Lucian didn't know the time, but it seemed like late afternoon.
They sat beneath the twisted roots of an ancient tree that curved out like the legs of a spider. Its branches, heavy with glowing vines, cast eerie shadows across the soft green moss carpeting the forest floor.
They were exhausted.
They had already fought through several skirmishes—first with wooden elementals, then a swarm of leaf bugs the size of dogs that hissed and had shells like armor. The wood elementals had crumbled to ash and splinters when their core got destroyed —nothing salvageable.
The leaf bugs, however, were something else.
Cordelia had insisted on keeping their eyes, storing them in tiny crystal jars she pulled from her spatial ring. "Potion ingredients," she muttered. "Rare ones."
Lucian hadn't asked further.
They passed a few other adventuring parties, fought beside one, fled from another encounter with a creature whose legs alone were thicker than tree trunks.
Still no sign of Eri...still no sign of Durn.
Currently, Lucian sat cross-legged, entering a meditative state to help boost his mana recovery, and save some of course. But the Aether-rich environment made everything sluggish. He felt like he was trying to pull threads through syrup. His breathing slowed. Mana came in trickles. Sticky. Heavy.
Cordelia, ever a noble, had no intention of touching dirt. She murmured something under her breath and activated a glyph under her. It shimmered, then lifted her gently off the ground.
Hover.
Now she sat cross-legged in the air, eating some flaky layered pastry from a paper packet she pulled from her ring. Steam curled from it, and it smelled faintly of lemon and spice.
Lucian opened one eye.
She noticed.
"What?" she said, mouth half full.
Lucian shrugged. "Nothing."
They sat in silence again for a while, both recovering.
Cordelia broke it first.
"You don't even use that staff," she said, tilting her chin at the old, nondescript thing Lucian had leaned against a rock. "Every spell you've cast has come from your hands. So why carry it?"
Lucian scoffed. "Mind your business."
But then his eyes drifted—to her staff.
She caught it.
"Ohhh," she said smugly. "Curious now, are we?"
She held it up with a little pride. The staff shimmered in the light, a clean golden shaft adorned with engraved runes that pulsed faintly. At the top sat a clear crystal orb encasing a glowing ember-like gem.
"It's a dungeon-forged weapon," she said. "The crystal contains a Pyro Aether gem. My uncle found it in a fire-aspected dungeon. The orb is designed to stabilize it while the runes regulate the flow of Aether. It converts it into a controllable trickle, safe for spellcasting. It's basically a channel between the crystal and my own mana."
Interesting
Lucian's Arcane Attunement flared.
Threads of mana perception laced toward the staff.
It was... intricate. Efficient. Complex in its simplicity. Layers of runes adjusted Aether into microbursts. The crystal acted as a regulator, the shaft as a conductor. It was unlike any staff he hadld ever seen. Not like Acies, the staff he had once altered himself with.
"My uncle gave it to me after the my exam results," Cordelia added, lifting it a little higher. "He works with the Grand Guild of Arcane Forgers—big on experimental gear. Said this one's a pre-release model. I would have gotten better...if only I passed."
She winced. "I got the Lower Academy of Magic. I applied for Aetherion Arcanum but—"
"I'm in Aetherion Arcanum."
Her mouth parted slightly. "You're joking."
Lucian just shrugged. "Believe what you want".
The Grand Guild of Arcane Forgers, as he recalled, was based in a city near the country's western edge—Skelmar's Reach, a wind-blasted cliffside settlement known for its harsh terrain and cutting-edge magical engineering. The Guild was famous for its powerful, unstable prototypes—arcane weapons, armor, and implements far ahead of the mainstream. Only nobles, scholars, or absurdly lucky adventurers ever got their hands on such gear.
"I specialise in Abjuration," Cordelia said after a pause, sensing she needed to recover her pride. "Binding, restrictions, barriers, all that. The fire gem's just to boost my offense a little. I'm not a one-trick girl, you know."
Lucian nodded slowly. "Sure."
Then after a moment, "You've got sauce on your chin."
"What—?!"
Such fickle pride, he chuckled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At that same moment, two other figures trudged through the roots and mist at another side of the dungeon.
One was a massive man, easily over six feet, his frame layered with dark muscle and two heavy axes strapped to his back. His hair was shaved short, jaw rough with stubble, and each step left a mark on the damp soil.
Beside him walked a younger man, shorter and leaner, with a curved crossbow slung across his shoulder and a sharp-eyed glance that missed nothing.
The air rustled. Vines shot from the treetops—followed by wood elementals and a flurry of small leaf-covered beasts clicking their mandibles.
The guy with the crossbow moved first, loosing three bolts in quick succession. Two found their mark; the third clipped a bug mid-air. The axe-wielder grunted, stepping forward like a warhorse into the fray. One sweeping punch shattered a vine. Another crushed a charging elemental beneath his boot.
Then something bigger moved in the distance.
It emerged from the gloom—tall as a cottage, its leg like a mossy tree trunk, arms of hardened bark thick with scars. The same creature Lucian's group had wisely fled.
The axe man grinned.
"Finally."
Mana surged from him, red-orange and wild, warping the air around his frame. His skin steamed with heat. The very ground cracked beneath him as battle aura—that raw, violent will of a fighter—coated his twin axes in a ghostly sheen.
The elemental reached out.
The warrior roared. His axes gleamed.
One wide, horizontal sweep later—
CRACK.
The thing split clean in half, showering the forest in splinters and sap.
"…Overkill," muttered the crossbow man named Aa.
The axe-wielder,Bee chuckled, resting his weapon lazily on his shoulder. "No fun. The humans I killed earlier squirmed more. This one just… broke."
"You're almost at peak warrior," his partner grunted. "You'll need challenge and trial if you want to hit Adept soon."
"Too boring," the axe man replied. "I like...killing the weak."
They paused to catch their breath.
" We still haven't heard from the mage," Aa said, checking his communication rune—blank. "Thought we would regroup by now."
"The plan has not changed," said Bee. "Corrupt the dungeon, spread it, and let it clean out the adventurers. No need to fight unless we're forced."
"Good," the younger man replied. "I'm not built for open combat anyway...and you went out of your way to kill others too. Figures.."
Then he suddenly stopped.
He turned his head sharply, muscles tensing.
"…Someone's coming."
The trees rustled, and out stepped a figure—quietly, like he had always been there.
A man with a white, featureless mask. Sleeveless battle armor. Tattoos spiraled down both arms. His coat was gone, discarded. He walked like the forest wasn't even a concern.
"Yo," he greeted simply, his voice calm. "Have you seen any adventurers come this way?"
Aa stepped forward, polite. "Nah. We're looking for our own team too. The dungeon split everyone up."
Eri nodded, as if he bought it.
"Thanks."
He turned, took a step.
Stopped.
"I'd advise you…" he said softly, "to retract your murderous intent."
Bee blinked.
"What?"
"You're radiating killing will," Eri continued, unmoved. "You just fought, I get it. But…"
He pulled something from his spatial ring. A spear made of obsidian material.
"…Why do I smell human blood on you?"
Silence.
The forest waited.
Eri had found out