Night descended like a shroud, cloaking the wasteland in a silence so deep it felt oppressive, pressing against their ears with a invisible shroud. The sickly clear tint of day bled away, replaced by a darker, bruised hue that cast twisted shadows across the broken terrain—Sharpened rocks and skeletal trees clawing at the sky.
Inside the cave, tension hung thick as smoke, curling around them like a living thing. Belial stirred fitfully in his sleep, his mutterings a low, disjointed murmur, the poison still stirred within him like a patient predator biding its time.
Xin sat cross-legged against the damp wall, poring over his "ink"-smudged notes by the faint glow of luminescent fungi, his fingers stained black from restless scribbling. Raven stood at the entrance, a statue of black armor, his silence as unyielding as the stone around them.
"We need more ether," Xin said at last, his voice cutting through the stillness without lifting his gaze from the crumpled parchment.
Raven didn't respond immediately. His dark eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the night swallowed the world whole. "I know," he said finally, the words low and deliberate, a rumble in his chest.
Belial cracked one violet eye open, his voice rough as he propped himself up, cradling his mangled shoulder. "Then let's go back to work."
Xin's frown deepened, shadows pooling in the hollows of his painted face. "You're still poisoned. And your body—"
"So?" Belial interrupted, grunting as he forced himself to his feet. Pain flickered across his features, but he masked it with a scowl. "We wait too long, we get weaker. Or dead. Pick one."
There was no arguing with that logic, grim as it was. Xin's lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded, gathering his tools. Raven adjusted his gauntlets with a faint clink, and they slipped out into the night, cloaked in shadow and silence.
The wasteland stretched before them, a labyrinth of deep ridges and dried ravines, every crevice a potential grave. Raven led the way, his steps deliberate, his senses attuned to the faintest shift in the dark. Xin followed, his mind wide open, feeling for fluctuations in the ether—the subtle ripples that betrayed a creature's presence.
Belial brought up the rear, his movements stiffer than usual, his body dragging slightly, but his will was iron, his sword already drawn, its steel beaming with latent energy as if it was hungry.
They moved as a unit, a trio of battered shadows threading through a world that wanted them dead. Words weren't needed—months of survival had forged a language of glances and gestures between them.
Nearly an hour passed, the night growing colder, the air sharper against their skin, when Xin's hand shot up. "There," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind's low moan.
Across a cracked plateau, a hulking figure stalked between fractured stones, half-obscured by the gloom. Its hide shimmered faintly with bioluminescent lines—ether veins pulsing beneath the surface, a beacon in the dark. Smaller than the Dusked Minor, but no less formidable, its elongated, spider-like limbs ended in curved talons that glinted like obsidian. Its head swiveled slowly, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the wind, oblivious to the predators closing in.
Raven narrowed his eyes, his gauntlets flexing. "It hasn't seen us."
"Let's keep it that way," Belial muttered, his grip tightening on his sword.
They flanked it silently, looping around the plateau to gain the high ground. Raven descended first, a crouch so low he seemed to melt into the shadows, his armored form a whisper against the rock. Xin followed, his fingers poised to channel ether, the Dharma Wheel humming faintly at his side. Belial trailed behind, his breath shallow but steady, the pain in his body a dull throb he refused to acknowledge. They positioned themselves with practiced precision—hunters stalking prey in a world where the line between the two was razor-thin.
The trio struck fast.
Raven launched himself from the rocks, a black blur of motion, his gauntlets glowing with a dark shimmer as he drove his fist into the creature's spine. The impact was a sharp crack, dropping it to one knee, its screech of surprise splitting the night. Belial came in from the right, his blade slashing downward in a brutal arc, carving a deep gash across the beast's side. Ether flared along the wound, dark blood welling up, and the creature's rage erupted in a shriek that echoed across the plateau.
The ambush faltered.
It surged upward with startling speed, its clawed limb lashing out and knocking Raven aside. He hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact, but Xin was already moving. He threw up a barrier of golden ether between the beast and Belial, the shimmering wall deflecting a deadly swipe just as the talons grazed the air inches from Belial's chest. The creature leapt backward, its spider-like legs twitching unnaturally as it scrambled up the rock face, claws digging into stone with a grating screech.
"Don't let it get away!" Raven growled, pushing off the ground, his gauntlets flaring brighter.
Xin fired a burst of raw ether from the Dharma Wheel, a blinding flash that seared the creature's eyes. It hissed, momentarily dazed, and Raven was on it in an instant. He drove a gauntlet into its chest, the blow reverberating with a dull thud that staggered it.
The beast lashed out wildly, its talons slashing through the air, but Belial was there, gritting his teeth as he swung his sword. The blade cleaved through one of its limbs, severing it clean off in a spray of blood and ether. The creature screamed, a high, keening wail that clawed at their ears.
Xin funneled a surge of ether into Belial's thigh, the golden light staunching the bleeding from a fresh gash where a claw had torn through his armor. The pain was a white-hot flare, but Belial ignored it, his focus razor-sharp. Raven grappled with the beast, his gauntlets locking around its sinewy neck. With a snarl of effort, he twisted and slammed it down, the impact stunning it as dust billowed around them. Belial raised his sword, ether igniting along the blade, and drove it through the creature's chest with a roar that shook the night. The ether-laced heart burst in a pulse of blinding light, and the beast went still, its bioluminescent veins fading to dull gray.
Panting, the three stepped back, their breaths harsh in the cold air. Belial staggered slightly, blood trailing down his leg, staining the dirt beneath him. "Minor hit," he grunted, waving off Xin's concern. "I'm good."
Xin shot him a skeptical glance, his painted brow furrowing. "That wasn't clean."
"No," Raven agreed, his voice low as he wiped blood from his gauntlets. "We're slipping."
They turned to leave, limping back toward the cave, the weight of their wounds and hunger pressing down on them. But before they reached the ridge, a chilling sound split the night—a piercing, layered shriek that froze them in their tracks. The cry of a scavenger, sharp and hungry, echoed across the wasteland.
They turned toward the sound, their pulses quickening. Over the ridge, where the monster's corpse lay, came a series of sharp, wet thuds. Then a sudden, muffled screech—cut off mid-cry. A heavier thump followed, and the night fell silent again, an eerie stillness that prickled their skin.
"What the hell?" Xin whispered, his voice barely a breath.
Raven motioned for silence, creeping forward with a predator's grace. The others followed, their steps cautious, weapons ready. They peeked over the ridge, the scene below unfolding like a nightmare.
A lone scavenger prowled the body of the fallen monster, its lean, wiry frame hunched over as it tore at the flesh. It hadn't noticed them yet. Raven didn't hesitate—he slipped from the ridge like a shadow. The others moved in unison, a silent, practiced rhythm born of survival.
The scavenger looked up too late.
It shrieked, tried to bolt—but Raven was already there, his fist flashing once, twice. Xin's wheel followed an instant later, punching through the creature's side. It collapsed in the dust, limbs twitching, blood dark and slick beneath it.
The group stood over the body, breathing hard, the silence settling again.
Belial gave a faint smirk, despite the pain lancing through his leg. "Well, that's one less."
Xin didn't smile. "The others will notice."
Even as he spoke, another screech tore through the night—closer this time, far too close. Raven's head snapped toward the east, his gauntlets flexing. "They're coming."
Through the darkness, faint shadows shifted—two forms, lean and fast, darting between boulders with terrifying speed. Scavengers, their eyes gleaming in the gloom, mouths open in hungry snarls. The death of their packmate had drawn them, and now they weren't hiding. They were hunting.
Raven stepped forward, his sword drawn, its edge catching the faint light. "No more running."
Belial straightened, ignoring the blood seeping from his wounds, his golden eyes blazing with defiance. Xin readied the Dharma Wheel, golden light flaring in his palms, his exhaustion buried beneath resolve. The two scavengers crested the ridge, their claws clicking against stone, their snarls a promise of violence.
For a second, the world held its breath.
Then they charged again.
And everything exploded into pure, calculated violence.