The Dragon Overlord of the New World - Chapter 11 - skekThor - Overlord (2024)

Chapter Text

Chapter VIII

The Adventure Begins

The latch clicked, the hinges creaked, and the large oaken door slowly swung open to allow the artificial daylight of the Ninth Floor to spill across the lacquered wood floor. With the light came a shadow of the lone individual who wished to enter.

With her hand still loosely grasping the doorknob, Yuliana hesitated to move beyond the threshold. For despite Lord Tiberius granting her permission to use his quarters as she saw fit. She still felt a great sense of trepidation in setting foot within its confines when the owner was not present.

Taking a deep breath, the Guardian Overseer closed her eyes. Gathering her thoughts and nerves before slowly exhaling.

Then with her apprehension banished, Yuliana stepped over the threshold. Her footsteps echoed, even with the soft soles of her sandals, in the silence of the building's interior. Carefully, she shut the door behind her as if afraid to disturb the intrinsic serenity of the space around her.

Setting foot in the main room, Yuliana's raven-haired head moved in a slow arc and her jade-coloured eyes surveyed her surroundings. To her eye, it appeared that nothing was amiss. Everything was as it had been during her impromptu visitation the night before.

With a subtle sigh, the Guardian Overseer pivoted before traversing the width of the room till she stood before a large antique desk. For a brief moment, she eyed the few items lying scattered on the desktop: a quill and inkwell, a leaflet several folds thick, and a map of the human fortress city.

Yuliana traced a slow circle around the ancient Yew desk, her fingers curling around the tall back of the imposing chair that stood in readiness. She tugged gently on the chair, mindful not to mar the lustrous wooden floor with scratches. As the chair glided backward, creating a sufficient gap, she slipped gracefully between it and the desk before settling down into its embrace.

In contrast to the chair's usual, more substantial occupant, Yuliana's slighter frame barely made a dent in the plush cushioning. The sight was almost comical, her average stature appearing even smaller as she nestled into the oversized chair. She looked akin to a young child perched in a seat designed for grown-ups, dwarfed by its grandeur.

As Yuliana settled into the chair, she grasped the map sprawled across the desktop. With deliberate motions, she followed the existing creases to fold it neatly, before setting it aside. She then picked up the accompanying leaflet and placed it carefully on top of the folded map.

With the desktop now cleared, the Guardian Overseer stretched her arm forward, reaching into the ghostly expanse of her ethereal inventory. Her hand reemerged holding a thick stack of papers, which she promptly placed on the desk. She repeated this action several times, methodically withdrawing more stacks, until a modest barrier of paper towers lined the desktop, ready for her review.

Her jade-coloured eyes swept over the stacks, and starting from the left, she selected the topmost bundle. Settling into her routine, the Guardian Overseer focused intently on the first page of the stack. Her gaze methodically traveled from line to line, absorbing the details contained within. Once she finished with the first page, Yuliana turned it over smoothly and continued this process through the subsequent pages, delving deeper into the document stack by stack.

Occasionally, she would pause and retrieve the quill from its holder before applying her signature to the bottom of the page. Or sometimes she would scribble something in the margins.

As time passed, Yuliana gradually made her way through the voluminous stacks of paper encircling her. Progress, however, was markedly slower than her usual speed – painstakingly so, if she were to admit it. The reason for this delay was as clear as the vacant space that stretched out before her.

Despite her best efforts to remain focused and productive, Yuliana found herself lost in the same paragraph, reading and re-reading it without comprehending the information. The words blurred together, meaningless, as minutes ticked by.

She inexorably surrendered to the futility of the task.

With a dejected huff, Yuliana pushed herself back from the desk and slouched heavily in the cushions of the oversized chair. Her eyes surveyed the room on the other side of the desk. For a long moment, Yuliana sat, with her arms crossed, content to wallow in her recent displeasure with the events of recent.

"How can I be expected to fulfill my duty as if nothing has changed while he's out there?" she grumbled before letting out a heavy and protracted sigh, "But I must. I cannot, I will not disappoint Lord Tiberius with my poor behaviour."

She said with a despondent tone. Then pulling herself up in the chair, she continued.

"Perhaps a short break is in order so that I might clear my head."

Taking the stack of papers in hand, Yuliana tapped it against the desktop, ensuring its return to an orderly nature before placing it again on the desk. Then placing her hands on the desk, Yuliana slowly rose, scooting the large chair back carefully so as to not mar the polished wood of the floor.

No longer preoccupied with paperwork before her. Or distracted by the dominating presence of the owner of these quarters. She was free to better examine her surroundings.

Spinning on her heels, her eyes fell upon the pair of tall bookshelves resting against the wall.

Her twin emerald orbs flicked back and forth as she scanned the countless books adorning the rustic shelves. What caught her attention most was the striking diversity in their appearances. Some wore aged leather bindings, their covers smoothed by years of use, spines cracked, and writing faded with time. In stark contrast, there were books that seemed brand new, their covers made of freshly dyed cloth, titles still sharp, and bindings held together by thick threads.

Amidst the collection, she spotted paperbacks with covers adorned with vibrant images instead of plain text, adding a touch of artistry to the mix. The myriad of books showcased the vast range of knowledge and tales that awaited her exploration.

Among the vast array of books, a trio of exceptional volumes stood out prominently.

The books on the topmost shelf stood out distinctively, each one over a foot tall and several inches thick, demanding attention with their unique features. Unlike traditional books, these had a pin-style hinge instead of a conventional spine, enabling the pages to pivot smoothly upon opening. Most strikingly, they were crafted from a unique material, unlike the leather and paper of the surrounding volumes, marking them as singular in both form and substance.

The first book on the shelf was crafted from the finest gold, its surface gleaming brilliantly under the room's lighting. Next to it, a book made of obsidian commanded attention, its dark, glossy surface appearing to swallow any light that fell upon it. However, the most breathtaking of the three was the diamond book, which sparkled intensely, emitting a radiant aura. Upon closer inspection, one could see minuscule bolts of energy within, like streaks of lightning trapped beneath its glittering surface. Together, these three exceptional books stood as a testament to extraordinary craftsmanship, likely harboring knowledge and secrets of profound depths.

Despite her overwhelming curiosity, she resisted the temptation to reach out and take the book from its spot on the shelf. She understood that it wasn't her place to pry boldly into her master's personal belongings. Instead, she decided to wait and ask him about these peculiar books when he returned to the mountain. The enigmatic tomes would have to remain a mystery until then.

Instead, Yuliana averted her gaze and shifted her attention towards a long rectangular display case positioned along the wall to the right of the desk.

Behind the secure glass barrier rested several noteworthy items, or perhaps a more fitting description would be trophies.

Positioned at the far end of the display case, a short sword rested elegantly on a swath of green silk. Its twin flame-coloured rippled blades extended from the hilt resembling the forked tongue of a serpent. The circular guard was reminiscent of a tsuba found on traditional katanas, adorned with an intricate design of two koi – one white and one black – swimming elegantly around the blade's base. The hilt itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, intricately carved from bone or ivory into the shape of a skeletal forearm, with a clenched fist forming the pommel, adding a striking and macabre touch to the weapon's aesthetic.

Adjacent to the sword, a large reptilian scale was set to captivate viewers. Shaped like a classic shield and comparable in size to a serving platter, its smooth, pearlescent surface shimmered with an array of colours under the light, creating a striking visual effect. This scale was not a standalone display; it was part of a collection. Flanking the scale, one on each side, was a massive fang and an imposing claw from formidable creatures. The fang, with its considerable length and serrated edge, could easily be mistaken for a recurved sword blade. The claw, comparable in size and curvature to a farmer's scythe, highlighted the predatory prowess of its original owner.

Nestled within the case, the final object beckoned with an air of mystery. At first glance, it seemed to be a human skull, yet this was far from any ordinary cranium.

The skull showcased striking, sharply defined features with prominent cheekbones, a pronounced jawline, and an elongated chin that jutted forward. But it was not just the shape that made it intriguing; its surface deviated dramatically from the typical ivory hue of bone. Instead, it boasted a meticulously polished silver sheen, reflecting the surrounding environment with a radiant glow. From the crown of the skull, numerous tall, menacing spikes extended upward, forming a crown that was as regal as it was ominous. The teeth further accentuated its distinctiveness, filed into sharp points with oversized canines reminiscent of a vampire's fangs, adding a predatory aspect to its already formidable presence.

Adorning this otherwise immaculate façade were the intricately sinuous lines and swirling patterns. The etchings encircled the base of the crown as a wreath of thorny tendrils. Embellishments that bestowed an aura of mystique and darkness.

The true focal points, however, were the eye sockets, each housing a substantial, multi-faceted gemstone that dazzled with a spectrum of rainbow hues. These magnificent jewels radiated a soft, ethereal glow from within, casting a hauntingly beautiful light that only added to the eerie and captivating presence of the formidable skull.

This skull belonged to something beyond the realm of humanity. It was the skull of an Overlord, one of the highest tiers of the undead. Exuding an air of power and malevolent authority.

As Yuliana gazed upon the collection before her, a deep curiosity stirred within her. She couldn't help but wonder about the stories behind each item - where they originated, and how they had come to be in her master's possession.

This desire for knowledge only intensified as her eyes swept across the rest of the room. The noticeable absence of adornments prevailed throughout the space, suggesting that the dragonoid harboured an aversion to displays of hubris, preferring, instead, a humble existence. This raised an intriguing question: Why had he chosen to display these particular items? What significance did they hold that warranted their exhibition, despite his apparent preference for humility?

The mystery of these items and their connection to her master left Yuliana with an insatiable longing to unravel the enigma and discover the hidden tales they held within.

Yuliana reflected on this and her previous notions about the lives of the Creators, and a sense of realization washed over her.

Before setting foot into her master's private residence the night before, she had little insight into how they truly lived. Her days were mostly consumed with carrying out her duties in the Rotunda's throne room, leaving her with little time to speculate about the living arrangements of the Creators.

Consequently, she had assumed that each Creator resided within their own unique and resplendent designed abodes, reflecting their individual tastes and personalities.

Thus, when the Supreme One, the most esteemed among his fellow Creators, extended an invitation to her to join him inside his dwelling, it was an exhilarating and unexpected experience. The prospect of entering his personal realm filled her with excitement and curiosity.

Before that moment, Yuliana's expectations were shrouded in uncertainty. If someone had inquired about her expectations, she would have openly admitted to envisioning the interior as a grand temple dedicated to celebrating the Creator's own existence. She had imagined a majestic palace bursting with treasures from the nine realms of YGGDRASIL and adorned with trophies from countless conquests.

However, upon being invited inside and witnessing the reality before her, she couldn't help but feel mildly jolted by the stark contrast between her preconceptions and the truth. It appeared that the Creators might not possess the ego she had initially ascribed to them.

This realization was further affirmed by the interactions she had shared with Lord Tiberius, which seemed to emphasize a humbler and more grounded aspect of their nature.

Throughout she had observed the dragonoid consistently display thoughtfulness and genuine concern for the well-being of those around him. This compassionate nature even extended to weaker beings - including the human villagers, which left the Guardian Overseer perplexed and interested in his motives.

Through his actions, a window into the enigmatic ways of the Creators opened before Yuliana, granting her new insight. Despite this revelation, she harbored doubts about her ability to fully comprehend the inner workings of such powerful beings. After all, it was the Creators who bestowed life upon her and all others within Týrnaust.

What thoughts must occupy the minds of individuals wielding such immense power and capability?

As the raven-haired female continued to explore the room, her eyes were unsurprisingly drawn to a specific location.

Looking at it, there appeared to be nothing unusual about that particular spot on the floor. Yet to Yuliana, that spot did hold a special significance. For this was the place where she had stood together with the Lord of the Mountain.

The memory of that moment rose in her mind, and with it came again the cruel sting of the dragonoid's decision to leave her behind. It was a reckless and dangerous choice he had made, and she had hated it. Still hated it.

However, it was not for her, no matter how strongly she desired to argue against the wishes of the Creators. Especially not the highest of their order, the one so great that they had chosen to venerate him above themselves. And for that, Yuliana was filled with the same wonder as before.

Just what feats had he demonstrated to bring the other Creators to heel? Whatever they had been, given a dragonoid's propensity for strength of arm, it most assuredly must have been an awe-inspiring spectacle to witness.

The sound of the door's latch being unseated pulled her attention away from the polished wood of the floor. Pivoting on her heel, Yuliana hurriedly directed her eyes to the door.

The mystery of who would enter the master's chambers in his absence was quickly solved as the door swung open, revealing the graceful figures of two nymph maidens, Thistle and her sister Nyx.

Both sisters exuded true beauty, adorned with fine regal features, and only a few subtle differences set them apart.

Thistle towered over her sisters, standing a full head taller, and was almost as tall as Mathias himself. Her hair cascaded in wavy locks that mirrored the colours of autumn leaves, complementing her bright, sparkling eyes. She was clad in a chiton dyed the rich hue of red clay, subtly adorned with a pattern of thorn-covered vines, and cinched at the waist with a silvery rope girdle. A silver rose pendant dangled from a golden chain around her neck, enhancing her already enchanting presence.

In contrast, Nyx sported sleek black hair styled in a high ponytail that just brushed her shoulders. Her chiton was a subdued slate grey, which let the silver rope girdle merge effortlessly with the fabric. Her eyes captivated with an iridescent sheen, reminiscent of oil on water. Nyx's look was further defined by her oval-shaped glasses, which were held together at the bridge by a strip of tape, adding a quirky element to her appearance. Around her neck, she wore a braided silver necklace, from which an obsidian teardrop pendant elegantly hung.

As the two maidens entered, it appeared that they hadn't noticed the presence of the Guardian Overseer, engrossed in their conversation as they continued to converse, unaware of the observer in the room.

"I told you today would be a lucky day," Thistle said with a grin, "And see, we got chosen to clean the master's quarters."

"Okay, I admit it, you were right," Nyx conceded, her tone flat and slightly begrudging.

As they walked on, their banter matched the rhythm of their steps, oblivious to the dark-haired woman observing from the sidelines.

That was until Yuliana cleared her throat.

Instantly, they froze, their eyes widening. Slowly, they turned to face her direction.

"L-Lady Yuliana," Thistle stuttered.

In a sudden rush, Thistle hurried forward and bowed deeply before her superior, signaling her respect and submission. Nyx, on the other hand, approached more leisurely, but she matched her sister's gesture of reverence when she reached them.

"So, what are you doing here?" Nyx asked, her tone casual yet curious.

Thistle shot her sister a look of disbelief, shocked by her forwardness. She glanced nervously at Yuliana, then quickly interjected, "What Nyx means to say, my lady, is that we're surprised to see you here," she explained, attempting to smooth over her sister's blunt inquiry with a nervous chuckle and stepping slightly in front of Nyx.

Yuliana let her gaze drift between Thistle and Nyx, allowing a tense silence to hang in the air momentarily before a small smile broke across her face.

"It's quite all right, Thistle," the raven-haired Guardian spoke with a gentle tone, "There is no need to apologize for your sister. It's natural to be curious."

"Thank you, my lady," Thistle replied, visibly relieved. Nyx, emboldened, ventured, "May we then ask what brings you to the master's quarters?"

"Of course. The master has given me express permission to use his quarters while he is away," Yuliana explained with a warm smile.

At the admission from the other woman, the eyes of the two caretakers widened with surprise. And some small hint of envy.

"Oh, you're so lucky, my lady," Thistle squealed in delight, "We only get to spend time within the Creators' domiciles in the course of our duties. To get to be here whenever you choose…" She trailed off, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and envy.

"Yeah, I'll say. The master must really like you to let you be here without him."

At Nyx's words, Yuliana felt her mind momentarily cloud over, her thoughts scattering as a strange warmth spread through her, rendering her momentarily dazed. The caretakers' words echoed in her head, disrupting her usual composure.

This reaction by the Guardian Overseer was not entirely lost upon the two caretakers. Now, the pair of nymph sisters stared at their unmoving superior with bewilderment.

"My lady, are you all right?" Thistle inquired, her voice filled with worry.

"Huh?" Yuliana murmured, snapping back to the present, "Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just turned all red and looked really distracted," Nyx pointed out.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just remembered something, that's all," Yuliana replied quickly, regaining her composure. "Please, don't let me keep you from your tasks."

With a swift turn on her heel, the raven-haired Guardian walked back to her desk, where stacks of paperwork awaited her. The nymph sisters watched her retreat, their faces registering surprise and curiosity. When no further explanation was offered, they simply shrugged and resumed their duties.

Behind the desk, Yuliana seemed deeply focused on the documents spread before her. However, this intense concentration was merely a facade. In reality, her thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on the casual remark Nyx had made, which continued to echo in her mind, distracting her from her tasks.

Could there be truth in what she had suggested?

Was it possible that the dragonoid harboured feelings for her?

No, that seemed unlikely. Perhaps the sisters were just reading too much into it. The master's decision to allow her use of his quarters was merely a demonstration of trust, not affection. After all, he had entrusted her with guarding the sacred symbol of the Sanguine Dragons' power. It made sense for her to be close.

Yuliana tried to dismiss the distracting thought and refocused on the documents before her. Yet, occasionally, her eyes would flick upward to watch the two caretakers as they tended to their absent master's quarters. Though in truth, there wasn't much for them to do apart from the most basic of chores.

The lacquered floorboards were thoroughly swept with fresh dust cloths. The glass of the trophy case received the same care as the crystal-topped coffee table. All was done to ensure clarity for the best visibility of the treasures contained within. The bookshelves were next. With its books removed carefully, the shelves wiped down, and then the books returned to their appropriate place amongst its kin.

Yuliana kept a vigilant eye on them, especially when the pair moved to the alcove nearby. It wasn't that she distrusted them or feared any malice towards the treasures. But in the dragonoid's absence, the responsibility for overseeing and safeguarding these precious items fell to her. With such valuable assets under her care, she was determined to ensure everything remained in perfect order.

The sisters paused and bowed deeply before the Staff of the Five-headed Dragon, which hovered leisurely in its alcove. After a moment of reverence, the nymph siblings resumed their work.

Their efficiency was as remarkable as their thoroughness. They painstakingly ensured that every square inch of the alcove was meticulously cared for and left spotless.

However, once they completed their task and began to walk toward the short hallway, Yuliana felt compelled to intervene.

"Where are you two off to?"

Thistle and Nyx exchanged a puzzled glance before answering, "Why we're going to clean the master's bed chambers, my lady."

For a brief moment, Yuliana felt two main emotions stirring within her.

At first, there was a tinge of embarrassment that she had asked so blatant a question. But this quickly gave way to a sense of jealousy for the fact that these two would get to enter their dragonoid master's most private of spaces. The feeling was minuscule but there nonetheless.

"Oh, uh, I don't believe that will be necessary," Yuliana said gently.

Thistle and Nyx halted their cleaning, staring at the Guardian Overseer with a mix of confusion and surprise.

"But my lady, it is our duty to ensure that the Creator's home is thoroughly cleaned and prepared for his use," Thistle explained.

"I appreciate that," Yuliana replied. "But it seems the master has already taken care of his quarters himself." She noticed their disappointment and quickly added, "How about this? You two can finish up early today. In return, I'll make sure you're assigned to clean the master's lodgings next time. And I promise, I won't let him do any cleaning beforehand."

This suggestion immediately lifted their spirits. Excitement washed over the sisters, even Nyx, who usually maintained a more somber demeanor, broke into a wide smile.

"Would you really do that for us, Lady Yuliana? Really?" asked Thistle, surpassing her usual giddy manner.

"Of course," Yuliana assured them with a smile.

"Yay!" Thistle cheered, turning to her sister. "See, Nyx, I told you today would be a lucky day!"

"Yeah, yeah," Nyx muttered, receiving a playful shove on the shoulder from Thistle, who was already moving towards the door. Nyx turned her rainbow-coloured eyes back to Yuliana. "Thank you, Lady Yuliana. That's really kind of you."

"Off you go now, and why don't you two treat yourselves to some dessert in the cafeteria on me?"

"Ice cream, ice cream!" Thistle burst into a chant that reverberated through the Norman Keep. "Come on, Nyx! Last one there gets the mint chocolate!"

Yuliana watched, barely suppressing a chuckle, as Thistle bowed quickly and dashed out. Nyx gave a more measured bow before chasing after her sister.

As the door closed behind them, Yuliana was left alone once more in the quiet expanse of the residence.

With a slow turn, the raven-haired Guardian affixed her gaze on the door situated at the end of the short hallway. It was slightly ajar, offering a sliver of a view into the room beyond.

As she stared at the door, the thought of entering the room crossed her mind. Though there was little need given how clean the dragonoid kept his quarters. Yet, she had dismissed the caretakers early, without confirming the room's condition herself. What if it was in disarray?

He would most certainly expect its contents to be cleaned when next he returned to the mountain. It wouldn't be fair for Thistle and Nyx to face his displeasure if they were blamed for any mess left as he had left it.

At least, that was how the Guardian Overseer had chosen to tell herself rather than to admit fully to her jealousy.

Besides, the master had granted her the use of his quarters in his absence and the bedroom was a part of this.

With a small nod of self-assurance, Yuliana moved through the short hall until she arrived at the waiting door. Extending her arm, she paused, hesitating for a moment before applying gentle pressure to the wooden barrier. The door yielded without resistance, slowly swinging open on its hinges until it no longer obstructed her view.

Standing on the threshold, Yuliana swept her gaze across the humble lodgings. Given the decorum of the rest of the abode, to find the styling continued here did not come as a surprise.

The room was stripped of all but the most essential furnishings – a tall wardrobe standing to the side, a nook with mirrored walls, and, of course, a bed.

However, the choice in bed did surprise the Guardian Overseer.

She had imagined that perhaps the dragonoid would've allowed himself some bit of pomp. Perhaps like an opulent four-poster bed, carved from the finest wood and gilded in golden splendour to rival his scaled hide. With decorative curtains hung to shield the sleeper as they lay in luxurious comfort on a lush mattress draped in the finest silk sheets.

However, the master's choice of bed was far from such lavishness.

The bed was simply an enormous cushion, adorned with pillows of diverse sizes and numerous furred pelts. It was about as basic as one could get with a bed before reaching the simplicity of a bedroll on the floor.

Amusingly, as Yuliana gazed at the bed, one word came to mind to best describe it: "nest." Its circular shape with the shallow, bowl-shaped depression at its center – no doubt caused by the bed's owner – and the haphazard arrangement of pillows and pelts truly lent to the image of it being a massive nest.

Her eyes continued to scan the room, and it became evident that the dragonoid's general habit of tidiness extended here as well. Yuliana couldn't help but think that she had done Thistle and Nyx a favour by sparing them from this sight, as they would surely have been disappointed by the lack of a mess.

At least, that was until her attention was drawn to several articles of clothing scattered indiscriminately on the floor.

With determined strides, Yuliana entered the room and came to a halt at the foot of the bed, her gaze fixed on the clothing strewn about. The garments were easily recognizable as those the dragonoid had worn earlier.

Bending down, the raven-haired Guardian began gathering the clothing from the floor, carefully picking up each item, one by one.

First, Yuliana tended to the large azure robe and scarlet sash. She carefully tucked and folded them before placing them neatly on the oversized bed. Moving on, she picked up the wad of burgundy-coloured cloth, recognizing it as his tunic. Gripping the shirt by the shoulders, she held it aloft. However, her gaze couldn't help but wander towards the final piece of clothing lying not far away – a simple pair of pants.

The heat of a blush tinted her cheeks at the thought of the dragonoid bereft of clothes. Her gaze returned to the shirt in her hand, and she stared at the garment for several seconds before slowly bringing it closer to herself. Eventually, she held it tightly against her chest, though she knew it was merely her imagination playing tricks on her. It had been many an hour since the dragonoid had last worn these clothes, yet Yuliana swore she could still feel his warmth radiating from the fabric.

Taking a few steps backward, until she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her legs. Slowly she lowered herself down to sit on the cushiony object. She held this position but a brief moment before allowing herself to fall back into its plushness. The overly large scarlet shirt to which she clung now appeared more akin to a small blanket than an article of clothing.

Lounging on the nest-like bed, Yuliana experienced an odd sense of contentment in the surprising levels of comfort it offered. The feeling was further enhanced by the lingering scent of the bed's owner and previous occupant – a rich and masculine fragrance that had permeated the fabric of the bed and emanated from every pelt and pillow strewn atop it.

Subconsciously, the Guardian took a deep breath, her Naga heritage instinctively guiding her senses. The heady male aroma enveloped her mind, conjuring vivid images.

In particular, she recalled the previous night – the memory fresh and vibrant in her mind. The image of her dragonoid master, half-dressed, greeting her at his door came to the forefront. She remembered how every movement sent a shimmering ripple through his golden scale-covered form. His soft yet hearty tone as he spoke to her resonated in her ears. But above all, she cherished the reassuring warmth that emanated from their shared embrace. Of course, the feel of his hardened physique pressing against her was a not unpleasant addition.

As she held this memory in the theater of her mind, watching it play out on a seemingly endless loop, the scene started to shift. At first, the alterations were subtle, barely perceptible.

A slight shift in the angle of her dragonoid master's neck, a tilt of his head as he gazed down at her. The lighting around them grew dimmer, casting a softer and warmer glow over the room. His hands moved, repositioning themselves upon her person, and in that subtle adjustment, their shared embrace took on new meaning. What was once a platonic gesture of comfort now seemed to exude possession and implied affection.

With a swift transition, the scene transformed dramatically, whisking them away from the open space of the main room and immersing them in the warm confines of the bedroom. The atmosphere around them shifted, cloaking them in a seductive, dim light that heightened the intensity of the moment. There, the dragonoid affixed his smoldering gaze upon her, igniting a fire of desire in her heart that matched his own. Their eyes locked in a passionate dance, and without a word, the air crackled with unspoken emotions, as they found themselves drawn irresistibly closer to each other, driven by a powerful and all-consuming passion.

In this intimate setting, her hands, emboldened by the seemingly magnetic pull between them, ventured to explore the golden scales that adorned his powerful form. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her, and she couldn't resist mimicking his firm grasp, drawing them closer together in a dance of unspoken passion. In this moment, the boundaries of their roles as master and Guardian Overseer dissolved, replaced by a primal yearning that left them both breathless and hungry for more.

It was this vaulted daydreaming coupled with the repeating words of Nyx's earlier statement that conjured the heat that she now felt. Like the fount of a wellspring, this sensation came from deep within her core to radiate throughout the entirety of her being. An ecstatic warmth akin to a blush that encompassed her from head to toe. The imagery in her mind was so captivating that it threatened to overpower her, absorbing her completely.

As the rhythm of her heart hastened and the pressing urge of desire grew stronger, demanding to be fulfilled, the raven-haired beauty forced herself to stop. With reluctance and effort, Yuliana managed to draw back from the precipice, resisting the burgeoning carnality of her imagination. Taking in a slow, steadying breath, she focused her mind and worked to regain her composure. She reminded herself that she was the Guardian Overseer of the Floor Guardians of Týrnaust, appointed by the Creators. She refused to succumb to her baser instincts, no matter how tempting it was to give in and seek relief like a wanton succubus. She had a duty to fulfill, and she would not be dominated by her desires.

With a shallow sigh, she rose from the bed's pillowy embrace into an upright seated position. In doing so, the large shirt that draped over her like a blanket was dislodged, slipping down her form to lay astride her lap in a crumpled heap.

Rising from the plush mattress, Yuliana proceeded to fold the scarlet shirt and place it with the robe. The discarded trousers were the last to receive the same treatment.

With the floor once again cleaned of any stray clothing, she carried the stack over to the waiting wardrobe. Deposited on the shelf within, the clothes remained for a scant few seconds before dematerializing to leave the cupboard empty again.

Shutting the wardrobe's doors, Yuliana turned and leaned back against the smooth wood. Her eyes moved to the bed and the vacant depression on its surface. The raven-haired Guardian sighed as she felt the nagging pull of concern being dredged up once more. However, as she was confined to the mountain there was no way for her to know…

Slowly a sly smirk soon graced her lips as a potential solution to her dilemma took shape.

o – o – o – o

Cresting the top of the stairs Yuliana set foot on the mountain plateau. Above her, the sky was in the process of transformation. The mild blues of afternoon had begun to give way to the deep red and orange hues of early evening.

As she stood in the open air of the Pinnacle, the female Guardian paused, taking a moment to appreciate the warmth of the sun's fading light on her skin. Drawing in a deep breath, she tasted the fresh air, detecting the various aromas that wafted up from the dense forest that surrounded the mountain. But she could not dally for long.

Shifting, Yuliana made a move to turn toward the Rotunda. Yet she hesitated as halfway through the pivot something caught her eye.

A hulking shape that occupied much of the Pinnacle's great balcony.

It was this sheer size that made it immediately recognizable as the enormous form of the Guardian of the Treasury, Yuvonkiir.

The great dragon's crimson scales were complimented by the deepening colours of the sky beyond. He lay upon the smooth stone of the balcony, his head resting upon his crossed forelimbs while his tail was curled tightly to the side of his immense body. It was a pose analogous to that of a faithful dog as it waited patiently for the return of its master.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Yuvonkiir shifted, lifting his head and craning his neck, his golden eyes settling on the visitor.

"Ah, Lady Yuliana," the dragon's deep voice resonated through her like an earthquake.

"Good afternoon, Yuvonkiir," the Guardian Overseer smiled as she returned his greeting. "May I inquire as to what it is that brings you out here? Have you come to admire the view?"

He shook his head, "No, I am … contemplating."

"Oh?"

"I've been troubled since my creator's announcement. It bothered me so, that I was compelled to visit him before his departure." The Treasury Guardian turned his head away to again settle his gaze on the horizon.

"This I am aware of. I had intended to speak to Lord Tiberius myself; however, I arrived too late as you and Neeshka had turned up before me."

The dragon shifted and glanced over at his fellow Guardian, "That's not entirely true, is it?" he spoke with a hint of amusem*nt in his voice.

"I don't know what you mean," Yuliana replied as she straightened her posture in an attempt to seem nonplussed by the other's comment.

"Oh?" A hearty and bone-rattling chuckle came from deep within Yuvonkiir's throat. "Your scent is unmistakable. I know you were there when I arrived. And I would venture that you were there before even Neeshka had visited the master."

Without a word, the raven-haired Guardian strode forward to stand alongside the great reptile. Silence stretched between them as they merely stared at the horizon. Then after a long moment, she turned and sighed.

"I should've known that I could not hide from you."

"Why did you not go in and speak?"

"If only it were that simple. I had to think of how best to approach the subject of conversation." Again Yuliana sighed, "But enough of my problems. You mentioned that you had something on your mind. Would it be acceptable if I inquire as to what it might be?"

"I have no objections," said Yuvonkiir with a nod of acquiescence.

From the corner of his eye, the dragon could see the Guardian Overseer shift, turning more to face him. Her inquisitiveness was etched clearly on her features.

"When I spoke with my creator I felt as if I was being pulled by two opposing forces. Being torn between my duty as a Guardian of Týrnaust, and the desire to follow after my creator."

The dragon inhaled slowly.

"I did not know what I should do. Yet, he understood and through his wisdom, aided in my own understanding. Though, I still feel it," Yuvonkiir raised a forelimb and lay a clawed hand on his chest, "Deep within."

Extending her arm, Yuliana tenderly placed her hand on the Vault Guardian's scaled flesh.

"You are not alone in such feelings," she said with a soft tone.

"It is odd. I knew that the Supreme Beings made such sojourns from the mountain. And yet, before this day, it has never so preoccupied my mind."

"It is because of this world," Yuliana spoke the words with a level of disdain as she stared out at the woodlands that surrounded their mountain home. "The Supreme Beings ruled with utter surety across the realms of YGGDRASIL. But here, the lands remain untamed, unconquered. It is for that we worry … and why we must protect him at all costs."

"Agreed," said Yuvonkiir with a deep rumble.

Then, for a time, the pair stood in silence, merely gazing out at the horizon. As if their keen eyes could pierce into the far distance and see their wayward master. Yet they could not and simply contented themselves in imagining.

However, the moment drew to a close.

"Please excuse me, Yuvonkiir. But I have matters that need attending to. Should you wish to speak further, do not hesitate to find me."

The dragon turned to the raven-haired female offering a gentle smile and with a nod of his great head, bid her farewell.

With a crisp bow, Yuliana turned away from Yuvonkiir and set off. Across the marble tiles of the Pinnacle Plaza and up the many steps to the monolithic doors of the Rotunda's entrance. Passing through the ornate hall, she soon set foot once more in the splendor of the throne room.

Eyeing the multi-tiered platform at the center of the room, she could make out the figure of the little kobold bard sitting on the lowest tier. Finding him here was in no way surprising. However, the fact that he was currently alone was.

As her steps echoed across the space, Kip lifted his head, his silver eyes widening as he took in the sight of the approaching Guardian Overseer. Rising from the step, the kobold hurriedly performed a flamboyant bow.

"Ah, hello and welcome, my lady," despite Kip's reptilian features, his giddy excitement was betrayed.

"Hello, Kip," Yuliana greeted him with a soft smile, "I hope you are doing well."

He nodded eagerly, "Yess. Kip is great."

"I'm glad," Yuliana could not help but giggle at the bard's enthusiasm.

The kobold smiled broadly, "Can Kip help mistress?"

"Sorry, but no. Thank you anyway, Kip. I am just on my way to speak with Nido." She paused for a moment, "By the way Kip, I couldn't help but notice that you are here by yourself. Where did Mathias go?"

"Oh, oh, he gone to visit with Nido too." The questioning look of the Guardian Overseer acted as all the prompting he needed to continue. "Diviner call for him after others visit, so he go."

"But why would he call for Mathias?" Yuliana glanced to the side of the room and the entrance to the ascending stairwell, "Kip, who went to visit Nido? Was it Aeon? Koraboros?"

"No, no, no," the kobold shook his head, the feather in his beret whipping about frantically with the act. "It was Lady Lyleth and Miss Neeshka who go and visit with the Diviner."

"I see," Yuliana commented offhandedly, her mind attempting to solve the puzzle of why Nido would feel the need to call on the Chief Attendant.

"Yep, yep, yep!" the kobold chirped and nodded with enthusiasm. Such was his vigor that his feathered beret flopped about atop his head, threatening to free itself with each movement.

"Kip, how long ago did Lyleth and Neeshka call upon Nido?"

This gave the little bard pause as he tried to discern how much time had elapsed.

"Hmm, not too long," he said, "Not long at all. Maybe minutes before you arrive, my lady."

Yuliana responded not with words, but with a smile brimming with gratitude and a bow of her head. It was a gesture that was clearly understood by the reptilian bard – who bowed deeply in return and watched as she turned and confidently strode across the room, toward the side passage.

Disappearing from view, the Guardian Overseer departed the Throne Room and began to ascend the spiraling stairs. Her determined stride carried her ever higher. Soon enough she reached the top and entered the long corridor which marked the halfway point. Yet, her destination lay beyond. Through the hall, she strode, passing the white oaken doors of the Council Chamber without so much as a glance.

Up a second set of winding stairs Yuliana quickly found herself standing in the short hall outside her destination.

Before the raven-haired Guardian stood the polished brass of the Orrery's ornate doors.

Despite the thickness of the metal barrier, Yuliana could still discern the sound of voices coming from within. Though the volume was muffled and their words distorted. The tone and emotion that they carried came through quite clear to Yuliana's ears. As such, it was rather evident that one of the individuals within was displeased about something.

Placing her hands on the cool surface of the brass slabs, she pushed, hearing only a slight squeak of their well-oiled hinges.

As the doors parted, the words being exchanged now reached her ears uninterrupted. Striding across the circular room, she followed the sounds to the source of the commotion.

Coming to a stop, she filled the gap in the room's dividing curtains. From here, she peered into the smaller side chamber and watched the four figures gathered to the side of the scrying table.

"Listen to me, bonehead. I am getting tired of repeating myself," the erinyes spoke, irritation clear in her words.

"As am I, Lady Lyleth," came the unyielding and dispassionate retort from the Chief Attendant.

To this, the fallen angel's wings fluttered with her growing tension – ruffling the ashen feathers – as she squared her shoulders. A frustrated growl came from her scowling lips before she hastily crossed her arms and glared at the looming figure of the fae abomination.

However, Mathias remained unconcerned with the Floor Guardian's mounting ire. Instead, he merely shifted and then nonchalantly crossed his arms, miming her own gesture as he stared down at the other.

Before Lyleth could open her mouth to utter a word, a white-furred hand was laid gently on her shoulder.

"Now, now, Lyleth. We won't get anywhere with either of them if you continue to snap at poor Mathias like this," Neeshka chided in a manner much like that of a disappointed parent.

"Ugh… Fine! Then you talk to the bonehead!" the winged Floor Guardian gave an exasperated huff and threw her hands up. Then stepping aside, Lyleth gestured for the chimeric female to take over.

Neeshka shook her cervine-like head, her long ears dancing on her shoulders with the effort. Then with a small sigh, she stepped forward and placed herself between the erinyes and the fae abomination.

"Please forgive Lyleth's little outburst, Mathias," she looked past the towering individual and to Orrery Keeper standing several feet behind him. "And we wish to apologize to you, Nido. For the inconvenience that our arrival has brought you."

The one-eyed magus nodded in acknowledgment while remaining as impassive as ever.

"But surely, you can understand the nature of our request."

"Indeed," the tall fae responded offhandedly. Inclining the fleshless wolven skull of his head, Mathias addressed the healer directly. "Your purpose here is clear. However, you must equally understand that Nido is occupied with the task Lord Tiberius has entrusted to him. As such does not have time to indulge your pursuits of fancy."

From her place unnoticed, Yuliana watched the proceedings – with a feeling of mild amusem*nt as the fallen angel's exasperation grew. However, assessing the situation it was obvious that if allowed to continue tempers would soon flare. She deemed it necessary to intervene before things could escalate.

With a purposeful smack of her sandal-clad foot on the polished tile Yuliana announced her presence. At once the room's four occupants turned to face the abrupt noise.

"It seems that I am interrupting something," said the Guardian Overseer in an attempt to bestow the impression of just arriving. "May I ask what all this ruckus is about?"

"Most certainly, my lady," Mathias replied with a punctual bow, "It would seem these two here would have Nido bend the knee to their will and ignore the master's wishes."

Yuliana arched her brow at the fae butler's words.

"Is this true?" she asked, her jade-coloured eyes shifting to the chimera and the fallen angel. "And just what whims are these?"

"It's not as serious as bonehead here would have you think," retorted Lyleth with a flippant tone.

At the mention of her honourary moniker for him, the pinpricks of light within Mathias' empty sockets shifted. Their iridescent glow seemed to intensify if only slightly.

"Again, I would ask that you kindly refrain from referring to me by that designation," the fae abomination interjected with his usual rich and elegant tones, "I do have a proper name and title."

This only earned him a roll of the eyes and a self-satisfied smirk from the winged Floor Guardian.

"Please, Lyleth, let's not start this again," the chimeric healer spoke with a pleading tone. Turning toward the Guardian Overseer, Neeshka bowed. "Lady Yuliana, welcome."

Yuliana inclined her head in return, "Now then if the heckling is over with. Please, explain."

"Well, you see," Neeshka began, "Lyleth had joined me for a spot of afternoon tea in my garden and we got to talking. During our conversation, we expressed our joint … curiosity, about how the master was fairing in his travels. And so, we decided to ask Nido here if he would aid us in assuaging our curiosity."

"But the stubborn bonehead won't let us speak with him!" said Lyleth, placing particular emphasis on the slight against the fae attendant, "Instead, he tells Nido to just ignore us. And keeps blathering on about his duties."

"Why do I bother," Mathias hung his head and sighed deeply before reaching up to rub the exposed bone of the bridge of his muzzle. Lifting his head, Mathias' gaze settled on his direct superior, "As you can see, my lady. This is what I have had to deal with, so perhaps you can talk with these two. Persuade them to allow Nido peace to continue with his work."

Silence hung uninterrupted for a time while the Guardian Overseer's focus shifted between the four individuals. Outwardly, she maintained an air of cool composure. While inwardly Yuliana smiled, it seemed that this situation would provide a convenient use for her intentions.

"I understand your concerns, Mathias. We all have responsibilities, especially as of late." The raven-haired Guardian spoke, "However, I see no issue in taking but a moment and indulging them."

The fae abomination stood stunned by this decision, his bony jaw growing slack.

"But my lady…" he started, "Surely, you can see the frivolity of this endevour. I have no doubt the master is fairing well in his journey. After all, should he require assistance he unquestionably would have made contact with us?"

"Oh, I do agree with you, Mathias. To an extent anyways." Yuliana smiled, "Yet, imagine, what if the master is detained in such a manner that is unable to issue his request? Or perhaps, what if by merely observing his current situation we could provide him with insight that he otherwise does not possess." She shifted, her gaze falling onto the silent Diviner, "Would you say it was not worth checking in with the master to ascertain if this is true, or not?"

"Hmm," came the first audible response from Nido.

The deva stood at the side of the onyx scrying table, clinging onto his staff while rubbing his chin with his free hand. His expression was one of quiet contemplation as he considered Yuliana's words. For a time his singular blue eye sat closed before opening once more.

"Very well, you provide a valid point, my lady," Nido announced with a tap of his staff. "I shall endevour to locate the master's whereabouts."

"See, was that so hard bonehead?" Lyleth sneered.

Mathias spared only a cursory glance at the bothersome female before turning his back to her, his gaze settling on the Premier Diviner as he set to work.

Stepping close to the large table, he tapped the wooden staff thrice on the tiled floor. In response, the crystal housed within the twisted top began to emit a soft iridescence. While Nido focused his steely gaze on the onyx crystal cluster residing at the table's center.

From deep within the tallest of the obsidian crystal spires at the center of the cluster a faint glow. This luminosity slowly began to intensify and with it, the ruby tinge that tainted the onyx soon grew until it had enveloped the crystal. This inner light was focused and projected through the crystal's peak to manifest a holographic image of the human fortress city of E-Rantel.

"Now then, it should not be difficult to locate the master's position."

Taking his hand from the wooden shaft – which remained freely standing upright – Nido then held his hands aloft. Then with a conductor's grace, he executed a series of intricate hand movements, deftly maneuvering the holographic projection.

In response, the image moved with a nimble swiftness as it roved across the foreign cityscape. Occasionally, the forward momentum would halt for a brief time, pausing to hold its view on something. Other times, it would zoom in to better examine something before pulling back and resuming its journey. Through the streets it roamed, peering around corners and into windows as it continued ever onward. As one indistinct location after another took its place on the projected image.

Notable was the astonishing velocity of the display.

What initially resembled a brisk walk swiftly escalated into a jog and then a full-on sprint. The pace at which scenes unfolded accelerated, becoming faster and faster. The once sharp and distinct imagery gradually melded into a blur with increasing speed. To the keen eyes of Yuliana, Lyleth, Neeshka, and Mathias, any variations in the projected scenes became nearly imperceptible.

Nevertheless, in the face of this blazing rush of motion, Nido remained seemingly undaunted by this. His lone blue eye appeared to radiate with mystical energy and an unwavering intensity of focus.

Moments ticked by.

"Ah," the Diviner finally spoke after another minute of silence, "Now then, let's see."

The whirlwind of motion came to an abrupt halt, and the ethereal projection now centered its attention on a multi-tiered stone structure. Gradually, the perspective ascended from the bustling street below, ultimately fixating on a petite iron-fenced balcony. Then, with a seamless zoom, the mystical forces orchestrating this vision extended their reach, enabling the image to penetrate the balcony's glass doors and delve into the area beyond.

The chamber took the form of a rectangular space adorned with lavish wallpaper and extravagant embellishments, at least as perceived by the standards of the world's inhabitants. However, to the five observers, the room failed to elicit even a passing glance. It was not the room's opulence that captured their attention, but rather the occupants within it.

Their collective gaze first fell upon the recognizable forms of the Valkyrie escorts.

Shar're and Ryoko occupied the far end of the room, positioned closest to the door and alongside a sizable four-poster bed. The transformed Draegloth casually leaned against one of the tall bedposts, while her Kitsune sister comfortably sat on the bed, thoroughly relishing the luxurious plushness beneath her.

Raising his right hand, Nido extended his index finger, orchestrating a graceful twirl through the open air. In response, the scene underwent a seamless transformation, revealing the opposite side of the room.

On this side, two individuals, one female, and one male, were stationed before an expertly concealed door.

A joyous smile graced the faces of three of the onlookers. A fourth would've been there too, had it not been for the conspicuous lack of flesh.

"Well, it would seem that my previous assertions were correct." Said Mathias with a self-assured tone, "Now, that we have ascertained the state of the master's well-being. May Nido be allowed to continue his work in peace?"

His words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears, for he would receive no answer.

Ignoring his words, the Guardian Overseer, the Healer, and the Fourth Floor Guardian stared intensely at the summoned vision. Together they looked on incredulously as an auburn-haired human female talked nonchalantly with the object of their focus. They felt the pang of indignation equally when she enacted a rather salacious presentation with the aid of the washtub faucet.

"Oh my…"

Neeshka was the only one to speak before covering her muzzle with her paw-like hands. As for her companions, their responses were as subtle. Lyleth ruffled the feathers on her ashen-coloured wings, her face contorting into an expression of disgust. While Yuliana was equally restrained in her response, merely glowering at the holographic image with a dangerously narrowed gaze.

Their eyes continued to follow the movements of the auburn-haired human and the disguised dragonoid. When she was ushered from the room rather unceremoniously all three females broke into fresh smiles.

"Ha," a spiteful laugh erupted from the lips of the fallen angel, "The brazen hussy sent away without even a taste of the fruit she so desired."

"Oh, dear, such a shameful act, she assuredly is lacking in proper manners," commented Neeshka, "It was most fortunate the master sent her away, who knows what kinds of diseases these humans may carry."

"Still," Lyleth stated smugly, "How conniving of that human to attempt to appeal to the baser instincts of the master. He is a hot-blooded male, after all. But oh how he so coldly rejected her advances, it makes me shiver." The fallen angel's breathy voice quivered.

While the other two were loose in the sharing of their thoughts, the Guardian Overseer remained tight-lipped. Whatever her feelings on the matter of the scene they had just witnessed, she chose not to share. At least, for the time being.

However, those thoughts were interrupted by what happened next.

They watched as the two Valkyries sprang forth, crossing the room with great haste. Immediately, Mathias swiveled the nonmaterial camera around to follow their movements. Then with utter horror as their master stood doubled over in the washroom amid an intense fit of coughing.

"W-w-what's happening?" Neeshka cried out.

"Is the master under attack?!" asked Lyleth.

"Nido open a [Gate] immediately!" Yuliana barked as she took a step forward.

The stoic deva did not react to her words. Instead, he did nothing beyond continuing to stare at the scene playing out. As to be expected, this lack of action did not sit well with his three compatriots.

"What's wrong with you?!" Lyleth questioned – urgency clear in her voice, "You heard her! Open the portal."

"Wait," came the reply.

"Wait?!" Yuliana decried, her mannerisms betraying her deep-seated concern and agitation. "Wait for what, Nido? The master is in trouble and you ask that we wait!"

"Indeed, most perplexing. Nido, I must ask what is the meaning behind this odd course of action?" Mathias interjected, even his elegant tones having shifted with his growing puzzlement and worry.

Without taking his focus from the scene playing out in the projected image, the Orrery Keeper raised his arm and gestured toward the hologram.

"Look there," Nido responded with an air of smugness.

Quickly and with anxious expressions, the other four individuals shifted their attention to the conjured magical vision. Together they watched as their master handed something small to the transformed Draegloth, prompting her to swiftly depart from his side. As Shar're disappeared from view, the collective focus remained on the shaggy-haired young man.

It seemed that with the Valkyrie's hasty exodus their master's demeanour gradually reverted to its prior state. With it, relief washed over the group like a tidal wave that swept away the tension that had so tightly bound them.

They continued to watch as Tiberius shared some hitherto unheard words with his two escorts. Afterward, he separated himself from them – making his way out onto the balcony.

There he stood, leaning against the decorative iron railing as he stared out into the surrounding cityscape.

To the casual eye, the young man may have appeared relaxed. However, to the keen eyes of the NPCs, they could read the subtle movements of his body. He was thinking of something. Unfortunately, the nature of these thoughts lay beyond their ability to guess.

That is, only so long as they remained with him.

"Nido," Yuliana addressed the Orrery Keeper, "Would you be so kind as to open communication with the master?"

The Diviner turned slowly, his brow raised in curiosity as he faced the Guardian Overseer and her fellows. Nido's blue eye focused on Yuliana as if he could read her thoughts, he smiled.

"As you wish," he said with a bow.

Turning back, the older NPC gazed at the still-glowing crystal. There was a pulse from within as it responded to the will of its caretaker. Several more times the crystal flickered intermittently before its radiance again held steady. Then looking back over his shoulder, Nido gave a brief nod – an indication that Yuliana may proceed.

"Lord Tiberius? Can you hear me?"

Within the holographic image, the shaggy-haired young man reacted to suddenly hearing her voice. Straightening up, he lifted his head as he glanced around him.

"Yuliana?" Tiberius' voice echoed around them.

A satisfied smile graced her features at the verbal recognition. "Indeed it is, my lord."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?" the dragonoid asked before smirking as he placed his hands atop the railing.

"Oh," she started, "We were, uh, just observing how well your self-appointed task was fairing."

This admission drew Tiberius' attention, "Oh, and just who might this we be? I take it Nido is one. But who are the others?"

"You are correct my lord," the Orrery Keeper spoke, a jovial tone tinging his words. "Aside from Lady Yuliana. Ladies Lyleth and Neeshka are here, with the addition of Mathias."

"Mathias too, eh?"

The fae abomination hung his head low and sighed, "Rather regrettably, Lord Tiberius. I was persuaded to join."

"I understand," came the reply, "As for your questions as to how the plan is fairing… Adequate would be a fitting description."

A stillness filled the air in the wake of the master's response. Drawing out for a while yet as those gathered in the Orrery were uneasy about broaching the topic of what they'd seen pass with the human woman.

However, the chimera cleared her throat and stepped forward, "I beg pardon, Lord Tiberius. But as it is a part of my duty as the duly appointed caregiver of Týrnaust. I must ask you… W-what happened… a moment ago? If you please?"

Neeshka wrang her hands to soothe her nerves as she said the line with as much authority as she could muster.

On the balcony leagues away, Tiberius was given pause by the question. He had not anticipated any of the NPCs to be observing him. However, deep down the dragonoid knew he shouldn't be truly surprised. Especially since he knew full well how dismayed many had been when he had announced the plan.

But the question now was for just how long had they been watching?

Had they witnessed his little respiratory incident? Is that what Neeshka was referring to?

If that were the case then this could mean more problems if they decided to try to intervene as Shar're wanted. To assuage their worry he would have to concoct an excuse for them too. Although even if they were to accept his reasoning, he would still be in for it. No doubt Yuliana would be preparing a stern lecture for him at this very moment. Most likely with special emphasis on his decision to leave her behind on this journey.

"A minour inconvience is all, Neeshka. I merely misjudged the potency of these human's scented concoctions." He replied.

Lyleth let out a haughty laugh before flipping a few stray strands of hair from her face. "No doubt a strength required to cover their own stench."

Neeshka glanced at the fallen angel at her side. "Are you sure, my lord? Is that all?"

"Quite certain," Tiberius responded after a moment's consideration, "Yuliana, are you still there?"

"Yes, Lord Tiberius, I am. Is there something that you require?" she said in a most eager tone.

"Yes, there is. If you would contact Yoshiyuki and inform him that I need a scroll with the [Comprehend Language] spell. Once it's prepared have it delivered to me."

The Guardian Overseer nodded to her master's words – despite that he could not see her. "I shall pass along your wishes in all haste. Will there be anything else?"

"No, that will be all."

"If there is nothing else," the ever-patient Nido added, "Shall we draw this communication to its conclusion?"

"Very well, I believe we've discussed all we need to," said Tiberius.

"Do take care, master." The chimeric healer expressed her well wishes, "And be vigilant around those humans, especially the females. It wouldn't do for you to contract something from them."

"Yes," added Lyleth, "Be safe, my lord."

Yuliana gazed at the semi-transparent image and spoke - a hint of apprehensive longing tinging her voice. "Ever we look forward to your return, Lord Tiberius."

Seconds ticked by with the hologram lingering on the image of the human-form dragonoid standing on the balcony. Then with a tap of Nido's old wooden staff on the stone floor, the projection flickered and faded from existence.

"Now then, has your curiosity as to the master's well-being been satisfied?" the Chief Attendant asked with his usual dry formality.

"Yes," Yuliana said with an appreciative smile, "Thank you, Nido."

"Of course, my lady. It was my pleasure," the older male spoke, "May I then return to my work?"

With a nod of acquiescence and a bow, Yuliana turned away. Actions mimicked by Lyleth – though without the bow. Neeshka, however, hesitated, her gaze lingering on the tall fae abomination and robed deva.

"Is there something else that you require, Lady Neeshka?" Mathias asked.

"Oh, no," she shook her head, "I just wished to thank you two again. I know that we have inconvenienced both of you and would like to apologize for it."

"You are most gracious, lady Neeshka." Nido smiled – a glint in the corner of his blue eye – and bowed his head. "It is much appreciated. However, I cannot take credit for anything. I was merely performing my duty with the skills bequeathed to me by the Creators."

"Even still, I thank you for all you did. And so, I shall take my leave and allow you to continue with your work."

The robed chimera executed a graceful curtsy before pivoting and following the others. As she passed through the ornate brass doors and entered the hall, Neeshka was met with a surprising scene. There, Yuliana and Lyleth stood, having evidently opted to linger in wait for her, while Mathias had continued on his way, returning to his responsibilities. It was a relief to see that the two of them shared the space without any apparent conflict.

A smile was shared between the Guardian Overseer and the Fourth Floor Guardian.

"So," Yuliana began, "With that matter resolved. What will the two of you be doing now?"

"I was planning on returning to my garden and finishing that pot of tea." Neeshka answered with a wide-brimmed smile, "Will you be joining me, Lyleth?"

The fallen angel gave a small shrug, her feathered wings ruffling, and nodded, "Sure."

The healer turned her head, "And you, my lady? Would you care to join us for some late afternoon tea? You'd be most welcome."

The raven-haired Guardian hesitated briefly, her mind wavering between the enticing offer before her and her prior commitments. It had been hours since her last meal, and the allure of a steaming cup of tea accompanied by those delectable little cakes which Neeshka had spoken of was increasingly appealing. Despite this, the pressing pile of work that awaited her return could not be disregarded. The towering stacks of paperwork loomed like a relentless sentinel, reminding her of her duties.

Yet, as she weighed her options, a realization struck her: the paperwork wasn't going anywhere. Perhaps, just maybe, it could stand to wait a little while longer.

"Actually, I'd be delighted to join the two of you for tea," Yuliana responded, her face lighting up with a warm smile. "I assume there will be other delectable treats as well?"

"Of course," Lyleth replied, a mischievous grin forming.

"In that case, please, lead the way."

Neeshka beamed and gestured towards the stairs that led downward. In high spirits, the three of them embarked on this shared journey.

o – o – o – o

Tiberius maintained a confident stride along the cobblestone street, flanked by his faithful companions, Shar're and Ryoko, who matched his every step with unwavering loyalty. Leading the way, the quartet of adventurers from the Swords of Darkness set the pace for the group.

Their present path wove through a bustling market square, its chaotic charm filling the air. Peter, the leader of the Swords of Darkness, had outlined their strategy: a series of essential supply stops before they continued their journey.

On multiple occasions, Tiberius observed the group halting at various stalls, their curious eyes scanning the diverse goods displayed. They engaged in animated discussions with the vendors, punctuated occasionally by the satisfying clink of coins as purchases were made. It was clear that most of their acquisitions were provisions – perhaps some dried meats, a bag of vegetables, or fruits. With their purchases secured, the group continued their journey through the bustling square, pressing on in their quest.

Soon after, they moved beyond the open-air market and merged with the flow of pedestrian traffic. Tiberius continued his routine, much as he had the day before, always scanning his surroundings and taking in the sights.

He was most interested as the group under Peter's guidance was steered toward one of the many shops that lined the street.

It was rather nondescript with its exposed and plain stone masonry and rust-coloured tile roofing, an appearance that most buildings shared. It was only the sign that hung over the door that gave any indication as to what sort of business this establishment catered to.

Carved into a wooden placard was what looked to be some kind of flowery bouquet set in a mortar and pestle.

"I guess we'll wait out here," the blonde ranger announced.

"Alright," the younger Ninya replied, "Shalln't take more than a couple of moments."

Peter and Lukrut nodded and moved to take a position close to the entrance. But not so close as to be a bother to any who wished to enter or exit. While Ninya and the druid Dyne passed through the door and into the shop.

Left outside, the dragonoid pondered what sort of goods would be on offer within. Moving closer, Tiberius made his way to a large window in the storefront and with curiosity peered inside.

The interior exuded an unexpected simplicity that triggered a wave of déjà vu. It curiously evoked memories of places he had encountered previously, specifically the ubiquitous convenience stores frequented during daily commutes. Even he had, on occasion, indulged in a rapid pit stop to procure a high-calorie, low-nutrition snack from such establishments.

The walls were meticulously arrayed with towering shelves, their height nearly doubling that of an average person. The floor space was thoughtfully organized, featuring rows of shelf racks evenly spaced to maximize the available area. While not overly spacious, it provided ample room for two individuals to pass each other comfortably.

Each shelf he could see displayed an intriguing collection of items.

Glass vials, brimming with an array of coloured liquids, rested snugly within wooden cradles. The shelves were adorned with an assortment of mason jars, a mixture of glass and earthenware, some tightly sealed while others remained open. Among these intriguing containers, peculiar items like twigs protruded over the jar rims, offering tantalizing hints at their enigmatic contents. In contrast, the lower shelves were occupied by unsealed wooden crates, shrouding certain items from view, while others were revealed through the transparent glass panes.

As he gazed in from outside, several crates captured his attention. In one, a veritable treasure trove of yam and ginger-like roots was spilling over the crate's rim in a bounteous display. Adjacent to it, another crate housed a far more exotic-looking root, its contours resembling a slightly misshapen heart, and its surface adorned with a web of emerald veins. The assortment of these items stirred his curiosity, prompting questions about their intended use and the significance attached to each.

But Tiberius' attention was drawn more to the pair of adventurers that had entered shortly before.

The large druid was easily found, his head and shoulder rising above the racks. Save for the times when he would bend down, possibly to examine or retrieve something from a lower shelf. The young mage, Ninya, however, was not so easily located amongst the taller shelves.

Yet Tiberius didn't have to wait long as Ninya soon emerged from the aisle before their larger druidic companion. Together they strode toward the shopkeep waiting at the counter. Placing their selection, consisting of several small bags and a couple of vials, on the wooden surface the adventurers engaged the middle-aged man. Their discussion was brief and ended as expected with payment being exchanged.

With that over with, the pair took possession of their chosen goods. Dyne took the bags and Ninya took the vials, tucking them into the pouch on his belt. Then with a wave to the clerk, they turned and made their way to the door.

The chime of a bell rang out when the door opened and they stepped out.

"Alright, all done here," Ninya announced.

Peter and Lukrut came away from their place beside the door.

"Good," the group's leader said with a nod, "Just one more stop to make and we'll be on our way."

Once more, the dragonoid and the Valkyries fell in stride alongside the group of four and continued onward.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was it that you purchased?" Tiberius inquired of the young mage as he kept pace.

"Oh, sure." The russet-haired lad responded, "Well, Dyne purchased some reagents and herbs for use in brewing elixirs. And I picked out some basic potions."

Ninya reached to his waist and pulled back the flap on the square button-down pouch. Peering inside, the mage continued.

"Two healing potions, a stamina potion, and one of night sight." He resecured the flap and shifted the pouch to his side.

"Mhmm," Tiberius replied, "Though, I'm curious why so few healing potions? I would assume you'd purchase more of something so useful."

"Well, it's true healing potions are certainly handy and an essential part of any kit. But they can be rather expensive. And besides, he and I are both capable of using the spell [Light Healing]. So we save the potions for the more serious injuries that our magic can't cure."

"Ah, that makes sense."

In stride, the two teams continued further down the street. Passing yet more shops of various types. From general stores for the common folk to fulfill their daily needs. To bakeries and eateries whose delectable aromas wafted out onto the street. Past the inns and taverns which saw a steady stream of foot traffic.

It wasn't long until they came upon their destination. The store was much the same as any they had passed. However, while storefront was plain and gave little away as to what lay inside the building. The signage hanging just to the left of the door was one that the dragonoid recognized.

A hefty hammer positioned above an anvil. A seemingly universal symbol – and not just in this world – for the brotherhood of blacksmiths.

This was a shop that held far more interest for the dragonoid than that of the previous. After all, he was a fighter, not a spellcaster.

As the group approached the shop, he expected a repeat of the previous. Only now with the druid and mage waiting outside. So, it came as a bit of a surprise to him when they, instead, followed the warrior and ranger through the door. Not one to be left out this time, he and his two escorts were not far behind.

Upon stepping inside, the shift in temperature became noticeably warmer. The shop exuded an unassuming charm, with walls bathed in the gentle hue of eggshell paint and exposed wooden beams gracing the ceiling. Drawing the gaze toward the rear of the space, a substantial wooden counter stood as the focal point. Just beyond it, an open doorway beckoned, offering a tantalizing view into the heart of the establishment – the bustling workshop.

The rhythmic huffing of the bellows breathed life into the forge, sending a gentle breeze of heated air into the room. This was accompanied by the resonating clinks of a hammer striking red-hot metal, creating a symphony of craftsmanship that filled the atmosphere.

Between the entrance and the bustling workshop, the floor was a labyrinth of racks bristling with various implements of combat. Spears stood tall with gleaming halberds and pikes as close companions. Longbows hung gracefully on hooks beside their more compact recurved counterparts. Wooden buckets nearby housed arrows, waiting to be plucked like feathered flowers in a garden.

A diverse array of swords graced the space. From the commanding two-handed great swords to the nimble war swords, the versatile hand-and-a-half bastard swords, and the single-handed arming swords, each blade was unique. These were accompanied by an equally diverse selection of axes, offering an alternative means of defense. For those who sought it, clubs and maces were also within reach, providing a variety of choices.

And not to be overlooked, pieces of armor were thoughtfully placed on shelves, ready for inspection and the prospect of being tried on, rather than merely relegated to the role of silent mannequins.

While the four members of the Swords of Darkness gathered at the counter to the rear of the shop. Tiberius allowed himself to examine what was on offer.

To his eye, the equipment seemed rather ordinary. Not to say this was a bad thing as this was not indicative of quality. There were plenty of items back within the vaults of Týrnaust that were a testament to this.

Still, it was worth the look.

With a casual pace, the dragonoid stalked through the aisles followed closely by his escorts. His steely blue eyes flicked over each rack in passing. But as he saw nothing that stood out amongst its fellows, he decided to try something else.

Tiberius quickly glanced around the room and then uttered the spell phrases.

"[Sense Magic], [Appraise Item]."

Immediately the spell took effect, enhancing the dragonoid's senses beyond his already keen levels. Honed to these new heights he scanned the area for any trace of magical enchantments. Yet he found nothing, not a single item within the entirety of the shop. All the while the appraisal magic granted him knowledge about the various weaponry around him. Again, naught but mundane items of basic steel construction surrounded him.

At this revelation, Tiberius was mildly disappointed as he had hoped to find something of interest. Yet, when he thought about it this made sense.

Considering that his new companions were only silver ranked, just two steps above his own copper ranking. If such enchanted equipment or gear crafted from exotic materials existed it was likely outside of their means to acquire.

A more familiar allegory would be in YGGDRASIL terms, the Swords of Darkness was still within the realm of newbies. As such, it would be akin to expecting them to be gallivanting around the land with divine-class equipment fashioned from prismatic ores.

Finding nothing of interest Tiberius turned his focus back to the four humans waiting at the shop counter.

Peter reached out and rang the bell that sat on the wooden surface. Twice the shrill chime echoed and from the back room, a gruff voice called out.

"Hang on, be out there in a moment."

The clipped reverb of the hammer stopped yet the breathing of the bellows continued. While the sounds of muffled conversation followed and a man appeared in the doorway.

Of average stature and sporting a sturdy, slightly pudgy build, he was undeniably more muscle than fat. His arms were impressively well-defined, a living testament to the countless hours spent wielding the hammer against searing metal. A bald pate crowned his head while thick muttonchop sideburns framed his face. Curiously contrasting with his otherwise clean-shaven visage. His skin glowed with a flush of warmth from the forge's heat, and a fresh layer of sweat lent a glistening sheen to his complexion.

The man strode to the counter, wiping his hands on the leather apron that he wore.

"Ah, customers," he greeted, "So, what can I do for you? Looking for anything in particular?"

"Nothing special, just in need of some sharpening."

Peter was the first. With practiced ease, he unsheathed the formidable bastard sword and dagger strapped to his side, placing them on the countertop before him. Lukrut followed suit, revealing his trusty arming sword and dagger. Dyne and Ninya then joined the tableau, unsheathing a dagger each and setting it on the counter alongside the others.

The idea that a druid and mage possessed weapons did not come as a surprise to the dragonoid. What piqued his curiosity was the uniformity and uniqueness of these daggers. Featuring enigmatic black blades and handles swathed in dark leather, each adorned with four semi-precious gemstones.

Now, Tiberius was familiar with such concepts as a team using a unifying motif.

There were many guilds within YGGDRASIL that made use of a theme. Most commonly this took the form of uniforms – similar armour designs or colours used to mark their chosen theme. Sometimes it was something more esoteric such as a guild whose mandate was all members had to be of a particular race. It was rumoured that several of the top guilds adhered to this – including Ainz Ooal Gown.

Usually, there was a story, a meaning, behind the decision and this left the dragonoid curious as he stared at the four black daggers lying on the wooden counter. Perhaps he would inquire about this when an opportunity presented itself.

The smith extended his hand, selecting the smaller of the two swords. He examined the length of the blade carefully before testing its sharpness with a thumb stroke along the edge. Then, gripping the hilt firmly, he tapped the flat of the blade at the center of mass with the butt of his fist. The blade flexed and vibrated under the impact, allowing him to feel and listen for any signs of looseness in its components.

"Well, since your equipment seems in good condition it shouldn't take long," The man turned toward the back of the shop, and raising his voice he said, "Hey, one of you come out here and take these on back."

Heeding the call, a young mousy-looking boy with dark hair and soot-stained clothes clinging to his body came scampering out from the back. Approaching the counter, he gathered the daggers in his small hands before returning to the workshop.

"Alright, I'll get to work on these. Feel free to have a look about while you wait. Might find something you like," he chuckled then passed through the doorway, vanishing into the back.

And so, with little else to do, the waiting began with each doing their own thing to pass the time.

Dyne took a seat on a creaky chair that rested along the wall and Peter leaned against the counter not far away, his eyes lazily traversing the room. While Lukrut occupied himself with a stroll through the shop floor. Occasionally he would stop to look at something on a rack or shelf before moving on.

The young Ninya, however, oddly chose not to wait amongst his friends but to approach the group's three newest members.

"Mister Pendragon," the lad addressed the other, "Aren't you and your companions going to have your equipment looked over as well?"

"Your concern is appreciated, Ninya. But no," replied Tiberius, "Our gear was inspected before we set out and has hardly seen use. As such I expect its condition to be well enough."

The young mage appeared to be ready to say something more but was interrupted by another.

"I wouldn't worry about them too much, Ninya." Said the ranger as he peered over the rack from the next aisle.

"Huh?"

"They seem the capable sort. And besides," answered Lukrut, a co*cky smirk spreading across his lips, "No fair maiden need fear so long as I am around."

The ranger's self-aggrandizing tone did not escape notice, nor did his flirtatious gaze that he boldly directed at the two Valkyries standing beside their master.

As for how his behavior was received:

Shar're, seemed unfazed, choosing to completely ignore the young man's existence. With her arms crossed and her gaze fixed elsewhere, she remained silent, refusing to give him any attention.

On the other hand, her disguised Kitsune sister appeared to be quite amused by his words. Her features glimmered with mirth, but a discerning twinkle in her eye hinted at a more ominous sentiment beneath her façade.

Another minute or two passed before the blacksmith returned with the group's weapons. Laying them out on the counter, he waited for their inspection.

"Will that be all for you fine lads?" he asked.

"No, that's all we needed." Was the reply from the adventuring team's leader, "So how much do we owe for the work?"

"Well, that's good news for you lot. Since your equipment was in such good shape you don't owe much," the bald man chuckled, "So, let's settle it for twenty coppers, eh?"

"A fair deal," answered Peter.

The blonde adventurer reached for his waist and produced a small, unremarkable bag from his belt. Despite its nondescript appearance, the faint metallic jingle that emanated from within hinted at the contents concealed in the canvas sack. With a firm tug of the drawstring, Peter delved into the bag and carefully placed the required coins on the countertop. One silver and seven copper coins now lay before the watchful gaze of the store owner.

"Well, I guess that'll do it. Unless you folk have some other business, you'd like to conduct."

"No, that'll do."

"Alright then, feel free to come again," the blacksmith said with a smile.

The quartet of adventurers reciprocated the gesture with warm, cordial grins of their own. Once their equipment was back in its proper place, they bid farewell to the blacksmith and his shop. The trio of the Crimson Dragoons followed closely behind, trailing the four Swords of Darkness as they departed.

o – o – o – o

The wagon swayed, rising and falling gently, its wooden wheels navigating the familiar dregs of well-worn furrows, parting gifts of previous travelers. At the head of the wagon, a sable-coated mule marched with a steady rhythm. Occasionally breaking the peace with a clack of its metal-shoed hooves striking stones embedded on the dirt path.

At the forefront of the wagon, perched upon the humble wooden driver's bench, rode two members of the Swords of Darkness: the warrior Peter and his ranger companion Lukrut.

"I still can't believe you bought this cart off that guy," the ranger laughed.

"Yeah, it sure was nice of you, Mister Pendragon," added Ninya, an appreciative smile at play on his features.

"I agree," said Peter, giving the mule's reins a gentle snap, "But you really didn't have to do this for us."

Tiberius' gaze flicked from the young mage seated across from himself in the wagon's rear to the group's leader at its head.

"It was no trouble," he said, "The least I could do to repay you for allowing the three of us to join your group on this undertaking."

From his place beside the smaller Ninya, the large druid, Dyne, bowed his head, "Much appreciated."

"Where did you get that much money anyway?" the ranger asked, casting his gaze over his shoulder, "You're not secretly rich or something, are you?"

The dragonoid remained silent for a moment, "I guess you could say the money came from my savings."

The modest admission garnered the other's curiosity, "Just how much do you have?"

"Enough," answered the dragonoid.

A few glances were exchanged amongst the members of the Swords of Darkness.

"Shucks, now I'm even more jealous," Lukrut complained, though with an air of humour, "First, you get to travel with two beautiful women. And now, you're telling me you're basically rich."

The young man sighed dramatically.

"Ah well," he shrugged, "At least, we don't have to walk the whole way."

Reclining on the bench, Lukrut kicked his feet up and rested them on the wagon's sturdy frame.

"Don't get too comfortable over there," Peter chided in a friendly manner, "We still need your eyes and ears."

"Don't worry about it, Peter. We're still near E-Rantel and we've still got a ways to go yet. I think we can relax a little."

To his antics, Lukrut's fellow team members could only shake their heads. As Peter gave the mule's reins a slight tug, guiding the animal away from the rougher edge of the old dirt road.

Stretching out from the bustling city of E-Rantel, a number of roads sprawled out like veins, pulsating with the ebb and flow of travelers. The roads carried the city's lifeblood, connecting distant lands and weaving through the diverse landscapes like a mighty river. At its heart was the main artery, a grand thoroughfare that served to bring in people from the many smaller joining tributaries. A primary lifeline, guiding adventurers, merchants, and wanderers alike to their respective journey's end.

From the east came merchant caravans, hailing from the lands under the Baharuth Empire's dominion, following the road to the city of E-Rantel. Bringing with them their skills and wares to new markets. While tradesmen from distant parts of the Re-Estize Kingdom arrived to exchange local goods for those imported by foreign travelers. Some ventured onward, seeking the promise of lucrative opportunities that might be found in the far-off markets of the Empire's thriving cities.

To the north, the road diverged, offering travelers an interesting choice. They could go north and skirt along the edge of the Great Forest of Tob. Alternatively, they could veer eastwards for a while, away from the forest, before the road eventually turned north again. It was least the used, save for perhaps adventurers hired to seek rare flora from the forest. Or the occasional merchant whose business directed them north.

However, unlike its more frequented eastern and western counterparts, the southern-bound road remained a path less traveled. One significant factor contributing to this was the Slane Theocracy, the nation-state directly to the south of E-Rantel. Renowned for its insular nature, the Theocracy showed little interest in engaging in open trade, leading to limited movement in the realm of commerce. As a result, the flow of merchants along this particular thoroughfare tended to be one-sided. Most traders came from Re-Estize or the Baharuth Empire, heading southward to the Theocracy, while few originated from the insular kingdom itself.

However, this was only one of the deterrents that contributed to its underutilization.

Perhaps the primary influence lay in its proximity to the Katze Plains.

With the cursed grasslands to the east and the lush forest at the foot of the mountains to the west, the southern road carved its path carefully through the landscape.

At least, that is, if the information shared by the young mage of the Swords of Darkness was accurate, and Tiberius had little reason to doubt it.

Yet, for what was supposed to be a lesser-used road, it seemed to be experiencing an abnormal amount of traffic. Within the previous fifteen minutes, Tiberius had taken note of no less than twenty carriages and a multitude more travelers on foot.

A curiosity that he felt the need to comment on, "I thought this road was one to seldom see such traffic."

However, the approach of another merchant wagon caused any response to stall. Led by a greying mule, the old cart creaked and groaned loudly while its loose cargo added to the symphony of noise. Pots and pans clanged with each bump in the road, while unsecured crates laden with cargo rattled at every jostle. Only once it had traveled far enough did another reply.

"Actually, the road does seem to be busier than usual," commented the young mage, his bright blue eyes scanning the road further ahead.

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. As I said, we're still fairly close to the city." Lukrut said in a mildly dismissive tone, "So, it's probably just the farmers bringing in their harvests."

"What do you think, Dyne?" asked the driver.

"Hmm," the large druid contemplated his answer. "It is certainly possible, though I cannot say for certain. It would not be unusual for a farmer to harvest their crops around this time."

"Especially if they hired a druid to help the crops grow. Right, Dyne?" Added the ranger.

"Indeed," Dyne concurred, "A druid's assistance would certainly expedite the growth of the crops and allow for an early harvest."

"Still, it seems a little off to see so many traveling in such small groups." The blonde driver observed.

"Yeah," his co-driver replied.

Conversation among the group soon faded away. In its place the unwavering sounds of the wagon and the occasional chirp of a bird hidden within the greenery.

While this was an otherwise acceptable way of passing the time, the disguised dragonoid had other intentions. With nothing to preoccupy the cart's passengers, it was a fine opportunity to seek answers to some of the myriad of queries that crawled through his brain like ants.

"If none of you mind, I'd be grateful if you could answer some questions that I have."

"Of course."

"Yeah, sure."

Answered the driver and the relaxed ranger beside him.

"Not at all," replied the young mage while the large and smiling druid simply nodded.

"While we were at the guild hall I heard some talking about something called martial arts. I'm curious, what are they? Are they like talents?"

It seemed to the dragonoid that his words had caught the four silver-ranked adventurers off-guard as a quartet of queer glances was sent his way.

"You mean you became an adventurer and don't know what a martial art is?" asked Lukrut. The pitch of his voice suggested how near-astonishing he found the question.

Tiberius shook his head – though a lie on his part.

"Hey, no worries," the relaxed ranger replied with a shrug as he waved off the other's words.

"Yeah," Peter remarked, "But no, martial arts are different from talents."

"Oh?"

He continued, "Well, to have a talent you're born with them."

"That's right. Though I've heard that are those who possess a talent. But never discover that they do." The russet-haired mage interjected.

"Anyway, a martial art is a skill that is acquired after intense training. Though, while a talent could be held by just about anyone. A martial art is only used by warriors."

"So, you're saying that magic casters can't use them at all?"

Seemingly having anticipated this question, it was again Ninya's turn to speak up.

"Like casting a spell, a martial art also takes its toll on the practitioner. But while a spell takes mana. A martial art relies heavily on the stamina of its wielder. That's why it remains in the domain of warriors."

"Ah," Tiberius sounded as he took a moment to digest this new information.

So, unfortunately, that rules out learning to use those talents. But perhaps these martial arts could still be a viable option.

"And just what sorts of abilities do martial arts convey?"

"Oh, there's a wide variety. In fact, I'd say nearly as many as there are magic spells. But usually, they're used for things like boosting a warrior's physical abilities, sharpening the senses, and quickening reflexes. That sort of thing."

Peter paused briefly, lifting his hands he gave a quick tug on the mule's reins - guiding the equine to avoid a fair-sized furrow in the dirt road.

"You could say martial arts are the magic of warriors," Lukrut remarked with a chuckle.

"Interesting. Is there a limit to the number of martial arts you can learn?"

This inquiry got the young man to hesitate as he thought about his answer.

"I don't know," he finally replied, "I know there are limits to how many you can use at a time. But I've never heard of a limit on how many you can learn."

Tiberius' gaze shifted, scanning over the faces of the young man's three team members.

"So, a person's physical prowess is the only limit?"

"Yeah, pretty much," said Peter, "Martial arts can be quite taxing on the body. And the more you stack them the more powerful the effects. I've heard it said that the Kingdom's Warrior-Captain can use up to seven at a single time."

"That is impressive, he must certainly be a capable fighter," Tiberius responded.

His tone was one of feigned astonishment which went unnoticed by the others in the wagon.

"None greater in the Kingdom," was the cheerful boast that followed.

In return, the disguised dragonoid merely nodded – drawing the discussion to a close. Shifting, he turned his attention to the youthful mage and the kindly druid seated across from him.

In a scene that ran nearly identical, he began to ask questions of the pair.

However, where his previous inquiries were drawn more from the practical. Namely his interest in the possibility of learning martial art skills. While the queries he directed at Ninya and Dyne were brought about by genuine curiosity.

He asked about the adventurer's guild and in turn, the young mage was more than happy to answer.

The conversation started with simple and practical questions as the dragonoid asked about the adventurer's guild. It was Ninya who answered explaining to him the finer details of the guild and its membership - including some benefits that membership bestowed.

Benefits like discounts at the majority of inns within the Kingdom. Or a given special preference at select smiths trusted by the guild. Stuff like this came as no surprise. It made sense that adventurers would be given special treatment as they were the ones who banished the monsters and kept the lands safe.

He soon steered the discussion to another topic, magic.

Ninya seemed to perk up at the mention of the subject. "Sure, but why ask me?"

The aforementioned Kitsune glanced at her master and the young mage. For a moment she was uncertain if perhaps she had been expected to answer. However, this concern of hers was brushed aside when the dragonoid next spoke.

"I am curious as to the magic used in these lands as opposed to those of our homeland. And as such, I doubt I'll be afforded a better opportunity to converse with both a mage and a druid."

The corresponding pair nodded and began to speak of the various fields of magic – sharing information about their respective fields of magical study.

Dyne told of the wonders of nature and its capability for great harm as well as great healing through its magics. Of the wisdom that could be imparted from communing with the natural world. When asked about the matter of controlling such abilities he explained that it was not so. Instead, he likened it to acting as a guide rather than a master. As a ship's captain guides his vessel along the current rather than seeking to command it.

An intriguing description Tiberius thought and not something he'd heard before. Before he had simply believed it to be as most mediums had portrayed it. With magic users commanding the arcane power to do their bidding. It seemed that across media casters were treated generally the same and it was only their specialization in a certain field of magic that set them apart from one another.

Obviously, in a world where magic was as real as gravity, there was assuredly more to its complexity. Just another example that he could not rely on his experience with games to guide him.

In contrast, Ninya waxed on about the more scholarly approach to the pursuit of magic. Clear enthusiasm for the subject rang through the boyish mage's tone.

Ninya told of the private magic schools that existed within the Kingdom and their tendency for exclusivity. With admission coming from an individual who showcased a truly remarkable skill. Or more commonly, through the nepotism of familial connections and status being the means of entry.

He also shared what little he knew about the magic institutions in the neighboring countries.

The Baharuth Empire, he said, had an excellent record for turning out skillful individuals. However, it was a facility overseen by imperial rule and was not open to foreigners. Likewise, the Slane Theocracy was equally well known for competency in matters of magic – though they specialized in divine magic rather than arcane. Unfortunately, they too were closed off to noncitizens. Not a surprise given the nationalistic pride that the Theocracy soldiers had demonstrated that day.

In turn, the dragonoid listened to his impromptu instructors. He was astonished to learn the scope that magic played within this world.

At first glance, the people of this world appeared to be living in a manner befitting the medieval era. After all, when magic can be used for the creation of basic items like sugar, salt, or other spices. To replenish the nutrients in the soil allowing a farmer to replant his crops over, and over again without endangering the soil quality. Or spells among the highest tiers could create duplicates of nearly any item. Near-complete stagnation of technological innovation was seemingly a consequence of the existence of magic. Yet in many ways, through the advancement of magic, their society had superseded that and was perhaps closer to a pre-industrial level.

It was invigourating to envision how the world had come to be this way. Yet as always, the more he learned the more questions came to be.

o – o – o – o

Much of the afternoon had slipped by and the evening was soon to approach when Peter steered the mule-led wagon from the main road.

The forest had been cut back from the thoroughfare a decent distance as a safety feature for travelers. Doing so was meant to deprive monsters and bandits from utilizing the foliage for cover in an ambush. Leaving only a plush carpet of verdant green grass and the occasional bit of shrubbery.

The young driver selected a location somewhat halfway between the treeline and the road's edge. Here the group of seven disembarked the cart and set to work establishing a camp for the night.

The four members of the Swords of Darkness fell into a well-rehearsed routine. Each member took to their given labour gusto.

Peter set to work gathering wood from the forest's edge that would be needed for a fire. While Lukrut accompanied Dyne to prepare the camp.

First, the pair tended to the mule and wagon. Dyne tended to the pack animal, brushing the animal down before feeding it and ensuring that it would not wander during the night. Lukrut, in turn, secured the cart and retrieved the supplies for the camp. Then together the pair began to prepare the chosen patch of earth for the camp.

Though they were not officially a part of the team and otherwise might not have been expected to aid them in their tasks. Tiberius was not planning to sit idle while they worked.

Approaching the youngest member of the group, the dragonoid was swift in offering his assistance. In return, Ninya gladly accepted and presented him with a small canvas bag. Curiously he opened to bag to find it was filled with a number of wooden stakes not but an inch thick.

Sensing the other's puzzlement as to the bag's contents, Ninya explained their meaning and what he needed to do with them.

It was a trifling job. But no less important.

Tiberius, Ryoko, and Shar're moved away from the camp's chosen location to a distance of sixty feet as directed. There, the first stake was driven unceremoniously into the soft terrain. From there the three proceeded to circle the camp placing down stakes at equal distances as they went.

Ninya followed close behind, a spool of black thread in his hand. Tied securely to the first stake, he would stop briefly at each subsequent stake and looped the thread tightly around it. It was a process he repeated many times more until he found himself back at the first.

"What is the purpose of the thread?" Tiberius asked.

The mage smiled and answered, "It's the basis for an alarm."

Ninya then placed a loop of the thread upon the first stake above the original tie-off point. Then turning he led the way back to the center where the camp had since taken shape.

"You see," Ninya continued, "If a monster tries to approach the camp the string will likely go unnoticed and trigger the bell."

"Ah, a tripwire," the dragonoid surmised.

He then watched as Ninya approached a standing pole near one of the tents. Interestingly, atop the pole was a brass bell to which the mage tied off the string.

What followed piqued Tiberius' curiosity.

Ninya moved away, back to the string that encircled the camp's perimeter, and began to chant a spell foreign to him. With a deliberate pace, he strode along following the path laid out by the thread as he continued to recite.

"What is he doing now?"

"He's casting a [Alarm] spell," came the response.

Shifting, Tiberius turned to face the speaker.

It was Peter who spoke as he and Lukrut had returned from the forest's edge, bringing with them a bundle of wood for the campfire.

The team leader was kneeling and was currently busied with arranging the logs into a hollow pyramid. After he began to fill the core with an assortment of branches. Some he broke in two or more pieces so as to fit within. While Peter did that, Lukrut placed a series of fist-sized stones around the fire pit.

It was a puzzling thing to do. Tiberius had seen this in many games but never understood the purpose. Perhaps he'd asked. Or maybe not. After all, he'd want to seem a complete fool for not knowing something that they would probably consider basic knowledge.

Once he had finished, Peter reached into a pouch on his belt. From this, he withdrew a small tin and a flint striker.

The dragonoid watched as the young man opened the tin and sprinkled its contents on the wood at the center of the wood pile.

"Would it not be easier to ask Ninya to light the fire?"

"Well, yeah, we could. But it would be a waste to bother him for something so simple as igniting a campfire." Peter remarked.

"Besides, we wouldn't want to interrupt Ninya as he casts. You see, that little string and bell trick works pretty well against the average monster. Though there are some – whether through experience or are just naturally more intelligent that are able to overcome it." Said Lukrut, taking a moment's pause from his task.

"Indeed," the team leader agreed, "That's why we take extra precautions and add another layer of protection with the spell."

There was a scraping sound as Peter struck the flint, and then a small shower of sparks fell on the prepared wood. Soon enough wisps of smoke began to rise.

Peter smiled before rising from his position.

"If you're curious about it, I'm sure Ninya will be more than happy to explain how it all works. All I can tell you is that with that spell in place, and if someone were to step over the tripline. The bell will still ring."

Lukrut lifted his head, setting his eyes on the pair of beautiful females who stood behind their companion.

"But you ladies needn't have a worry." He smiled, "I have the ears of a fox and the eyes of a hawk. I'll spot any monster before they can get anywhere near us."

As always the ranger's continued attempt at flirting failed to provoke much of a reaction. Shar're as ever was still content to ignore him while Ryoko smiled and snickered softly to herself.

Tiberius, however, was preoccupied with his ponderings as he continued to watch the young mage.

There was detection magic in YGGDRASIL and since YGGDRASIL's magic seems to have carried over to this world. I wonder if that spell is one of them. Or is it something unique to this world?

He cursed his luck and shrugged.

Too bad I didn't go for a dedicated magic caster build. Maybe then I would've studied the spells available better. Or if AlpaKing was here, she'd know.

Without an answer, he could only watch.

o – o – o – o

The wood crackled and blackened as the flames danced about licking their surface. Sat atop the fire-engulfed pyramid, a pot with its contents bubbling away.

Inside a simple stew made from smoked and salted meat which had been diced into smaller pieces to ensure an even share for all, and dried vegetables. A small pinch of salt and pepper was also added for flavouring. For a side, there were slices of thick crusted bread, some dried fruits, and some mixed nuts.

Lukrut knelt by the fire, ladle in hand as he began to fill a bowl for each member of the group. The young Ninya it seemed had the task of handing out said bowls to their waiting recipients.

With an outstretched hand, the dragonoid accepted the meal with a brief smile and nod of gratitude.

The aroma of the stew hung heavy in the air to his keen sense of smell. He was able to detect the aroma long before it even began to boil. With a simple wooden spoon, he dipped it in the bowl and brought it to his mouth.

The stew had a noticeably strong smokey taste. The once-dried meats had softened in the boiling broth becoming slightly tender and easier to chew. Similarly, the dried vegetables had rehydrated and absorbed much of the flavour of the meat and the few spices used. While the hard bread did well at sopping up the remaining broth like a dry sponge takes in water.

Though rather straightforward, this campfire stew was quite palatable. It didn't compare to the succulent meals to which he had grown accustomed in Týrnaust. It was still quite palatable. Beyond that, it was a far cry from the tasteless nutrient bars and bowls of grey porridge that the common folk ate back on earth. Food that abided only the loosest definition of food. It was edible and could keep you alive if supplied regularly with it. However, you weren't going to enjoy it.

"How do like the food, Mister Pendragon?" Ninya asked between spoonfuls. "I know it's not much, but I hope you are enjoying it."

"Oh, it's quite nice. Thank you for sharing your meal with us." Tiberius replied.

"Well, it wouldn't be right to leave the three of you to go hungry," said Peter with a smile.

"Indeed," Dyne nodded.

"And how about you two stunning ladies? I hope I added the appropriate amount of love to spice the stew for you." Lukrut chuckled.

Shar're responded with a sideways glance before rolling her eyes as she continued to eat. While Ryoko stopped noisily slurping the remaining stew from her bowl and looked over at the blonde ranger.

"Aren't you sweet," she said with a toothy grin, "I bet I could just eat you up."

As he looked on at the smiling woman Lukrut found himself vexed by an odd sensation. There was something abnormal about the grin. Like there was more behind its meaning than just playful glee. Perhaps it was just a trick of the campfire's light and the shadows flickering across her face. But her teeth seemed different, larger and sharper than before. While her delicate features were changed, appearing fiercer, wilder. Like a predator sizing up its prey.

He blinked and it was gone, the beauty's face again appearing as sweet and innocent as before while she gobbled up her share of stew. Yet this small pang of uneasiness which had settled into the back of his mind like a splinter remained.

Perhaps misinterpreting their friend's silence, his teammates quickly struck up a friendly conversation. This seemed enough to distract Lukrut and he soon forgot about that feeling and joined in with his usual jovial manner.

Tiberius listened as stories were shared and jokes were told amongst the group of friends. In many ways, he could not help but be reminded of the bond he shared with his guildmates.

The world may be different. But I guess friendship is the same no matter where you are.

He mused as he looked on as the members of the Swords of Darkness shared a resounding laugh.

That name, Swords of Darkness. He could not think of a name that was more juxtaposed to the group sitting before him now.

"Are you feeling okay, Mister Pendragon?" Asked the team's leader.

"Yeah, you seem kinda quiet over there," commented Lukrut.

"It's alright if you want more stew. We got plenty more," Ninya offered as he checked the contents of the simmering pot.

Tiberius shook his head, "Oh, no thank you. I was just thinking of something."

"Oh? What about?"

The dragonoid hesitated in answering, considering if it would be rude to voice his thoughts. But these individuals were open and hadn't given him the impression that they would take offense.

"Well, you four mainly."

The four adventurers exchanged a glance, puzzled by the other's words.

"What about us?" Peter asked, his brow arched in curiosity.

"It's your group's name: The Sword of Darkness," Tiberius stated, his steely blue eyes scanning over the four. "It's a name that conjures up thoughts of some company of highway bandits. Or a league of shadowy assassins. It's not something I would ascribe to a group of good-natured individuals such as yourselves."

There was a moment of silence and in that time Tiberius began to feel a little self-conscious. Perhaps the subject was not something they liked to discuss.

However, before he could offer an apology the group of four broke out in a hearty shared laugh.

"It's alright," Peter chuckled, "Your confusion is understandable."

"Yeah, we don't exactly look the part of our namesake," Lukrut remarked a wide grin on his lips. Shifting, he looked toward the young mage, "I guess you could say the name was Ninya's idea."

In response, Ninya turned away as if to hide, his face tinted with a heated blush of embarrassment.

"Come on, Ninya. Why don't you tell them?" Lukrut said trying to goad the other into speaking.

"It's not that big a deal." The mage shot back, "I was just being childish when I thought that up."

The large druid at Ninya's side shook his head, "You've nothing to feel embarrassed about. Everyone has their flights of fancy." Reaching out he placed a comforting hand on the younger's shoulder, "Besides, it's good to have a dream."

"Yeah, it's alright Ninya." Said Peter, before turning his focus back to Tiberius, "You see to answer your question, the name is a reference to the old legends. We named our group in honour of the four swords carried by one of the Thirteen Heroes."

It was again the dragonoid's turn to be left perplexed. For without a deeper understanding of this world, the mention of this fabled band of heroes meant nothing to him.

With a straight face, Tiberius replied, "I'm sorry, but I don't believe I've heard of them."

Bewilderment shone clear on the faces of the four adventurers.

"Here I thought pretty much everyone knew the legends." Lukrut chuckled. "I guess the sagas haven't spread to everywhere yet. You three really must be from someplace far."

The dragonoid only nodded in response.

"Two hundred years ago there was a legendary group that became known as the Thirteen Heroes." Peter explained, "They came together to protect the people and fight against the Demon Gods."

That last part garnered Tiberius' interest, for while he had not heard of these heroes. He had heard mention of the Demon Gods before. As it was that cowardly man of the Slane Theocracy had referred to him and Yuliana as such.

"Among the heroes, there was one known only as the Black Knight who wielded four powerful swords. Those swords were called the Swords of Darkness," Ninya stated.

"There are rumours that the Black Knight was a cursed child, being sired by some demon on their human mother. Because of this, many tend to write them off as being evil." Lukrut interrupted, his tone more excitable than usual. "They're often even left out in the retellings of the adventures of the Thirteen Heroes."

Ninya cut his eyes at his teammate for the disruption before continuing.

"The four Swords of Darkness like their wielder were renowned for their powerful abilities. Kilineiram, the Cursed Sword, could overcome its foes with a terrible aura of dark energy. Crocdabal, the Sword of Corruption, was said to be able to inflict a terrible wound that would never heal. Sfeiz, the Death Sword, a blade that could take a life with the merest of scratches. And the last of the four, Hyumilis, the Vile Sword."

"And what unique skill did that blade possess?"

"No one knows," Dyne answered, "There's no record of it in any history books. And those who might've known are long since gone."

Tiberius nodded along – though it was more to himself than as acknowledgment.

"You see, back when we started our little traveling quartet. We had the ultimate goal of setting out one day and finding these swords for ourselves." Lukrut said with a small chuckle as he recalled their group's early days. "There are a lot of legends about lost relics out there. But who knows if they really exist or not? But these swords… We know they're real for sure."

"But in the meantime, we needed a symbol of our own. Of our promise to each other, so we carry these." Said Peter as he reached to his hip and drew his dagger from its sheath.

"Least until we can get our hands on the real ones," Lukrut declared.

Tiberius then watched as the action was mimed by the rest of his team. Each produced an identical dagger and held it before them.

The dragonoid eyed the diminutive weapons which they held in their grasp.

To judge the daggers by their outward appearance there was little that would garner attention. With an overall length of about eleven inches, nine of which consisted of the blade itself. The dual-edged blade possessed a typical diamond cross-section and had undergone a special treatment that dyed steel black. Behind the small crossguard, the grip was basic in design. Five leather spacers separated by four polished metal rings made up the weapon's handle. Interestingly, it appeared that a small sphere of onyx had been embedded into each of the metal rings.

"I don't care if these things aren't the real deal," Lukrut remarked, holding his dagger above his head. "To me, they represent the creation of our team and the beginnings of our friendship. And that's more important than any mythical blade."

The ranger's eyes held a soulful look as he watched the fire's light dance along the black blade in his hand.

"Hmm, how odd," the large druid nodded as he stroked his bearded chin.

"What's odd?" Ninya asked.

"I believe that is the first time Lukrut has said something so heartfelt and meaningful at the same time," he answered with a sly smirk.

The ranger looked aghast, "Hey! Take that back!"

Not to be left out, Peter soon joined in the teasing of his friend. "Yeah, who are you and what have you done with our friend?"

"I'm a silver-tongued fox and you all know it!" Lukrut shot back with a wide grin.

Together the group of four friends shared a stint of vigorous laughter at their shared memories.

"Still, I guess we could always call ourselves 'Blades of Darkness' instead of 'Swords of Darkness'. That way, even if we never manage to find the actual Swords of Darkness, these blades can still symbolize our group properly."

Again, the four enjoyed another chorus of laughter.

Calming down, Peter turned, "What about you, Mister Pendragon?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you get into adventuring?"

The dragonoid was met with a quartet of staring eyes and expressions that betrayed an eager curiosity. However, no answer was forthcoming as Tiberius was left unsure how to respond and his prolonged silence did not pass unnoticed. What were expressions of curiosity and keen interest shifted, becoming looks of slight concern.

"If it's a sensitive subject, you don't have to share it with us."

"No, no, it's quite alright," Tiberius replied to the young mage, "It's just I'm not sure where to begin."

He cleared his throat and spoke.

"Well, I got started as I assume most do – alone. I set out to see the world and along the way, I began accepting jobs that caught my interest. But working alone does limit the sorts of jobs that one could take on. As to be expected I met others on my travels and we would talk. Sometimes we would trade goods and information. Eventually, we decided to team up so that we could accomplish more than we ever could separately. And it worked, we grew stronger and took on harder jobs in return."

The disguised dragonoid smiled as he recalled those early meetings with those who would become the founding members of the Sanguine Dragons alongside himself.

"As we cultivated our prowess and our names became known, others began to gravitate to us. At our height, there were ninety-two members in our group."

Lukrut seemed to choke on his drink upon hearing this. With surprise, the ranger spit the liquid from his mouth and coughed. This caused Dyne to turn and clap his companion on the back as he tried to help clear the other's abrupt congestion.

"N-n-no way! N-ninety-two?!" Lukrut sputtered between coughs, "That's not an adventuring team. That's a full-on company. You could've started your own guild like that."

Indeed, the other three members of the adventuring party looked equally taken aback.

"Did you really have that many members?" asked Peter.

"Oh yes," Tiberius replied, a hint of pride strongly tinging his voice. "In my homeland, teams of adventurers reaching such numbers were not unheard of. Though, it was not the norm. Most teams tended to stay around thirty to forty members."

Again, their faces showed their amazement – perhaps a small amount of healthy skepticism.

"For twelve years we journeyed together having countless adventures along the way. Achieving things I never would've dreamed of alone. They were great friends and I truly enjoyed the time we shared." Tiberius shifted, setting aside the empty bowl he had been holding. When next he spoke his tone had grown a little duller. "Though not all was perfect. We had our share of internal squabbles and defeats in that time. We also suffered losses along the way. Something that I guess was inevitable. When last I parted from them – fifty of us remained."

It seemed a cloud of gloom now hung over the heads of the adventurers who had once been so eager to hear the tale. Their expressions had lost much of their former delight. Taken over by the more subdued and contemplative atmosphere.

"If you don't mind my asking, Sir Pendragon. Why did you part from your comrades?" the druid questioned.

"It was…" Tiberius hesitated, contemplating how best he might put to words the source of the Sanguine Dragons' dissolution so that they would understand, "Forces outside our control necessitated it."

"We're sorry to hear that."

"Couldn't have been easy to part from your comrades."

"Yeah."

"What of your current companions?" Lukrut asked, his finger wavering between the silent females.

Tiberius' gaze shifted to the two Valkyries, "Ryoko and Shar're, they joined me after my comrades and I had gone our separate ways."

There was a moment of silence amongst the adventurers, however, short as it was.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find new allies and have many new adventures together." The young mage declared – trying to be of a more encouraging attitude.

Tiberius eyed Ninya for a moment before glancing at the other members of the boy's team.

"Maybe, Ninya. Maybe," the dragonoid then offered a small smile to the mage. He shifted, turning his gaze towards the foreign sky overhead. "If there is one thing I have come to learn – especially as of recently. It's that fate is unpredictable, and who knows what it has planned for any of us."

This exchange seemed to have lightened the mood. Allowing for the return of a normal conversation. With Lukrut again voicing his continuing disbelief at the sheer size of the dragonoid's previous team. That was, in between bouts of flirtatious remarks directed at Ryoko and Shar're. Peter chided his friend, Ninya continued to be the beacon of positivity, and Dyne was content to nod along while offering his occasional words of wisdom.

However, time soon became the limiting factor as the deepening night gave cause to draw the merriment to a close.

"Well," Peter said with a stretch, "We better turn in if we're gonna set out early."

"Yeah," Lukrut agreed as he rose from his place beside the campfire, "I could do with some beauty rest."

Together the rest of the group stood up and set to tidying up the camp for the night. The now empty stew pot was washed with water conjured by the young mage. The leftover bread, dried fruit, and nuts were returned to their bags and stuck in the pot for ease of storage.

"What about you and your companions, Mister Pendragon?"

"What do you mean?"

The russet-haired youth looked about the camp, "Well, where will you be sleeping?"

From the time of the two teams meeting in E-Rantel and throughout the journey, not once had the subject of sleeping arrangements been approached.

The leader of the Swords of Darkness shifted, his eyes taking count of the tents and finding a distinct discrepancy between their number and the number of individuals in camp.

"Oh," Peter said, "It must've completely slipped my mind. I apologize. Maybe we could share tents?"

"Miss Ryoko and Miss Shar're could bunk with me. I certainly don't mind," Lukrut volunteered with a coy smile as he waggled his brows playfully.

"We thank you for your concern. But we'll be fine," Tiberius countered.

"Are you sure?" Peter asked.

The dragonoid nodded, "Yes."

"Well, if you're sure then. Good night."

"Good night, Mister Pendragon," Ninya said with a wave before disappearing into his tent.

"Well, I guess I shall see you lovely ladies in the morning." Lukrut said, "Though if either of you gets cold. Remember, I'll be keeping the bedroll warm for you."

For his words, the blonde ranger was rewarded with a harsh clap to his back from Peter. Before being promptly ushered to his tent.

Dyne shook his head, "Please forgive the lad. Brazen as he is, he means well." He then performed a slight bow, "Sleep well, friends."

Then as the large druid slipped behind the flap of his tent, Tiberius and his Valkyrie escorts were left alone. The dragonoid stood motionless for a time, save for his eyes which swept across the area. He then turned, making his way over to the wagon and the resting mule.

In the quiet of the night the trio waited, their keen senses monitoring the tent's occupants. It wasn't long before their movements settled and their breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Turning away from the human encampment, Shar're focused on her Valkyrie sister.

"How can you tolerate that fool?" She asked.

Ryoko shifted to face her sibling, a look of childlike innocence at play on her features. "What do you mean?"

The disguised draegloth shook her head, "Don't play naïve, you know what I mean. You continue to humour that imbecile and his antics."

"Because it's fun," the kitsune giggled playfully, "I overheard Lady Yuliana talking with the other Floor Guardians about how dull-witted these humans were. But she didn't say anything about how amusing they are."

"Yeah, well, it's tiresome hearing him prattle on. And the utter gall, to insinuate that either of us would…" A rather animalistic snarl finding its way from deep within Shar're's throat, an aspect of her true self showing through her dark elf masquerade.

"At least the other humans are more tolerable," again, Ryoko let out a burst of mirth. "Oh, maybe the master will let us eat him if we ask."

"Perhaps. We can always ask," Shar're said with a shrug and a smirk. "And that one human. Trying so hard to cover their natural scent."

"I know," Ryoko wrinkled her nose.

The two Valkyries looked at the huddled tents and giggled. While the two guardians busied themselves with idle chatter about their human companions. Tiberius was occupied with his own thoughts.

Seated on the rear of the cart, the dragonoid was reviewing the information which had been shared around the campfire.

"The Thirteen Heroes," Tiberius muttered, his steely blue eyes unfocused as they stared into the distance, "I wonder… Could they have been like me?"

The near reverent way that Ninya and the others had spoken of them. It had certainly given the impression that these heroes were well beyond the normal perceived levels of strength. If items and people from YGGDRASIL were stronger than those in this world. Then their abilities would indeed inspire such awe in the natives.

And then what of the Demon Gods that they had fought?

This had been the second time which Tiberius had heard their mention. The first time was from the mouth of that cowardly commander from the Slane Theocracy. But there was the possibility that they, instead, were from YGGDRASIL.

Back in YGGDRASIL, there were guilds of PKers – what if it were one of these groups that somehow was brought here? If they were to continue to abuse their power it would be quite conceivable for them to earn a moniker like Demon Gods.

Or what if both groups were from his world?

Too many questions – this was the only answer that the dragonoid could come up with.

I have to know more about these groups. The dragonoid shifted, glancing back over his shoulder to the tent the young mage had taken. When we get back to the city, I'll ask Ninya and the others about it. They might be able to lead me to a library or archive, or something, where I can learn more.

Before he could delve deeper into these musings interruption came in the form of a smiling kitsune and her draegloth sister.

"Master," Ryoko announced their presence, "Shar're was wondering if she could ask you something."

The dark elf turned abruptly, a look of surprise on her face. "You little fibber. You were the one who wanted to ask him," she retorted.

"Well, so do you," the kitsune said childishly.

Tiberius' gaze flicked between the pair, "Okay, so just what did you wish to ask me?"

"Well, when you were talking with those humans…" Ryoko began, "You mentioned the other Creators. So…"

"What she means to say is that she'd like to hear more about your adventures," Shar're said, grinning at the other Valkyrie.

Tiberius was not particularly surprised to hear such a request. After all, the NPCs of Týrnaust seemed to have a special affinity for their respective creator. But underlying that, the only knowledge which they possessed was from what scenes they had borne witness to in the guild hall. Outside of those the NPCs knew nothing of what the guild's members got up to beyond the mountain's walls.

"What would you like to hear?" he replied with a smile.

o – o – o – o

The full moon's light lent an eerie glow to the graveyard below. As countless tombstones cast long shadows across the grassy earth. Among them a figure, garbed in a hooded robe as dark as pitch skulked.

As they flitted amidst the graves, the flutter of their heavy robe under the soft moonlight bestowed an almost ethereal quality. Making them seem more like a wayward soul dancing about the headstones than a physical presence.

Deeper and deeper the lone figure strode. Their destination lay at the center of the communal burial ground.

Here stood the mausoleums. Buildings crafted of speckled granite – decorated with carved statues, mural friezes, and marked with a unique crest.

These structures stood as markers and entrances for the family crypts for E-Rantel's wealthier citizenry. Some were not much bigger than a beggar's shack while others could've been confused for a manor house. This was a consequence of the self-aggrandizing that was so common among the upper echelons of society. Each ensuing generation competed to create ever more ostentatious crypts within which to entomb their predecessors and flaunt their perceived value.

One stood out against its brethren.

Standing far larger than any other, it easily towered over them. Crafted of white marble, the pale stone appeared to almost glow beneath the full moon's pale light.

Though its visage was rather plain – the stone lacked the carvings so commonly found on the rest. There were no guardian statues, no frescoes or crests to mar its exterior. Yet, it possessed all the grandeur of an ordained temple.

Coming to a stop, the hooded figure cast their eyes upon the looming structure.

With a casual backwards toss of their head, the hood that had shrouded their identity in mystery was cast off.

The face of a young woman was revealed – not older than her early twenties. Fiery blonde hair was cut short, coming down to just shy of her shoulders. Her face was attractive with fine youthful features and ruby eyes. Eyes that held a seeking and predatory gaze belying the true nature of their owner.

She stood at the base of the short stairs gazing up at the mausoleum.

"So, this is the place!" the young woman said as she lackadaisically placed her hands behind her head.

With a casual stride, she climbed the steps, the soft clink of metal like the rustling of chain mail could be heard beneath her cloak.

Pushing open the large double doors, moonlight spilled into the dark chamber within.

The interior was spacious with a series of stone plinths lining the perimeter of the room. Platforms that served as the temporary resting place for the recently deceased. Here they would remain as mourners visited and funerary rites were conducted before being carried away to their final resting place.

Currently, they lay bare of bodies to occupy the platforms nor was there any divine ornamentation meant to channel the prayers and guide the deceased souls. Still, the pungent aroma of incense hung heavy over the area and tickled her nose.

Humming to herself, she strode across the room, approaching the platform that lay opposite the entrance. She eyed the detailed carvings that lined the plinth's base.

"Now, let's seee heree…" she sounded like a giddy child, "Which one was it?"

With an enthusiastic thrust of her arm, the young woman traced a finger along one of the delicate reliefs that decorated the base of the plinth. In return, there was a distinctive click when the digit depressed a star at the end of the carving. A wide smile spread across her lips as the sound of grinding stone filled the room and the platform slid aside. From beneath the stone base, a previously hidden staircase was revealed.

"Yoohoo, I'm coming iiiinnn!" she announced in a singsongy voice.

She paused for a moment, listening to the returning echo of her words as they spread through the tunnel. Then in the same nonchalant manner with which she had entered, the young woman began to descend the stairs.

The passage was fairly narrow and not well-lit with only the dull glow of the far-between magic torches. While some might've worried about getting lost or turned around in the poor lighting. She had no such concerns as the tunnel seemed to possess no turns along its length. There was only the long straight of the corridor that lay ahead of her.

With nary a care, she continued to move through the tunnel until it opened up into a rather spacious cavern.

Her eyes swept across the chamber.

She co*cked her head as she stare at the strange tapestries that were hung within. Illuminated by the faint light of the numerous candles that burned beneath them. Odd they were. Even from this distance, she could detect the hot metallic scent of blood that lingered in the air.

A smile grew on her face. Blood had been mixed with the candle's wax and this was the cause for the enticing aroma. Perhaps she would grab a few of these before she left.

Following the crude steps from the mouth of the passage the young woman made her way into the space. The path weaved amongst the tall stalagmites on its journey to the center of the room and the stone platform.

However, the young woman did not follow the rise of the path to climb atop the platform. Instead, she stopped short of the first step and again looked about the room. Her predatory gaze searched the shadows.

"Hey you!" she called out with all the excitement of a child in a game of hide and seek, "I see you over there! You have a guest.'

From their place within the shadows and partially obscured by the towering stone formations a robed figure noticeably flinched.

"I'm here to see the old man! Is he here?"

No response was forthcoming as the individual hunched their shoulders, unsure just how to reply. Thankfully, someone else spoke for them.

"It's fine." Came the aged voice of the chamber's newest arrival, "You may leave us."

At the mouth of another of the chamber's side passages, a robed figure materialized from the shadows. The pale elderly man stood with a slight hunch to his shoulders while his sunken eyes glared at the unwelcome guest.

"H'lo, Khaji."

Hearing the young woman's lighthearted greeting the man frowned. His pallor combined with the deep shadows to make the crease of his mouth all the starker.

"Can you not address me in such a disrespectful manner as that?" he groaned and received a childish giggle in return, "To think that you're actually a member of Zuranon."

His words were problematic. For they cast his irritations onto the young woman and as a result, her mocking laughter only grew to new heights.

Khajiit sighed, and with a slow measured gait, he approached.

"Why are you here? What possible reason could you have that prompted this interruption? You know well that my work with the Jewel of Death is precious and I can ill afford such disruption," he snapped.

The young woman did not answer and only smiled.

"I warn you now. If you have come here to make trouble, I'll take the liberty of dealing with you now." Khajiit eyed her closely as he channeled power into the staff in hand.

"Aww, Khaji, don't be that way." She cooed, "After all, I even went out of my way to bring you a present."

Her smile widened. Reaching beneath her cloak, she rummaged within a hidden pocket. As she did, a light jingling was heard. But it did not persist as she soon found what she desired. Then with a gleeful giggle, her arm was withdrawn from the mantle's interior.

Dangling from a finger was a circlet. Crafted from delicate metallic threads finer than the finest silk and dotted with innumerable tiny jewels. Like droplets of water on a spider's web they appeared. Set at the center of this crisscross of gleaming silver filaments – where the wearer's forehead would be was set a large black gem.

Khajjit's sunken eyes widened in shock as he beheld the piece of artful craftsmanship.

"That's…" he swallowed hard, "The fabled symbol of a shrine priestess, a Crown of Wisdom! How did one of the Slane Theocracy's greatest treasures happen to fall into your grasp?"

"Oh, this thing," a wicked grin split her lips, "There was a sweet little girl wearing it. But it wasn't her style, so I did her a favour and liberated it from her pretty little head. Aaand to my surprise she went crazy! Flailing on the ground like an infant as she wet herself!"

The young woman had nearly doubled over as her cruel laughter grew to a fever pitch.

Khajiit scoffed at her claim of surprise. "As a former member of the Black Scripture, you were fully aware of what fate awaited that girl the moment that crown was taken from her."

The woman's laughter softened considerably until it vanished. But the smile remained as broad as ever.

"Weeeell, maybe I did know," she admitted like a scolded child, "But there was nothing I could do... There's no way to take it off!" The blonde female shifted her stance, adopting one more aligned with a disapproving parent, "I mean it's really the fault of the guy who made 'em! I can't believe he got away with it."

"Hmph," came the curt reply from the frail-looking man, "You betrayed the Slane Theocracy. Abandoned your position in the Black Scripture – all to steal a piece of junk. If you were gonna go that far, you could have at least taken something of worth. One of the sacred treasures left behind by the Six Gods, perhaps."

"Junk?! That's a bit harsh." the young woman puffed up her cheeks in a childlike pout and earned a sneer from the other.

"Bah, if you can't use it then it's junk," Khajiit waved her off dismissively, "The girls that can make use of that thing are one in a million. You can't even begin to look for someone to use it unless you're a nation. Thus without someone who can wield it. That crown is nothing more than a fancy bauble. So, if we are done here."

Not interested in continuing the debate he turned his back to the young woman.

She crossed her arms, upset that the old man had a point. The Slane Theocracy was one of the only nations that kept a registry of its citizenry. This included family lineages. That is how they were able to track down those exceptional few who could use the crowns. The sacrifices as she had heard them referenced.

"And how was I supposed to steal a sacred treasure? They're locked away and protected by the Monster of the Black Scripture."

This caught Khajiit's notice, "That so-called God-kin…? Are they really that strong?"

"Oh, they're stronger than the idea of strength. All information about them has been sealed away so that no one can be interrogated." She giggled, "I heard that if the secret ever got out, it'd lead to total war with the surviving true Dragon Lords."

"I find that hard to believe," was the gruff and derisive reply.

When the woman spoke, her tone had changed. No longer did her voice hold that juvenile idiosyncrasy. Becoming far more severe.

"Well, anyone who hadn't seen that power for themselves would believe that… But let's get back to why I am here, Khajiit Dale Badantel. We're both one of the twelve leaders. So, let's work together."

The robed man turned back, a look of frustration in his sunken eyes for being addressed by his true name.

"Oh? Showing your true face at last, oh fragment of Quintia?" he frowned briefly, "And don't call me Dale. I've long since cast off that name."

"Fine," the blonde shrugged, "Only if you cut out that fragment of Quintia stuff. Just call me Clementine."

Khajiit nodded curtly, "Now, what do you want?"

Clementine smiled and began to casually twirl the Crown of Wisdom on her finger, "I've heard that there is someone in this city who has the most outstanding talent. And I was wondering if maaaybe they could help us out and use this little pearl."

"So I've heard as well. But why do you come seeking my aid in this? Surely you're capable of kidnapping this person on your own?"

"Mmm, I could," the childlike tone had returned to Clementine's voice, "But I'll probably cause some commotion."

Khajiit sighed, "I see. You're planning on escaping the city during the confusion."

"Don't worry, I figured since you'll be helping me out. I'll lend you a hand with your little ritual." Her voice fluctuated between mania and serious as a wide gleeful grin spread across her face. "So, what d'ya say?"

"I'd be a fool to turn down such an offer," Khajiit narrowed his eyes as a smile to match Clementine's own cut across his sallow face. "Now, let's figure out how to grab this talent holder you're so fond of."

o – o – o – o

Tiberius shifted, adjusting his position on the bench wagon's bench seat before casting a cursory glance to the sky. The sun was obscured behind a passing cloud bank. Though still, he could tell it was approaching noon.

The group hadn't been on the road all that long – much to his surprise.

He had been fully expecting Peter to rouse the group with the sunrise. But, instead, the four members of the Swords of Darkness had continued to slumber. When they did finally wake it was much closer to eight or nine in the morning.

Once the morning's call of nature had been heeded. A quick breakfast was served up to the group – consisting of some of the dried meat and fruit left over from the night's stew. Afterward, the camp was quickly broken down and stowed on the wagon. The druid Dyne harnessed the mule to the cart before everyone climbed aboard.

While a sense of monotony had made its return during this leg of the journey. This was disrupted by the appearance of the fancy wagons among the various travelers.

These large and ornate carts stood out starkly against the uncivilized backdrop of the countryside. Interestingly, it seemed that many had also forgone the relative safety of the caravans. A fact not lost on the members of the Swords of Darkness.

Down the road, the adventurers continued.

After perhaps an hour of travel the wagon came to a halt. This abrupt stop garnered the attention of all the wagon's passengers.

"Huh? Why'd we stop, Peter?" Ninya asked.

However, the wagon's driver did not answer directly. Instead, he sat upright, his eyes directed at an approaching wagon.

"Hail friend," Peter announced, a hand raised in a friendly wave.

In response to the greeting, the driver of the oncoming cart raised his hands from his lap and gave at the reins. Feeling this sudden resistance the pair of brown horses broke from their trot and slowed.

"Whoa there boys," the stranger spoke with another tug of the reins.

When steeds momentum had halted the two wagons were alongside one another. From the seat of his cart, a rather scrawny dark-haired man with a bushy mustache tipped his head to Peter.

"Well, hello there strangers. What can I do for you?" he asked with a smile, "You having trouble with your cart?"

"Hello," the blonde adventurer returned the gesture. "And no, no trouble. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions is all."

"Sure," the other male chuckled.

"There seems to be a lot of traffic heading toward E-Rantel. I thought most merchants always traveled in caravans for protection. However, so many seem to be alone."

"Oh aye. You'd be right on that," the man chuckled again, "Normally, I would've had to wait for one of the convoys before making my trip to E-Rantel. But the roads have been so safe lately."

The stranger's words garnered the attention of the party of adventurers. It was Lukrut who spoke next.

"You mean nobody has had any problems on the road. At all?" a hint of skepticism colouring the ranger's voice.

"Nope, not a one. At least none that I've been privy to," he chuckled.

Lukrut's skepticism spread to the team's leader as he and Peter exchanged cautious glances. These looks were lost on the other man as he continued.

"Say, you all don't happen to be adventurers?" the dark-haired man asked, his eyes widening as if he had only just noticed.

"Actually, we are. We were on our way down from E-Rantel." Peter answered.

"Well, then, here take some of these," the other driver twisted in the wagon's seat and grabbed one of the many sacks from the cart's cargo area. "A token of my thanks for all the hard work you and yours have done to keep the road safe."

Reaching out Peter accepted the bag and passed it off to the ranger seated to his right. Lukrut eagerly took the offered sack before opening it and peering inside.

"Thank you," the seated warrior tipped his head, "If you don't mind my asking. Do you know how long it's been like this?"

"Oh, umm…" the other man sat back, his lips contorted as he sought to answer, "I don't know. A tenday… maybe two. It's why I decided to go it alone myself. Saved me a fair bit of coin. Otherwise, I would've had to pay to join one of those caravans, or hire some escorts."

The adventurer leader sat quietly for a moment before offering a smile, "Well, thank you for the talk."

"And the apples," Lukrut added, gleefully hoisting the acquired bag from its place on the bench seat.

"Eh," the man waved his hand, "Think nothing of it. Well, best get going. Long way to go yet."

The driver lifted the reins in his hands and with a snap of his wrists signaled for the equine duo to move out. The horses snorted and pulled against the harnesses which tugged the cart along behind them. As his wagon began to move again, the man tipped his head once more to the cartload of adventurers.

Lukrut smiled, Dyne nodded, and Ninya waved as the laden wagon trundled by. While Tiberius and his two escorts remained more reserved with their reaction – choosing to simply watch the man and wagon pass.

However, it was the lack of response from their group's leader that garnered interest from his three teammates.

"You're being rather quiet. What's on your mind, buddy?" Lukrut asked.

Peter shifted on the driver's bench – adjusting his positioning to allow himself to better see those in the back of the wagon.

"It's just what that guy said. About the road being so clear of threats," he thumbed his chin.

"Is that unusual?" asked the disguised dragonoid.

"Well, truthfully no," Dyne replied, "It is possible that other adventurers have been down this road already."

"Yeah, it's not like this is a guild-assigned job. So, if they did, we wouldn't really hear about it." Ninya added.

The ranger kicked his feet up on the driver's footrest, "Seems like this little trip may just be a bust."

"Well, I guess we could just turn back," said Peter taking the mule's reins in hand.

Lukrut glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye.

"Alright, come on. Out with it," he said while making a 'give me' gesture with his hand.

"What do you mean?"

The ranger turned to face his leader, a smile on his face, "I know you. No doubt you've got an idea floating around in your head."

Together the two young men shared a short laugh.

"Yeah, come on Peter. What are you thinking?" the russet-haired mage inquired.

"Okay," Peter answered, "Well, given the amount of traffic we've seen and with what that traveler said. It's likely if we continue onward we'll not really have any more luck than we did."

"Or…"

"Or…" the warrior regarded the smirking ranger, "We could try one of the side roads that cut deeper into the forest."

"I thought you said the forest was dangerous," Ryoko spoke up.

"Well, it is. However, as long as we don't stray too deep we shouldn't encounter anything can't handle."

"No need to worry any, I'll be close by to protect you," Lukrut smirked before adding a wink for emphasis.

"However," Peter stated – giving his friend and teammate a stern glance, "I wouldn't force anyone to go. So, I'd like to put this to a vote."

Dyne nodded in agreement, "A fine sentiment."

"Alright, all in favour of continuing on say aye."

"Aye," the young mage raised his hand.

The druid nodded, "Indeed."

"You know you can count me in," the ranger shrugged.

With their votes cast, the eyes of the four adventurers then turned to the three new additions.

"Mister Pendragon, you and your companions didn't vote," said Ninya.

"We agreed to join your team, and as such we accept whatever the outcome," Tiberius looked over at the young man, "But if you wish then I would like to continue."

"Yay, me too," Ryoko enthusiastically remarked.

"Yeah, sure," Shar're nodded.

Peter's eyes scanned the faces of his friends and new companions one last time, seeking any sign of discontent. But he found none.

"Alright, I guess we carry on. Ninya could you hand me the pack?"

As asked, the mage reached down plucking the rucksack from the floor of the wagon, and passed it to the front. Taking the bag in hand, Lukrut rummaged through its contents to procure a folded slip of parchment. The paper quickly changed hands as he passed it to his friend.

Peter set about unfolding the paper revealing the map stenciled on its surface. The parchment was worn – more of a cloth than traditional paper – and the lines were faded.

"It looks like there is a branch in the road not too far ahead. So, I guess we'll take that." Peter announced to the group.

He shifted on the bench, facing forward again, and took the mule's reins in hand. The warrior tugged at the long strips of leather gaining the equine's attention. Then with some reluctance, the mule began to move. Pulling the cart and its living cargo down the road.

As the fair-haired leader had predicted, after several miles, they encountered a fork in the path.

The main road had been well-maintained, with hard-packed soil that allowed even the heaviest-laden wagons to move smoothly. The land to either side of the highway was equally well-groomed with the trees pushed back far enough. Affording the myriad of travelers a good view. Something much appreciated by both the passengers and their escorts. Though it was more aesthetic-based reasoning for the merchants and more in line with practicality for the bodyguarding escorts.

This branch in the path was a stark contrast.

The earthen road was looser and pockmarked with deep furrows from passing wagon wheels. This created the heavy build-up of a grass-covered earthen median that rand down the length of this trail. While the main thoroughfare had been bereft of shrubbery this path was bordering on overgrown. There were thick bushes in danger of encroaching on the road if left to their own devices. While the surrounding trees had grown tall and wild, their burly trunks were a sign of healthy development. Numerous branches stretched out over the trail - interweaving together to create a sun-dappled canopy of dense vegetation.

This made the road feel crowded, with the deep shade lending it an almost twilight-like atmosphere.

Even the attitude of the mule at the head of the cart seemed to have changed with the surroundings. Whereas once the equine seemed to have an almost casual mindset as it carried out its appointed task. Now, it moved with an alertness to every step. The tall ears atop its head swiveled near-constantly – listening for any sign of danger.

The moods of the four human adventurers weren't too much better. As they sat quietly on the cart.

From his place on the wagon, Tiberius scanned the area. His steely blue eyes occasionally flicked between his human and nonhuman companions. It seemed like he, Shar're and Ryoko held no perceptible sense of anxiety.

"How's everyone feeling back there?" Lukrut asked.

"We're all fine back here," Ninya replied.

"Good, keep an eye out for signs of any activity," said Peter, "The monsters won't know we're adventurers. So, a lone wagon should provide a tempting target."

Everybody nodded in understanding.

The wagon continued along the rough road – the low squeak of the axles and the creaking of the wooden body echoing through the woodland.

Denied a proper view of the sun it became difficult to gauge the passage of time beneath the forest canopy. It could've been half an hour or several hours as far as Tiberius was concerned.

At least the main road had all those people on it. He reflected. But this road's got nothing going for it. Unless you're into staring at shrubs.

However, the monotony was broken before boredom could properly settle in.

"Hey, Peter, slow down a bit," Lukrut said, rising from his seat on the bench.

Without a word, Peter lifted the reins and pulled back slowly. The mule responded to the gentle tug and began to slow down.

"What is it you see, Lukrut?" asked Dyne in a low voice.

"Is it an ambush?" the young mage inquired, his voice laced with worry.

Lukrut shook his head before quickly leaping from the still-moving cart.

Tiberius watched as the blonde ranger moved with a cautious and measured step along the road. Lukrut had strode about fifty feet ahead of the wagon before stopping and crouching down, his head bowed as he focused on the ground in front of him.

Curious about what had captured their friend's attention, the other three members of the Swords of Darkness moved to join him. Seeing this, Tiberius stood and climbed down from the cart, the two Valkyries following suit.

"Check it out," Lukrut said without turning around.

As the group gathered behind the crouched ranger their eyes were trained on the patch of earth before him.

The ground was littered with numerous footprints. Some were clearly animal in nature, canine or feline perhaps. But among them were human prints though small like those of a child.

"What is it?" the disguised dragonoid asked.

"Judging by the tracks I'd say we found our first signs," Lukrut answered.

"Goblins?" inquired Peter.

"Yeah and from the looks of it, they've also got some wolven mounts with them."

Peter looked around the area, "Can you tell how many of them there are?"

Lukrut shook his head, "Not fully. Though if I had to guess I'd say easily a raiding party. But the prints are about a week old and worn. So there could be more."

Upon hearing the statement the group took on a heightened alertness. Their eyes diligently scanned their surroundings while their ears listened for any noise that might indicate the presence of an unwanted observer.

"You guys don't have to worry. There's nothing around us," the ranger set to trying to ease the tension among his friends. "Besides it's not the goblin tracks that bother me. It's those."

Stretching out his arm, Lukrut pointed to another set of tracks. These were clearly not of natural origin. Unless some creature out there had a foot shaped like a boot.

"Merchants?" Ninya proposed.

"No, if they were, they'd be traveling along the road. These are heading in the same direction as the goblin tracks."

Peter cupped his chin as he considered the possibilities. "Could be another team of adventurers."

"Or a group of irate villagers who decided to chase down the goblins after they raided their homesteads." Lukrut mused. "And going by the weathering, I'd say they passed through here around the same time as the goblins."

"There also doesn't appear to be any return tracks," the burly druid pointed out, "Which makes little sense as it would be the most assured way to find their way home."

"So, unless they found another way. They didn't go back," Tiberius' morose observation earned him the uncomfortable stare of the human adventurers.

"Peter, you don't think Mister Pendragon is right. Do you?" asked Ninya. His voice lacking its normal upbeat tone.

The team's leader regarded the magic caster with a smile, "There's no way to know the whole story from just footprints. It's possible they looped back. Or maybe found the main road."

"Well, it's up to you, boss." Lukrut rose from his stooped position and turned to face Peter, "Do we follow the tracks? Or should we continue on along the road?"

"I say we follow," surprisingly it was Ninya who spoke up. Though under the group's attention, he seemed to shrink back a little, "I mean whoever they are, they could be in trouble if they're still out there."

"I guess we can't argue with that," Peter replied.

Returning to the wagon, Dyne led the mule to a nearby tree. He wrapped the reins around a branch rather loosely. When the dragonoid asked about this the druid explained that the mule, like so many pack animals, had been trained to believe the leather straps would hold it firmly bound to this spot. But should the mule be attacked, all it need do is pull and the straps would come free thus allowing it to escape.

So it was, with their transportation secured, the Swords of Darkness and the Crimson Dragoons set out to follow the prints.

Lukrut strode at the front of the head of the band, his keen eyes surveying the landscape. Peter followed not quite behind but not quite adjacent. While Dyne and Ninya had positioned themselves in the middle – leaving Tiberius, Ryoko, and Shar're to guard the rear.

They moved in near-silence with a measured stride. Occasionally, the ranger would pause bringing the group's momentum to a halt. At such moments he would examine some marking on the ground like a footprint or the broken limb of a bush. But once he had garnered whatever information he could from these the group would again get underway.

Trekking through this foreign woodland, Tiberius could feel the prickling tingle in the back of his mind. The rush of excitement and the thrill of the unknown. They were something he had experienced numerous times in the past.

Scaling the colossal heights of the mountains of Álfheim in the hunt for legendary gilded fae dream wyvern. Facing the invasion of the undead frost army and their lich king during a special event within the realm of Jötunheim. Delving into the fire swamps of Múspellsheim to farm the blasting trogs for materials in the early game.

Moments like those had forever ingrained themselves into his memory. And here he was on a new adventure in an equally mysterious land – he could not help but feel these old and familiar sensations.

Deeper and deeper they strode, following the trail of tracks through the undergrowth.

At the front of the troupe, the blonde-haired ranger suddenly stopped, holding his hand up to signal the others to do so.

"What is it?" Peter whispered.

"Do you hear that?"

All stood motionless, their eyes scanning the area and ears straining to listen.

"I don't hear anything," Ninya noted.

"That's just it," Lukrut turned back to those behind him, "There's nothing."

The ranger was right, in the forest around them there were no sounds to be heard aside from the rustle of leaves in the occasional breeze. Gone was the bird song, near or far, that rode the winds. Or the braying calls of distant wildlife as they communicated with one another.

Instead, only the eerie silence of their absence.

"He's right," Dyne remarked, "How odd. To cause such a disturbance, for animals to flee their natural territory. Truly a basis for concern."

The forest seemed to change in this realization. Shadows appeared darker, more foreboding, while the thought of an ambush lying in wait behind any tree, any bush danced in their minds.

"Perhaps we should head back?" Ninya questioned.

"Might be a bit late for that," Lukrut commented sharply, "We've got company approaching."

Peter looked about the area, "Where?"

"Straight ahead," the ranger replied.

"Dyne, can you gauge how many?"

The druid stood quiet for a moment, "[Floral Sense]."

There was a flash of green and Dyne's eyes were lit by the power of the spell. Through its power, the druid felt himself connected to the flora around him. Every root that spread through the earth was like an extension of his senses.

He could see it.

Every footfall of the approaching creatures was as stones cast into a still pond. Each step created ripples that spread out to be detected by the various floral root systems. In turn, this external nervous system transmitted the information back to the druid through his magical connection.

"It would seem that we have found Lukrut's goblins," Dyne's calm baritone voice reverberated, "And he was correct in his estimation of their numbers. It looks like a raiding party of two dozen. Five of which are mounted on wolf back."

Without a Peter stepped forward, his right arm instinctively seeking the hilt of the arming sword that hung on his left hip. Drawing the blade from its sheath he gripped it tightly in both hands - he held it before him in a low guard position with its blade pointing out before him.

Turning his head, he looked back and nodded to the rest of his teammates.

Lukrut smiled at his friend. Pulling an arrow from the laden quiver he carried on his belt and nocked it as he readied his bow. Ninya swallowed the lump in his throat and held his staff close. The magic caster was a little startled when he felt a large hand laid gently on his shoulder. Turning quickly Ninya was looking up at the bearded and smiling face of the giant druid.

Dyne said no words but merely gave the younger lad's shoulder a reaffirming squeeze.

Soon enough the rustle of the bushes could be heard and numerous forms emerged from the undergrowth.

Standing at nearly four feet tall their diminutive size gave an almost childlike impression. Their faces were vaguely humanlike – gaunt with wide flat noses and a pair of little fangs that jutted up from the corners of their mouths like tusks. Atop their heads was an unkempt short crop of black oily hair. While over their pale green skin, they wore animal hides and ragged cuts of rough brown cloth. Whether the cloth's colour had been achieved through dye or just an accumulation of dirt was unknown.

Each carried a weapon. For some a basic wooden club – hewn from bark-stripped and tapered branches. In the hands of others, an axe hewn from rough stone and lashed to a limb of appropriate thickness. Some of them also carried a small shield. Shields haphazardly constructed of mismatched lengths of lumber. However, a few of the goblins held metal weapons – small swords, daggers, and picks. All were probably acquired through raids of villages. While those few that rode on the backs of the wolves possessed sharpened branches as makeshift spears.

The goblins advanced through the undergrowth at a steady pace with an odd loping sort of stride. Their squinting eyes focused solely on the adventurers standing before them.

"Heh, seems like more than two dozen," Lukrut joked.

Lukrut raised his bow and selected his target amongst the oncoming troupe. Then drawing back his arm he pulled taught the bowstring.

There was a familiar twang as the string released its stored tension – propelling the arrow through the air at speed. The metal-tipped shaft of wood flew with precision to strike its target through its left eye socket. As expected the goblin crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Yet, the death of one of their own seemed to go unnoticed as the rest of the goblins continued to march.

"[Reinforce Armour]," Ninya's voice rang out as he cast his protective magics.

A yellow aura enveloped Peter who raised his sword and shield before charging one of the approaching monsters. The goblin reacted predictably, with a swing of its club at the attacking human. Peter moved, lowering his shield to intercept the wooden weapon. He felt the impact – surprising given the goblin's smaller size. But not about to allow the goblin a second attack, the warrior raised his sword arm and brought it down. The steel blade sliced through the air and into the green flesh of the enemy's neck.

He felt the batter of a club against his back – knocking him off balance. But rather than fight it. Peter allowed himself to follow the momentum and performed a quick tuck and roll before springing to his feet. A pair of goblins now advanced on him.

There was a thwack and one of the goblins fell – the feathered tail of an arrow protruding from the back of its skull.

Peter smiled at his friend who gave a quick two-fingered salute before nocking another arrow and letting loose upon another wayward target. The blonde-haired warrior focused again on the second goblin.

The child-sized creature stood, its yellow eyes staring at him. Yet, Peter couldn't help but notice a strange almost unfocused quality to its gaze. The goblin raised its arms and with them, the steel pickaxe into the air before charging.

The warrior nimbly dodged the swipe of its weapon. Again and again, the green-skinned humanoid swung the pick only for the human to avoid it. The next attack came as the goblin swiped the weapon in an arc before it.

Peter lifted his shield to intercept. The moment of impact came with a dull ache in his arm – such was the force. Eyeing the reverse of his shield the gleam of a steel spike could seen protruding through the wooden barrier. Subconsciously he swallowed, an inch or two lower, and the metallic spike would've found itself buried in his forearm.

Embedded as it was when the goblin attempted to retrieve its weapon for a follow-up attack, all it could do was yank haplessly. A sort of tug-of-war began as the goblin pulled at the shaft of the pickaxe and the shield in turn. Only for Peter to pull in the opposite direction.

With a single-minded focus, the demihuman refused to release its hold. Equally, the human would not yield the shield from his grasp.

However, Peter was a quick thinker and adept at improvising.

When next the goblin tried to tug the pick free, he followed with it. Surging forwards he slammed the shield into the green-skinned creature. This, in turn, caused the goblin to lose its balance and fall backward.

As a consequence, the reverse curve of the pickaxe's head impaled the goblin through the ribs. The steel spike was driven all the deeper by the human's weight as he fell atop the creature.

Rearing back onto his knees, Peter hastily removed the strap that secured the shield to his limb. Once freed, he sprang to his feet and moved back.

Much to his surprise the goblin began to move – slowly rising to its feet. Oddly unfazed by the pickaxe lodged in its ribs or the added weight of the shield firmly rooted to that.

Raising his sword, the human warrior swung the sword with a wide arc. Its keen edge biting deeply into the neck of the goblin and liberated its head from its shoulders.

While their fellows were busied with the humans – the wolf riders ignored the happenings around them and spurred their mounts onward. Their targets: the two humans who stood apart and to the back of the formation.

Seeing the fast-approaching calvary, Dyne reacted.

"[Entangle]!"

Called forth by the spell, a mass of squirming roots emerged from the soil. Like writhing snakes, they struck out, lashing at the wolves and their riders. Widing themselves about the beasts, the vines rendered them immobile.

The goblins dismounted before they too could be held secure. Their legs carried them across the earth as they charged the large druid with levied spears.

Dyne moved with surprising grace – avoiding the jutting speartips as the goblins lunged at him. A swing of his burly arm and the blocky head of his mace made contact with a goblin. The simple hides it wore offered little protection against the weapon's crown-shaped steel head.

Its ribs gave way, collapsing its chest as the blunt weapon's momentum carried the demihuman off its feet. Several feet backwards it was carried before falling to the ground unceremoniously.

The other four spearbearers paid no attention to their fallen comrade – thrusting their spears towards the druid again and again.

He dodged a charging goblin before countering with his mace. The heavy metal implement having little trouble batting aside the polearm. A downward strike against the goblin's head resulted in a distinctly audible crack and the creature was brought to the ground.

Unfortunately, as Dyne focused on his attack, he left himself momentarily vulnerable. The remaining two spear-wielding demihumans seized the opportunity and attacked in unison. Twisting at the waist, Dyne yanked himself backward, narrowly avoiding one spear. However, he couldn't evade the second. The sharpened stone tip grazed the flesh of his upper arm, leaving a rough, bleeding wound. Feeling its biting sting, Dyne winced and withdrew from the goblins, glancing at the scarlet liquid now running down the length of his arm.

"[Magic Arrow]."

The ring atop the magic caster's staff shone a radiant blue as it channeled the mystical energy. Bolts of pure mana took form before sailing through the air silently towards their targets.

There was a brief flash of light on impact as the magical energy seared its way through the goblin's flesh.

"Dyne," Ninya called out as he came to his teammate's aid, "Are you alright?"

Dyne smiled and nodded.

"No, you're not," Ninya countered, a finger pointing to the rivulet of blood oozing through the tear in his sleeve.

The large man cast his gaze to the minour wound and stroked his bushy beard, "Ah, so I have. Worry not, young Ninya. Tis but a scratch."

However, tending to the injury would have to wait as a number of goblins began to approach.

Their pace was slowed as a rapid volley of arrows pelted their bodies. Several of them stumbled, tripping and falling to the ground as the arrows struck them in the shoulder.

"Don't worry guys," Lukrut called out.

Putting aside his bow, he drew the sword that hung on his hip for the first time. With a hasty stride, the ranger set upon the goblins. One of the creatures turned to face their attack. Then with a staggered stride, it charged.

Lukrut grinned and stepped aside as the demihuman swung its short sword at him. Then reacting quickly, he brought his own weapon into play. With a quick upwards strike the blade removed the goblin's hand – sword included. The goblin paused long enough to stare at the stump of its limb before the ranger's blade slammed into the top of its head. Its eyes glazed over becoming unfocused and its life was snuffed out.

Lukrut pulled the sword blade from the goblin's cranium with a swift yank and went after the next. As the ranger held the goblin's attention Dyne moved to aid his teammate and friend. With mace in hand, he strode into the fray – there was a crack of bones as the metal of his weapon met with the goblins. Together the pair acted as the shield for Ninya.

Not one to leave his friends alone. The magic caster once more delved into his arsenal of offensive spells. With a second volley of [Magic Arrow], several goblins fell to lie motionless on the earth.

Throughout the commotion, Tiberius stood with his Valkyrie companions had been left to the rear. Perhaps their presence had simply slipped the minds of the four adventurers as they fell into a practiced routine. Or maybe, they were trying to protect the three copper plates in their midst – despite what history Tiberius had shared with them the night before.

Shar're and Ryoko looked on with amusem*nt – seemingly enjoying the sight of a battle. Or perhaps it was simply the antics of the four human adventurers that brought them such satisfaction.

The dragonoid, however, watched with a more intent gaze. His eyes followed the movements of each in turn.

The maneuvers of Peter as he stood his ground against the demihumans. Through the skill of arm, he pushed back against the goblins as they fell at his feet. He watched as Lukrut moved with a fluidity that belied his agility. His skill with a bow was clear to see but he appeared equally suited to the use of a blade. He wielded the blade like his bow – with precision and skill. He made no unnecessary moves and struck with a keen eye. A contrast to the slower and more heavy-handed movements of Dyne's steel mace. While Ninya did his best to support his companions, bolstering their defense and aiding the offense through magical means.

The teamwork was admirable, a showcase of skill and of the trust they held for one another. The kind of trust that could only be earned over time spent working closely together.

A prized commodity, he mused.

To his eyes, it seemed the four members of the Swords of Darkness were fairing well against the goblinoid threat. And so long as that were the case, he felt no need to intervene with the proceedings. But the hand that gripped the hilt of his sword spoke to his readiness should the need arise.

Little by little the number of goblins was whittled down until none stood.

The warrior stood over the body of the last of the goblins to fall. "Th-that's the la-last of them," he panted.

"I'd tend to agree," Lukrut remarked as he approached his friend, "You alright, buddy?"

The team's leader nodded, "Mostly thanks to you and Ninya."

As if summoned by the mention of his name, the young mage approached with the bearded druid in tow. It wasn't long before the keen-eyed ranger picked up on the wound that Dyne carried on his upper arm.

"I know you're a big guy and all, Dyne. But you should get that taken care of."

Dyne smiled, "I appreciate your concerns, Lukrut. But not before the two of you."

Gathering the pair in close, the druid raised his hand, "[Minor Healing Light]."

The trio basked in the soothing green aura conjured by the spell. The fatigue that had previously filled their muscles and the dull ache of their bruised flesh quickly subsided. In their place, a renewed sense of vigor filled their bodies. Dyne's bicep, once marred by a deep gash, had healed completely, leaving no scar behind. The only reminder of the injury was the cut in the sleeve of his tunic.

"You and your team fought well."

The three adventurers smiled at the paid compliment.

"Yeah, we're pretty good alright," Lukrut smirked and flexed his arm.

Peter sighed and shook his head at his friend's antics, "Well, good coordination is a necessity for good teamwork."

Tiberius nodded in agreement. But before he could say anything more his attention was stolen by the group's magic caster. While Dyne administered aid to their teammates, Ninya busied himself with a peculiar and grim task. Kneeling beside one of the goblin corpses, the young mage drew the black steel dagger from its sheath and set to cutting an ear from the body.

"What are you doing?" asked the approaching dragonoid.

"Oh, the guild requires proof of the monsters we slay. This way they can verify our claims." Ninya responded with a smile, "Though sometimes it's not just ears. Depending on the monster they can have some rather valuable parts. Some adventurer teams do nothing but hunt monsters for their parts as it can be pretty lucrative."

"Ah," the dragonoid shifted, surveying the fallen goblins, "Do these monsters ever carry treasures with them?"

"Not to my knowledge," the mage answered, "Unless you're dealing with something like a dragon, which might have a hoard. But I've never heard of any monsters that normally carry anything valuable like that with them."

"I see."

I guess that makes sense. It would be rather strange for a monster to just randomly drop treasure or weapons and armour once it's defeated in real life.

"It would certainly be wonderful if they did carry such trinkets," Ninya added, extracting another ear from a corpse.

"Oh yes, it most certainly would," Tiberius chuckled, "Things…"

The dragonoid's choice of words trailed off as his focus shifted from the mage before him to the kitsune not far away. There Ryoko was crouched over one of the deceased demihumans, her hand idly toying with an arrow shaft that protruded from the creature's forehead.

"Ryoko, will you stop playing with that," he pleaded.

"Sorry, master," the chastised kitsune turned, a smile on her face. "It's just they're so weird."

"Well, they are goblins after all," he said dismissively.

"Oh," the kitsune's expression brightened with curiosity, "Is that why they don't bleed?"

"What do you mean?" the dragonoid asked, intrigued.

Curiosity was piqued not just in the dragonoid but in the mage too. Sheathing his dagger, Ninya stood and followed Tiberius to where the kitsune Valkyrie was examining the goblin. Together, they peered down at the diminutive monstrous humanoid, eager to unravel this new mystery.

The goblin lay sprawled on the ground, exactly as it had fallen after its fatal encounter with the arrow. Its body was limp, its face void of expression, and its yellow eyes stared lifelessly up at the dense forest canopy. From the center of its wide and dirt-smeared forehead, the wooden shaft of the arrow stood out as the trunk of a miniature tree upon a verdant hill.

Yet, most interestingly it was as Ryoko had said – there was no sign of blood. Well, this was not entirely accurate to say.

Tiberius nudged the goblin's head to the side to examine the back of its cranium, he saw that the steel point of the arrow had exited through the skull. The once gleaming tip was now coated in thick, viscous blood that clung to the arrowhead like congealed pudding, refusing to flow from the wound.

Turning away the dragonoid returned to the side of the corpse from which Ninya had previously removed an ear.

His eyes swiftly looked to the marred flesh on the side of the goblin's head. No blood seeped from the wound that had just been inflicted. Something that should be nigh impossible for a fresh body.

Soon all were looking over the dead.

"This one is the same, master," said Shar're as she peered down at the goblin at her feet.

"This one too," Peter called out.

"Yeah, it's the same these over here," affirmed Lukrut.

"It would seem that whatever is afflicting the goblins. Also affected their mounts as well." Said Dyne as he examined the deceased wolves – their bodies still entangled in the heavy roots that had crushed the life from them.

"I don't get it, what could've caused this? Ninya you got any ideas?" asked Lukrut as he scratched his head.

The young magic caster stood silent, cupping his chin while his bright blue eyes focused intently on the laying goblin at his feet. In silence, he reviewed the evidence of the scene before him.

"It doesn't make sense. But the only explanation I can come up with is that they're dead."

"Well, yeah. I mean we can see that they aren't moving around anymore," remarked Lukrut.

"No, I mean they were already dead." Ninya snapped back, "Before we finished them off."

They had expected to find goblins or some other such monster. Not to encounter undead goblins.

Peter stood to the side, staring at the thickened mass of blood that covered the blade of his sword. Without the vitality of life within it the blood had turned almost black in hue.

As he gazed at the mess, he recalled the expression that had been worn by the goblin he had faced. That strange unfocused gaze and the blank, emotionless face as it bore down on him. It all made sense now.

If the creature was truly one of the undead then it would be lacking that essential spark that all living beings possessed. Instead, it would be stripped away and left with only the seething hatred for the living that all undead shared to drive it forward.

"Ninya's right," he said turning to face his companions.

"Hmm," Dyne stroked his beard, "If that is the case, to encounter undead outside of the Katze Plains. This bodes ill."

"Yeah, well, let's not forget the bigger issue," Lukrut cut in, "How did they get that way?"

An uneasy glance was exchanged among the four humans.

"I think Lukrut has a point. And it's probably best if we head back and alert the Adventurers' Guild to this. So they can send more teams down here."

"I would concur," the druid nodded.

The magic caster looked about the forest with a degree of apprehension. "I think so too."

"Alright, let's get back. And keep up your guard," Peter instructed.

However, before the group could begin to get underway. Lukrut's keen senses were pricked by the presence of approaching creatures. He froze mid-step, slowly turning to face the opposite direction from which the goblins had come – the very route that would lead the group back to the waiting wagon and road.

"Uh, I don't think we'll make it back now," the ranger uttered nervously, "We got more company, and they're closing in."

"What'll we do?" said Ninya, his blue eyes wide with concern.

"How many, Lukrut?" Peter asked.

"Many. I'd say two or three times that of the goblins."

Hearing such an estimate visibly shook the team's confidence, especially that of their magic caster. Young Ninya gripped his staff the tighter and appeared to withdraw into himself – torn between his instinctual drive to outright flee and his desire to stay and aid his friends in the coming conflict.

"Not much we can do now," the team's leader spoke with a stanch tone.

The adventurers gathered themselves, a unified force ready for the looming battle. At the forefront stood the Swords of Darkness. Behind them, Tiberius' trio from the Crimson Dragoons took their positions, a solid wall of defense for their human allies.

With sword and shield in hand, Peter stood resolute like an unyielding pillar. Briefly, he cast a glance over his shoulder at his teammates, each a testament to their unbreakable bond.

Lukrut was by his side, an arrow already nocked in his bow, though he held it low, the point aimed at the ground. To his other side, Dyne, the druid, despite the mace in his hand projected an aura of calm determination. Nearby, the much smaller Ninya, the mage subconsciously edged closer to Dyne, attempting to draw some small sense of security from his tranquil strength.

Peter's gaze then shifted to the trio guarding the rear, and he was struck by their unusual demeanor. For all three individuals exuded an air of nonchalance. As if the impending danger didn't exist to them.

Shar're, her silver hair gleaming, looked almost bored, waiting with a detached stillness. Ryoko, on the other hand, seemed more excited, a childlike eagerness lighting up her eyes as if anticipating a thrilling game. Between them stood Pendragon, who appeared more curious than anything else – despite the hand that rested upon the hilt of the sword on his hip.

Peter recalled the other man's words of the night before. Of how he spoke about being an adventurer previous to his joining the guild. His stories had seemed far-fetched – who would need a team of ninety-two adventurers? But now, observing their composed and confident behavior, Peter wondered if there was more truth to Pendragon's tales than he had initially believed.

But he couldn't dwell on it for long.

The wind had shifted, bringing with it the stench of rot to waft over the group. The pungent aroma alone was enough to remove any doubt that may have lingered about the threat they faced.

Materializing through the foliage the menace emerged some distance ahead. Numerous figures began to shuffle into view, confirming Lukrut's earlier predictions as their numbers swelled.

Leading the group were more goblins, likely survivors from the earlier encounter, but they were merely the vanguard of a much larger horde predominantly comprised of humans.

Zombies, in various stages of decay, staggered into sight, their ragged remnants of clothing narrating silent tales of their past lives. Many were dressed in simple attire, suggesting they had once been humble travelers or villagers waylaid on their journeys. Others sported finer clothes, indicative of their former statuses as nobles or wealthy merchants. Among them were also figures in tattered armour, likely the fallen guards who had once protected these higher echelons of society on their travels.

Among the throng, there were also skeletal figures, devoid of flesh and animated by dark magic, driven by a formidable will. Some of these skeletons were clad in armor, ranging from quilted gambisons and banded armor to ring and plate mail, though all showed signs of severe wear. The aged appearance of the metal testified to the long years these bones had been animated.

The sight of these armed and armoured adversaries intensified the anxiety among the human adventurers, as the gravity of their challenge became increasingly apparent.

Tensions among the human adventurers grew heavier upon seeing the opposition.

"There sure is a lot of them," Lukrut remarked, "Maybe sticking around here isn't the best idea."

"Yeah," Peter acknowledged, "Not sure we can take them all head-on."

"Perhaps a tactical retreat."

"No, that would only take us deeper into the forest."

The large druid shifted, glancing at the team's leader, "You have a strategy in mind?"

"I'm all ears," Lukrut laughed. It was a chuckle meant to hide and calm his nerves.

"Well, I'd say our best bet to get out of here is to focus our efforts on a single point. We make a hole and break through their lines. Then we head for the wagon."

"Sounds like a plan to me," the ranger smirked.

"These are undead, remember to aim for the head," instructed Ninya, "It's the only way to be sure they're put down."

The undead's march was slow but steady. Drawing closer with every step.

It was the zombies who were the first to set upon the group. Their arms were outstretched as they reached for their living targets.

Lukrut was quick, raising his bow, he drew the bowstring and loose an arrow into the eye socket of an undead. In rapid succession, he nocked another arrow and let it fly.

"[Reinforce Armour]," Ninya chanted.

"[Fortress]," recited Peter – his body being braced by the martial art. "[Shield Bash]."

Like throwing a punch, the warrior swung his shield arm. The shield's metal-banded rim found its mark in the face of an approaching undead. There was a crack and the zombie was flung off its feet. Only for another to take its place. This one was met with the flat of his shield as Peter used the barrier to push it back. In one fluid motion, he drew back the shield and struck with his sword. Thrusting the weapon before him, the blade entered the pliable flesh of the zombie's neck, severing its spine as it exited.

Dyne's approach to dealing with the danger remained straightforward.

Swinging his mace with precision, he targeted the approaching zombies relentlessly. Outstretched limbs were deflected, bones shattering upon impact. Skulls met the same fate, crushed with each downward stroke of his mace.

"[Magic Arrow]."

Bolts of mana surged forth, honing in on their targets. Whether through skill or guided by the magic of the spell, Ninya's accuracy nearly matched that of Lukrut.

However, when an armoured undead closed in on Peter, weapon raised. The magic caster unleashed a different spell.

"[Acid Arrow]."

The mana arrow glowed with a green hue, contrasting the previous blue. It sailed through the air to pierce the chest of the zombie. The impact flowed over it like water – some of the residual mana splashing across neighboring undead. The caustic effect of the mana immediately dissolving the armour alongside the flesh and bone beneath.

Had this been a living being, it would have proven a fatal injury. Yet, because the foe was undead, it merely dismantled its main support structure. Robbed of this the zombie's torso toppled backward at the waist. Seeing this Peter swiftly sent a kick to the folded corpse, knocking it off its feet and to the ground.

The undead pressed on in a relentless tide – one after the other in their mindless onslaught. Before the adventurers, bodies began to pile up as one came forward only to fall to the human's weapons, a testament to their resistance.

However, it was only the zombies that advanced. The skeleton warriors remained steadfast at the rear of the group. So long as they remained it meant that there would be no push through the enemy lines as Peter had hoped.

Eventually, though, this flowing stream of foes became a trickle, and even that began to dwindle until there was no more to approach.

The zombies now lay strewn across the ground their undeath having been ended by the efforts of the four adventurers. However, this had taken its toll on the humans who felt the ache in their muscles and the drain on their spirits.

This change immediately struck the adventurers who gawped at the eyeless undead who stared back.

"Well, this is new," Lukrute remarked. The ranger's head moved in a gentle arc, surveying their surroundings. "Any idea what they're up to?"

"Haven't a clue," answered Peter as he try to catch his breath, "Ninya?"

"No," the mage shook his head, "It almost looks as if they're waiting for something."

"Yeah, well, I'm down to my last arrow. So, I'd suggest that we figure something out before whatever it is that they're waiting on gets here."

In the face of the undead, the atmosphere seemed to grow heavy. While in the absence of the natural sounds of the forest, the adventurers' panted breaths were all the louder for it.

The skeleton warriors stood unmoving, undaunted by the slaughter of zombie kin. Empty eye sockets and fleshless skulls did much to make them more intimidating.

From behind their ranks, a figure moved, striding forwards.

Clad in a robe of onyx cloth, its aged and faded exterior still held a glimpse of its former extravagance. Beneath the heavy hood, the being's face could be seen. Its weathered flesh was drained of colour and draped across the underlying bone – resembling an ill-fitted mask. This distortion of the skin caused the flesh of the mouth to be stretched grotesquely into a permanent, wide, and sinister grin, revealing sickly darkened teeth. Similarly, the skin around the eyes was drawn back tightly, exposing yellowed sclera and clouded irises. These eerie eyes were fixed on the living beings before it with a relentless and malevolent stare.

It walked with a steady, unimpeded gait, clutching a gnarled staff in the skeletal grip of its right hand.

The combined gaze of the Swords of Darkness and the Crimson Dragoons followed this new undead figure intently.

"I guess that's what they were they were waiting on," commented Lukrut.

"Yeah, and I'd say so. That's probably the big boss," said Peter, "Ninya, do you recognize what kind of monster it is?"

The mage was silent for a time, his blue eyes fixed on the robed figure. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled with fear.

"I-i-it's an Elder Lich. They're a platinum-ranked monster."

The realization of the threat they faced seemed to strike the adventurers like a punch to the stomach. They stood rooted, unable to turn away.

"I think we're gonna need a new plan," said the ranger, "Anyone got any ideas?"

"Leave it to us," came the reply from the rear of the group.

The four Swords of Darkness turned abruptly, their faces etched with shock as they focused on the speaker.

"You're not serious?" asked Lukrut, his eyes wide with incredulity, "You heard what Ninya said."

Tiberius ignored the ranger.

"Mister Pendragon," the young mage spoke, his tone laced with concern and fear.

"The four of you have done your part. Now, it's time that we do ours."

Without another word, Tiberius and his Valkyrie companions strode confidently past the four humans, ready to face the monstrous threat.

"Ryoko, Shar're, I'll leave the minions for the two of you to deal with while I deal with the leader," a quick glance over his shoulder allowed him to see the pair nod in response. "Also, make sure that no harm comes to the humans."

"As you wish, my lord."

"Sure thing, master."

With his orders given, Tiberius returned his focus to the lich standing amongst the rabble of skeleton warriors.

The undead creature was very reminiscent of those he'd encountered during his time in YGGDRASIL. However, that just meant that its outward appearance was similar. Its skills and abilities could be drastically different in the real world. This didn't mean the dragonoid could be lax in his guard lest his foe surprised him.

Liches are supposed to be the next step up from skeleton mages, if I remember correctly. But that was in a game. Who knows if it even works that way here? Maybe I should've asked Ninya some questions about this before I decided to fight this thing.

He shrugged.

Well, at least it's only an elder lich and not a demilich or an overlord.

The dragonoid halted, positioning himself midway between the undead contingent and the four human adventurers. His steely blue eyes locked onto the robed figure as its clouded eyes stared back at him in an unflinching gaze.

In this mock staring contest, a thought struck the dragonoid – more a recollection, really.

According to the lore of YGGDRASIL, liches were categorized as one of the three intelligent undead species, alongside vampires and mummy lords. Assuming this world followed the same rules, the lich confronting him was far from the mindless undead, unlike the zombies.

This became evident through its chosen tactics.

The skeleton warriors were likely held back on its command. It seemed the lich had used the zombies as expendable shock troops to exhaust the party and assess their strengths. Given that skeleton warriors were both stronger and more resilient than the frail zombies, they were not as easily sacrificed for mere tests of an opponent's capability.

I wonder…

"I've heard it said that the undead don't wander from the plains. So, what are you doing here?" Tiberius asked.

The unexpected declaration from their fellow adventurer caught the Swords of Darkness off guard, their expressions mirroring their confusion.

An eternity of silence seemed to pass by while the skeletons stood unmoving, their bony faces blank of any emotion and eyesockets empty of any intelligence. Their leader likewise remained unchanged.

"It," the lich rasped in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, yet abrasive like sandpaper. "It calls to us."

Tiberius co*cked his head in puzzlement at the statement, "It? What calls to you?"

"It calls to us. Beckons us north. So, we answer its summons," the lich replied.

"What is 'it'?" the dragonoid said firmly.

The lich stood silent for a moment or two before it deigned to respond. When it did, the voice was harsher than before and as bone-chilling as the grave.

"Death."

These words seemed to draw forth a chill in the very air. At least, that's how it felt to the four humans who subconsciously huddled closer together.

For Tiberius, this admission only deepened the puzzle of just what this lich was talking about.

Death? Is this some kind of metaphor or something? Or is it saying that death has literally commanded it to go north? Either way, it doesn't change the fact that this thing is a threat and needs to go.

Putting this from his mind, Tiberius turned his head and with a slight nod issued his orders.

Shar're was the first to act.

With a swift clap, she lunged forward like a predator pouncing on its prey. Darting between the slashing blades, she maneuvered deftly to land a decisive blow on her opponent. Every punch she delivered shattered both bone and armor with equal ferocity. Her powerful kicks sent skeleton warriors bursting apart, scattering splintered bones like a shower across the battlefield.

A skeleton thrust out its spear at the draegloth-turned-dark elf. Reacting Shar're captured the shaft in her grasp and pulled. In the face of its opponent's greater strength, the skeleton quickly lost its footing. As the skeleton careened towards her, Sha're spun and raised her elbow to deliver a strike that collapsed the face of the skeletal warrior. Its head pulverized, and the undead fighter's body came apart into a scattering of bones.

Not to be left out of the fun, Ryoko was quick to join into the fray.

"[Foxfire]," the kitsune chanted.

She extended her arms outward, and nine ethereal flames appeared, swirling into a halo above her. With a serene smile, Ryoko guided the flames toward their targets. The orbs of fire sailed through the air and settled gently on the skeletons. In a dazzling burst of azure light, the undead were engulfed, leaving nothing behind but scorched earth.

In response, several undead soldiers charged at her, their spears poised for attack. Ryoko let out a giggle reminiscent of a child in the midst of play, and with a graceful leap, she took to the air. Mid-arc, she flipped to face her adversaries below. Reciting the spell once more, she unleashed another volley of magical fire. The flames rained down upon the battlefield, erasing more foes from existence.

The apparent decimation of its forces seemed to raise the ire of the lich. The creature's flesh was pulled tight – enough to tear and expose atrophied muscle beneath. As a raspy guttural growl came from the depths of its long parched throat.

This caused Tiberius to smirk. It was oddly gratifying to know that even an undead could be annoyed.

Bearing its wrath, the lich shot a menacing glare at the defiant soul who stood before it.

With a deliberate and ominous gesture, the lich lifted a withered arm, its hand outstretched and clawed fingers pointing towards the heavens. From the depths of its upturned palm surged a torrent of glacial mana, a chilling gale so potent it seemed to draw its icy breath directly from the desolate winds of the Arctic Circle.

The air before it crackled with the abrupt descent of a sudden frost, the atmosphere thickening as the temperature plummeted. The ground beneath the blast transformed with the embrace of the frigid mana. With a hissing sound, the terrain frosted over, a layer of ice encapsulating everything it touched.

The spell hurtling towards Tiberius was one which he immediately identified as the [Ray of Frost]. A basic incantation that many of the arcane job classes of YGGDRASIL started with, and one hardly worthy of his concern. Such a spell was trivial, far beneath the level of magic that could pose any real threat to him. Yet, he chose not to disclose his immunity just yet.

Instead, with a swift burst of agility, Tiberius deftly sidestepped the incoming spell. His innate speed allowed him to easily outmaneuver the frosty onslaught, creating a significant distance between himself and the rapidly icing ground.

Undeterred, the lich repeatedly cast the elementary cantrip, each attempt as fruitless as the last. Tiberius, with each agile dodge, left the lich's efforts floundering in icy futility.

As the trio performed, the four humans watched, utterly captivated. The spectacle unfolding before them was shredding the opinions they had formed during their initial meeting, reshaping their perceptions in real time.

"T-this is incredible," the ranger stammered.

Not one for many words the beardy druid nodded.

"I can scarcely believe it either," mumbled the magic caster.

"Yet, seeing is believing," said the team's leader.

A low growl escaped from the lich's twisted, grinning mouth. In a display of mounting frustration, the undead mage shifted its strategy. Drawing from its dark powers, the cloaked figure raised a hand and curled its skeletal fingers into a partial fist. Within its clench, a small spark ignited, quickly blossoming into a glowing orb of pure flame.

"Mister Pendragon, look out! That's a fireball spell!" Ninya called out.

Though the mage's intentions were noble, his actions had unintended consequences, achieving the opposite of his desired effect. Against his better judgment, the dragonoid diverted his attention from his opponent to address his human companion.

In just a brief moment when Tiberius's attention wavered from the undead mage, the lich seized its chance to attack. A bolt of flame erupted from the lich's palm and hurtled towards its target.

Accompanied by a thunderous crack and a flash of light, the fireball expanded dramatically, engulfing its target in intense flames. As the fireball swelled, so too did the heat it emitted, washing over the bystanders like the intense warmth of a summer sun. When the flames finally subsided, a column of dust and smoke rose skyward like a towering tree.

As the voracious flames devoured their companion, a tableau of horror unfolded across the faces of the four Swords of Darkness. Their eyes widened, mouths agape in silent screams as they witnessed the terrifying spectacle. Yet, the unfolding drama was far from over. As the relentless blaze subsided, giving way to swirling clouds of dust and smoke, an unexpected silhouette emerged from the chaos.

There, standing amidst the settling debris, was the figure of the dragonoid adventurer, miraculously intact. The four onlookers gawped in disbelief, their earlier expressions of terror morphing into stupefied wonder. Not a single mark marred his skin; his clothing appeared untouched by the fire's wrath, and even his hair lay perfectly in place as if he had merely stepped out of a portrait, unscathed by the inferno that had raged around him. The scene was so surreal, that it seemed as though reality itself had bent to spare this singular creature from the clutches of destruction.

"I-I-I don't believe it," stammered Lukrut.

The other three remained frozen and silent, their wide-eyed expressions conveying their utter shock without words.

Even the undead mage seemed taken aback – or perhaps merely insulted – by the other's survival.

Tiberius looked to the four humans who stared back at him. It seemed that after this fight there might be an explanation owed. But that was for later. Turning his focus back to the lich, he could feel the malice the undead creature radiated. Though he had to wonder, what must it be thinking after witnessing its attack amount to nothing.

And yet, though it had not been intended, the dragonoid had managed to inadvertently resolve a question that had arisen at the beginning of this encounter.

As per his character's tank build, he had invested in a number of abilities that diminished or outright negated damage from opponents. In a similar situation to his clash with the soldier mages of the Slane Theocracy, these abilities were triggered automatically following their requirements.

High-tier Magical Immunity, a passive skill that nullified magic-based attacks below level 60. Coupling this skill with that of High-tier Physical Immunity which acted identically though as the name suggested acted on physical attacks. Together these abilities were useful when dealing with the numerous trash mobs that padded YGGDRASIL's many dungeons. After all, when facing a horde of upwards of a hundred monsters – even lower-leveled ones could quickly add up in damage taken.

I guess the liches here are comparable to those in YGGDRASIL. Or at least this one is. Might as well finish this quickly.

As the lich raised its hand to unleash another fiery blast, the dragonoid quickly drew his sword. This blade was plain and unadorned, unlike his usual weapon, Severance, which was stowed with the rest of his gear in the interdimensional space of his inventory.

Gripping his sword tightly, Tiberius crouched low, muscles coiled like a spring ready to unleash. With a sudden burst of speed, he surged forward, closing the gap between him and the undead foe. The air whistled as his blade sliced through it, striking with lethal precision. With a deft swing, Tiberius severed the lich's hand, scattering the coalesced magic that sizzled as it hit the ground.

The lich, a creature of eerie calm, barely registered the loss, its hollow eyes fixated on Tiberius. Barely pausing, the dragonoid adjusted his stance and delivered a second, more powerful blow. The sword blade was a streak of silver as it traced an arc to come down upon the crown of the lich's head.

The lich made no sound and gave no indication of discomfort as its body was cleaved in two. Perhaps its mind simply didn't have time to understand what had just happened. Either way, it had happened nonetheless, and its threat was extinguished forever as its body crumpled into a heap of robes and dusty bones.

The dragonoid lingered for a moment, gazing impassively at the bisected form of the magic-wielding undead at his feet. Then, turning away from the sight, his eyes began to roam the chaotic battlefield. His gaze swept across the littered remains of the undead mage's makeshift army, taking in the scattered detritus of bone and armour.

Having completed their task, the two Valkyries idled among their defeated foes. Shar're casually nudged at one of the more intact skeletons, almost as if she were coaxing it to rise and fight once more. Meanwhile, Ryoko engaged in a more lighthearted diversion. With a mischievous grin spreading across her face, she collected several skulls from the ground and began juggling them, her movements fluid and carefree in the aftermath of battle.

"I take it you two are finished?" Tiberius asked.

The kitsune spun on her right foot to face him while continuing her mirthful antics, "Yup, all done."

"These creatures were nothing," Shar're remarked as she kicked aside a discarded ribcage.

I'm not surprised. "Very good, if the two of you would be willing, would you search the bodies for anything of note or value."

"Of course, master," the dark elf nodded.

Allowing the skulls to fall and scatter around her feet, the kitsune saluted, "Surrre thing."

"Thank you," Tiberius nodded.

As the duo searched the fallen undead, Tiberius shifted his focus to the four human onlookers. With a deliberate, careful stride designed to avoid alarming them, the dragonoid moved toward the group.

An awkward silence hung over the adventurers as they could only stare at the young man before them.

"You three were incredible," Peter uttered, finally breaking the quiet.

"Yeah, that was amazing," Lukrut cheered.

Dyne smiled broadly and nodded, "Truly, a rare display of might."

"I guess you really were telling the truth the other night."

Tiberius' gaze shifted to the ranger, "Your doubts are understandable," he said with a light chuckle, "But I do try to make it a habit not to lie."

The four adventurers shared in the laughter with that of their own.

"Still, you were amazing. It was like something from the old hero's stories," said Ninya.

"You could say that again. How did you get so strong?" asked Peter.

However, before Tiberius could concoct an answer or more praise could be laid at the dragonoid's feet – Shar're called out.

"Master."

"What is it? Did you find something?"

The disguised draegloth nodded, her outstretched hand drawing attention to a nearby corpse. With curiosity piqued, the five approached and gathered around the carcass.

The body was one of the numerous slain zombies.

A man in his mid-twenties lay before them, his rugged features softened by wild, shaggy brown curls that fanned out around his head like a disheveled crown. A scruffy beard clung to his jaw, lending him a roguish charm, now overshadowed by the ghostly pallor of his skin and the grim arrow lodged in his skull. His attire – a light blue gambeson, now stained and torn – draped over humble garments typical of a commoner, suggesting a life of simplicity, if not hardship. A wide sword belt cinched around his waist held an empty scabbard, a silent testament to a battle fought and lost.

Yet, it was the trinket affixed to his neck that captured the group's attention.

Dangling on a thin chain of silver links was a golden tag, similar to the plates of silver or copper each of them wore. A quick search of the remaining zombie bodies further revealed four more that possessed identical plates.

As the four members of the Swords of Darkness gazed down at the young man's corpse, a heavy silence enveloped them, darkening their expressions with sorrow.

"It looks like we found the source of those prints we saw mixed with the goblin tracks," Lukrut said, his tone tinged with regret.

"Yeah," Peter murmured.

"I think the goblins they were tracking might have been under the lich's control already," Dyne suggested, analyzing the grim scene. "Like us, they probably encountered the lich lying in wait."

"If it hadn't been for Mister Pendragon, Miss Ryoko, and Shar're, we might've ended up just like him..." the young mage's voice faded into the solemn air.

A quick glance around revealed the heavy thoughts weighing on everyone's faces, reflecting the dire fate they had narrowly escaped.

"Ninya's right," the group's leader conceded with a nod. Shifting, the young man turned to Tiberius, "Thank you."

"Yeah, I guess we owe you," Lukrut chimed in.

The bushy-bearded druid simply nodded in his characteristic manner, offering no words in response.

A heavy silence hung over the group as the four adventurers contemplated the fate of the fallen comrade before them.

"So, I hate to bring this up, but what should we do with them?" Lukrut finally asked.

"Lukrut's right," Peter agreed. "We can't just leave him here like this. I guess we should bury them."

"A noble intention," Dyne said with a nod, "but digging a proper grave would take quite some time."

The ranger shrugged. "Then what? Should we... burn them or something?"

"I think we should take them back to E-Rantel with us," Ninya suddenly suggested.

All eyes turned to the mage, considering his surprising declaration.

"What do you mean?" Peter inquired.

"It would be cruel to just leave them out here," Ninya replied.

Peter gestured to the body. "Uh, they're dead. I don't think they care that much."

"But what about their friends? Their families?" Ninya countered. "Not being able to see them again, to say goodbye one last time... That kind of loss can linger for a person."

Tiberius sensed a deeper meaning behind Ninya's words – as if they were speaking from a more personal perspective.

"I am in agreement with Ninya." Dyne said, moving closer and placing a comforting hand on Ninya's shoulder. "If we can ease the pain for the souls of the departed and their loved ones, then we should."

Peter and Lukrut exchanged a glance, then without hesitation nodded in unison.

"All right then. Lukrut, you and Dyne go and fetch the wagon. While we tidy up here."

"Sure thing, boss," the ranger chuckled.

The large druid offered the young mage a warm smile before turning to follow their blonde-haired companion into the shrubbery. As the two adventurers departed, those who remained got to work.

Peter enlisted Tiberius and his female companions to help gather the bodies of the defeated zombies. The corpses of the fallen adventurers were carefully separated from the rest. The five were brought together respectfully, while the others were piled up for disposal.

Soon enough, the druid and ranger returned – Lukrut perched atop the wagon while Dyne walked alongside, leading the mule by its reins.

Together, the group set to work, carefully loading the bodies of the fallen adventurers onto the cart. They arranged them respectfully, ensuring each was laid out with care. The ranger then grabbed a length of rope and began securing the bodies to the wooden frame.

"This way, they won't roll or bounce around once we're on the road," he explained when the dragonoid gave him a curious look.

With that task accomplished, the group seemed ready to depart. However, the young mage stood apart from the rest, his head bowed as he looked over the amassed zombie corpses on the ground before him.

Seeing their comrade like this, the other three Swords of Darkness approached.

"You ready, Ninya?" Peter asked in a low solemn tone.

The russet-haired young man nodded, yet hesitated to follow, "It's just… I don't know it feels wrong to just leave the rest of them here like this."

"Unfortunately, we can't bring them with us," said Peter as he looked over the bodies. A hint of regret even tinging his voice.

"Well, it's not like they'd all fit on the cart," Lukrut remarked.

"If anything I'd say we should burn them," said Tiberius.

"Hmm, a funerary pyre would be adequate," the druid thumbed his bearded chin a moment, "However, again it would take time to gather the necessary wood. Then there is the matter of controlling the burn so as to not endanger the surrounding forest."

"That will not be a problem," the dragonoid turned, "Ryoko, if you will."

"My pleasure, master," the kitsune saluted. "[Triplet Maximize Magic – Foxfire]."

Ethereal flames manifested above Ryoko, forming a fiery halo once more. This time, however, the augmentation process tripled the number of fireballs. The flaming orbs hovered in the air, awaiting the kitsune's command. Then with a subtle gesture of her hand, the flames drifted through the air to encircle the pile of bodies.

The orbs gently settled over the corpses and, like ripened soap bubbles, burst. The blue flames spread out like waves, engulfing the bodies and submerging them beneath a shimmering layer. Their desiccated flesh and clothing made for excellent kindling, fueling the rapid spread of the magical fire. In moments, the entire pile was consumed by the ethereal flames, the bodies blackening and crumbling into ash.

From the side, Tiberius could see the solemn expressions worn on each of the faces of the four adventurers.

Like a candle being snuffed out, the last of the flames vanished. The residual heat was enough to stir up a strong updraft. The gusts whipped up and plucked the ash from the ground before scattering it to the winds.

"May the gods guide and grant mercy," Dyne intoned solemnly.

For nearly a minute, the Swords of Darkness stood motionless, silently observing.

Turning, Ninya looked to the three Crimson Dragoons, "Thank you, Miss Ryoko."

The kitsune turned and offered a smile, though the dragonoid suspected her grin had more to do with the joy of burning things than with actually being helpful.

With their vigil ended, the two teams made their way back to the waiting wagon. Peter and Lukrut resumed their places on the driver's bench, while the others settled in the rear. The space was considerably more crowded now, with the five deceased adventurers lashed to the floorboards.

The ropes proved to be a wise precaution, as the journey back to the path was much rougher in a laden cart than it had been on foot. With every rock and fallen branch, the wagon rocked and jostled the bodies. Something that seemed to make the young mage rather uncomfortable. This was particularly evident when the unfastened arm of one bounced and landed across his boot.

Ninya stared down at the limb before tentatively trying to extricate his foot from beneath it. Carefully, he pulled his leg back until finally his boot was freed. Afterwards, he made sure to keep himself well away from the corpses.

Thankfully for his sake, the journey grew smoother once the wagon had reached the road.

o – o – o – o

The dark of the night had long since dominated the sky by the time the towering walls of E-Rantel had come into view.

Pulling on the reins Peter signaled for the mule to slow. The equine, no doubt grateful for the change of pace after the day's grueling journey, responded immediately. To allow for such a demanding trek, Dyne had made use of his druidic magic to replenish the mule's stamina throughout the day.

A novel use Tiberius had thought. Though YGGDRASIL had lacked stamina for mounts as was a common trope in games – save for sprinting. It made sense that you could use recovery magic on your mount to keep pace.

However, this had not been without its drawbacks.

The repeated casting of recovery magic had significantly depleted the druid's mana reserves. The mule also felt the strain, as the effectiveness of the magic waned with each use, making the final stretch of their journey increasingly arduous.

As the wagon neared the gates, the dragonoid noticed an increased number of guards compared to earlier in the day. Under the cover of darkness, criminals might feel emboldened, so a show of force with more guards on patrol was a reasonable countermeasure.

He was just glad it wasn't like some fantasy games he'd played where cities closed their gates at night.

The head guard stepped forwards, his hand raised, "Halt travelers."

Peter was quick to obey the other man's command. Tugging at the reins, the wagon gradually slowed to a stop.

"What business brings you all here at this late hour," a guard inquired.

"Good evening, sirs. We're with the Adventurers' Guild," the blonde driver explained to the gathered soldiers. "And we bring urgent information for the guild."

The guard raised co*cked an eyebrow, "Oh? And uh, what might that be, young man?"

What followed was a recounting of the events of the previous day, detailing the group's decision to head south to fight the goblins and their encounter with the lich. Listening to Peter's retelling the guards listened intently, some visibly awestruck at the tale of taking on such a powerful monster. However, their expressions turned somber upon hearing about the deceased adventurer team that they had discovered.

"Poor sods," an older guard muttered, peering over the side of the wagon at the bodies.

"Alright, be on your way. And be sure to make haste to the guild," the lead guard with a goatee instructed, waving them off.

"Will do," Lukrut replied with a casual salute.

Peter snapped the reins, and the mule jolted forward, pulling the wagon as it trundled along the road. The ride was short-lived, as the cart soon halted at the entrance to the city's second ring.

As before the guardsman in charge approached with questions to which Peter again shared the group's account. However, this time, the group would not be proceeding with the wagon.

The adventurers disembarked as their leader conversed with the guards on duty. Dyne unhooked the mule from the reins and led it to the nearby stables, where he made arrangements with the stable keeper to look after the animal.

"He has served us well and has had a long day to get us here," the druid patted the equine's flank, "Please, see to it that he is given an extra bushel of oats."

"Of course," the heavyset and bald man nodded, "Will there be anything else?"

Dyne shook his head before placing several coins in the waiting palm of the other man. The pair exchanged nods before parting ways.

"I hope he'll be okay here," said the mage, his gaze lingering on their equine companion.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Ninya," replied Lukrut.

"Indeed," Dyne agreed, "He'll be taken good care of. And besides, it's not that he is far away. We can come and visit."

This brought a smile to the youthful magic caster.

"All done?" asked the ranger eyeing the approaching Peter.

"Yeah, the guards here will look after the bodies until someone from the guild comes to collect them."

"Well, alright then, let's get going. The sooner we make our report to the guild the sooner we can get something to eat," Lukrut eagerly rubbed his stomach, "I know a great little tavern that should still be open."

The cobblestone streets echoed with the lively conversation of the Swords of Darkness, their camaraderie evident as they strode confidently through the city. Behind them, the Crimson Dragoons followed in a more reserved manner.

As Tiberius walked, he couldn't help but think about the potential of sharing another meal with the four humans. The idea was quite appealing, especially since he felt a pang of hunger himself. However, the events of the previous night – particularly the shared story of the Thirteen Heroes – lingered in his mind. Perhaps after dinner, he could find a moment to speak with Ninya again about them.

"I know just what to order – a nice, juicy steak and a cool mug of a…"

Lukrut's cheerful musings about dinner were abruptly interrupted by a shout coming from a nearby alleyway. The abruptness of the sound cut through their pleasant evening, bringing them to an immediate halt.

The source of this commotion quickly became apparent as a man stumbled out of the mouth of a darkened alley. His frantic movements caused him to trip over his own feet, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Hey, sir. Are you alright?" Peter called out.

The leader's words were ignored fully by the other. The man's drive was enough that it didn't slow him down. With a desperate scramble, he rose again and sprinted away from the alley as if his life depended on it.

The group stood in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"I wonder what that was about?" Dyne finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Eh, probably just some drunk caught pissing where he shouldn't have been," Lukrut shrugged nonchalantly.

Ninya gave him a deadpan stare. "Seriously?"

"What? When you're drunk, stuff like that can happen," Lukrut defended with a smirk.

Before their conversation about drunken antics could continue, a figure emerged from the shadowy alley. The group tensed, watching the newcomer's every move. The figure shambled forward with an unnatural gait, pausing momentarily as if scanning the street for something.

"Who's that?" Ninya whispered, a sense of unease tinging his voice.

"Probably that guy's drinking buddy," Lukrut remarked, striding forward several paces. "Hey! If you're looking for your friend, he ran off that way," he called out, pointing down the street.

The figure didn't respond immediately. Instead, it turned its head slowly, almost mechanically, to face Lukrut. The dim light of the magical lamps that lit the street cast eerie shadows on their features., giving the impression of something not entirely human.

"Lukrut, not sure that guy wants to talk," Peter warned, his hand instinctively resting on his sword hilt.

The odd individual took a step forwards, its movements jerky and disjointed. As its path took it under a nearby lamp, the group could see its pale, almost translucent skin and hollow eyes that seemed to look through them rather than at them.

Immediately, the group's collective guard went up at the sight of the undead before them.

The creature hissed, its mouth opening impossibly wide, and with a lunging gait moved towards Lukrut with speed that belied its earlier lethargy. Suddenly, the ranger felt a hand upon his chest, pushing him backward and off his feet.

The dragonoid, moving with haste, placed himself between the oncoming threat and the human. Though he hadn't meant to push as hard as he had, sending Lukrut sprawling several yards away.

In a blink, Tiberius struck first with a slicing swing of his blade. The undead barely seemed to register the attack as it was bisected. On the ground, the creature's torso continued to crawl towards its intended victim. Until Tiberius' boot heel came down upon its skull– caught between the cobblestone street and the unrelenting force, its cranium cracked and collapsed.

A dark ichor spilled out onto the cobblestone as it stopped moving.

"What the hells just happened?" Lukrut asked, his voice high with agitation, "What's an undead doing here?!"

"But it can't be," Ninya said, voice trembling with disbelief.

"Well, tell that to the guy under Pendragon's boot," the ranger replied, dusting the seat of his pants as he rose from the ground.

"I think it best if we get to the guild," Dyne offered, his voice steady but urgent, "And soon."

Without hesitation, the Swords of Darkness and Crimson Dragoons set off. Their hurried footsteps echoed throughout the darkened streets, the weight of the encounter hanging heavily over them. As they moved, their eyes darted to every shadow, every darkened corner, alert for any further threats.