Rust’s whispers to Tuketu grew more urgent. Tuketu’s frown grew more lined. After a pregnant pause he gave a slow nod, and Rust whirled back to face the crowd.

“Gatherers, come!” He yelled out. Three dozen, garbed in dark smocks, pressed forward with their bags and kits at the ready.

“Deploy,” he said, gesturing to the Sinkhole. The Head Gatherer nodded in affirmation and wordlessly they shuffled forth, seeking out the pockets of qi. The farther you went the more valuable the herbs—but the real gems also entailed a level of risk Rust Tribe was not equipped to handle. They couldn’t afford to disturb a full-grown Wyrm, much less whatever tread those depths. So instead the gatherers fanned out over the edge, dipping in less than ten feet with [Techniques], nets and poles in an effort to pry out the lesser Spirit herbs which grew in the Sinkhole’s sides.

Rust’s aura was discreet but primed; the Hunters, too, were on high alert. This was one of the Tribe’s most vulnerable moments. It’d gather them sizable bargaining chips for the Festival, sure, but it’d all be for naught if one of the greater beasts took an interest in them at a bad time…

None seemed forthcoming. All of the action brewed around that storm cloud on the other side; the battle still raged. It showed no signs of slowing down. Rust stared at it coldly, showing as little as always, but the very fact of his staring betrayed his thoughts.

Dorian was sure Rust could feel it too. He probably hadn’t a clue it was a god’s bone or even a Prime bone, but the majestic undertones which floated across the Sinkhole was undeniable; there was great treasure there.

Treasure he was missing out on.

But Rust was no lone wolf. He was a Chief, and with it came his responsibilities to his Tribe and people. He could not survive without Rust Tribe, nor the inverse; the same was true of Tuketu. To head into that storm was reckless.

But Dorian was Chief of nothing, which meant he had no such restrictions. All the better! He licked his lips and took a few confident strides forward—

—only for an insistent hand to grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Ah!”

“Nope,” said Kaya. Her face was stern.

“What are you doing?”

“You are not heading over there.”

“Where?”

She pointed to the storm and nailed him with a glare. Dorian rolled his eyes. “How’d you even—“

“‘Cause I know you. And you’re dumb.” She wagged a finger at him. “No way. You’ll get shredded, moron! Think!”

He shrugged her arm free. “Or, or—I’ll come back with a treasure that’ll bring honor to the Tribe!”

“I’ll make this simple for you,” said Kaya, looking serious. She leaned in. “I’m the one with the muscles. You aren’t. I’ve got ahold of you and I’ve decided—gods knows why I bother—to save you from yourself. The end.”

Dorian thought fast, gnashing his teeth. “Uh. I can fly!”

Kaya blinked. “…wha?”

“Look—“ He scanned around. Tuketu and Rust were focused on the horizons, scanning for dangers; the rest of the Hunters were doing the same. The coast was clear for a small, brief demonstration.

So Dorian kicked off the air in three small steps with the [Cloud-Treading Steps]—enough to take him two body-lengths above Kaya—before dropping back to the sand, landing on all fours. “See?” He grinned.

She just gaped at him. “How—wait…” Dorian could see the dots connecting in her mind in real-time. She was sharper than she pretended. “That qi… those steps—Cloud-Treading? But aren’t they supposed to—“

“I modified it,” breathed Dorian. “Trust me. I can move real fast in these if I need to. I just need to sneak in, grab some good stuff on the side and dash off while the big beasts are fighting each other! I can do it. I swear.”

Not strictly accurate, of course. He was settling for no side attractions. If he was to act it’d be for the main event.

Kaya sucked in a breath. Her brow furrowed and her face scrunched like a lost puppy’s; he’d gotten her thinking. He took the chance to wrench free of her grasp before sprinting in the Chief’s direction.

“Hey, you—“ Kaya’s growls rang out behind him but he simply opened his mouth in response.

“Chief Rust! Chief Rust!”

The Chief slowly turned on him. His nose was wrinkled with just a touch of incredulity. Dorian could pluck the thoughts from his head—did he just address me by name? In this situation?

“Yes?” he said slowly. His jaw worked as he did; his eyes narrowed to slits.

Dorian was bristling all over, shivering with not entirely faked excitement. “Send me,” he implored, eyes wide. “I learned the [Cloud-Treading Steps] from Master Tuketu’s ring! I can sneak in and snatch a treasure and be gone before they’re any the wiser!”

Rust was silent. He let his gaze rest on Dorian like an anchor.

Dorian could imagine the calculus running through the man’s mind, the risk-reward. On one end it was a low-percentage move; on the other, whatever it was that lay across the Sinkhole was possibly a once-in-a-lifetime treasure. Those you did not give up under nearly any circumstances.

And besides—Dorian knew he was getting too big, too fast. Rust hadn’t counted on his making inroads this quick. Perhaps it wasn’t an awful thing if the greatest potential challenge to his power…

Rust’s jaw worked like a steam engine. After a long pause, “Fine.”

Dorian’s eyes lit up.

“A strike force shall accompany you,” he said sternly. He turned. “Tuketu!”

“Hm?” Tuketu sauntered over, looking weirdly relaxed given the circumstances. “Pick out four Hunters. Able, discreet. They should—“

“Pardon,” said Dorian softly. Rust’s cheek twitched; the air thickened, grew hard to breathe, and a weight settled over Dorian’s shoulders.

“Speak,” said the Chief. His eyes were black holes.

“I’m very sorry, but I feel a strike force would only draw undue attention, Chief,” said Dorian smoothly. “This mission… it should be small. Discreet. A cluster of several high-level [Origin] realm fighters might draw unwanted attention—but someone like me, alone? I’d be in and out in a flash!”

He pulled out his rote ‘eager youngster expression,’ complete with puppy-dog eyes. Granted, this body never had stellar looks to begin with—yet another thing he’d have to remedy once he found the time—but you worked with what you got.

“Tch. Very well.”

“Me too.”

Dorian whirled around. Kaya stood there, hands on her hips. She looked deadly serious. “I’ll help guard him. I’m low-enough Realm to escape notice too. If anything goes wrong, I’ll pull him out of trouble.”

Frowning, Dorian opened his mouth. Kaya put her hand to it. “Shut up,” she snapped. “If you’re going, then so am I. Deal with it.”

For a second Dorian thought to protest more. Then he thought about it for a second longer, and shut up.

Rust looked to her with a frown, no doubt juggling the risks of losing two assets to the clan in one swoop. But a pulse of qi drifted over, this time more insistent; its aura, majestic, imperious, was a siren’s song.

Rust gritted his teeth. “…Fine.”

He looked to the sky, seeking out the setting sun. “You have…an hour in sum. Be there and back. Past then, we leave without you.”

Drawing up his sleeves, he looked Dorian dead in the eyes. “If you can retrieve a treasure of true import, you’ll have done a great service to the tribe. I will personally mark the deed.”

He punctuated the words by grasping Dorian hard on the arm; his hand felt like a steel band. When he let go, his face was grave. “The light is fading. Go fast.”

Cracking a grin, Dorian nodded.

He made to leave.

Then, one last distraction plopped before them. “Wait!” cried Hento. His eyes glistened. “Are you all going on an expedition? Ooh! I’ve not had my fill of gallantry for the day, no sir! Take me—“ He choked on his words mid-sentence; it was a little like seeing a man walk face-first into a wall.

This wall was his father’s stare. It was a look to freeze blood. Hento swallowed; he stuck out a tongue at his father. He was the only person in the Tribe who could’ve done it without getting that tongue cut off. Rust still looked murderous.

“Bah! Perhaps I can stomach hanging back…” sighed Hento.

Then he whirled to Kaya. Judging by his smug smile, he’d recovered his lost confidence…had he found it after the sandwolf fight? He hasn’t managed to convince himself he’s some Tribe hero after that, has he? Dorian fought the urge to bury his head in his palms.

“Come back safe, will you, dear?” He purred. His eyes traced a line down her body. “Who knows? Bring back some treasure and maybe I’ll reward you personally.”

Kaya sprung at him out of nowhere.

Hento yelped and fell flat on his ass; to his side his father’s aura flared suddenly. Bending down until they were eye level, Kaya left two blisteringly hot fists right before his face. Hento whimpered a little.

Then, laughing, she snuffed them out and strutted back to Dorian’s side.

“Grow a pair of balls first, eh?” She spat. Then she snatched Dorian by the elbow. “Looks like it’s you and I against the world. Typical.”

She flashed him a grin, saluted the Chief, and took off without warning with him in tow; yelping, stumbling, he followed after.

***

They went by foot around the perimeter of the Sinkhole, and all the while Dorian’s mind crackled with ideas. He wasn’t fully lying with his rationale against bringing extra men—it would attract a lot more attention—but a key part of it was he didn’t need Rust’s men getting their grubby hands on his treasure.

What to do? He pondered as he went. He had no clue what was forthcoming, but with one look at that festering cloud of qi and destruction he had a suspicion he wasn’t coming out unblemished, low-key or not.

Besides, one key detriment to his decision was that he didn’t have fodder to chuck at oncoming beasts if things went astray. A timely boot to the back of a Hunter or two would’ve bought him a nice half-minute if he got in the path of a rampaging Megapede. Now, though…he glanced to Kaya, who ran like the wind alongside him, her teeth bared.

Well, well. Perhaps her insistence wouldn’t be for naught after all.

A stab of anguish rose up out of some dank corner of his mind—an echo of the old Io that he squashed in an instant. Oh, don’t be like that, you ghost of a twerp. Of course I hope it won’t happen! But it’s nice to have some insurance. Just in case.

A last consideration: was it worth offending the Chief? He’d come up with an excuse, of course; perhaps nab a side-treasure while he imbibed the main Bone. But to assimilate such a rare bloodline rather than retrieve it for the tribe would bring sure consequences…

I’ll weather them as they come. This is worth far too much.

They were nearing the edge of the thing. The roars came like gale-force winds now; a mass of chaotic auras, overlapping one another, flowed through the center of the storm. Sand and dust choked the air, firming a giant black miasma which hovered over all; qi techniques struck out like thunderbolts, silhouetting massive, deformed shapes against the backdrop of the dusts before the darknesses dropped again.

Dorian breathed in deep. The cloud was less than twenty feet off now, and he could feel each aura washing over him, visceral, humming with enough power to make his measly level seem like a rounding error in comparison.Above all, he felt the call of the Prime Bone, clear as bells chiming. He sensed it waiting, caught in the midst of titanic auras warring.

Above the Vordors circled, waiting for the dead to settle.

Kaya skidded to a stop just as he did. She frowned at the storm. This close, it felt like they were drowning in all the auras. The reality of mortality must’ve hit stark.

Her face didn’t chang. He knew she was scared, but she’d sooner die than admit it. She’d always been that way.

“Are you sure about this?” She bit. “It’s not too late to turn back…”

“I’m sure,” said Dorian. He let his heartbeat run wild, pumping his limps full of fresh vigor. This bloodline… if the next half-hour went just right, the next hundred years would be very pleasant indeed.

Grinning, he gestured into the gaping black.

“After you!”