The rattling of carts and the banter of the Scouts brought life to the dull and dark tunnel. Several lightsticks illuminated the area, guiding the small caravan along. A total of four carts with four workers pushing and pulling the contents. Two teams of Scouts led the way, with four Warrior teams following and surrounding the carts defensively. Two runners lingered at the tail of the caravan, ready to sprint at the smallest sign of danger. This was a typical white tunnel caravan. A detail of many to protect the smallest of goods as they traveled through an artery connecting Ewana to the rest of the ravine. While not expected to be dangerous, the village took no chances. The tunnels were declared ‘White’ due to the lack of Maedra presence, but that didn’t mean the possibility was zero.

Tul was one of the few that believed in that slim possibility. Unlike the rest of his team, who were all bickering over nonsense as usual, Tul never fully believed that the tunnels were safe. Why should he? They were losing friends left and right recently and the Beasts were only appearing more frequently in places that were once assumed to be safe. Every day, tunnels were being reclassified, and the Red teams were constantly sent to clean up the mess. In such dark times, he felt it was the norm to be a tad afraid and on edge. That was why he volunteered to take point this time. Something he rarely did.

The others were loose, light, and always laughed whenever he told them they should be more wary. This was more of a joke for them than anything. White tunnels were easy money for those who couldn’t make ends meet otherwise so he didn’t blame them. Most of those he worked with were the same. Hardly experienced and Scouts only in name. They were here for the pay, nothing else. Even the warriors were similar. Lighter in armor, weaker and less trained. If all they had to do was walk to the next village and back there was little need to carry anything heavy or to come with extra supplies.

Again, Tul understood the lack of discipline. That didn’t mean it didn’t sit right with him. His brother was constantly in danger, hunting the Beasts and coming back injured every other mission. Jake was always covered in sweat and grime after his missions. Dozens of other Scouts disappeared or came back on the shoulders of their friends. To take this job lightly almost felt like a smack in the face to them. While the White Tunnel missions didn’t have the glory or the pay on par with the other missions, someone needed to do them. Not everyone acknowledged the dull work. But, if it weren't for Oryx like Tul, and unfortunately the Oryx he was paired with, then those other teams wouldn't be able to concentrate on their own work.

A fair trade, if only he could go with them.

“Still up tight?” One of Tul’s comrades stepped up beside him. Ren, the team leader. He wasn’t as fickle as the others but he still carried a fairly lack mentality about their missions. After all, they hadn't crossed paths with the Beasts yet. Not in these tunnels.

“Someone should be,” Tul answered, earning him a scoff from Ren. The Scout Team leader looked over his shoulder towards the caravan.

“Don’t mind them, Tul. They just don’t like the idea that we might not be alone.” Ren chuckled and then turned forward. “Really hurts the idea of ‘easy money’ when you actually have to put in effort.”

Tul rolled his eye. “Maybe they should find other work.”

Tul didn’t believe in the facade of most of his current comrades. They hid behind the saying that the White Tunnels were guaranteed money due to the lack of danger within them. However, he knew the truth. They were just scared of the Beasts and didn’t have the guts to fight. At least if they took White Tunnel missions, they could keep their licenses and continue to work for practically free.

Ren’s lips curled partially and a pained look crossed his eye. “You know they all can’t.” The team leader patted Tul on the back. “Need a break?” He asked. Ren was a good guy. Lax but compassionate. He would fight if he needed to.

As for the rest, he was right. Some Scouts were here not by choice. Conscription or punishment forced a few of them into the ranks. The White Tunnels were where they performed their missions and served their time. Run enough missions and their freedom would be granted.

“No, I’m okay.” Tul gripped the lightstick a tad tighter, reaffirming his decision to not let one of the others potentially get him killed. Ren frowned and nodded lightly.

“Alright. Let me know if you do.” With that, Ren slowed his pace and gave Tul some room.

Tul let out a soft exhale and switched hands. They had a long walk to go. He couldn’t let his arms get too worn out.

* * *

Nearly halfway into their trip, Ren forced Tul to take a break at the rear. Tul had argued a bit, but Ren’s decision was final. Follow orders to be reprimanded. Thus, Tul found himself loitering behind the fourth cart and mixing in with some of the warriors. Unlike the babbling Scouts, the Warriors still showed signs of discipline. They maintained a defensive column on each side of the carts, herded the workers and traveling merchants along, and kept their internal chatter to a minimum. A few held sporadic conversations but they were always short and quiet. Though they weren’t exactly skilled in terms of fighting ability, their base training was the same. Above all else, it was up to them to defend the carts. The Scouts were just fodder and eyes.

Thus, when the lead scout held up a hand, they all instinctively drew their blades and drew their shields. The platoon leader whistled for fighting positions and the workers were swiftly pushed to the rear defensive zone. Tul avoided being dragged back with them and instead moved to the front, taking position at the rear of the scouts.

Ren was already at the front with the lead scout. The two of them conversed briefly before Ren took the lightstick away. A brief hand motion called up two more Scouts, and then Ren sent them off into the dark. Low and quiet, they slipped beyond the veil. Tul felt his blood pressure spike as they vanished out of sight.

A steady hand rested on his shoulder. A leather glove squeezed his bare skin. “Calm.” A warrior whispered to him. Tul nodded and tried to steady his breathing but he found it difficult. Hopefully it was just another caravan.

Just as he thought of the best outcome, a faint scent of rot tickled his nose.

“Oh no-”

From the dark, one of the scouts that had run forward came flying back into the light. His mangled body dropped to Ren’s feet. A moment later, the area beyond roared to life as a sea of flesh rolled into view. Tul’s eye widened and his hands clutched onto his spear. Before Ren could give out an order, he was smacked out of the way. His body smashed against the wall, a terrible wheeze escaping his lips as his lungs were crushed beneath the weight of the clubbed arm.

“Forward!” The warrior leader shouted. “Scouts, back! Wall formation!” The orders sounded like thunder as the bodies around Tul began to move in a flurry. Following the direction, Tul backpedaled until he was behind the advancing warriors. However, much of his team wasn’t so lucky. Some, frozen in fear, were devoured by the horde and pulled out of view as they were trampled. Others who tried to run were tackled, crushed, or knocked off their feet.

Tul backed up all the way until he bumped into a cart. There, he froze. He watched the Warriors make their defensive line, and then he watched it fall. The beasts smashed into the smaller, thinly armed fighters and pushed through the meager wall. The shields weren’t large enough to fend off attacks. The warriors' lack of consistent tactical preparation meant that they failed to ensure a solid line. Their lack of regular physical training made them weak in comparison to the strength of the beasts. In the end, it was a one-sided slaughter.

Run. It was all Tul could think of.

Run! His feet remained stuck in the stone. The horde washed over the warriors, tearing their limbs apart and devouring their broken bodies. Those who could fight were able to wound and kill a few of the beasts, but the numbers were overwhelming. There were just too many.

“RUN!” From the back of the line, the Platoon Leader turned and shouted. The Oryx’s eye was painted with fear, the blood had drained from his face. However, he remained stoic in his task. Hold the line.

The workers began to flee, running in the shadows of the two runners who had long abandoned the mission. However, after just a few escaped beyond the light, the remaining few inched backwards. Something had scared them. Tul turned to see and watched as a second group of beasts stepped into view. Enemies on both sides.

They were trapped.

“Shit…” The platoon leader muttered. “...Well, hopefully the runners made it.” The Oryx clutched his sword and whistled for two men. The group of three broke off from the falling front wall and rushed to defend the workers. Possibly in an attempt to kill enough or open a line to allow safe passage.

Tul watched their backs, watched them run towards the frightening enemy. He trembled at the sight of the foe. Yet, even though it was his duty to fight them, he found it impossible to will himself forward. Even with the weapon Jake had fixed for him. Even after all the sparring with Xul. Even after watching how easily Jake had killed them during their initial meeting. Even after all this time as a Scout…

He was scared. So scared. If the warriors could do nothing, what could he do?

“Scout! Run!” One of the warriors grabbed him and shoved him towards where the workers were. “Hurry!” Tul stumbled as the warrior pushed him forward, urging him on. The front line crumbled and the few that could break off quickly moved to join their platoon leader at the rear. They were making headway into the rear horde, as their numbers were thinner, but there just weren’t enough blades.

Tul gritted his teeth and squeezed his spear. “What would They do?” Tul thought of his brother and of Jake. In this situation, he knew what they’d do. Even if it was their last moment, he knew they would fight. With the workers counting on them, they wouldn’t have hesitated. So neither should he.

“Alright.” Tul took in a slow breath and then looked to his left. His eye locked with those of the workers. Many of them were old, aged men well past their prime years. A few were young, too young to have even known the touch of a woman other than their mothers. And after seeing them, Tul felt the desire to fight boil within him. If not for his own family back home, he would fight for them.

Raising his spear and releasing a war cry, Tul lunged into the wall of beasts. He raised his spear and thrust it forward. The sharpened tip cut through flesh and met, causing the target to reel in pain from the impact. Tull swerved to the right, barely avoiding the realitary strike. He withdrew his spear and cut across the Beast’s body. When the heavy hand came down like a hammer, Tul stepped back. However, he stepped onto the boot of a warrior. When the warrior jerked to pull his boot free, Tul lost his footing. The boy’s eye opened as his weight shifted out from beneath him.

“Ah-”

The heavy club of the Beast drove into his stomach. A wheeze, a cough. Then the impact. His back smashed into the stone wall of the tunnel and his legs became numb beneath him. Tul crumbled to the floor, his vision blurred. His spear clattered onto the floor just off his side, barely within reach of his fingertips. He tried to reach for it, tried so desperately to grip onto the one thing that could protect him. He looked up, meeting the ugly eyes of his nightmare.

“Ya-” The heavy club smashed into his face and his vision went black.

* * *

In the aftermath, the corpses were many. The Maedra easily overran the weak warriors and, as ordered, massacred every Oryx in sight. A few Maedra had fallen amidst the initial fighting, their bodies melting as their cores dispersed into the air. With their sacrifice, however, the ambush was a success. The carts were destroyed and supplies had been scattered throughout the area. All to ensure no survivors were hiding within them. However, while the bodies of the dead were in pieces, none of the Maedra consumed the flesh of the fallen. The bodies were meticulously stripped of their equipment and weapons. Clothes were ripped to expose the pale flesh beneath. The dead bodies and gear were all carried off into the darkness of the tunnel.

Within the horde, a single entity moved around the area to ensure his orders were being followed. A being clad in black armor from head to toe with a massive, long blade on his hip. A plume of black mana dangled from the top of his helm to the middle of his upper back. Ensuring discipline among his ranks, the individual used a small rod to smack the few Maedra that had tried to nibble at the corpses. A few had tried to get away with more than a nibble, but they were dealt with.

The Black Knight moved to the rear of the area and spotted one body that wasn’t being tendered to. An Oryx that was slumped against the side of the tunnel, likely a missed detail. A bit of a surprise to see knowing the gluttonous nature of the Maedra. The Knight approached to see if there was something wrong with the body but found nothing out of place. Something even more alarming.

When he approached, the body moved. The Knight watched as the Oryx reached for his spear and lifted it. The Oryx glared up at the Knight, blood leaking from his mouth and eye. In a final act of defiance, the spear was thrust forward in an attempt to injure the Knight. The movements were all slow, performed with plenty of pain involved, but showed that the Oryx wasn’t willing to give up even when he was broken.

Admirable, but worthless.

The Knight snatched the spear from the Oryx’s hand, twirled it, and then shoved it through his chest. The Knight made sure to stab the Oryx through the heart, ending his suffering instantly. There was no cough, no yelp. Just the fading light from the Oryx’s eye as his body slumped over. The Knight didn’t give the Oryx another moment of his time and moved on.

He ordered the Maedra to finish their work in haste. One of the runners had escaped so reinforcements would come eventually. Though they were a considerable distance from the target village, there was one threat he did not wish to encounter yet. They weren’t ready to deal with the Apostle.

When the area was cleaned of the necessary supplies, he ordered the retreat and waited until the tunnel was empty before he too left the area. With a final glance towards the Oryx he had stabbed, the Black Knight left the destruction of the caravan behind. Along with the remains of the destroyed supply caravan, that corpse would do fine as a message.

The Oryx were on borrowed time.

* * *

“HELP!” The Runner sprinted at full tilt, his arms churning at his sides as he closed on the tunnel leading to Ewana. Three guards emerged from the dark, weapons raised. “HELP! AMBUSH! AMBUSH!” The Runner’s voice echoed through the dimly lit tunnel as he pleaded for aid. Another guard emerged from the tunnel and stepped forward to meet the Runner.

“We were ambushed! Both sides! Lots of Beasts!” The runner stopped at the Guard’s feet, kneeling and heaving for air as he spit out his message. The guard immediately looked over his shoulder.

“Go.” He ordered.

Immediately, ten shadows emerged and sprinted up the tunnel, racing towards the ambush location. Thickly armored boots clattered through the empty space and finely crafted weapons were drawn. Two mages began gathering mana within their staves, preparing for the fight they would likely face

“Come.” The Guard who had met the Runner waved for the Oryx to follow him and then led the way to Ewana. The runner hurried to follow along, bowing his head as he did so. The guards who were left behind gathered within the tunnel, taking a defensive posture to meet the threat should it come to face them. One remained to the rear, a mage with a defensive spell armed to fire and call for reinforcement should they need it.

The guard was nearly two feet taller than the runner, with thick armor covering his entire body. He carried two short blades, one on each hip, and a red scarf was wrapped around his neck to signify his designation as a Guard Team leader. Just the gray armor alone was enough to clear the street as he marched swiftly through the crowd. The runner had to jog a little to keep up.

Without stopping, the two approached the Council building. The guards posted there stiffened at the appearance of the Leader and remained silent as the red scarf passed them by. They didn’t dare look at him, nor did they follow him with their eyes. They only looked at one another, a brief moment of unease passing between them as his appearance said enough.

No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be.

The Guard Leader pushed open the doors to the council building and his heavy boots echoed powerfully through the halls. Several assistants stiffened and moved aside as he walked by. Their eyes followed him, breaths held tight. A few noticed the runner at his heels, but the majority never knew he was even there. The Guard Leader paused only when he reached the two large doors at the far end of the long hall. He paused for a brief moment and then banged his fist against them.

“Enter.” A voice called. The leader didn’t wait for the posted personnel to move before he pushed the doors open. Seeing who their guest was, the Council members exchanged glances. “Captain?” One of them asked.

“I have a report. A caravan was ambushed.” The Guard Leader approached the end of the table and waved for the runner to stand beside him. The runner bowed his head and remained lowered as the leader spoke. “I’ve sent a team to check but it is unlikely there will be survivors.”

The Council members muttered to one another but the man at the other end of the table spoke first. “Runner. What did you see?” He asked.

The runner straightened, taking a slow breath. On his exhale, he spoke.

“They ambushed us, Sir. From both sides.”

The councilman's hands clenched together. A long silence fell on their shoulders and several of the members tried to find comfort in the thin cushions of their chairs. The man at the head of the table looked down at his tense hands and thought about a multitude of possibilities. However, there was only one fact he could be certain of. The beasts were coming. When, he did not know. Now that they had found one of their main tunnels, it was inevitable.

“Continue.” He looked up, meeting the eye of the runner. If there was more, he needed to hear it.