The night was slowly coming to an end. Within a few short hours, the sun would bleed faint light over the forest edges. And so far, the groups had made great progress.
Infiltrating Zone North-East had been smoother for Group 3A than it had been for most units.
At the head of the group stood Major Kosiso Udoka — well known for having the most destructive divine craft in the east, she called it the echoflare, A two-handed divine weapon, shaped like an oversized pair of war-forged scissors. When she snapped the glowing blades shut, it released a searing burst of divine energy, precise and devastating. She could cut through both Fallen and terrain with surgical accuracy, often from dozens of meters away.
Beside her fought Tor Adesina, wielding his twin cinders. Where Kosiso struck from afar, Tor flowed through close-quarters combat like a red blaze. His role was simple — clean up whatever slipped past Echoflare's strikes.
Meanwhile, the two Madarikans, Onyeka and Ebube, remained flanked at Kosiso's side — one step behind her at all times. Their Divine Crafts were simpler, forged for defense and interception. They were her shield wall in motion. Their cohesion was airtight. Their pace was clean.
Within hours of arrival, they had dismantled three Voro packs and tracked the first two shrine fields — each one guarded, each one cleared with quiet efficiency.
But that was where the smoothness ended.
Because the problem now wasn't their skill.
It was the shrines themselves.
The remaining shrines had eluded them for too long. Their location remained hidden, sealed behind terrain and silence. And worse — the number of Uro Voros had begun to thin.
Not because the zone was becoming safer.No. The zone was adapting.
Every time they cut one down, another would rise elsewhere.
Tor's blade slid clean through the torso of the Voro, splitting it in half before its body could even react. The remains hit the dirt with a thud, and he exhaled sharply, his frustration now finding voice.
"How many more of these damn things do we have to slay before this contract ends?" he barked, stepping back and wiping sweat from his jaw with the back of his arm. "How many shrines could possibly be left in this place?"
Behind him, Onyeka replied evenly, his voice calm and measured. "Patience, Tor. This is just day one. You think a joint contract between all families would be solved in one night? If it were that easy, the Udokas would've handled it alone."
Tor scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You've at least had time to nap. I haven't even closed my eyes."
"That doesn't mean I haven't put in the work," Onyeka said, tone tightening. "This has been a collective effort."
Tor didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned just in time to dodge a spore blast from a nearby Voro. His right cinder flared to life with a low flame, and with a clean motion, he separated the creature's head from its body. He drove the weapon into the ground with force, watching the corpse slump beside it.
Then he turned toward Onyeka, who stood a few steps behind Major Kosiso. She was already lining up her next shot with Echoflare, the twin-bladed divine craft in her hands glowing with crackling light. With a controlled snap, she released a radiant pulse that tore through the Voro in front of her, sending it crashing into a tree.
Before the beast could recover, Ebube rushed in and finished it with a quick downward slash.
The clearing fell silent.
No more Voros.
Tor raised his voice again, this time sharper. "Of course you'll call it a collective effort. You're perched behind a Major. I've been at the front, nonstop, slaying everything in sight—even handled an Uro Voro on my own. You think that's shared effort?"
Ebube, now walking back from the last kill, approached Tor with a neutral but firm expression. "Watch your tone. Undermining everyone's effort isn't the act of a Divine," he said. "Major Kosiso's been at it all night too. Not one complaint."
As if on cue, Major Kosiso let Echoflare fade from her hands. The glowing craft dissolved in a trail of fading particles, and she calmly dusted off her cloak. She reached into her pack and pulled out the terrain map, unbothered by the tension in the air, as if she hadn't heard a word of the argument.
"She's already thinking about the next task," Ebube added, gesturing to her. "Exactly how a Major should be."
Tor rolled his shoulders, twisting his neck as he exhaled hard. "You're not getting me…"
"I do," Major Kosiso said suddenly.
It was the first time she'd spoken since Tor began venting.
He turned to her.
"You're right," she continued. "We've gone deep into this forest non-stop. With the effort we've put in and the shrines we've already cleared, there should be a noticeable decline in Voro activity by now. But instead, it feels like nothing's changed. As if the shrines we destroyed weren't the true source of the spread."
"But Major," Onyeka interjected, "we've seen this before. That's why this contract needed all the families. These forests are unpredictable."
Kosiso kept her eyes on the map but responded flatly. "That was then. This time, we've pushed farther than before. This zone is deeper than any Udoka unit had reached in past cycles. And back then, we still made decent progress. Not enough to end it, but enough to call it measurable."
She folded the map halfway, eyes scanning the terrain lines. "This time… we're making strides I didn't even think were possible on day one. But none of it is showing real change. That's not progress. That's misdirection."
Tor nodded, grateful someone finally saw it the way he did. "Exactly. We're missing something."
Kosiso looked up from the map, eyes meeting his. "You're right."
She let the moment breathe, her tone not sharp but steady—measured.
"I'll give the Adesinas credit," she said. "Your family has a reputation for sharpness—not just in combat, but in observation. You notice things others don't, and you react quickly. A testament to the kind of training you've received."
Tor's chest rose slightly, as if the validation surprised him.
"But," she continued, her voice dipping just enough to re-center the moment, "that sharpness only cuts clean when it's steady. You're impulsive, Tor. You think fast—but you move too fast too. Let your head catch up with your instincts."
A pause.
"Stay calm. We'll figure this out."
He didn't argue.
She folded the map fully and pointed westward.
"For now, we keep heading toward the center. If we can reach Group 3B, they might have insights we don't. This contract needs to end with clarity. Not just kills."
Tor retrieved his cinder from the ground, the weapon still faintly warm from the last strike. He gripped it tightly, rolling his wrist like he was preparing for more.
"Alright then," he said, voice sharpened by renewed focus. "Let's go."
But just as the group turned to follow Kosiso's lead, Onyeka dropped to his knees, hands to the ground, breath heavy.
"Wait… can we just—" he muttered. "Get a bit of rest first? Just here. Five minutes."
Tor turned back, staring at him in disbelief.
The disappointment on his face said it all.
***
After getting a bit of rest, Group 3A resumed their mission to purge the remaining shrines scattered across the northeastern zone. The break, though brief, was essential—not just for the sake of strategy but for survival. Although Tor had initially pushed to continue right after their last sweep, eager and burning with momentum, Onyeka urged a pause. It wasn't just the physical toll of the battle with the Voro packs. Both Divines—Tor and Major Kosiso—had drawn deeply from their reserves of divine energy, more than what would typically be used against a standard group of Uro Voros. The strain was visible in the shimmer of their Crafts and the slightly sluggish rhythm in their movements, especially after the third shrine. If they had pushed forward without recovery, they would've been running on fumes by now.
But now, with the sun dipping low and painting the sky in molten amber, Group 3A stood on the cusp of clearing their fourth and final shrine. The shadows of the trees elongated, stretching like quiet sentinels across the moss-laced ground, and the air had grown thick with the scent of singed bark and smoldering divine essence.
Tor led the charge, his movements fluid, purposeful—brimming with controlled aggression. As they neared the edge of the fourth shrine's perimeter, a low growl rumbled from the brush. Another pack of Voros emerged, their blackened skins absorbing what little light remained, their snarls like static against the forest's silence.
Tor didn't wait.
With a sudden clash, he slammed his twin cinders together. A rush of heat surged from the impact—flames burst around both weapons, wrapping them in writhing ribbons of fire. The technique was raw, primal, and beautiful. He didn't hesitate to dive into the fray, carving through the Voros like a living inferno, the scent of scorched flesh trailing in his wake.
From behind, Major Kosiso observed. There was no need to interfere—not yet. Tor's command of the battlefield was clear. His control over flame, while still in its infancy, showed promise far beyond his current rank. Elemental techniques were notoriously difficult to master. They weren't just brute force; they required a connection between the wielder and the essence of the element itself. The fact that Tor could wrap his cinders in fire with only a clash—and maintain that heat long enough to strike—wasn't just impressive. It was rare.
She nodded to herself. He's almost ready, she thought. If not already. That boy is knocking on the doors of Upper Hand.
Though Tor had yet to expand the technique—no projectile attacks, no fire waves—what he did have was stable and reliable. And that, in the heat of a real mission, was far more valuable than an untested trick.
When the skirmish ended and the ash began to settle, Kosiso finally spoke.
"Clean work," she said, voice calm but firm. "Keep refining it. The fire's not just yours to wield. It's yours to understand."
Tor turned his head slightly, offering a faint nod of gratitude. He didn't smile—but the respect was clear in his eyes. Still catching his breath, he took the moment to speak up.
"I've been a little envious," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "The Udoka name is built on precision and grace. I've seen that in you. Your echoflares don't just strike—they mark a place. I light up my blade and hope it's enough. You blast a single spot and end things."
Kosiso raised an eyebrow, not expecting such open admiration from him. There was a pause, then a faint smile.
"Appreciate that," she said quietly. "Really."
Her eyes drifted to the faint embers still clinging to his cinders.
"Right now, your fire is loud—bright, raw… hard to ignore. It lights up the area, sure. But it fades just as fast."
She met his gaze.
"That's not a weakness. It's just the stage you're in. With time—when you've sharpened that power, made it yours—it won't just light up the field."She raised two fingers, mimicking a clean, precise cut."It'll leave a mark. The kind that doesn't vanish when the flames go out."
There was a beat of silence between them, long enough to breathe in the moment. Then Kosiso added, more lightheartedly, "Once again, I appreciate the compliment. From someone like you, that means something."
But Tor had no such words for the Madarikans. He acknowledged their bravery—that much he could not deny. But their style was brute and blunt, lacking the refinement he admired in Divine combat. They moved like a tide—overwhelming, inevitable—but to Tor, there was no art in that. No shaping of essence. No craft.
They didn't seem to mind. And Kosiso especially held no grudge. She respected the function they served, even if it lacked flair. In her view, holding the line was no lesser task than leading the charge.
That quiet foundation of mutual respect had begun to form the bedrock of Group 3A. Despite the difference in ranks, family names, and techniques, there was cohesion. They trusted one another to play their roles.
As they advanced deeper into the zone, a strange calm settled in. Ebube was the first to voice it. "It's been too long since we saw an Uro Voro," he muttered, scanning the tree line. His tone was cautious, not fearful.
Major Kosiso narrowed her eyes. He was right.
Uro Voros were wild, but they were not shy. The lack of Uro Voros here—especially this deep into the northwestern territory—was unnatural. Shrines were usually crawling with them. The silence meant one of two things: either the shrine had already been cleared by group 3b… or something else had displaced the creatures.
Ebube shared his theory. "I think we've done our part here. If anything's left, it's probably spilling in from 3B's section."
Kosiso nodded slowly, her thoughts already aligning with his. If the Voros were migrating toward their zone, something had to be triggering it. Either the other group was struggling to destroy the shrines in their area, or—less likely—there were hidden shrines they'd missed.
She glanced at the sky. The last rays of daylight were melting into dusk, and the forest had begun to hum with the sounds of nocturnal life.
She turned to the group. "We head north-north first. If we can regroup with 3B, good. If not, we move into their zone and assess the situation ourselves."
The others nodded in agreement.
And with that, Group 3A pressed forward.