When they got off on what could be called a road, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Huge hummocks, branches, spiked vines no longer seemed to be something to worry about. After walking for 20 minutes, they approached a ruined tower hiding among the trees and drowning in a quagmire. Small details of the facade were lost in the dense vegetation. The only thing that caught their eye was a round window covered with a lattice.

"It's hard to imagine what Lamo faced...,” said Ona.

Latludious stopped, once again examined the tower, and said:

"It's not a fact that it's connected to him."

They decided not to linger and went on. Everyone was tense.

The formless darkness began to recede and the first rays of the sun broke through the crowns of the trees. The time was around noon. The forest canopy had become less dense, so there was no need for a white sphere. It would soon be two hours since they left the camp, and Ronnie had already drunk two stamina recovery elixirs during this time. There were three more left. Latludious stopped and sat down. Everyone came closer to him and asked with a nod of their heads what had happened. He stretched out his hand and pointed his index finger at two o'clock.

"This road is clearly being used. I bet we'll meet someone soon. Keep your eyes open."

"Maybe this "someone" from the forest brotherhood," said Faolandan.

"The Forest Brotherhood doesn't need roads," Ronnie replied.

Ona took out her binoculars and surveyed their surroundings. The trees cast blurry shadows. The morning haze floated through the few gaps. The yellow grass looked like the fur of a red-haired giant. It enveloped well-hidden characteristic monoliths between hills half a mile away, which, according to AI, were called Tirith (Additional Information: The Crob assistant, Lamo noticed them for the first time. In the middle of each month, you can find a spring under them, whose water cleanses from any ailment). Ona checked the calendar - the beginning of September. She bit her lip until it bled and offered to check what was there in spite of everything. Latludious agreed.

"We need to take every chance we can," he added.

They stopped at the first Tirith. It was dry and there was nothing around it and under it. Then they checked a few more pieces of magic stones, but all to no avail.

Faolandan tried to calm the tension, to start thinking critically, but his head seemed to empty overnight. He bent down to Barahu and put his arm around its neck and whispered to the dog not to make a sound, although it was silent for several hours in a row. The tension among the group didn’t escape Latludious’ eyes. He watched everyone and understood that if a miracle did not happen in the near future, morale would drop to zero, and the lack of faith in victory was like committing suicide. Sitting Bull took the initiative and asked his teammates to stay put. He went out on the road and began to look for traces there. The ground was soft – it could play into their hands.

"I found it," he said a minute later. “Come on here. See? The tracks lead out of the thicket and down the road."

"A large print. Who could have left such a thing behind?" Ona asked.

"Very similar to the trail of the armored sabatons worn by Vvy," Faolandan replied.

Sitting Bull nodded and went first, the others following him. Suddenly he got up as if paralyzed, fell, and grabbed his arm. Latludious ran up first. He rolled up his shirt sleeve and saw his teammate's veins turn purple and swell. Ona without delay stuck in a restoring syringe, followed by an anesthetic, and signaled to the leader of the group that there was practically no improvement with a glance.

"Can you walk?" Latludious asked.

Sitting Bull got up, his hands were shaking, he nodded in agreement and walked on. Ten minutes later, they hid in the tall grass and behind bushes when they saw a creature wheezing and breathing like an exhausted boar.

"What the fuck is this?" Ona swore.

"Quiet!"

Ronnie took out his rifle, Latludious gestured that it was too early to shoot. Their patience bore fruit when the creature in plate armor released the black-purple magic from its hands and left a cursed symbol on the trunk of the tree and went on, muttering something incomprehensible to itself. The magician nodded to the sniper and a second later a puff of moisture and mist formed on the monster's back. Ona turned to Sitting Bull and asked:

"Has the curse gone away?"

There was no need for an answer when the Indian turned to face her, his eye was still glowing with purple fire, and his eyelids were blackened.

They came closer to the monster, turned him over on his back, and saw the gray dirty skin of his face, instead of lips he had another row of fangs. It stank of rot. Thick purple blood flowed out of the wound, the rest of the body was hidden under silver armor that had long lost its former color. In its hands was a blade of black steel, seemingly ordinary. It had no other items with it. Sitting Bull stuck a scanner in its neck.

"Is it an orc?"

"It looks like it."

"I don't think he wandered here alone."

"Very unlikely."

"There must be others somewhere."

"We need to find them as soon as possible or Sitting Bull will become a dead cow," Ona said and looked for a reaction to the joke from others. But no one even grinned.

Latludious put his palm to the ground and a grave three meters deep was formed there. They threw the dead body into the burial pit, and with the next spell, the magician buried the enemy's body so that no trace of its existence remained.

Faolandan looked at the Sitting Bull, the curse striking his body with terrifying speed. His friend seemed to be turning into an orc. The skin turned gray, the legs gave way, the veins swelled one after another. The thought was flying in the air that their friend and teammate that at this rate wouldn’t hold out for more than a couple of hours. Morale was at rock bottom.