The night thickened until it felt tangible.
By the time the moon reached its highest arc, the jungle no longer looked like trees and branches—it looked like a single, breathing mass of shadow. Wind moved through the canopy in low murmurs, leaves whispering to one another like conspirators.
The outpost fires burned steady.
Orange tongues of flame danced along the perimeter trenches, casting jagged silhouettes against stone walls. Occasionally, sparks snapped upward into darkness before vanishing.
Gavrilo stood alone near the western tower, watching the tree line without blinking. His coat shifted lightly with the wind, the edges brushing against his boots in steady rhythm.
He did not look restless.
He looked waiting.
A soft clatter of boots approached behind him.
"Captain Gavrilo."
He did not turn immediately.
The guard who approached stood straight despite fatigue lining his face. Soot streaked his cheek, and a faint tremor remained in his grip on the spear.
"The other captains wish to speak with you in the main hall."
Gavrilo turned slowly.
The torchlight caught the pale streaks in his hair.
"I see."
He stepped closer to the guard and placed a firm hand briefly on his shoulder.
"Do not let the fire dim on the towers."
The guard nodded instantly.
"Yes, Captain."
The reassurance in his tone was unmistakable.
Gavrilo left without another word.
His boots echoed faintly across the courtyard stones as he walked toward the central hall.
The doors stood half-open.
Warm candlelight spilled outward in narrow beams.
Inside—
The atmosphere felt different.
All nine captains were seated.
But not as before.
They no longer leaned aggressively forward or lounged carelessly.
They sat apart.
Measured.
Deliberate.
The earlier bravado had thinned.
Gavrilo stepped inside.
No one spoke immediately.
He walked to the single empty chair and sat down calmly, crossing one leg over the other.
Silence held for several breaths.
Then Garrick spoke first.
"We've decided."
His voice lacked its earlier sharpness.
"To fight individually."
"With long-range weapons."
A faint pause.
"And we are thinking of launching our attacks now."
Gavrilo regarded him quietly.
"Ok."
One word.
No resistance.
No challenge.
The simplicity unsettled them more than opposition would have.
He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on the table.
"Then I suppose we all need a guard with each of us."
The statement fell into the room like a stone dropped into water.
Ripples of confusion followed.
Torin frowned.
"Why would we need a guard with each of us?"
Gavrilo's eyes shifted lazily toward him.
"To count kills."
Silence.
His tone remained flat.
"Surely you're not going to count them by yourself."
Several captains shifted in their seats.
The implication struck home immediately.
If this was a competition—
Kill count mattered.
And proof mattered more.
Gavrilo tilted his head slightly.
"Don't tell me you're planning to announce your own numbers."
His voice lowered slightly.
"You do realize that if someone accuses you of fabricating numbers for your own gain…"
"…no one will believe you."
The words were not accusatory.
They were factual.
The room grew heavier.
One by one, the captains responded—too quickly.
"Yes, of course."
"We were thinking of bringing a guard."
"That was the plan."
Gavrilo watched them without expression.
They were improvising.
He knew it.
They knew he knew it.
But now—
It was necessity.
He straightened slightly.
"So when does the hunting competition begin?"
There was no hesitation this time.
"Right now."
The answer came almost in unison.
He nodded once.
"Then call ten guards."
"One for each of us."
"They will count."
"And witness."
He rose from his seat smoothly.
The others followed, chairs scraping softly against stone.
Outside, wind pressed harder against the hall walls.
The jungle felt closer now.
More alert.
Within minutes, ten guards stood assembled in the courtyard.
Some nervous.
Some visibly excited.
Each holding a lantern and a short blade.
Gavrilo addressed them calmly.
"You will remain within visual range of the captain assigned to you."
"You do not engage unless necessary."
"You count confirmed kills."
"Not assumed."
"Not estimated."
"Confirmed."
The guards nodded solemnly.
Each captain selected one.
Some chose larger guards.
Some chose quieter ones.
Gavrilo chose the same young soldier he had steadied earlier in the evening.
The boy swallowed nervously but stood straight.
"You will observe only," Gavrilo told him quietly.
"Yes, Captain."
The gates were opened partially.
Just enough to allow departure.
The fires along the perimeter continued to burn, illuminating the outer walls in amber glow.
Gavrilo stepped beyond the gate.
The night swallowed him immediately.
Behind him, the other nine moved outward as well—spreading into the jungle like arrows loosed in different directions.
No formation.
No unity.
Only ambition.
The young guard followed a step behind Gavrilo, lantern shielded carefully to prevent glare.
The jungle floor was damp.
Leaves crackled softly under careful steps.
Above, faint silhouettes shifted against the moonlit sky.
A screech echoed from deeper within.
Then another.
Gavrilo raised one hand slightly, signaling halt.
The guard froze.
"Listen," Gavrilo whispered.
The jungle exhaled.
Then—
A flurry of wings.
Three bats descended from left flank.
Gavrilo moved instantly.
He raised a small fire crystal from his coat and ignited it with a sharp spark.
Flame burst outward briefly.
The bats recoiled mid-air.
He drew a short crossbow from his back and fired.
The bolt struck the nearest creature through wing joint.
It shrieked and spiraled downward.
Second bolt.
Clean through chest.
Third bat retreated upward, venom dripping uselessly against tree bark.
Two kills.
The guard's breathing quickened.
"Two," the guard whispered.
"Confirmed."
Gavrilo did not celebrate.
He extinguished the fire crystal briefly and moved forward.
Elsewhere in the forest—
A metallic clang rang sharply.
Someone had triggered a sound trap.
Then—
A roar of anger from Garrick's direction.
A streak of flame burst through treetops—likely Mira's spell.
The jungle was alive now.
Multiple engagements.
Screeches layered over one another.
Venom splattering against leaves.
Gavrilo moved with deliberate pace.
He did not rush toward sounds.
He hunted edges.
Isolated stragglers.
Small groups detached from main swarm.
Another trio swooped low.
He lit flame again.
The bats faltered.
Crossbow bolt.
Second bolt.
The third veered sharply to attack the guard.
Gavrilo stepped between instantly.
Blade flashed.
Clean upward strike.
Venom sprayed against his coat sleeve but burned harmlessly where treated leather resisted.
Three more confirmed.
"Five," the guard whispered.
Gavrilo nodded slightly.
From deeper within—
A scream.
Human.
Short-lived.
He did not turn.
The competition was active.
And each captain bore responsibility for their own survival.
The jungle floor grew slick with blackened ichor.
Above, the swarm patterns began tightening.
Not random now.
Organized.
Gavrilo's eyes tracked their formation.
"They are regrouping," he murmured.
The guard's grip tightened.
"Should we retreat?"
"Not yet."
Another dive.
He used fire crystal longer this time.
Flame flared brighter.
Four bats shrieked simultaneously.
Crossbow emptied.
Blade followed.
Two fell.
One retreated wounded.
One managed to spit venom before retreating upward.
Seven.
The guard's voice trembled slightly.
"Seven confirmed, Captain."
From the east—
A heavy crash.
Garrick's laughter echoed faintly.
Then cut short.
Silence replaced it.
The jungle swallowed sound quickly.
Gavrilo lowered his weapon slowly.
"They're adapting."
He extinguished the flame again.
"Their numbers will thin before dawn."
"But they will not fight recklessly forever."
A sudden massive screech erupted above them.
Different.
Deeper.
The guard flinched.
From the canopy descended a larger shape.
Twice the size of the others.
Wingspan casting wide shadow across ground.
Venom dripping thickly from its fangs.
Gavrilo's eyes narrowed.
"Alpha."
The guard's breath caught.
The creature did not circle.
It descended directly.
Testing dominance.
Gavrilo ignited flame fully this time.
The jungle lit briefly in violent orange.
The Alpha bat screeched but did not retreat fully.
It adjusted.
Intelligent.
He fired his last bolt.
It struck shoulder but did not pierce deep.
The creature shrieked and dove.
Gavrilo sidestepped, blade flashing upward.
Steel met bone.
Wing tore partially.
The Alpha crashed into tree trunk.
Venom splashed across bark.
It tried to rise.
He stepped forward without hesitation.
Blade through skull.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Thick.
The guard stared wide-eyed.
"Eight… eight confirmed."
Gavrilo wiped blade clean against fallen leaf.
"Count nine."
He drove blade deeper once more to ensure death.
"Confirmed."
The jungle grew strangely quiet again.
Elsewhere—
Screams.
Shouts.
Fire bursts.
Competition raged.
But here—
The Alpha lay still.
Gavrilo glanced toward faint sound of Garrick's direction again.
Then toward Mira's flame arcs.
Then toward deeper canopy.
He adjusted his coat lightly.
"Let's move."
The guard nodded, still stunned.
They disappeared into darker section of jungle once more.
Behind them—
Other captains fought for glory.
But Gavrilo hunted for certainty.
Midnight accord had been made.
Now—
The price was being tallied in blood.
And only dawn would reveal—
Who remained worthy of the title they had already been given.