The hooves thundered against the uneven ground.

The frenetic rhythm was enough to shock the would be witness, the shadow large enough to set worry in their hearts, and the race quite obviously out of fear, away from a larger threat.

The beasts were in its pursuit, the shadow knew instinctively. And so, all of its efforts were put into keeping the flesh under its control moving, the body’s strength but a husk of what it had been in the past, yet no obstacle was enough to slow its charge, the ground shaking, the trees splinting and scaring away the birds resting in them.

It had to get out.

Every little bit of its nascent sentience was screaming that desire, and so, for the first time, a feeling it didn’t recognize, possessed it.

It was desperation.

Atreus shook his head for the fifth time.

“How long to our destination, dear Rieve?” Came the question from Darmia, directed to the coachwoman.

With a wooden complaint, the caravan hit yet another bump on the road, drawing the high-pitch sound of metal from the equipment this particular carriage was carrying, and that they were guarding.

“Just because you chose freedom over belonging to a singular guild.” Atreus muttered under his breath, looking at the faces shadowing the caravan they were in, examining their equipment and horses.

The caravan hit another bump then, creaking and swaying, dangerously so, drawing a wince from his otherwise stern expression. Darmia knew that expression, and she could sympathize with his worries.

“We ought to be reaching the Trickling Woods in a day or so.” Explained the woman at the head of the carriage, yet Atreus paid her no heed, his gaze fixed on the views they were leaving behind, the farmlands slowly giving way to the wilderness that was out of reach of the city patrols and other villages. As for Bluefalls, its walls had disappeared on the horizon a few days ago.

“What are the plans once we reach its borders?” Darmia asked, out of curiosity and out of boredom, yet all she got as a reply was shrug.

“They tell me nothing, miss. Just that I’ll be getting my pay when we get there.”

Darmia nodded, thanking the woman, yet her thoughts were already somewhere else.

Only a night after they’d met their contractor, a note arrived at their room detailing the day and time of departure. East gate, third day of Vulcanis, first light. It was surprisingly soon, just a couple of days away, and so they set out in what seemed to be a long-planned expedition of a hundred adventurers, of which the couple were the last to be recruited.

“Freedom, uh?” Atreus muttered, then shook his head for the sixth time.

Their guard duty was given rather randomly, and although they knew Eneas of Troy was part of the expedition, they had yet to catch even a glance of him. Officially, the whole affair was under Yeneda Eilraim’s name, and if it weren’t because the woman, specifically, told them not to reveal her employer’s name to anyone, they would have been inquiring about Eneas of Troy left and right to gather more information about the true reason behind his interest in this particular goblin colony.

Such a need was not out of cowardice, but just caution; the kind of foresight only earnt through experience, which is why it was impossible for them to miss the little details; the state of the caravans, old and weary from heavy use over the years; The horses in their bones or in their sunsets of life; the very adventurers…

Darmia understood why Atreus was recalling that exact phrase. Freedom was indeed one of the advantages a freelance adventurer could enjoy, but it was hardly a choice; most of them would go down this path not because they wanted to, but rather because no guild would have them: they were the weak ones, the talentless, or simply those without a strong enough background. One could say that Darmia and Atreus were part of the few exceptions.

But that didn’t mean they enjoyed better treatment, and only truly understanding contractors would realize their worth… Yet so far, Eneas of Troy still didn’t seem like one, giving them but one instruction: don’t draw attention to yourselves.

Atreus sighed.

“You are thinking too much.” Darmia said then, not fully considering her words.

Her voice, unlike any other, had the power to call Atreus’ attention back, and so his stare was intense when it found her gray eyes.

“We are adventurers.” She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Such dangers are our occupational hazard.”

Atreus sighed again, his shoulders dropping a finger lower, something quite eye-catching given their width. “I’m just worried.”

“That’s why I’m saying you are thinking too much.” She shrugged then, and a sly smile flourished on her features. “And we both know you’ve never been particularly good at it.”

She expected him to chuckle, the man had done so plenty of times in the past when she teased him like that, yet this time all he did was to narrow his eyes, then look away, towards the views being left behind.

“What?” She left her seat, and went to his side. “Did I hurt your feelings?” Her hand found a place on his forearm, and she made sure he’d notice her figure against his side. “Don’t be mad, you know I’m joking.”

His blue gaze went back to her then, with a smile far too weak to reach them. “I’m not mad.” The smile faded, and he shook his head. “Do you think he simply ran out of funds after buying the quest?”

Darmia shrugged, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m more interested in knowing where he found so many freelancers without us getting a word of it.”

Atreus nodded in agreement. “Do you think The Tower had something to do with it? Just teleported everyone here?”

The woman’s gray eyes watched him in disbelief. “What do you think teleportation spells are? Candies to be handed out?”

The man just shrugged. “How else would they just suddenly appear outside the city gates?”

Darmia denied with a gesture, then gently placed a hand on his cheek with a meaningful smile. “That’s why I always tell you to leave the thinking to me.” Atreus furrowed his brow at that, which made her add, “Isn’t it more reasonable to think they were all recruited in the same manner we were? Secretly, then left to their own devices until they were called to action? Given that woman’s means, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Atreus’ brow remained furrowed. “Then why do you find it so strange we didn’t find out?”

Darmia pulled back her hand, and sat straight, her gaze now lost somewhere on the rag covering the equipment they were guarding. “Because, even if secretly, we heard no rumors about it.”

Turning back, she found Atreus’ features inside her view once again. “Remember old Sal? The Shielder who we partnered with during our time at the capital?”

The man took a breath to answer, “That drunkard?”

“Exactly.” Darmia nodded, shaking loose a lock of dark-blue hair. “He was a drunkard, he smelled and had the manners of a pig. Yet he was also the most capable freelance adventurer we could find. At the capital.” She remarked the last words with meaning, something Atreus understood. “Remember how he let it slip when we would depart? We barely escaped the ambush that followed.”

Atreus looked back then, to the adventurers riding those scrawny horses and wearing something no better than a barrel as armor, realizing their quality was leagues inferior to that old man who had almost gotten them killed that day.

Darmia nodded, knowing he understood her point. “Makes me wonder just who Yeneda Eilraim is, and how she could keep a hundred of people like that old man inside their pigsty.”

And where we fit in all that. She thought, yet didn’t say.

The carriage hit yet another bump, and the creaks made her fear the whole vehicle would fall apart.

He barely had any time to react.

Under the urging, fearful instinct of something being incredibly wrong, a choice presented itself before him, and his decision, made out of an utter lack of ideas, wasn’t pretty.

Sorry, Rei. He thought, and amidst the splinted planks suddenly flying everywhere, after realizing she was just a bit further from his arm’s length, he chose to kick her in the chest, pushing her away.

The sight brought him regret and relief in equal measure, yet both were abruptly cut away with the overwhelming violence of muscle, momentum and weight crashing into him, shaking all of his thoughts away.

For the second time in too short a span, he watched how the world turned upside down, and a part of him, the remnants of consciousness stubbornly clinging to the light slipping through his eyes, understood he’d been sent flying. Pain flared as his flesh met the dusty main street of Gale, his ears ringing, his vision flashing, his breathing lost.

“What’s that?!”

“First those crazy bastards, now this?!”

“We should have left with the others!”

“Are you chickens? Or are you men? Stop panicking and help the others get to safety!”

Mira?

What…? Amidst the cacophony of voices, his thoughts came back to him.

His heart was still beating, after all. And so, led by that urgency still pulsing against his temple and chest, he managed to sit straight in a fit of coughing, only to wince before the sight in front of him.

Mira’s house, one of the sturdiest in the village, was now but a pile of rubble, the walls bent out of shape and broken through sheer force, yet what shocked Avaln wasn’t the aftermath, but the cause. It didn’t breathe, it didn’t sway like most beasts would do, and it had barely any defining features left, looking more like a lump of flesh, pus and blood with four hooves attached. His seventh sense swirled then, enveloping the creature about twenty steps away, and what he perceived only further puzzled him.

It was a demon boar, or what was left of one, he thought as more and more blood streamed down its massive body, ten times bigger than a normal member of its species… yet by what Avaln could sense, the creature was already dead, its essence stagnant, trapped inside by something.

Something black, not as deep as the Essence inside the Fan of Helen, but more like a shadow...

A red eye set on him then, the only one that demon boar had left, and a warning flared inside his mind, his hand quickly drawing the link rune, calling his spear back from wherever it landed…

Arriving just in time for Avaln to roll around, stand up… and sever a black tendril that came out from the approaching beast, which deceptively agile, had shortened the distance between them to ten steps. Fourth Order? He wondered as he swallowed the one drop of saliva that formed in his suddenly dry mouth. He knew little about how monsters were classified in terms of strength, but if a demon boar was a Second Order, equivalent to a peak Nascent Essence adventurer, then that beast could be compared to someone at the peak of the Tempered realm.

Which already put him at a disadvantage.

Guess I’ll have to get used to this. Avaln thought, rotating his left shoulder to test the injury. Fortunately, he landed on his more healthy side, so despite the lingering ache, he found himself able. And not too soon, for another tendril followed, and another, and another, in quick succession, forcing him into a sprint across the main road, the shadows shooting so fast they felt more like a mix between blades and arrows, stopping just a few fingers from the ground he’d been at, before retreating into the beast’s flesh.

But what truly unsettled him, was how as he began to circle around his foe, it also turned with him, as if he were his only target.

Why?

Since that red eye had found him, he instinctively felt like its prey, the danger stuck to his back like a ghost, spurring him forward. He shook his head, thinking it was fortunate in a way, for he wouldn’t know how to deal with this new enemy if it were to target everyone indiscriminately, but that didn’t mean he had much of an idea now either.

With his seventh sense locked onto the shadow’s movements inside the body, and its tendrils as it pursued him, he managed to stay ahead of its attacks, crouching or jumping over the shadowy blades when it tried to predict his path. A repeated, and failed, attempt as he made his way towards the forge, catching with relief sight of Rei as she was helped out of the debris by Mira, who met his gaze and gave him a nod.

It was then, during that brief moment of distraction, that the tendrils cut his path short…

And he couldn’t but stare at the black dot that suddenly shot for his head.