"Faster! We need to get them into the safe place!" The dwarf heard the young knights shouting at one another, "We need to get back to support them!"

The moonless night felt eerie and terrifying. The dark clouds that surrounded the velvet black canvass turned the sky into a nightmarish void.

As far as the dwarf could remember, there were only two instances that the moon shied away from the sky. The first one according to legends was the first night the world was created, when the light has still not forged within the sky. The second one, was during the end of The Age of Wonder when the surviving moon goddess Chandara used her powers to seal magic from the world, closing the ley lines while killing the magic wielding Yldars simultaneously.

The dwarf carried a torch while following the knights as they hurriedly carry his fallen comrades while the elf along with another knight lit their way into the farthest tent from the hole.

"We're here." Kiervan said. "Ummm…ser Dwarf you should be safe here."

They laid his comrades on the ground. The dwarf looked into the young knights' eyes and saw the fear in their eyes. The same fear he saw in the eyes of his brethren as they took the war to the Principalia's army during their first raid at the Virdian Forest.

The fear and hesitation were there in their eyes, and even if he couldn't hear it, he knew all too well that their hearts were beating out of their chest right now. The knights talked to each other, whispering their thoughts while glancing at them. Finally, it seemed like they have decided on something and approached the dwarf.

"Ser Dwarf," Kiervan pulled something from his back. "We must go back there. Please, take this." He handed a pale dagger to the dwarf.

The Dwarf took the dagger from his hand. He knew that damn dagger wouldn't be enough to fight whatever that was attacking them from the hole. But it was better than nothing. He looked at the dagger and looked back at the knight's terrified face.

"Yah comeback alive, lad." The dwarf nodded as he secured the dagger by his belt.

Kiervan took a deep breath and walked away from them. Just as the young knight took a step, the elf grabbed him by the arm. It surprised the knight, but the dwarf was even more perplexed than he was.

The elf looked at dwarf and signed. She wanted to relay her message to the knights, a message that might just save their lives.

"Listen, young knight," the dwarf relayed. "Call yer brethren here."

Kiervan tried calling out the rest of the knights but only 2 out of the 5 came to him.

"How about them?" The elf signed as she pointed to the other two.

"T-they do not—" Kiervan tried to explain.

"What is taking you this long?!" One of the knights shouted. "THEY NEED US THERE! MOVE!"

"We need to go." Kiervan asked him to let go of his arm.

Instead of doing that, they held his arm tighter. She looked into his eyes, asking him not to move. The young knight obliged. The elf bit the wound from her thumb and let it bleed. She wrote runes on the knight's bracer and activated it using her own exousia.

"W-what is this?" Kiervan asked.

The elf let go of his arm and answered. "That's for your protection." She bowed to him and signed. "May Oyue be merciful on you."

The elf then looked at the other two knights who were in awe with what they saw. She reached out her hand and offered to give them the runes as well. Both reached out their arms and she wrote over them. Just as she finished, the other knight shouted.

"WE NEED TO GO BACK NOW!" He unsheathed his sword. "I SWEAR IF YOU WON'T, I WILL CUT THOSE FAERFUCKS LIKE IT WAS NOTHING!"

Kiervan glared at the other knight and shouted, "We shall leave now!"

The dwarf noticed how Kiervan took another glance at them. His eyes spoke to his, it was something profound and peculiar to the dwarf. His eyes told him, they'll come back alive.

"Kiervan, Lad!" He called out but the young knight was unable to hear him. "Oh, Lady Oyue save us all."

From the distance, the dwarf saw how the lights from the camp slowly dimmed as a black blanket of fog devoured the light. The dwarf looked at the elf, terrified and confused with the entire scene unravelling in front of them.

"Whaddya know 'bout them monstars?" The dwarf asked while staring at the darkness slowly crawling towards them.

The elf sighed and answered. "Obscurii are hard to kill. No one knows how to really kill them." Her hands tremble just by thinking about it. "They feed on light. We can't—"

"Are yah just gonna stand 'ere and die then?" The dwarf looked at her in the eyes. "Lass, I know nay about yer sect. But wit' them runes yah got, I wanna believe I can kick them Obscuras ass than die doing nay,"

The dwarf did not wait for her to respond. He immediately drew a rune from the ground. It was a dwyrvyn rune of moulding, a rune used by the smiths of the Eastend Kingdom. He placed his hand over the rune and pour some of his exousia into it.

"Byld mhy Mhthr wypn hs byhyld (Mother, build me a weapon to behold)."

The dry earth slowly formed into a sharp-pointed shiv made from hard rock. He looked at the darkness blanketing the other end of the camp. It stopped spreading for a while. He also saw streaks of light breaking from the farthest point of the pitch darkness.

"Lord Prestonheim." The dwarf murmured.

There was no time for him to feel impressed by the silver-haired general's impressive feat. They had to work on something right now! He glanced at the elf and saw her drawing a huge circle around them. When she was done with that, she immediately looked for stones and wrote runes of blood over it. Then, placed them into the four directional points, North, South, East, and West.

She looked at the dwarf, "I need your help here with the lines and hurry up!"

The dwarf glanced at the darkness once more and noticed how it slowly started creeping towards them again. He hurried up and followed the elf's instruction. He made a square using the stones as points of origin. When it was done, he then formed a line connecting the four directions into the center.

As a dwarf, his hand had the stability and accuracy that even an elf could never dream of having and thus the elf saw him perfect to make the lines. He realized that the elf was making a protective seal around them and knew that the smallest inaccuracy could lead into their demise.

From the other side of the gate, he saw the panicking redheaded slave along with some knights escorting him out of the quarry by horses. He knew it was him as his red-colored hair made the slave shine in the torchlight even from half an ildwyrm away.

"That bhstrd made a run! Ynyfckr!" He gritted his teeth as the dark tendrils slowly dimmed the torches from the camps surrounding them.

The elf tapped his shoulder and asked him to drag the beastman and 132-X into the center as she made a smaller circle where the four lines met. After everything was settled, she asked for the dwarf to cut her at her palms.

The dwarf did it hesitantly, "Y'all lose a lot of blood, Lass!"

But the elf did not answer. After pointing at the darkness, he finally made cuts on her hand. He made sure not to make it deep or hit a tendon so the elf can still use her hands after it heals.

As the blood ran from the elf's hand, she closed her eyes and pointed her focus on the lines. As soon as the dwarf saw this, he immediately activated his own spell.

"Fyr cym lyt fyrg thyn! (Fire, come lit my forge!)" The dwarf focused his spell on the shiv, and it began to ablaze.

The fire was comforting albeit painful as it gradually burned his skin. But he wasn't afraid of the flame. He knew his skin can bear wyrms flame for a thousand counts, to him this was nothing. As he put more exousia into the flame it grew bigger and hotter, creating a fiery shiv that's slowly growing into a knife.

There was light flashing from the distance. It was a weak flash, like a small lightning cracking out from the dark cloud. Watching it, the dwarf was relieved to see that the Commander was still alive. He wanted to help the Lord Prestonheim, but the circumstances prevented him from assisting the Commander.

The dwarf drew a set of runes on the dagger. He etched it using the flaming shiv, once it did the blade started to be engulfed in flames. The dwarf then focused his exousia back to the shiv. The shiv gradually grew into a spear. He aimed the spear into the dark fog focusing on a moving shadow that he predicted with his mind.

With one powerful throw, the spear tore into the dark, creating a crimson trail as it lit the fog.

"YYYARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH!" A foul-sounding screech tore the silence of the night. The voice slowly died out before hearing another blood curdling scream.

The dwarf knew his spear had hit something from the shadows, but it was only one of the many that lurked there. Lord Prestonheim's light still lit at the distance. The light began to grow bigger and bigger as it tore into the fog.

Finally, Lord Prestonheim emerged from the dark fog, bloody and battered by his shoulder he carried an unconscious knight. The dwarf was relieved to see a familiar face emerging from the darkness; however, his flame was slowly losing its light.

He could feel the heat of his flame, but the light was disappearing. Then a strange cold sensation ran into his spine.