"Fucking hell! I warned your rotten carcass we'd end as woodland pulp! Looks—half our blood's fertilizing these godforsaken roots!"
"Now you're counting corpses? Our captain's guts are still painting the oaks back there! Choke on your next breath before I stop it!"
"His maggot brain got us butchered! That fool's life barely covers the boots we've lost!"
"I'll carve that treasonous tongue from your skull, Gyn!"
"You want to join the meat pile, Kellan? Draw your sword or eat dirt!"
"Release me, Uri! I'll hang this bastard's skin from the branches!"
"You'd need ten graves to hold what's left when I'm done! Come fuck with me, you fucker!"
"Enough! Sit. Both of you! This nightmare is on me—I let Han's ambition sway me! Should've cut this expedition dead when we lost the first scout!"
"Stop the blaming! We all voted to push deeper!"
"Gyn's right, Joye. Han and I sold you this suicide trip. As the 70th captain... I'll rot in hell before breaking my oath to him. His last breath bought ours—I'll drag everyone home through a swarm of monsters if I must!"
"Save the moanful speech, Victor! Only eight left from fifteen? Fine—eight blades still sharp. Two captains. Two vice-captains. And a healer. We'll make the wood vomit out Han's blood."
The hunting party quarreled as they trudged toward the crest, seeking shelter from a losing battle. Tension surged between them, their words full of accusations. Blood and dirt smeared their faces, and scars and cuts were visible through gaps in their battered armor.
Gyn collapsed against a rock, eyes blazing with fury and grief. He clutched his side, where dark blood seeped through a tight bandage. Across the makeshift camp, Kellan stood rigid—left arm dangling, dislocated, and useless, jaw clenched against both physical pain and the sharper agony of lost friends.
Uri staggered between them, blood from the slash above his brow trickling down to mingle with sweat and grime. Though his hands shook, the peacemaker maintained his grip on Kellan's uninjured arm.
Their captain, Joye, appeared aged beyond his years, eyes clouded with regret. A plum-colored bruise bloomed across his cheekbone. Victor—captain of the 70th party—stood straight despite exhaustion carving his face. Dented armor hung from his frame, a jagged cut running down his thigh.
"Captain!" The voice cut through the camp as a man appeared, lithe form barely marked despite light armor. "The monsters stopped their pursuit. We're safe... for now. But—" He gestured at the unfamiliar slope. "Where are we?"
Victor scanned the terrain. "This place seems to repel monsters. Can you sense what wards them off, Yagi?"
Yagi's head moved in stiff negation.
Joye braced against a boulder, voice graveled by thirst. "Let's camp here. Let the wounds heal before we push further."
Victor's chin dipped. "Agreed. Is there any mana or healing potion left? Prioritize Kole—his spells are our lifeline now."
"One healing vial remains," Yagi reported, withdrawing a cracked flask.
Kole gestured toward the pale girl slumped beside him. Her breath came shallow and rapid, blood seeping through chest bindings. "Gave it to Jena. My mana is empty, and she won't last past midnight."
Yagi peeled off Jena's blood-caked armor, exposing the mangled chest wound. He trickled half the vial across torn flesh, then swallowed the rest. Jaw clenched, he sealed his mouth over hers, forcing the potion down her throat.
Gyn's barked laugh cut through camp. "Bold hands! She'll gut you when those eyes open."
"You'd rather I let her drown in blood?" Yagi snapped, ears flushed red as he wrapped fresh bandages around now-knitting tissue.
Jena's pallor shifted to blotchy pink, and her breathing lost its death rattle. The chest wound clotted beneath Yagi's service, though her torn armor lay discarded in a shameful testament.
Night falls. The campfire cast jagged shadows as Yagi and Victor maintained their silent guard. Between them lay the wounded—raspy breaths breaking a silence so harsh it pressed against eardrums.
The woodland held its breath. No owl cries, no cricket song. Only leaf-rustle whispers and the occasional shudder through tree tops. Distant valleys answered with muffled howls that raised arm hairs but revealed nothing.
Dawn revealed Kole fully healed—no trace of his wounds remained as he strode to meet Yagi and Victor. The others lay scattered like broken dolls, their injuries festering overnight. Even Gyn and Kellan, forever bickering, curled in a rare truce beside the dead fire, their suppressed whimpers biting the morning cold.
"Gather everyone," Kole ordered.
Yagi and Victor dragged, carried, and prodded until the party lay clustered on bloodstained gravel. Kole raised his hands. "Forgive the delay." His chanting birthed a luminescent sphere that engulfed the group.
Honeyed radiance pulsed. Ribs snapped back into place. Festering gashes sealed like hot wax. Jena's chest rose fully for the first time since the attack. Gyn's bandages fell away from smooth skin as Kellan flexed his newly whole arm.
When the light dimmed, the hunters stirred. Jena spat dirt, Gyn grunted upright, and Kellan pushed himself vertically using Uri's shoulder. Only their blood-crusted armor hinted at the brutal ordeal.
"You're as amazing as ever, Kole! All good for another round with those monsters!" Gyn barked.
"We'd have lost fewer if not for exhausting our mana potions," Victor muttered.
Yagi's throat clicks cut through. "Scouting," he blurted, cheeks flushing as Jena—now conscious—locked eyes with him. He vanished into the brush like smoke.
"Guilty sprint," Gyn snorted. "That boy's boots have confession stamped on the soles."
The party huddled, dissecting the battle. Gyn and Kellan traded their usual venom-spiked jabs until the group's grim focus cracked and laughter spilled. Gyn leaned in, eyes glinting. "Our stone-faced scout turned nursemaid last night—hovered over Jena's flame like a moth."
"Then—" Gyn pursed his lips in a wet, theatrical smooch—"he mouth-fed her the potion. Slow. Delicate. Like she'd shatter!" The circle howled. "Ears redder than her lips!"
Jena's face burned scarlet—whether fury, humiliation, or something softer remained veiled.
"He'll be a mute when he's back," Gyn pressed, the party's guffaws swelling. "Especially if she's caught his neck!"
Laughter echoed through the trees, their shared complaints about their brush with death briefly swallowed by the warmth of camaraderie.
Yagi reappeared, jaw set like forged iron. His chopping hand-hush killed the chuckles mid-breath.
"Report?" Victor rasped, laughter's ghost still twitching his lips.
"A woman."
The clearing erupted. Snorts and knee-slaps.
"Found your woman, eh?" Gyn crowded, jabbing a thumb at Jena—now a crimson heap where her face met her knees. "Pay up, lovebirds!"
Jena's palms smothered her face, fingers splayed just enough to watch Yagi through the cracks.
"N-no, not a woman. I mean, yes, a woman, but not like that," Yagi stuttered, wilderness-rough hands jabbing toward the distant rock teeth. "A woman gathering herbs and berries near the plateau. We're in the deep woodland. How can there be a woman out here?"
"There's no record of a town near here. She could be a shapeshifting monster disguised as a person," Joye stated.
"I checked with Insight. Got nothing."
"Nothing? Is her level too high?"
"No, that's not it. There's simply no mana. She's a bait."