The silence didn't last for very long.
A faint tremor ran through the ground, it was subtle at first—like the heartbeat of something ancient waking beneath the canyon floor. Kael's legs tensed instinctively. His injuries screamed, but his grip on the dagger only tightened.
Then came the footsteps. Not rushed, not loud, but measured and deliberate.
They approached from all sides.
The mist thickened again, curling like smoke. Kael's vision flickered—fatigue clawing at the edges of his mind. His breath came in short, ragged pulls. Blood from the last fight still trailed down his hip and shoulder, his right arm limp at his side, but was slowly healing.
The system had said Phase 1 Complete. That meant this was only the start.
A figure stepped out from the fog. It held a short sword and wore light armor. Level 21. Another emerged—looking tall and wiry with a spear in hand. Then two more behind them, one with a broad axe, the other with steel knuckles wrapped in leather bindings.
