A cold breeze blew past the five shadowy figures, causing their cloaks to ruffle as they observed the guards below. Due to their rough, black cloaks and the eerie, bone-white masks that the group were wearing, it was nearly impossible to differentiate between them, with one exception. While four of the figures were obviously female, due to their feminine body shape, one of them extremely masculine and heavyset, distinguishing him as the only male in the group.

The plain, unadorned masks they were wearing were virtually identical, the only difference being the placement of the eye slits, and were almost perfectly covered by their cowls, stopping the moonlight from reflecting and giving away their position.

The night continued to drag on, and it wasn't long before the two moons slowly began their graceful descent towards the horizon.

During this time, instead of being idle, the group, who looked like nothing more than small, unobtrusive boulders as they crouched on the sparse mountainside, watched the knights like hawks, making a note of their every movement and interaction. While they were doing this, they were also periodically releasing small amounts of dark green powder into the wind, letting it naturally blow downhill and towards the unsuspecting soldiers.

Having long since run out of any meaningful or even frivolous topics to talk about, the soldiers were now huddling in small groups around the sentry fires in silence, trying their hardest not to succumb to the sweet temptation that was sleep.

Even if they did not care about the huge dishonour that would befall their families if they were to fall asleep on duty, it was also a capital offence that would result in their execution, causing the knights to try every trick they knew to keep themselves awake. However, even to a passing, unrelated bystander, it was clear that they were losing that battle as many of their heads had already begun nodding.

The consequences, coupled with their pride, meant that even though everyone was feeling the same strange, overwhelming fatigue, no one mentioned it, or even had their wits about them to notice the drastic change in their comrade's behaviour. If they had, then they might have realised that something was wrong and been able to prepare some form of resistance against what was to come.

In the centre of the encampment, one of the men finally gave in and slumped down, with his back against a large boulder, quickly falling asleep and earning a look of utter disgust from the nearby battlemages, who promptly moved away and begun muttering to each other while subtly rubbing their eyes.

On the hill, the knight’s action caused a flurry of hand signals before three of the cloaked figures separated, positioning themselves along the ridge at even intervals. The two remaining, the man and a tall, slender woman, took the bows from their backs and nocked extremely thin, vicious-looking metallic arrows.

The male bowman hesitated for a moment, before retrieving a gold coin from a hidden pocket and placing it carefully on top of a small stone in front of him before making a hand signal that represented nineteen. Seeing his action, the coldness in the woman's vivid green, reptilian eyes was momentarily replaced with a mild playfulness as she withdrew her own gold coin and placed it on top of the other.

The pair’s eyes met, and they started tapping their feet in rhythm. On the tenth tap, they leant backwards and pointed the arrows almost vertically into the sky before releasing them.

The entire process was so fast, that if anyone were watching, they would only be able to see a faint blur, as less than half a second later, the last of the twenty arrows had already disappeared out of sight.

In a single, sweeping motion the pair shouldered their bows and drew their slim, jagged swords, the woman effortlessly pocketing the coins while the man disappointedly shook his head, before joining their comrades that were already descending the slope at an unbelievable speed.

As the group silently charged down the mountain, the knights started to stagger and fall to the ground unconscious. Although it had only been a couple of seconds, by the time the cloaked figures reached the first sentry fire, the bulk of the soldiers were incapacitated with only nineteen men remaining on their feet. These were the ones who, through combat and various trials, had developed the subconscious habit of always circulating their mana, but the effects of the sedative were still remarkably strong, leaving them lax and as yet, unaware of the danger that was rapidly approaching them.

At last, realisation sparked in their eyes as they finally noticed their comrades and understood that they were under attack, however even as they began to sluggishly reach for their weapons or, in the case of the battlemages, begin to chant defensive spells, a barrage of arrows rained down, killing them instantly.

The weakest point for a mage, and one that is often exploited, is the blind spot found directly above their heads, and battlemages were no exception. Without their plate helmets, which still would not have saved them, being hit by the magically imbued arrows was extremely gruesome, causing their heads to explode and sending a mixture of brain and bone fragments spraying in a bloody arc around them.

Not even a millisecond after the first battlemage's head exploded, his arms were blown away from his body as his torso turned to mush after getting hit by a second, but equally devastating, arrow.

In a few, short breaths of time, the five mysterious figures had completely devastated the hundred-strong group and were only just passing by the outermost sentry fires, dispatching the sleeping knights with a single, merciful strike to the heart.

In all of Acoria, there was only one group that could pull off this kind of jaw-dropping feat, and that was the Huntsmen. An elite group of outcasts – lead by the infamous Silver Wolf, also unofficially known as the Bloodhound – who were no less intimidating or influential than the Sun Clan.

Where the Sun Clan specialised in information and assassination, the Huntsmen specialised in guerrilla warfare and were known for their almost fanatical devotion to each other, making them nearly impossible to infiltrate.

They were so efficient and ruthless in their missions, that their name had almost become synonymous with Death's Reapers, causing many of the Federation's enemies, including the Empire, to hesitate before engaging in anything that could be considered hostile.

Both the Sun Clan and the Huntsmen existed in, and were contracted by, the Federation, but much to the relief of both the Empire and the Mystic Republic, the two groups were embroiled in a brutal, unrelenting blood feud in which, the moment either of them acted outside the Federation’s territory, they would mercilessly attack each other on sight, ignoring everything else.

After ensuring that there were no survivors and disabling the traps that were scattered around, the huntsmen gathered at the stairwell entrance, which was roughly at the centre of the defensive perimeter that Vonai's knights had previously set up, and stared into the foreboding hole, the blue light crystals making it look like a stairway to the underworld.

Sheathing her sword, one of the figures lowered her cowl, silver, predatory eyes glowing from behind her mask. "Rock, Eth, secure the perimeter and ensure there are no surprises. Kelora, set the traps and begin releasing the mandrake powder into the stairwell. Use everything we have left. If we have to breach, with the amount of mages down there, it's not going to be pretty.”

“Yes, Captain.” The three immediately sprang into action, leaving the one who has spoke and a short woman staring into the entrance.

“Verz, are you sure you want to go through with this?” asked the short woman in a neutral, almost disinterested tone, which belied the irritated twitching of her long, dark blue ears. “They are making one hell of a racket down there and since the information came from one of the Sun Clan, how can we be sure it's not a trap.”

“After how... persuasive we were with the Sun Clan prophet, I doubt he had the ability to lie to us,” replied Verz, a hint of grim satisfaction in her voice. “This is the place where the unbound one will come into existence. A being that is completely invisible to the whims of fate.”

“I still don't get how a prophet can prophesize about someone who cannot be seen by any sort of foresight or reading. Are you really sure this isn't just a trap?” huffed the woman.

Verz shook her head, her silver eyes scanning the area. “I swear to the God of Truth, if I did not love you so much, I would be beating you to death for repeating that damn question so many times. The prophet did not see the person, just the hole they make.”

Looking over at the woman and noticing the confused look in her deep, blue eyes, Verz let out a deep breath. “How can you tell if a bloodfeather is circling you on a clear night?”

The woman kicked a stone, irritated Verz had gone into lecture mode. “You look for the only place you can't see the stars.”

"And that is how you can roughly foresee the presence of an unbound. The Sun Clan's plan is to summon these unnatural beings in order to gain the upper hand in their private war with us, but, just as the prophet was about to die, he started screaming about an unbound that would appear and how he could no longer see certain parts of the Sun Clans future.”

“So why are we going to such great lengths to secure it? Surely now we are here you can tell me?” said the woman.

“Because we are slowly losing this war due to the Sun Clan's ability to vaguely understand the future and avoid any situations where we can put them on the back foot. Luckily for us, the moment a prophecy is revealed, the future changes due to the small deviations from those that know about it, and the uncountable amount of predictions that are made each day, interfering with each other. Now imagine if we had someone who was completely invisible to, not only seer's, but even the gods. It would give us an unprecedented advantage,“ responded Verz dryly, as if she who had spoken the same words over a thousand times already.

The short woman was not happy with the answer. “Wouldn't they just look for the ‘holes’ like the prophet?”

Verz's voice turned hard as she struggled to mask her annoyance, making it clear that she was almost done with the topic. “The clarity needed to see the 'holes' only happens once, and that is when the seers fate is set and they will die no matter what. We were just lucky the future was set with enough time for him to tell us, as well as being focused on this particular event. Normally, due to the potential of magic, they only have the epiphany in their dying breaths and are unable to tell anyone.”

After emptying a few sachets of powder onto the floor in front of the entrance, Kelora, the woman that had gone to the entrance, stood up and cocked her head. Her red, alluring eyes shining mischievously. “An unbound entity just like the Devil of Calamity… I can’t wait to meet them, but,” she paused for a moment, “what if they are sympathetic to the Sun Clan?”

Verz’s gaze immediately sharpened. “Then we will kill them, and just because of the inconvenience, we make an example of the Vonai royal family for working with the Sun Clan.”

The red eyed woman quietly chuckled as she perched to the side of the entrance. “Not even a shred of mercy. If this were the Demonic Plains, you would probably drown in an ocean of blood as every noble demon and Lord of Sin tried to win your favour… hell, that merciless streak even turns me on a bit, and I don't swing that way. Rock, what do you think?”

The large man had just returned and was scratching his head as his brain tried to make sense of the small amount of conversation he had overheard. "Well, you get turned on when you stub your toe so that's hardly an achievement. If I had not seen your status stone, I would have lost a fair amount money on betting you were a lust demon."

"What can I say," said Kelora in an amused voice that turned more seductive as she spoke. "My mother was a succubus and my father, the demon lord of lust. It probably rubbed off on me."

“One more word and you two will be training the adepts for the next six years,” growled Verz, becoming irritated at how off topic they had become. “Even if we are dealing with these pathetic puppets of the Sun Clan, we are still on a mission.”

The pair looked away from Verz and towards the short woman, sighing at the unfair treatment, and began to silently prepare to head into the mountain, removing their bows and ensuring the multitude of weapons hanging off their leather armour was clear of their cloaks.

After a few minutes, Verz’s partner spoke, her voice slightly shaky. “Verz… something is seriously wrong. It's as if a mana well just appeared under our feet. The energy... it's unbelievable.”

Not even a second after she finished speaking, a malevolent, tyrannical aura gushed from the entrance; the sheer blood-lust and unrestrained fury causing the huntsmen to instinctively fall back and draw their weapons, a tinge of fear gnawing at their insides.

Verz quickly pulled out a small, black plate from her pocket. "Display Trait, Trained Foresight."

Trained Foresight (Combined with the trait: Natural Instincts)You are under the effect of a powerful negative aura creating a sense of dread and affecting your ability to think clearly.

Due to the vast difference in strength, the effects have been reduced by 95%

After glancing over the status effects, she returned it to her pocket. “Just what in the hell have they created down there? Trust the Sun Clan to fuck something up so spectacularly. They couldn't even organise a coming of age ceremony for a dogkin in a whore house.”

Rock shifted on the spot, before glancing at his companions. “Anyone want to bet on-”

“NO!” replied the four women in unison, each briefly giving Rock a look of disgust before returning their attention to the dark entrance.

Verz’s ice-cold voice made Rock shudder. “Your venial sin seems to be becoming a bit of a problem, Rock. When we get back to base, we will have to look at that.”

“That and you suck at gambling,” jeered Kelora. “It’s like you're always cursed to lose; no one wants to be on your side of a bet.”

=================================

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy the extra long chapter. I know a lot of you were getting impatient for the 'birth' of Mors.

Currently, I am debating to do a chapter segment on what happened in the summoning room OR to jump straight into Mors meets Huntsmen (If you read 'The Summoned' think Pathfinders with a bit more history and a different name.) Let me know what you guys think in the comments.

My eyes are demanding to be closed so I apologise for any mistakes/PR fails!

*Edit: Fixed the weird issue with that length (details of post). Seems it was some markup in the post (probally when I was playing with the table. Had to cut it into notepad and drop it back in to fix it (incase anyone has that issue)