The grove near the Beast Taming Sect shimmered with an eerie calm, its ancient trees standing as silent sentinels over a scene of profound sorrow. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and damp earth. Today, it was no place for Killyaen's usual bravado or crude jests. Before him, on a bier woven from vines and adorned with vibrant blooms, lay Jogen—his friend, his comrade—still and pale in death. The qi-blind elf, cursed by N'Nazmuz with 30 kilograms of unrelenting weight, felt that burden press harder than ever, not just on his body but on his soul.
The Sect Master of the Beast Taming Sect, a towering figure with silver-streaked hair and robes that rippled like a storm cloud, stepped forward. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the hushed air. "We gather to honor Jogen, a son of the wind, taken from us by the Ice Dungeon's cruelty. May his spirit ride the eternal gales to peace." He raised his hands, and a faint shimmer of Wind Qi spiraled upward, coaxing the breeze into a mournful howl.
Almost the entire Beast Tamers Guild had come—cultivators from Novice to Grand Master levels, their faces a tapestry of grief and respect. Beasts flanked their tamers: wolves with bowed heads, birds perched silently on branches, and even a massive Earth Bear that rumbled a low, sorrowful growl. Jogen's family stood near the bier, a mix of elements reflecting their lineage. His mother, a Middle Master Wind cultivator, clutched her husband, an Earth Expert whose broad shoulders shook with silent sobs. His sister, a Water Scholar, let tears fall freely, while his brother, a Fire Novice, stared ahead, jaw tight.
As the Sect Master chanted an ancient rite, the tamers released their beasts in tribute. Birds soared in a spiraling formation, their cries piercing the sky. A pack of Wind Wolves howled, their voices weaving with the breeze, while a Fire Hawk released a plume of flame that dissipated into embers. The Sect Master's Wind Qi surged, lifting petals from the bier into a swirling dance, a final farewell. Jogen's body glowed faintly, then dissolved into motes of light, carried away by the wind—a tradition of the sect, ensuring the fallen returned to the elements.
Killyaen stood beside Zephyr, his Beginner Grand Master Darkness friend, both silent. The elf's usual smirk was gone, replaced by a tightness around his eyes. He remembered Jogen's shy grin, his steady spear, the way he'd blushed at crude jests yet fought with unwavering courage. "I should've been faster," Killyaen whispered, the curse's weight dragging at his words. "That damn Golem…" Guilt gnawed at him, sharper than any blade.
Zephyr's hand rested on his shoulder, a rare gesture from the stoic cultivator. "He fought well. Don't carry what you can't change."
After the rite, Killyaen approached Jogen's family. His voice, usually brash, softened. "Jogen was a brother to me. I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back. I'll honor him—always."
Jogen's mother met his gaze, her eyes red but steady. "He admired you, Killyaen. Keep fighting, for him." Her husband nodded, unable to speak, and Killyaen stepped back, the weight of their loss mingling with his own.
Later, alone in his room at The Iron Bloom, Killyaen sat on the bed's edge, the silence oppressive. His split-leaf amulet pulsed against his chest, a nagging rhythm that had grown unbearable since the dungeon. Each throb whispered cryptic hints—"The Child stirs the Shadow"—but he had no patience for riddles. "Shut it," he growled, yanking it off. "I've got enough on my plate without your bloody nonsense."
He opened his spatial ring, its contents a testament to his scavenging greed: repaired Pyroclast Dual Swords, the Starforged Tunic, the Shadowveil Cloak, Spirit Stones of various levels, and more. The Crystal Cavern loot and Roen's saber teeth were gone, sold at the last Starveil Auction for a hefty sum, leaving his reserves flush but his ring lighter. With a flick, he stored the amulet inside, and the pulsing ceased. Relief washed over him. "There. Now I can think straight."
Jogen's death replayed in his mind—the Golem's fist, the crunch of bone—but he shoved it down. Bera, Tira, and Lila were still out there, missing for ten days in that cursed Ice Dungeon. He had to focus, had to act.
Determined, Killyaen headed to the Beast Taming Guild. Stinky's pen loomed ahead, the Peak Novice Earth beetle now head-sized and gleaming with a faint green sheen. The creature chirped at his approach, a sound that tugged at Killyaen's battered heart. "Hey, Stinky," he said, kneeling to feed it Crystal Worm dung. "You're getting big, huh? Jogen'd be proud."
The beetle munched happily, and for a moment, Killyaen's grief eased. "Gotta keep you close, buddy. No more pens—you're with me now." At the guild shop, he approached Elder Korn, who leaned on a staff, his Peak Scholar Wood aura steady despite his recent wounds.
"Need a Beast Ring," Killyaen said. "Something for Stinky and maybe more."
Korn nodded. "Got one that holds up to three beasts or plants, non-sentient, Peak Scholar max. Fifty Level 3 Spirit Stones."
Killyaen handed over the stones, taking the sleek band. "Perfect." With a thought, he transferred Stinky inside, feeling the beetle's presence settle. "My empire's mobile now," he muttered, a faint smirk breaking through.
Next, Killyaen strode into the Mercenary Sect hall, the air buzzing with activity. Elder Sani, his Peak Master Lightning aura crackling卓然 crackling, looked up from the mission board. "Elder Sani, I need a 4-star mission posted. Rescue Bera, Tira, and Lila from the Ice Dungeon. They've been gone ten days."
Sani's brow furrowed. "That's beyond the barrier. Dangerous—Middle Master Ice Golems, maybe worse. You'll need approval."
"Then get it," nicht Killyaen, his tone firm. "They're my team. I'm bringing them back."
Sani summoned the Sect Master and other elders. After a tense discussion—the dungeon's Ice Qi barriers and unknown depths weighing heavily—they agreed. Killyaen scrawled the mission: "Rescue of Quad Storm Members from Ice Dungeon – 4 Stars." It loomed on the board, a beacon of urgency.
That evening, Killyaen hit The Iron Bloom, the tavern alive with chatter and clinking mugs. He climbed onto a table, voice cutting through the din. "Listen up! I need cultivators for a 4-star rescue mission. Bera, Tira, and Lila are trapped in the Ice Dungeon. It's tough, but I need the best."
To his shock, hands rose. A burly dwarf stepped forward, earth aura thick. "I'm Grom, Middle Master Earth. I'm in."
A nimble halfling grinned, wind swirling. "Sylph, Beginner Scholar Wind. Count me."
A scholarly human adjusted his tome. "Aric, Peak Expert Fire. I know dungeons. I'll help."
Vira, the blonde merchant, sauntered up, Middle Expert Water aura shimmering. "You know I'm with you, Killy."
Gorzka, the green-skinned orc from the guild, cracked her knuckles, Lightning Qi sparking. "I like you, elf. I'm in."
More joined: a stoic Night Elf with Star Qi, a gruff Beastskin with Lava affinity, a quiet Merrow with Ice skills, and others, their elements and levels diverse—Expert to Grand Master.
By night's end, fourteen stood ready, a motley crew united by Killyaen's call.
Grom: Middle Master Earth (Dwarf)
Sylph: Beginner Scholar Wind (Halfling)
Aric: Peak Expert Fire (Human)
Vira: Middle Expert Water (Merchant)
Gorzka: Beginner Grand Master Lightning (Orc)
Kael: Middle Scholar Star (Night Elf)
Torv: Peak Expert Lava (Beastskin)
Mira: Beginner Master Ice (Merrow)
Dren: Peak Master Wind (Human)
Ysmera: Middle Grand Master Fire (Day Elf)
Thok: Beginner Scholar Earth (Orc)
Lirien: Peak Expert Crystal (Day Elf)
Zarok: Middle Master Darkness (Beastskin)
Veyra: Beginner Grand Master Water (Merrow)
Outside the tavern, the team gathered under a starry sky, breath fogging in the chill. Killyaen scanned them, their resolve steeling his own. "Thank you all," he said, voice rough with emotion. "We leave at dawn. Together, we'll bring them back."
Jogen's memory lingered, a quiet ache, but determination burned brighter. With his friends lost and this crew at his side, Killyaen felt a flicker of hope. The Ice Dungeon awaited, its dangers vast, but he'd face it—for Jogen, for Quad Storm, for himself.