A sudden, loud, sickening roar split through the air, echoing across the desolate, barren landscape. 

It wasn't the roar of a beast they recognized—this sound was otherworldly, resonating with a deep, guttural intensity that rattled their very bones. 

Everyone shot awake. 

Seraphina clutched her satchel, her eyes wide with fear. Lyra scrambled to her feet, unarmed but alert. Micah and Killian, who had been sitting silently on guard moments earlier, instinctively tightened their grips on their dao swords. 

Andhur grabbed his glaive, the weapon's gleaming blade catching the faint crimson glow of the sky. Yzavynne and Leeani moved cautiously, still groggy but ready, while Qarek, gripping his massive war axe, struggled to steady himself as dizziness started to creep over him.

Gargeal, already awake and fully armed, stood silently, his stoic gaze fixed in the direction of the roar. His greatsword rested casually on his shoulder, though his stance was anything but relaxed.

Andhur broke the tense silence first. 

"What in the hell was that?" 

Yzavynne replied, her whipblade uncoiling in her hand. 

"It sounded like a roar."

She scanned the distant horizon, searching for movement, her sharp eyes narrowing. 

"But not like anything I've heard before."

Qarek's voice was low, rough, and tense, though he avoided Yzavynne's gaze, hoping she wouldn't notice the slight tremor in his hands.

"Master, do we move now? Or wait?" 

Leeani spoke up next, crossbow in hand and already loaded. 

"What's the plan, Master? Are we going after it?"

Seraphina was pacing nervously, her satchel of potions jangling faintly with every step. 

"I might have to use my last ten potions faster than I thought," she muttered, clutching the bag tightly. 

"If we're going toward that thing, we'll need all the help we can get."

Lyra crossed her arms, her unease masked by a calm exterior. 

"Are we following the noise? Or is this another one of those 'wait and see' situations?"

Meanwhile, Micah and Killian remained eerily silent, their sharp eyes scanning the dim horizon. Their stances were tense, but their expressions betrayed little emotion, focused on observing their surroundings.

Gargeal, still silent and stoic, broke his gaze from the horizon and turned to face the group. 

"Whatever it is," he said, his voice calm but commanding.

"It doesn't sound like an ally. We need to move."

Killian nodded, adjusting his grip on his dao sword. 

"Guessed as much. But it could still be worth investigating. We're blind out here. Moving toward that sound might finally give us something to work with."

Micah stepped forward, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. 

"I agree, but we can't be reckless. We've been making no progress, wandering in circles with no direction. At the very least, this could give us a lead. But splitting up isn't an option, not with everything we've seen so far. We don't know what we're dealing with yet, and we still haven't found Zach or Tina. If we don't stick together, we won't survive."

Gargeal gave a small nod of approval. 

"That's what I've been thinking too. No splitting up. We'll move as one, investigate the sound, and deal with whatever's ahead as a unit."

"Glad we're on the same track," Micah said, her voice softening slightly.

Killian adjusted the strap of his sword sheath and gave a faint smirk. 

"So, what do you all say? We move toward that noise, figure out what the hell's going on, and maybe, just maybe, we'll finally get some answers."

As the group prepared to move, Andhur leaned toward Leeani with a wry grin. 

"Don't tell me you're scared, Leeani. I thought crossbows were for the brave ones."

Leeani rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in annoyance. 

"Save the jokes for later, Andhur. Maybe after we don't get eaten alive."

Meanwhile, Yzavynne glanced at Qarek, noticing the faint sway in his posture. 

She asked quietly, her whipblade coiled tightly in her hand.

"Are you okay?" 

Qarek avoided her gaze, shifting his axe to his other hand. 

"I'm fine. Let's focus."

Gargeal, observing the interactions silently, finally stepped forward and began giving instructions. His tone was calm but firm, carrying the weight of authority. 

"Listen carefully. Yzavynne, Leeani, you'll stay at the back. Your job is to protect Seraphina and Lyra at all costs. Seraphina, focus on your potions. Lyra, stay close to them, even without a weapon. You two are our support. Don't take unnecessary risks."

Yzavynne saluted, her voice strong. 

"Got it, Master!"

Leeani nodded. 

"Understood, Master."

Gargeal turned his gaze to the rest of the group. 

"Andhur, Qarek, Micah, Killian, you'll be at the front with me. We'll take the lead and engage first if anything shows up. Use your weapons efficiently. We don't know what's waiting for us. Stay sharp, and watch each other's backs."

Killian smirked. 

"Sounds good to me."

Micah gave a quiet nod, her expression unreadable.

Andhur adjusted his glaive, his usual humor replaced with focus. 

"Got it."

Qarek hefted his axe, steadying his breath. 

"Understood."

Gargeal glanced at the horizon one last time before giving the final order. 

"Let's move. And stay together. No one falls behind."

As they began walking, the sound of their boots crunching on the dry, cracked soil was the only noise accompanying them. 

Seraphina muttered a quiet prayer under her breath as she clutched her satchel. Yzavynne and Leeani flanked her protectively, their eyes scanning every shadow.

Ahead, Gargeal led the group with unshaken determination, his greatsword gleaming faintly in the crimson light. 

Suddenly, a loud voice thundered across the crimson-black horizon, resonating like a strike of a war drum. Its deep, resonant tone seemed to come from all around, filling the air with an unearthly presence:

"I DON'T NEED YOUR SOULS. NOT BEFITTING FOR MY CREATOR!"

The sheer force of the voice made the group halt in their tracks, their weapons poised and hearts racing. Even Gargeal, stoic as ever, frowned deeply, his grip tightening around his greatsword.

 Andhur muttered, breaking the heavy silence, his voice unusually subdued.

"What was that?" 

Micah whispered urgently, her voice barely audible as she urged the group forward.

"Move, move, move. Faster."

Killian shot her sister a glance, his tone firm but tempered. 

"Calm down, Micah. Let's not rush ourselves into another fight. We don't know what we're dealing with yet."

The group pressed forward cautiously, the oppressive atmosphere weighing down on them like a shroud. Every step felt heavier than the last as if the ground itself was dragging them down. The voice's words echoed in their minds, gnawing at their nerves.

Finally, they reached the source of the sound—or what they thought was the source. What greeted them wasn't a towering monster or some malevolent entity, but the gruesome aftermath of a battle.

The sight froze them in place.

Littered across the cracked, barren soil were the mutilated corpses of Drakonium soldiers. Their armor, once polished and imposing, was now twisted and shattered, their bodies broken in ways that defied logic. Many were dismembered, their limbs scattered grotesquely. Others had faces frozen in expressions of pure terror, their mouths agape in silent screams. Pools of blood had dried into dark, viscous stains, and the air reeked of decay.

Seraphina clutched her satchel tighter, her face pale as she took an involuntary step back. 

"I think I'll just stay here, not too far from you guys. You handle the... analyzation."

Lyra, her voice steady despite the horror in her eyes, stepped closer to Seraphina. 

"I'll stay with you. No way am I leaving you alone out here."

Killian glanced at Gargeal. 

"What do you think?"

Gargeal remained silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the scene with grim determination. Finally, he spoke. 

"This is worth investigating. We need to understand what happened here."

Before anyone could respond, Qarek suddenly staggered, his war axe slipping from his grasp and landing heavily on the ground. He clutched his head, his knees buckling as he collapsed.

Yzavynne cried out, rushing to his side. 

"Qarek!" 

She and Leeani caught him just before his head could hit the ground, their movements swift and precise despite their own exhaustion.

Andhur hurried over, his glaive resting in the crook of his arm as he bent down. 

"What's wrong? What happened?"

The others were stunned, their shock rendering them momentarily frozen. Even Gargeal's ever-calm composure flickered as he turned sharply toward Qarek.

"Qarek, talk to me," Yzavynne urged, her voice laced with worry. 

"Do you need rest?"

Qarek groaned, his voice strained. 

"My vision... it's so blurry. I... I can't see properly."

Andhur exchanged a concerned look with Yzavynne and Leeani. 

"He needs rest," Andhur said firmly. 

"Let's not push him any further."

Without hesitation, Andhur lifted Qarek's war axe, its weight barely fazing him, while Yzavynne and Leeani helped Qarek to sit upright.

Killian approached Gargeal, his voice low but insistent. 

"Is he going to be okay?"

Gargeal exhaled slowly, his jaw tight. 

"I hope so. But we can't afford to stop. We keep moving. We can't lose focus now."

Micah stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. 

"Seraphina, Lyra, go with them. Stay together. And Seraphina, if you've got anything that can help with his symptoms—headaches, vision issues—now's the time to use it."

Seraphina opened her satchel, her fingers trembling slightly as she rummaged through the remaining potions. 

"I brought healing elixirs, stamina boosters, and some elemental potions—fire, ice, and paralysis effects." 

She listed quickly, her voice tinged with both pride and concern. 

"There are also defensive smokescreens and a few shamanic brews that can boost agility or strength for a short time. But... there are only ten left."

Micah nodded. 

"Use one of your healing elixirs. We need him back on his feet, even if it's just temporary."

Seraphina's fingers finally closed around the elixirs. 

"Found it!" she exclaimed softly, pulling out a small vial filled with a glowing blue liquid. 

"Qarek, here. Drink this. It'll put you at ease, even if it's just for a little while."

Leeani took the vial from Seraphina, uncorking it swiftly. 

"Here, Qarek. Drink." 

She gently tilted the vial to his lips, helping him take slow sips.

Qarek swallowed with some difficulty, his breaths labored. 

"Thank you," he rasped, his voice barely audible. 

"Thank you, Seraphina."

Seraphina smiled faintly, though her eyes were filled with worry. 

"I hope you feel better soon."

Yzavynne stood and turned toward Gargeal, her expression resolute. 

"Master, take care. We'll stay here and look after Qarek. Just don't take too long."

Gargeal nodded. 

"Understood. Stay vigilant."

With that, Yzavynne, Leeani, Qarek, Andhur, Seraphina, and Lyra moved a short distance away from the gruesome scene. They stopped just a few meters back, enough to be out of immediate danger but close enough to provide support if needed.

Gargeal turned to Micah and Killian, his expression unreadable but his tone decisive. 

"You two ready?"

Killian smirked, gripping his sword. 

"Always."

Micah cracked her knuckles, her eyes gleaming with determination. 

"Heck, we are."

With weapons drawn, the three pressed forward toward the heart of the carnage, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint rustle of shifting bodies in the wind.

△▼△▼△▼△

Gargeal, Micah, and Killian stood amidst the field of mangled corpses, the air thick with the scent of blood and iron. 

The bodies of the Drakonium soldiers, torn apart in ways that defied human brutality, lay scattered across the crimson-soaked earth. The red sky above cast an eerie glow over the scene, making the blood glisten like molten rubies.

Gargeal knelt beside one of the bodies, his hand hovering over a gaping wound on the soldier's chest. With a grimace, he dipped his fingers into the sticky blood and examined it closely. 

Almost immediately, he wiped his hand clean on the tattered remains of the soldier's uniform. 

"Fresh blood," he muttered, his tone sharp and analytical. 

"So that voice, it may have been the one that did this."

Micah and Killian stood nearby, their dao swords drawn but lowered, their gazes shifting between the mutilated bodies and Gargeal. 

Killian's brow furrowed as he took in the sheer brutality of the scene. 

"This wasn't just a fight," he observed, his voice low. 

"This was an execution."

Micah crouched beside another corpse, her youthful energy tempered by a rare seriousness. She poked at a deep laceration with the tip of her sword. 

"Whoever—or whatever—did this didn't hold back. These soldiers didn't even get a chance to defend themselves." 

Gargeal seemed lost in thought, his deep-set eyes narrowing as he stared at the blood pooling beneath the body he'd examined. His lips moved faintly as if he were piecing together a puzzle. 

"Souls," he muttered, almost inaudibly. 

"Not befitting for my creator. Is that what this is all about? They're looking for a soul, or souls. But whose? Humans'? Ours? Us, who got trapped in here?"

He stood up slowly, strapping his massive greatsword to his back with a practiced motion. The blade seemed to gleam ominously under the crimson sky. 

"It will kill anyone who does not have a soul that befits their creator," he said, his voice steady but thoughtful. 

"Unusual. But that might be what this is all about. That might be why we're here."

Killian turned to him, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. 

"Hey. Found anything worth noting in that big brain of yours?" 

Micah, still poking at the bodies, chimed in without looking up.

"Dead. Yep, dead. Definitely dead." 

Gargeal turned his head toward them, his expression unreadable. 

"I'm surprised you two can keep up with this. A massacre of this scale. It's not the kind of thing most people can stomach. The gore, the brutality. It's overwhelming."

Micah stood up, brushing dirt off her knees. 

"Well, if there's one thing we should probably tell you..." 

Killian glanced at her and then back at Gargeal. 

"I suppose we haven't told you and your band that yet."

Micah crossed her arms, her dao sword resting against her shoulder. 

"We're not just hunters. We're warriors too," she said, her voice steady. 

"One time, we were traveling through kingdom after kingdom, just trying to survive. But we stopped at Drakonium, and well, a man there trained us. Turned us into what we are now."

"We were just kids then," Micah continued, her gaze distant as if recalling a memory buried deep in the past. 

"I don't remember everything clearly, but I think we were around fourteen when we first picked up a sword. This sword." 

She tapped the flat of her dao blade. 

"And the man who trained us? He wasn't much older than us. Maybe eighteen or nineteen."

Killian nodded, his expression softening. 

"Yeah, that's true. We've been through a lot since then. We're in our thirties now, but those days feel like a lifetime ago."

Gargeal raised an eyebrow, his rugged face showing a hint of amusement. 

"And I'm... well, in my sixties now."

Both Micah and Killian froze, their eyes widening in disbelief. 

"What. What?!" they said in unison.

Micah's jaw dropped as she pointed at him. 

"You're in your sixties?! With that build? Carrying that massive, heavy greatsword on your back all day?!"

Gargeal shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. 

"I am."

Micah blinked, doing mental calculations. 

"If I did the math right, that means... you were in your forties when you joined the Renaissance Band."

Gargeal confirmed, his tone calm.

"I was."

Killian folded his arms, his brow furrowing. 

"Why? Why join them at that age? I've heard the stories from Haerak after Selene's attack. They were young, too young. And yet, you joined them?"

Gargeal fell silent, his gaze drifting upward to the oppressive red sky. The weight of his past seemed to settle over him like a shroud. 

After a long pause, he finally spoke. 

"Because I had nothing left to lose."

Micah and Killian exchanged a glance, unsure if they should press him further.

"I wasn't always like this," Gargeal continued, his voice steady but tinged with a deep sadness. 

"Before the Renaissance Band, I was just a blacksmith. A simple man with a simple life. A wife. A son. They were my world."

He hesitated, his voice breaking slightly as he added.

"When we first arrived here, I saw myself in Lyra. A younger me. She was a blacksmith too. Cautious, always wary of everyone, always on edge, ready to protect what little she had. I was like that before too."

Gargeal's gaze dropped to the ground, his hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. 

"And just like her, I thought if I stayed vigilant, if I worked hard enough, I could keep my family safe. But, I couldn't. No matter how much I tried, it wasn't enough." 

His eyes glistened as the weight of those memories pressed down on him. 

"And now, when I look at Lyra, it's like I'm staring at a reflection of the man I used to be. The man I failed to stay for my family."

The words hung heavy in the air, the pain behind them palpable. Even Micah and Killian, often quick with a quip, stood silently, giving Gargeal the space to collect himself.

He paused, his hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of his greatsword. 

"Because, one day, they were taken from me. Murdered by the King of Aurelia out of nowhere. I... I wasn't strong enough to protect them. I failed them."

The siblings listened in silence, the weight of his words sinking in. 

Gargeal's voice grew quieter, as if he were speaking more to himself than to them. 

"When I met Zach and the others, they reminded me of my family. Young, vulnerable, but full of potential. I thought if I could protect them, if I could make sure they didn't suffer the same fate as my family, then maybe—just maybe—I could find some meaning in all of this."

Micah blinked rapidly, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of her sword. 

"You carry a lot, don't you? More than that sword, more than your years. You carry all of them."

Gargeal's lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. 

"It's what keeps me standing, Micah. When you carry enough, it stops you from falling."

Killian took a step forward, his tone gentler now. 

"Gargeal, you've been doing this for decades. Isn't it time someone carried you for a change?"

Gargeal met his gaze, his stoic demeanor softening for the briefest moment. 

"That's not how it works, Killian. I'm here to see you all through this, not the other way around."

Micah let out a shaky breath, her voice quiet but resolute. 

"Well, maybe it should work that way. We've got your back too, you know. You don't have to bear everything alone."

Gargeal didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked at the two siblings—one fiery and impulsive, the other steady and composed. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in something that resembled gratitude. 

"You're good kids," he finally said. 

"But right now, we've got work to do."

Killian smirked faintly, breaking the tension. 

"And here I thought you were about to get sentimental on us."

Micah rolled her eyes, her voice regaining some of its playful edge. 

"He's sixty, Killian. Let the man have his moment."

Gargeal looked at him, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. 

"Let's focus on what's ahead. We need to figure out what's going on here."

Micah smirked, her usual playful demeanor returning. 

"Fine, but don't think we're letting this conversation slide later. Sixty, huh? You're full of surprises."

Gargeal chuckled softly.

"Let's move. We've got a mystery to solve—and I'm not planning to let any of you become the next bodies on the ground."

He gestured toward the bodies, his tone returning to its usual seriousness. 

"These soldiers weren't just killed. They were slaughtered—quickly, brutally, and deliberately. Whoever did this, they were efficient. Too efficient for this to be random."

Micah crouched beside one of the corpses, inspecting the gaping wounds with a sharp eye. 

"You think it's the thing that screamed about souls earlier?"

Gargeal nodded. 

"It's possible. Whatever it is, it seems to have a purpose. And that purpose might not align with ours—or anyone else's. That voice... it wasn't human. It was something else entirely."

Killian glanced at the surrounding terrain, his grip tightening on his dao sword. 

"So, what now? Do we keep moving? Try to track it?"

Gargeal's eyes narrowed, his mind working through the possibilities. 

"We move carefully. Stay vigilant. If it's hunting for souls, we need to figure out what that means, and why we're here."

Micah stood, brushing dirt from her hands as she exchanged a glance with Killian. 

"You're not thinking about running into it on purpose, are you?"

Gargeal's gaze hardened. 

"If it comes to that, we'll be ready. But for now, let's stick together."

Killian nodded, his voice firm. 

"Agreed. We move forward, but we don't take unnecessary risks."

Micah smirked faintly, her dao sword resting on her shoulder. 

"Unnecessary risks? With us? Sounds impossible."

Gargeal allowed himself a small smile at her quip, but his eyes remained fixed on the horizon, where the red sky stretched endlessly. 

"Let's go, let's inform the others about this. We'll figure this out. One step at a time."

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