A few days later, the forest reeked of ozone and scorched earth.
"Garrick, left! Shield her!" Ronan's voice tore through the chaotic swirl of mist, but the warning came a fraction of a second too late.
They were fighting a Four-Tailed Fox—a beast far more cunning than the intelligence reports suggested. It wasn't just a beast; it was a predator that understood how to dismantle a formation. Kael, a Master Tier One, had enveloped the battlefield in a thick layer of illusory mist, intending to confuse the creature's senses. It was their standard strategy: confuse, flank, and strike.
But the Fox had resistance to illusions.
Its eyes glowed with a piercing violet light, cutting through Kael's mist as if it were nothing but morning dew. Ignoring the vanguard, it bypassed Darius and Ronan entirely, its body blurring into a streak of purple light.
Its target was Sylphie.
"No!" Garrick gritted his teeth, heaving his heavy shield around to intercept, but he was sluggish. The exhaustion of the prolonged hunt had dulled his reflexes.
Thwack!
The Fox didn't even bite; it whipped its tails like steel cables. The impact smashed past Garrick's desperate guard and struck Sylphie mid-cast. There was a sickening crunch, and the healer was sent tumbling across the root-strewn ground, blood spraying from a gash on her shoulder.
"Sylphie!" Kael screamed.
Panic, cold and sharp, seized the team leader's heart. She's hurt. Because I couldn't hold its attention.
Reason abandoned him. Kael abandoned the mist. His sword flared with raw Aether as he charged. "Die!"
"Kael, wait! Don't break formation!" Ronan roared, seeing the trap for what it was.
But Darius, seeing his friend hurt, had also lost his cool. He swapped his wind enchantment for thunder, crackling lightning coating his spear. "Get away from her!"
Kael and Darius unleashed their strongest offensive skills simultaneously—a cross-slash of condensed Aether and a thunderbolt spear thrust. The combined energy created a blinding explosion that tore up the earth where the Fox stood. Dust and debris mushroomed into the air, obscuring everything.
Both men stood panting, their chests heaving, assuming the beast was obliterated.
"Fools," Ronan hissed, spinning around not toward the explosion, but toward Sylphie.
From the settling dust, a purple shadow launched itself—not at the attackers, but back at them from a blind angle. The Fox was singed but alive; it had used the force of their explosion to slide back, and now it was lunging while Kael and Darius were stuck in their post-attack recovery frames.
They were defenceless.
"Sylphie! Can you move?" Ronan shouted, sprinting to intercept the beast, though he knew he wouldn't make it in time with speed alone.
Sylphie, pale and clutching her bleeding shoulder, looked up. Pain clouded her eyes, but she saw Ronan's desperate gaze. She didn't reach for her staff, which lay three meters away. Instead, she gritted her teeth and slammed her glowing green palm directly onto the dirt.
Verdant Bind!
Thick, thorny vines erupted from the soil directly under the mid-air Fox. They didn't just grab it; they snatched it from the sky, slamming it into the ground. The beast shrieked, its purple flames flaring up in rage as it opened its maw. A beam of concentrated purple fire began to gather in its throat, aimed directly at the recovering Kael and Darius.
"Garrick! To me!" Ronan commanded, raising his hands. "I need your Aether! Now!"
Garrick didn't question it this time. Guilt over his earlier failure drove him forward. He placed his hands on Ronan's back, pouring every ounce of his fire-attribute Aether into the swordsman.
Ronan didn't draw his sword. He held his hands out, fingers clawed, condensing the Aether. It wasn't just his energy; it was Garrick's too. The air around them warped. The heat was unbearable.
"It's too hot! Ronan, your hands!" Garrick yelled, feeling the searing heat radiating back at him.
"Hold it!" Ronan gritted out. The skin on his palms began to blister and crack, smoke rising from his flesh. He was compressing a massive volume of volatile Aether into a single point—a technique far beyond an Adept's usual control.
The Fox fired. A beam of destruction tore through the forest.
Simultaneously, Ronan released his hold. Crimson Arrow.
It wasn't an arrow of wood and steel, but a compressed lance of superheated plasma. The red streak collided with the purple beam. For a heartbeat, the two forces struggled for dominance, painting the forest in violent hues of violet and crimson.
Then, Ronan's will overpowered the beast's instinct.
The Crimson Arrow pierced through the centre of the purple beam, splitting it apart, and buried itself in the Fox's open maw.
BOOM.
The detonation silenced the forest.
Hours later, night had fallen. The only sound in their temporary camp was the crackling of the fire and the occasional hiss of pain as Sylphie applied a salve to Garrick's burned hands.
Ronan sat slightly apart, bandaging his own hands. The skin was raw, angry red, and peeling.
The mood was suffocating. Kael sat staring into the fire, his sword lying flat on his knees. He looked defeated. "I... I panicked," he whispered, breaking the silence. "I saw Sylphie go down, and my mind just went blank. I'm the leader. One mistake... and I almost got us all killed."
If I had just listened to Ronan's warning, Kael thought, his grip tightening on his scabbard until his knuckles turned white. Is his way the better way than mine?
Darius, leaning against a tree, looked at his own trembling hands. "It wasn't just you, Kael. I switched to Thunder because I wanted to end it fast. I didn't think about the cooldown. If I were stronger... if I could wield Wind and Thunder together..." He trailed off, a dark determination settling in his eyes. He hated this feeling of helplessness.
Garrick sat with his head in his hands. "I was too slow. My one job is to protect the rear. If I had been just a second faster with that shield..."
Ronan finished tying the knot on his bandage with his teeth. He looked at them, his expression tired but calm.
"We aren't ready," Ronan said. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact. "We're stopping the high-rank monster hunts. Not because we lack the power, but because we lack the trust."
Kael looked up, ready to argue, but the words died in his throat.
"When Sylphie fell, the formation collapsed," Ronan continued. "You didn't trust that Garrick or I could cover the gap. You tried to do it all yourselves, and you left yourselves wide open. That Fox... if Sylphie hadn't bound it, you two would be dead right now."
"I know," Kael admitted, his voice rough.
"We rest. We heal. And we go back to basics until you can trust me when I give a warning," Ronan said, leaning back.
Silence returned, but it was less heavy now. The truth was out.
Kael took a deep breath and reached into his pouch. He pulled out the beast core they had harvested. It pulsed with a malevolent, deep purple light—the essence of the Four-Tailed Fox.
"Ronan," Kael said softly. He stood up and walked over to where Ronan was sitting. "You saved us back there. And you took the brunt of the damage to finish it. This... this belongs to you."
Ronan looked up, exhausted. "Keep it. Split the money."
"No," Kael insisted. "Your flame is strong, but it damages you. Maybe this can help stabilise it."
He held the core out. Ronan sighed, his guard completely down as he stared into the campfire, too tired to argue.
"Fine."