.”

  Calen looked up weakly. “Appreciate it… I think.”

  Bash’s heart still thudded with aftershocks. Every time one of the birds had died, he’d felt that same

  surge. Not as sharp as before, but consistent, predictable. He kept silent.

  “Let’s harvest and get out of open ground,” he said finally.

  They moved methodically, cutting the vast wings free and stacking them alongside the remaining fish

  from earlier. Nyra confirmed their readings: all five were Tier One Advanced, wind classification. Bash

  logged the numbers automatically, 967 fish scales, 5 full wing sets. Their point total now sat at 2491.

  Taren knelt beside Rixor, cleaning the shallow claw marks across his back with practiced hands. “You

  really should stop catching blades and claws with your body,” she said.

  He gave her a crooked grin. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ve got high durability, and a healer who likes me

  enough to patch me up.”

  She rolled her eyes, though her faint smile lingered. “Don’t push your luck.”

  As she worked, Calen tested his bow arm, rotating it carefully. “So… wind,” he said. “That’s what the

  pulse was. Twice, actually.”

  Darik looked over. “You unlocked?”

  “Yeah. Guess I’m the wind guy now. Feels weird.”

  “Could use that,” Rixor said, nodding. “Durability tank, healer, two mineral DPS, wind precision, rifle

  and sidearms, and Bash’s… whatever-the-hell he is. We might actually make it through this.”

  Bash smirked faintly. “Let’s hope. Everyone work with your Cores tonight, figure out what you can do.

  The more we understand, the better we’ll adapt.”

  They nodded, exhaustion overtaking adrenaline.

  The sun dipped low, casting the river in shades of gold. They gathered near the campfire, cooking

  ration packs over portable burners, the smell of seared protein mixing with the faint metallic tang of the

  battlefield. The mood was calm now, almost reflective.

  Taren leaned back beside Rixor, nudging him lightly. “See? Told you it’s a good thing I’m around.”

  He chuckled, wincing at the movement. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I owe you dinner when we get out of

  here.”

  “Make it two,” she replied with a grin.

  Bash stood a few feet away, staring into the flickering water light. His hand drifted to his chest again,

  where the phantom echoes of the essence pulses still tingled faintly beneath the skin.

  “S-C.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  A pause. “Unknown. But the pattern is consistent. Whatever it is… it’s not random.”

  Bash exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes on the fading light. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Didn’t think

  so.”