The Forest East of the Capital. Dawn.
The tracks led deeper into the woods.
Grog walked at the front, his sword in his hand, his eyes on the ground. Lira moved beside him, her bow drawn, an arrow nocked. Ken followed behind, silent, watchful. Ren and Olive brought up the rear, their weapons ready, their faces pale.
They had been tracking the creatures since first light. The pack had split after the attack on the village—some heading east, some north, some scattering into the hills.
Grog had chosen the largest group.
Twelve creatures. Maybe more.
He could feel them. Close.
---
The forest grew darker.
The trees pressed close, their branches twisted, their leaves sparse. The light barely reached the ground. The air was cold, still, wrong.
Lira raised her hand. The group stopped.
"What is it?" Grog asked.
She pointed ahead. "There."
A clearing. The creatures were there—gray-skinned, red-eyed, their limbs too long, their teeth too sharp. They were feeding on a deer, tearing at its flesh, their claws dripping with blood.
Grog counted. Eleven.
"Spread out," he whispered. "Surround them. Don't let any escape."
Ken melted into the trees. Lira moved to the left. Ren and Olive moved to the right.
Grog walked forward.
---
The creatures saw him.
They stopped feeding. Turned. Their red eyes fixed on his face.
Grog raised his sword.
The berserker stirred.
The red crept at the edges of his vision.
"Come on," he said.
They charged.
---
The battle was chaos.
Grog met them head-on, his sword carving deep wounds, dark blood spraying. He moved through them like a storm—fast, brutal, relentless. The berserker was awake, the red was everywhere, and he was not holding back.
Lira's arrows flew past him, finding eyes and throats. Ken appeared from the shadows, his blade flashing, his body moving like water. Ren fought beside them, his sword steady, his face pale. Olive stayed close to Lira, her bow in her hand, her arrows finding marks.
Creatures fell. Three. Five. Seven.
The survivors tried to flee.
Grog cut them down.
Eight. Nine. Ten.
One escaped, scrambling into the trees, disappearing into the darkness.
Ken moved to follow, but Grog grabbed his arm.
"Let it go."
Ken stared at him. "It will kill again."
Grog met his eyes. "It will tell the others. They'll know we're hunting them."
Ken was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.
---
The clearing was silent.
Bodies lay everywhere—gray-skinned, red-eyed, their blood dark and thick on the ground. Grog stood in the center, his chest heaving, his sword dripping. The red was fading. The berserker was settling.
Lira walked to him. "Everyone alive?"
Ren nodded. "I'm fine."
Olive's voice was shaky. "I'm fine."
Ken was already moving through the bodies, cutting out mana stones, placing them in a leather pouch.
Grog knelt beside one of the creatures. Pulled out his knife.
"The carcasses," he said. "We need to preserve them."
Lira knelt beside him. "For Mirena?"
Grog nodded. "She needs them for research."
---
They worked quickly.
Grog cut the mana stones from the creatures' chests—dark, warm, pulsing. He stored them in one of the rings, the one he had set aside for this purpose. The stones hummed against his palm, full of power, full of potential.
The carcasses went into another ring—preserved in the magic space, waiting for the mages to study them.
Ren and Olive helped where they could, wrapping the bodies in oilcloth, tying them to the spare horses. There were too many to carry. Grog used the rings for the rest.
Lira watched him work.
"You're getting good at that," she said.
Grog looked at her. "At what?"
"Being a leader."
He shook his head. "I'm just killing monsters."
Lira almost smiled. Almost. "That's what leaders do."
---
They walked back to the capital as the sun began to set.
The road was long, the shadows deep, the silence heavy. Ren carried a bundle of mana stones. Olive carried a smaller bundle of carcasses. Ken scouted ahead. Lira walked beside Grog.
"One escaped," Lira said.
Grog nodded. "It won't be the last."
"We'll need more people."
"The recruits aren't ready."
Lira was quiet for a moment. "Then we train them faster."
Grog looked at her. "That's not how training works."
Lira met his eyes. "It's how it has to work."
---
They reached the capital as the gates were closing.
The guards recognized them. Let them through. The streets were empty, the windows dark, the city sleeping.
Mirena was waiting at the guild hall.
Her face was pale, her eyes were tired, her hands were steady. She looked at the bundles Ren and Olive were carrying.
"You found them."
Grog nodded. "Eleven. One escaped."
Mirena's face tightened. "The mana stones?"
Grog reached into his belt. Pulled out the ring. "They're in here. The carcasses too."
Mirena took the ring. Held it in her palm.
"I'll start the research tomorrow."
Grog met her eyes. "The portal?"
Mirena was quiet for a moment. "The stones are powerful. Enough to fuel the ritual." She paused. "But the ritual is still untested. Dangerous."
Grog nodded. "I know."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Grog looked at the ring in her hand. At the stones pulsing inside. At the hope and fear and desperation they represented.
"I'm sure," he said.