The trees casted long shadows as the sun began to set in the horizon. Chirping began to die down with birds flying overhead.
A calm breeze blew past, shaking and rustling the grass and plant life.
Until suddenly, four heads popped out of the bushes.
"See anything?"
"No, sir."
"Nah bro."
"No."
Hans paused for a while, his eyebrows scrunched up, deep in thought.
"It's strange how we haven't seen any hillichurls." Hans spoke, scratching his stubble.
"Maybe we're just lucky?" Ban added, shrugging his shoulders.
"Maybe…" Hans trailed off. "But don't let down your guard for one moment. You know how dangerous these savages are."
"I heard an adventuring team got wiped out by a hillichurl camp." Henry whispered plainly.
"See? You're scaring the rookies." Ban shook his head. "This is why we rarely get new recruits. Poor Henry, fret not, big bro Ban is here."
'But I'm not scare-"
"Big bro Ban is here." He insisted.
Hans then turned to John, his eyes scanning everything in his field of vision.
"See anything?"
"No, it's weirdly quiet."
"I heard from Katheryne, you learned how to use elemental sight. Is that right?"
"What? How did you…"
"Words travel fast in the adventurer's guild."
'I guess it does.' John thought to himself.
"Can you activate it?"
"No…" John admitted. "Not since the whispering woods."
"I see…" Hans noted. "In any case, it's a great skill to have regardless."
'Gee thanks. A vision would have been better.' John complained.
"So what's the plan?" John asked, uncomfortably shifting his weight.
He'd rather be doing anything rather than continue to crouch in the bushes.
"Alright everyone listen up." Hans began. "John and I will clear the bottom camp while Ban and Henry will take the top. Don't hesitate to yell or scream for help and if we're lucky this will all go smoothly and we'll be back home before sun down."
The three of them nodded and it didn't take long for Ban and Henry to take off.
The camp wasn't anything like the game has portrayed it to be. Whether it was just the limitation of the medium or not, the hillichurl camps smelled like a dumpster. No, even worse.
The bottom camp had one big makeshift hut built on top of layered stone that looked too advanced for hilichurls to come up with. They were by no means intricate but John had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that they knew a little bit of architecture.
The hut had wooden planks wildly jutting out all over the place and the top half was covered in worn out, bright red boar hide decorated with tribal symbols that probably meant something to them.
Weirdly enough, they had a wooden fence set up around the perimeter of the camp. John wasn't too keen on finding out what kept hilichurls up at night.
The entire time Hans had his fists balled up and jaws clenched tightly. Intimidating was an understatement when it came to Hans. It didn't help that both brothers carried around hulking chunks of metal they call a claymore. Unlike Ban, Hans had wrinkles on his forehead which was made worse by the permanently furrowed eyebrows. There were strands of grays already forming on his head like stress had taken a toll on him.
'What kind of life did he live up until now?' John wondered.
Totems were planted irregularly along the jagged wooden fence. It made John wonder if hilichurls were superstitious. To which John immediately felt dumb. In a world where gods and magic exist, you'd have to be brainless to not believe in them.
"You don't like hilichurls very much do you? Hans."
"What's there to like?" He boomed, just barely above a loud whisper. "These savages kill and hunt humans…" His voice began, quivering as if even just the thought of it pained him.
"They'd at-" Hans choked, "I'm sorry I don't think I can talk about it." He apologized, one hand covering his mouth while the other clutched his stomach.
"It's okay, I shouldn't have brought it up."
The game never really got into the hatred adventurers had for the masked savages. The anguish and animosity people must've felt towards them, especially those who lost their loved ones.
"It's quiet." John blurted out.
All the way here, he half expected a hillichurl to pop out of nowhere and attack them but… nothing.
There were no signs of them despite a strong stench of rot lingering in the air.
All around them were wooden crates containing god knows what. Maybe some of them had rotting meat in them and that's why that god awful smell still persisted in the air.
What if they got the wrong place? What if they were too late? What if Cyrus was-
Out of the blue, both of their attention were drawn to the sound of shuffling footsteps.
Hans glanced at John, without exchanging words, they both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
John gripped his sword tight, ready to draw at a moment's notice, his knuckles white from anticipation.
The moment shadowy figures came into their line of vision, Hans dashed forward, his arm rippled with muscles as he swung his claymore.
"Wait!" A familiar voice called out just in time for Hans to stop his blade.
"Ban?"
"Yeah…" He gulped, "Glad to see you too." Pushing aside the claymore with his fingers, he mumbled. "Swing first, ask questions later… that's how you've always done it."
"Are you crazy? I could have killed you."
"I'm the crazy one?! We're in a hilichurl camp, forgive me for trying to sneak around and be stealthy." Ban barked back.
"That's not the poin-" Hans paused, planting his claymore beside him while rubbing his temple. "I assume you've got something."
"Yeah. we got something alright… or rather… someone." Ban hinted, moving out of the way to reveal a battered and bruised Cyrus being shouldered by Henry.
"Branch Master Cyrus!" Hans exclaimed.
"In the flesh." Ban added.
"Barbatos, what happened to him?"
"We can discuss that when we're in Mondstadt, let's go." John interjected.
Henry shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the Cyrus.
"Although I can't believe I'm agreeing with the pervert. It's best if we leav-"
Without warning, the strongest stench of rot hit all of them like a wave. The smell, putrid enough to bring all four of them to their knees.
They all felt it.
Whether instinctively or out of pure self-preservation. They felt overwhelming pressure wash over them, sending wave after wave of chills down their spine.
There in the distance, awoke a slumbering goliath.
Its skin was impossibly dark and indistinguishable from pitch black darkness. It had two large curved horns protruding from what John assumed was the forehead. On both its arms were tattooed sigils that glowed fiery red. It had dirty, lion mane-like hair converging onto a singular point, its mask.
"Cover your ears!" Hans shouted just in time as it released a deafening scream that shook the very ground.
"H-How… Are we supposed to fight that?" John quivered, his teeth clattering out of fear.
Overwhelming dread settled uninvitedly as for the first time since coming into this world. John felt despair.
John struggled to keep his hands from shaking. Fear paralyzed him from the waist down. His chest heaved up and down rapidly, his breath coming in short grasps.
Henry's eyes were locked on to the hulking mass, visible beads of sweats forming on his face.
The only two that still had embers of a fight were the twins, just barely. Both their faces showed the same expression of overwhelming utter terror.
Ban sheathed his claymore on his back. He turned erratically and took off with Henry and Cyrus on his shoulders.
"D-Damn it." Hans muttered as he sheathed his blade and followed suit with John on his shoulders.
John watched as the behemoth eyed them. Counting the four of them lucky that it wasn't hungry.