Taren had taken the last shift of watch.

  While the forest slept in fractured silver light, she moved soundlessly among the others, touching

  burns, mending lacerations, drawing threads of essence through her palms until the faint shimmer of

  her aura dimmed with exhaustion.

  By the time the first pale light broke through the canopy, the camp was quiet, and every wound was

  gone.

  When the others stirred, the air was still heavy with the smell of dew and iron. Rixor stretched first,

  rolling his shoulders until they cracked.

  “Feels like I got hit by a mountain,” he muttered.

  “You did,” Calen said through a yawn. “Several times, actually.”

  That earned a low laugh around the campfire. Even Bash allowed himself a quiet exhale, the closest

  thing to relief they’d had since they arrived.

  They ate in silence for a while. Dried rations. Heated water. The usual.

  Then Bash lifted his wrist, bringing the holographic display to life. A faint amber beacon blinked three

  clicks east.

  “Pack signature,” he said. “Let’s see what it is.”

  They broke camp and moved in formation, boots crunching over mineral soil still faintly warm from

  the night. The woods gave way to a clearing rimmed with blackened stumps and ash. Ahead, flickers of

  orange darted between the shadows, too low and fast to be flame.

  “Contact,” Nyra said, raising her rifle.

  The shapes resolved into a dozen lean, ember-lit canines.

  They moved like living sparks, tails splitting into glowing branches that dragged smoldering trails

  across the forest floor. The air shimmered with heat distortion, light warping in chaotic pulses.

  “Cinderfang Scavens,” Bash repeated, translating S-C’s whisper. “Fire-type scavengers. Pack hunters.

  T1C.”

  Rixor grinned, hefting his hammer. “Finally, something simple.”

  “Don’t jinx it,” Taren muttered, already drawing her pistols.

  The first burst of motion came from the left flank, a flash of molten orange tearing between the trees.

  Nyra fired, but the bullet passed through smoke as the Scaven darted behind a trunk, sparks spilling

  from its scales. Then two more followed, weaving through the underbrush in zigzagging patterns that

  left trails of burning leaves.

  “Visual distortion from heat,” S-C noted in Bash’s mind. “Tracking accuracy reduced by thirty-eight

  percent.”

  “Yeah, noticed,” he said under his breath.

  Calen’s bowstring snapped. An arrow hissed through the haze and clipped one of the canines mid-leap.

  It tumbled into the ash, rolling before bursting apart in a flare of embers. The explosion licked up the

  side of a nearby tree, igniting it instantly.

  “Watch your back!” Darik shouted, as three Scavens broke from the right side, tails whipping like

  torches. The heat made the air waver, it was impossible to tell where the flames ended and the bodies

  began.

  Rixor swung wide, his hammer cutting through a trail of sparks. The resulting shockwave blasted the

  nearest Scaven backward, but the others scattered, their movements synchronized, every dodge

  painting streaks of light through the smoke.

  “Can’t get a bead on them!” Nyra called.

  “Don’t try,” Bash said, already moving. “Predict their path.”

  He slipped between burning trunks, knives drawn, eyes half-closed to block the glare. The blades

  pulsed faintly in his grip, attuned to movement rather than sight. He heard one before he saw it, claws

  skittering on charred bark, and pivoted, slashing upward. The blade caught it across the throat, splitting

  the heat-veins in its chest. It went down with a hiss, fire spilling across the dirt like liquid.

  Another lunged from behind, jaws wide, ember-teeth snapping inches from his shoulder. Bash spun and

  threw his second knife, it buried itself under the creature’s jaw, the body collapsing in a burst of

  glowing sparks.

  “Two down,” he called.

  Calen’s arrows came next, streaking through the canopy like shooting stars. Each one that hit detonated

  in a flash of kinetic wind, scattering flame and ash. Liora and Darik moved behind him, conjuring

  partial mineral barriers to block the worst of the heat.

  The forest was turning into a furnace. Smoke coiled around them, orange light flickering through the

  haze. The Scavens used it perfectly, darting through burning brush, their outlines indistinguishable

  from the wildfires they caused.

  Taren shouted, “Left flank!”

  Rixor turned just in time to catch a charging Scaven with a downward swing. The hammer struck, and

  the creature disintegrated into molten fragments that sprayed across his armor, glowing briefly before

  cooling.

  Nyra steadied her rifle, exhaling through clenched teeth. “Got them.”

  Her next three shots were precise, one hit, one grazed, one missed. But the missed round struck a

  smoldering patch of resin, triggering a chain of small explosions that revealed two Scavens midpounce.

  Calen followed instantly, launching an arrow into the gap. The blast engulfed the final pair in a single

  gust of wind-fueled flame.

  The firestorm swelled, then collapsed inward, leaving only blackened soil and drifting embers.

  For a moment, no one moved. The glow around them dimmed, leaving behind the soft hiss of cooling

  bark.

  S-C’s voice entered Bash’s thoughts like a whisper through static.

  “Essence pulses detected: five. Fire-class, Tier One Common.”

  “Five,” he murmured. “Guess I’m not the favored target this time.”

  They spread out, moving carefully among the smoldering remains. The only trace of the beasts were

  the tips of their tails. Each one shimmered orange-red like dying coals, humming softly when lifted.

  Bash knelt and gathered one. The fragments cooled and condensed, its glow folding inward until it

  became a small, coin-sized trinket.

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  He brushed ash from his gloves and slipped the cooled trinkets into his pouch. Around him, the team

  did the same in quiet efficiency, their movements practiced and wordless.

  When the last one was stored, Bash stood and looked toward the blackened trees. The forest still

  flickered with dull orange light, but the smoke was already thinning, replaced by the stillness that came

  after fire.

  “They burn bright,” he said quietly, “but not long.”

  The others nodded, wordless agreement carried in the sound of cooling ash.

  No one argued.

  By the time they finished collecting, the air already felt cooler.

  Fifteen minutes later, Bash brought up his map again. Another beacon, individual type, three clicks

  south.

  “Next one’s close,” he said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They traveled through slanted light and undergrowth until the terrain leveled into a rocky basin. A faint

  shimmer rippled across the center of the field. The moment they stepped forward, the shimmer moved.

  Two forms emerged, one massive and plated, the other small and glowing softly beside it.

  S-C’s analysis unfolded instantly in his mind.

  “Thornhide Bastion, Tier One Apex, Durability-class. Accompanied by Virelet Attendant, Healing class. Individual by trait, symbiotic pair. Recommend targeting the healer first.”

  Bash relayed it aloud. “Focus the small one. The Bastion’s going to guard it.”

  The Thornhide bellowed, shaking the ground as it stomped forward, armor scraping like stone against

  stone. The smaller creature pressed itself against the Bastion’s flank, its bioluminescent body pulsing in

  rhythm with the giant’s heartbeat.

  “Ranged first,” Bash ordered. “Distract it. Melee, wait for openings.”

  Rixor charged in, lightning crackling along his hammer. He swung wide, the impact ringing out like

  struck metal. The Bastion didn’t even flinch, its armor glowed brighter, hardening with each hit.

  “Yeah, that tracks,” Rixor grunted, ducking as a shard of its thorned shell exploded outward.

  Liora and Darik flanked opposite sides, their mineral shields flaring against a barrage of razor-thin

  shards. Nyra and Calen alternated fire from the ridge, trying to draw attention from the Attendant. But

  the small healer never strayed more than a few paces from its guardian. Every scorch mark or crack on

  the Bastion’s armor sealed itself seconds later with a ripple of green light.

  Taren moved in behind Rixor, touching her palm to his back. The faint glow of her healing aura

  shimmered around his shoulders before she darted back, keeping low. “He’s regenerating too fast,” she

  warned.

  Bash’s knives flashed out, targeting the glowing creature. The Bastion turned, intercepting both blades

  with its armored flank. Sparks flew; the knives ricocheted harmlessly away.

  “We’re not breaking that thing head-on,” Bash said.

  S-C’s tone came quick and clinical.

  “Observation: healing source output linked by proximity. Range tolerance approximately eight meters.”

  Bash’s eyes narrowed. “So we drag it away.”

  He shifted forward. “Liora, Darik, wall it off. Cut the link.”

  Both nodded, raising their arms. Pillars of mineral rock surged from the ground, separating the Bastion

  from the Attendant. The little creature let out a high-pitched hum and darted sideways, trying to find a

  gap. Calen loosed an arrow that exploded in a gust of compressed wind, knocking it off balance.

  “Now!” Bash shouted.

  Nyra’s rifle cracked, a shot laced with flame and toxin streaking through the gap. It struck the

  Attendant square in the chest. The glow flared once, then dimmed entirely.

  The Bastion roared. Its armor flared brilliant orange, thorns erupting outward as it charged through the

  nearest wall. The impact shattered the mineral barrier, dust and shards flying everywhere.

  “Hold positions!” Bash ordered.

  Rixor met the beast head-on, hammer slamming into its jawline with a deafening crack. The Bastion

  staggered but didn’t fall. Liora and Darik closed in, hacking at its softened joints. Each strike chipped

  more of its armor away.

  Finally, Bash leapt forward, both knives drawn. He landed on the Bastion’s shoulder and drove a blade

  down into the faint seam behind its eye. The Razorvein thrummed twice, echoing through bone and

  shell alike. The massive creature convulsed once, then collapsed with a sound like a boulder splitting.

  Silence followed, broken only by the crackle of cooling armor.

  Bash exhaled slowly and stepped back. “Collect the two fragments,” he said.

  When they finished, Bash checked his watch again. Another faint beacon glowed two clicks northwest,

  near the edge of the forest.

  “That’s our next one,” he said. “Let’s see what else this world wants to throw at us.”

  They moved through the woods in a steady line. The air felt heavier here, every breath weighted.

  Rixor broke the silence first. “So, what’s left? You’re down to, what two more possible abilities?

  Calen nodded. “If the data’s right, that’s all that’s left on the chart. Statistically, you’re guaranteed at

  least three by now.”

  Bash gave a dry laugh. “Guess I’m defying statistics.”

  “You’re defying something,” Rixor muttered.

  The mood darkened, but Bash didn’t let it linger. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever’s next, we deal with it.”

  They continued in silence, boots sinking into soft loam. The canopy above began to thin, light spilling

  in strange, uneven shafts.

  And then Bash noticed it, the air. The ever-present breeze that had followed them through this world

  had slowed, like it was pushing through molasses. Even the leaves above them seemed to hang too long

  before falling.

  He glanced at his map. “We’re in the zone,” he said quietly. “This might be our last one.”

  No one answered. The forest around them had gone utterly still, the silence pressing in like a held

  breath.