We set off.

  The first stop on our way was to be the capital of the kingdom of man, Greenholt. She was three months away from our city.

  We set off as one group of twenty people.

  I didn't speak to my team often. They asked questions like five-year-old children — about everything. About monsters, about elves, about the Mountains of Death, about whether there really are demons of a higher class. I understood their curiosity. They were young. The world was still new to them.

  But curiosity was not conducive to survival.

  Especially when you are traversing a forest full of goblins, bears, giant spiders... and elves.

  The path we chose led through the edge of their territory. It was the shortest route to Greenholt. Risky, but saving weeks of walking.

  The beginning of the journey was surprisingly calm.

  We killed monsters almost every day. The goblins fell quickly. The spiders required more effort. The bears were troublesome, but possible to defeat in a group.

  During the fights, I started to notice something.

  My mana was growing.

  Not gradually. Not naturally.

  It was maybe three, maybe four times bigger than the last time I consciously checked it. The increase was unnaturally fast. For a moment I wondered if it was the result of fights... or something else.

  I rejected that thought.

  It was not the moment for analysis.

  We were approaching the territory of the elves.

  It was only the edge of them—maybe a mile into their domain—but even then I sensed that something was wrong.

  The forest has become too quiet.

  And then I saw them.

  On the trees.

  Dozens of silhouettes.

  Elven archers.

  Thirty. Maybe forty.

  Perfectly placed. Each with a taut bowstring.

  We didn't stand a chance.

  "Guns down," I said quietly.

  Most of them listened.

  But one of the first-team musclemen rushed to attack, roaring something about honor and strength.

  The first arrow hit him in the stomach.

  The second — in the head.

  He fell dead before his body touched the ground.

  No one tried again.

  The elves came down from the trees silently. They disarmed us efficiently and tied us up. They said that we would be transported to the dungeons, but first they needed a representative to meet with the ruler of these lands.

  I kept to myself.

  I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

  They chose the leader of the muscle team.

  Even then, I knew that we were finished.

  If they chose him... The negotiations will not take long.

  We were taken to underground cells. Two people were locked up in each.

  I landed with a swordfish from my team. She was tense, but she was silent. Good.

  I wasn't going to rot here.

  I wanted to get out as quickly as possible—but without information, it would be foolish to act.

  That's why I waited.

  I was waiting for the return of the "leader".

  Because if he comes back alive... I'll find out what we're really dealing with.

  And if he doesn't come back...

  Then I will have to take the initiative.

  I sat against the wall, opposite the metal door of the cell. The stone was cold, damp, smelled of earth and rust. The swordfish sat next to me in silence, glancing at me from time to time, as if waiting for an order.

  We waited a long time.

  Finally, there was the sound of footsteps and the clatter of keys.

  The leader of the muscle team is back.

  He was pale. His eyes were widened, his hands were trembling. He looked as if he had seen something he couldn't understand.

  I was about to get up and get closer to the bars, but at the last moment I noticed that someone was standing behind him.

  Elf.

  Taller than the rest. Dressed differently. His presence was heavy, overwhelming.

  Probably the ruler mentioned by the guards.

  I immediately moved my head into the shadows so that the artifacts near my ear were not visible. With such a high rank, one careful glance was enough to expose me.

  Unfortunately for me, as I turned around, the metal gently reflected the light of the torch.

  Flash.

  The Elven Lord stopped.

  Slowly, he turned his head towards me.

  "You," he said calmly, but in a tone that could not tolerate opposition. "Get up." You will come with me.

  I got up without saying a word and walked to the bars. The guard opened the cell.

  We walked down the corridor for a few minutes. The silence was heavy, broken only by the echo of footsteps. Finally, we entered a room with a large wooden table and two chairs opposite each other.

  The ruler sat down.

  He nodded for me to do the same.

  As soon as we sat down, his face grew serious.

  "What are you?" He asked in a low, heavy voice.

  I didn't answer.

  I wasn't going to reveal my identity.

  He looked at me for a moment, then said coldly:

  "You have a choice. Torture... or the truth.

  I was silent.

  The ruler sighed almost imperceptibly and nodded to the guards.

  They led me to another room.

  Torture room.

  Stone walls. Iron tools. The smell of blood.

  There were only three inside: two guards and the ruler.

  The door closed behind us.

  I looked at the guards.

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  "Die," I said quietly.

  There was no screaming.

  There was no fight.

  Their bodies slumped to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut.

  The elven ruler froze.

  For the first time, I saw something more than a cool check in his eyes.

  Fear.

  His face turned pale. He took a step back... then the second.

  Finally, he knelt down.

  "Please... spare me," he whispered.

  I looked at him in silence for a moment.

  I couldn't let anyone know what I really was.

  "Die," I said emotionlessly.

  The magic started.

  And at that moment I knew that I had crossed the line from which there is no return.

  I ran out of the torture chamber before the body of the elven lord could fall to the stone floor.

  There was no turning back.

  The corridor in front of me was filled with screams. The guards were coming from both sides. I didn't stop for a moment.

  Raising my hand, I drew moisture from the air, from the stone walls, from their own bodies. The water formed into thin, vibrating blades.

  The first guard fell when a water blade cut his throat. The other tried to scream, but the high-pressure wave burst into his mouth and lungs, tearing them apart from the inside.

  I kept running.

  I didn't count them.

  It took me a while to get to the dungeons—the castle was bigger than it seemed from the outside. The alarm has already sounded. The echo of the horn of war carried through the stone corridors.

  When I reached the cells, the guards were ready.

  However, they did not even have time to pick up their weapons.

  Water from underground sewers broke out through cracks in the floor. She hit them like a battering ram. The bones cracked with a deaf crack. Bodies were smashing against the walls.

  I opened the first cell.

  "Weapons," I said briefly.

  They didn't need explanations.

  I opened the bars, and the freed searchers grabbed everything that could serve as a weapon. Swords, fragments of chains, even stones.

  Then the real carnage began.

  The elves fought with precision and discipline, but they were confused. Their ruler was dead. The command broke down. And we were fighting for survival.

  Blood mixed with water on the stone floor. The walls, cold and clean just a moment ago, were now stained with red. The screams echoed. The blades cut through the air. Water bullets smashed skulls.

  I didn't stop.

  I didn't feel any hesitation.

  At some point, I understood that we had crossed the line of defense.

  It was no longer an escape.

  It was extermination.

  When the last elf fell, there was a heavy silence in the castle.

  Only drops of water fell from the ceiling.

  I looked at my team. They were whole. Wounded, tired... but alive.

  "We're leaving," I said.

  We didn't look back.

  We ran out of the building and headed towards the border of elven territory. For the next hours we ran without rest, not knowing if someone had survived or if we would be chased.

  The forest seemed to watch us in silence.

  Only when we crossed the invisible border of their lands did we slow down.

  Now there were nineteen of us.

  Not twenty.

  In the evening, already outside the territory of the elves, we stopped in a clearing.

  In silence, we dug a grave.

  We didn't have a body.

  We buried an empty coffin made provisionally from the boards of a dismantled chest. No one said much. Even the musclemen were silent.

  The earth fell heavily on the wood.

  It was the first victim of our expedition.

  And I knew it wouldn't be the last.

  I stood for a moment over a fresh mound.

  I didn't pray.

  I didn't apologize.

  I just stared at the setting sun, which colored the sky red—almost the same as the stone walls of the castle a few hours earlier.

  "We're leaving at dawn," I said at last.

  Greenholt was still three months away.

  And the Demon Continent even further.

  And only now did I really understand that this expedition will not be just a test of strength.

  It will be a test of who we are... when no one is watching anymore.

  We continued our journey.

  For the next two months, nothing happened that could shake our march. The forest gave way to plains, the plains turned into rocky roads. Monsters were rare, and if they did, they didn't pose much of a threat.

  I got closer to my team.

  Not suddenly. Not in an obvious way.

  Slowly.

  I found out that the swordfish's name was Fenris. He was quiet, disciplined and surprisingly thoughtful for his age. He fought precisely, without unnecessary emotions.

  The swordfish, Elowen , was his opposite. Fast, impulsive, with a sharp tongue, but loyal to the limit of reason.

  The shieldman, Kaelen, spoke the least. He listened attentively. He thought before he did anything. The longer I watched him, the more I became convinced that his presence was a pillar of stability for the team.

  And the healer — Xylia.

  Clumsy as always. She could stumble over her own shadow, but her magic grew stronger and stronger. She laughed often. Even after the Elvish incident, she could find a reason to smile.

  I got to know fragments of their history. Families, the reasons why they became seekers. Dreams that seemed bigger than the world.

  I listened.

  I didn't talk much about myself.

  When we had one day left to the capital, I was calm. Two months without much danger have put the vigilance of the majority to sleep.

  It was getting dark.

  The fire crackled softly.

  And then I heard the rustling of bushes.

  Subtle. Too controlled to belong to an animal.

  Something was watching us.

  I stood up without saying a word.

  "I'll check," I said briefly.

  I walked among the trees.

  The shadow moved cautiously, thinking that it was watching us.

  He didn't know that I had been watching him for a few minutes.

  I circled him silently.

  The strike was quick.

  He lost consciousness before he could make a sound.

  I dragged him deeper into the forest.

  He was a young elf.

  He didn't look like an ordinary scout. His clothes were made of better materials, the rings on his hands did not belong to the warrior. Richer. Perhaps someone of higher status.

  Maybe one of those who survived the massacre.

  I tied him to a tree and waited.

  He woke up after a few minutes.

  First, confusion.

  Then the shock.

  And then rage.

  He started calling me names. To offend. Call it a monster. A murderer. A beast.

  I smiled.

  Without saying a word, I took out a knife.

  And I cut off his finger.

  A scream cut through the night.

  The pain contorted his face, mixed with anger and disbelief. He was tugging, but the bonds were too tight.

  I put the blade to his throat.

  "Who are you?" I asked calmly.

  He spat at me.

  "Why should I speak... If you're hiding under a mask yourself?

  I didn't hesitate.

  I cut off another finger.

  Middle.

  This time he screamed longer.

  The minutes dragged on slowly. Pain spread over his face, turning anger into pure suffering. After five minutes, his voice became hoarse, weaker.

  I bandaged the stump provisionally.

  Not out of pity.

  I needed him conscious.

  He stopped screaming.

  He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide open. Fear began to supplant pride.

  The forest around us was quiet.

  And I waited for him to decide what was more precious to him — honor... or the rest of the fingers.

  "Why did you spy on us?" I asked calmly.

  He was breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his temples. Blood was seeping through a makeshift bandage.

  He was silent.

  I leaned in slowly, reaching for his hand.

  He understood.

  "N-no!" Wait! I'll tell you! I'll say, just not another finger! His voice turned into a squeak.

  I stopped the blade right next to the skin.

  "Speak."

  Tears mixed with sweat and blood.

  "I am... the son of the ruler..." he whispered. "I saw what you did. I saw bodies. I wanted to... revenge.

  For a moment I looked at him without emotion.

  The son of a ruler.

  So someone survived.

  "If you let me go," he continued desperately, "I'll leave." I'll leave you alone. I won't move you. I swear.

  Oaths.

  Revenge does not end with an oath.

  Revenge is ripe.

  I stabbed myself.

  Precisely.

  To a place I knew it wouldn't kill right away—but it was enough for him to bleed to death in an hour. Slowly. In pain.

  His eyes widened in shock.

  He wanted to say something, but only a muffled sound came out of his mouth.

  I stepped back.

  "I don't leave witnesses," I said quietly.

  I turned around and walked away among the trees.

  I didn't look back.

  I didn't notice a silhouette standing in the shadows a few meters away.

  Elowen.

  I went back to the campfire.

  I sat down as if nothing had happened. The fire crackled calmly. Fenris sharpened his sword. Kaelen checked the belts at the shield. Xylia was talking quietly, trying to relieve the tension.

  — What was that? — zapyte Fenris.

  "A scout," I replied briefly. "He will not threaten us again."

  He nodded.

  He didn't ask.

  I sat closer to the fire, staring at the flames.

  Behind the tree line, in the darkness, the young elf was slowly dying.

  I couldn't hear his voice anymore.

  I didn't want to.

  After a while, Elowen returned from the forest. She sat down across from me.

  She didn't look at the fire.

  She looked at me.

  There was something new in her eyes.

  Not fear.

  Not really.

  Something between understanding... and the first scratch in trust.

  She didn't say anything.

  But the silence between us was heavier than before.

  The night passed peacefully.

  At dawn we moved on.

  In front of us rose the walls of the capital—huge, bright in the morning light. Greenholt was at your fingertips.

  For the rest of the team, it was a sign that the worst was behind us.

  For me —

  That was just the beginning.

  Because the vengeance of the elves does not die with one son.

  And if Elowen really saw...

  Perhaps the biggest threat does not come from the outside.

  Only from inside the team.

  And for the first time in a long time, I felt something disturbing.

  Not in the forest.

  Not in the shadows.

  But by your own fire

  I truly appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to follow this story and these characters.

  I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it left you curious for what comes next.

  velrik

  What do you think about the plot ?