The forest was silent as Max and Emi crept through the crowded tree husks. Without a perforated network of leaves, the light from the sky reflected off the pure white snow, luminating the underside of trees and shadows. The lack of cover only emphasized other senses than sight, something that seemed to be a contradiction to the circumstances. But every creak, every snap, and every whistle of wind caused the bonded adventurers pause. They looked in each sound’s direction, hoping to see shadows or reflections of the cause.

At first, they moved through the forest at a hastened pace, but as the nearby sounds of the village died, so too did their carelessness. ‘The forest speaks as it does listen’, was a quote Max knew very well. His first day on this planet taught him just how jarring the wildlife of a frontier land could be. Wolves were just the opening act while creatures like Ogres were the main course. His brief time on Nava had taught him many things, one of those being that he didn’t want to know what dessert was.

With caution on the mind, Max and Emi quickly found a solution to the chew of the icy snow. They were [Water Mages], arguably good ones. Melting snow was trivial at this point, but refreezing it to hide their path? That was simple. They walked, slowly, away from the village that called for their aid. The villagers were afraid, they saw something, heard something, and felt something. They knew their lands; they knew how it lived. Something was wrong with their ecosystem; something was wrong with the winter monster waves. Night after night, the village elders restlessly slept. Something was off, they each knew it. But what could they do? They were just normal [Farmers] or [Tool Smiths]. They had no power; they had no voice.

Meeting after meeting, the elders spoke. Some talked as if it were the end of days. Others ignored the warnings, focusing on their cold tasks. They thought about sending a letter to Lesterwood, but after years of being ignored, they chose not to. As the nights drew forth in discomfort, a single event changed everyone’s opinion. Three herds of different monsters ran with a fright unseen by anyone in the village. The monsters came in the dead of night, bypassing the patrol, and stampeding through the crops and flower beds. They ignored everything, opting to race through the contested lands.

The night’s odd event was ascribed a freak occurrence and was promptly forgotten about as the lands needed emergency tending too. The following day went on, same with the evening. But the next day, just after morning a stampede happened again. This time, the villagers were outside their home. But again, the monsters just… Ran… By… Through the bright forest, and further and further south. The monsters were panicked, disturbed, fearful, terrified. Max was contacted within the hour.

“Maybe those adventurers woke something!” An elderly woman shouted as Max investigated the nearby tracks. The tracks were multiple kinds, all of which he didn’t recognize. In the monster’s haste, they tore up the ground making identifying individual prints a chore. But Max was able to discern three, maybe four separate kinds. He didn’t know a lot about monsters and their movement habits, but he knew different kinds of monsters hardly got along.

“What adventurers?” Max asked, regrouping with Emi who was also investigating the nearby area.

“Three of them! Two Human and a Drake! Bought some jerky and boiled some snow to refill their canteens!”

“And you think they set off some kind of anti-monster rune?”

“It is entirely possible! I saw that Drake! A mage him, not very normal, if you ask me.”

“What? You think the Drake set something in motion because he was a mage?”

“Not because he was a mage, but because he was a Drake.” The woman spit.

“Ah. Right, racism.” Max sighed, turning to the northern forest. “I’ll have you know; my mentor is a Drake and also a mage. He’s one of the most honorable and selfless people I know.”

Ignoring the woman’s disgruntled face, Max and Emi began walking towards the forest, following the tracks. They had been walking for a long while before the tracks suddenly stopped. Or rather, the tracks were suddenly covered up. Snow couldn’t have fallen, it was a perfect day, other than the freezing temperatures. It was unlikely the monsters suddenly appeared as if being teleported, meaning only one thing.

Someone is covering up the tracks. Emi said.

Without question or rebuttal, Max teleported high in the air. Max had walked into traps before, and everything was telling him this was a trap. Memories of Buzluc’s ambush in Esmel trickled into his mind. The eerily silent streets, the isolated area, the hum of unease. The pair searched the below forest, looking for movement and out of place shadows. The reflective snow, again, played to their disadvantage. While it lit up the location, it also blinded the pair. They were forced to squint, and even then, it was difficult to see. Whites and blacks blended creating illusions of movement. But between the both of them they were able to root out the fake images. A streak of orange suddenly moved, as if it knew it couldn’t hide forever. A small bird flapped its wings with great power, climbing the steep height to the Immovable Platform.

A toucan, Emi was able to identify as it got a bit closer. A shock shook Max’s mind as his Identify spell failed, meaning the bird had an obscuring enchantment of some sort. Without saying anything, both [Water Mages] readied attacks, pulling water from the frigid air. With great effort, the toucan hovered a few meters away from the battle-ready adventurers.

“Take off your obscuring ring!” Max shouted.

“I can’t! If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bird right now! If I shifted, I would die!” The toucan said with a distinctly male voice.

A solid platform shimmered into existence just below the toucan’s small talons. “Do anything suspicious, and I will drop you. Now, take it off!”

The toucan hesitated but conceded. His bones gained density, his feathers twisted and broke forming skin and hair. Runic tattoos covered the now naked man, but they were little help in warming the [Druid]. “Can I put some close on? I have them in my invent-“

“Take off your ring!” Max repeated, adding a bump of mana and aura. The man jolted with the harsh words, quickly pulling off his ring. “Hold it out in your palm!”

The man did as asked and held out his open hand. Space warped around the ring, causing it to suddenly be teleported into Max’s. The Lost Lord recast Inspect.

Ruden Sellbowwer, [Druid]

“Please! Can I put on some clothes? I’ll freeze up here!”

“Not yet, Ruden. Tell me why you were waiting in ambush for us?” Max said with undeniable authority.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, my Lord, I was waiting for anyone!”

“Do you know me?”

“O-of course, all [Druids] know you around these parts! Please, I can feel my fingers going numb!”

“Why were you waiting for anyone?”

“To dissuade them from venturing too far into the forest! There’s a fungus, its changing things! We are trying to keep everyone out until we can find a solution.” Ruden yelled in a rush.

“Why cover the tracks?”

“To make others think there is no game out here!”

“Where are the adventurers that came through here recently?” Max yelled

“The party of three? I kept breaking branches around them, they got scared and left! Please let me put on clothes!”

“Fine.”

A bloom of green light highlighted the man’s runic tattoos, before a thick fur coat draped his shoulders. His feet wobbled in delight as heat was transferred to his corpse like body. The man’s ring appeared at his feet, and the Lost Lord spoke.

“Did you have anything to do with the stampede of monsters that ran through the nearby village?”

“A stampede? Is anyone hurt?” Ruden said.

“No, the monsters just ran by.”

“Very interesting… It must be the fungus, we’ve been observing odd monster behaviors, but this is new.”

“Just so you know, I will be asking Dreamstem to confirm your story. With that said, is there anything else you would like to tell me?” Max stared at the man, hoping to see a guilty flinch.

“No. She can confirm everything.” Ruden lied with practiced ease.

Max relaxed, his and Emi’s attack spells dripped away. “Sorry about that, I’ve had a past with ambushes.”

“I-I understand. I need to get back to my patrol.”

“Right. Shift away.” Max gestured to the open air. Ruden did as instructed, returning to his toucan form, and flapping away.

[Druids] are useless in the air. Emi said through her shared bond.

Better tell Celenia. Don’t want her attacking a cloud or something. Max replied.

Emi chucked, sending an image of a long root swinging at a cloud and hopelessly missing.

It’s weird though. Max continued. Fungus could cause all of this?

Wait for sunset… Wait for sunset… The command bounced around Serin’s head with every heartbeat. She tried to find comfort in the reminder of her orders, but what came after sunset was no reason to relax. Wait for sunset… Wait for sunset… She sheathed and unsheathed her right-hip dagger, clipping the small metal button in and out with an audible pop. The newly cut leather scabbard was being ground down, a byproduct of her nerves but one she could live with. Bump… Bump... Wait for sunset… It was cold, she noted, the only reason she wasn’t sweating through her armor. She had always liked the cold; it was much more comforting than its seasonal counterpart. She could bundle up, laze in a warm bed… Bump…

It was times like these where she hated her class, [Enveloping Silence]. It was a decent rarity [Rogue] evolution, one that was highly sought after. It specialized in group-wide movement obscuring abilities. Serin could hide an entire platoon’s worth of soldiers in broad daylight. Wait for sunset… For raids such as this, she would be an invaluable utility. But that also meant she would be in the forward assault. If all went well, she wouldn’t even have to fight. Bump… She would sneak in her men, then slip away to do the same with a second and third group. If things went poorly… Serin slid out her dagger, inspecting the edge and tip. It was sharp, just like the last time she checked. She felt her belt, three silky blue jars of something glittered in the fading sunlight, emergency use only. Wait for sunset…

It was times like this she regretted her class. No, that wasn’t quite right. She was jealous of other classes. Olie, her best friend in the guard and one of the best [Archers] she had ever met. His class was simple. Stay in the back, firing off arrows at designated targets. There was no worry about blades, swords, clubs, axes… He would be safe in the backlines, but Serin on the other hand? She was the priority target someone like Olie would be shooting at. She was key in the frontal assault; her death would lead to many more. Bump… Bump… Maybe that was why she was nervous. Not because of the goblins or the battle itself, but rather if she died others would also.

“Ready.” She whispered to her men, causing a wave of shifting gear and a dousing of smiles.

The sun was getting close to the horizon at this point. Shatterwind had given her command on go-time, a job she really didn’t want. But she knew when her ability would work the best, she knew when the light would be just right. Serin could only hope she didn’t miss time it. There were so many things that could go wrong with the first assault. A branch snapping too loud or a particularly observant goblin, but that was the glory of battle. No plan survived first contact and only a Diviner could see the new way forward. Bump… What Serin wouldn’t do to have a Diviner on payroll. Not one of those crappy ones from the markets, the ones who read palms and give generic love advice. No, she had been to those before, and she now knew they were scams. A true Diviner, one who could see and interact with the future. They would be able to tell every outcome of the battle and actively work for the best case. But they were rare, and often locked behind mountain nations and armed guard.

Serin readied her ability, only a few minutes more. Wait for sunset… She thought one last time.

Mel hated goblins. Not because of any past traumas or revenge stories, but something much simpler and primal. They were gross. They lived in their own filth, ate scraps, fucked anything that moved… Mel was an adventurer, a seasoned one at that, but after outranking a majority of quests that delt with goblin removal, she hadn’t slayed one in many years. She didn’t have to, as to her goblins were child’s play. She could kill a small encampment with her eyes closed. She left those quests to a more… Befitting rank.

But she was still an adventurer, so when the call for bodies found its way to the Guild, she and her team stepped up. It was slightly surprising seeing her team all together. Lately hadn’t been the best for the group. Mel was somewhat of the team leader, a team leader who refused to kick out her drunkard boyfriend, Goob. Goob was a slob, day drinking was a part of his essence and night drinking? He was gifted. ‘It’s no wonder he got kidnapped off the streets and turned into a slave!’ One of Mel’s teammates told her. ‘The guy could be taken in broad daylight, the only thing the [Slaver] would have to do is offer to buy him a drink!’

It was harsh but true, Mel knew. She knew Goob was no good, but someone had to look out for him. She still remembered the first time they met. His sly smile, his muscular arms, his happy-go-lucky attitude… But after their latest disaster of a quest, Goob’s antics were starting to become a nuisance. Adventuring teams lost and gained members all of the time, he would be fine. “I’ll kick him out after the raid. I want to make sure he survives it.” Mel told her team, who all looked relieved. She chalked it up to stress. The raid was a big moment in recent memory. Teams often gained huge levels of renown for their triumphs in operations such as this. Maybe, with some luck, she and her team could leave Lesterwood. Mel found the city to be great, but there was so much more than search and destroy quests. Her and her team could delve deep into dungeons or scout ancient ruins, at this point normal quests were just boring.

Her team was a part of the third wave. A few minutes after sunset all hell would break loose as they stormed past the walls, hoping to catch out rotating goblins. Mel wasn’t worried, unlike some of the others around her. She knew something about her group, something only her and Goob knew. While the third wave was made up of multiple adventuring teams, there were two unique members. One was an elderly Drake, the other, a teenage girl. To an outsider, these two individuals would look out of place. Most adventuring teams had three to six members, but two? That was suicide.

But these two weren’t ordinary fighters. Mel knew firsthand the level those two operated at. Perhaps she had a chance winning in a duel with the teenager, but the Drake? He was a monster, at least a monster to his enemies. He was a pretty cool guy in normal circumstances. Together the pair made up a special team, one without a captain and without orders. Their job was the eradication of goblins. Nothing else, nothing more.

Clammy sat cross legged with her eyes closed. Her breathing was level and deep, visible mana poured from her mouth with every exhale, warming the surrounding snow and turning her seat into a puddle. But she hardly cared, rather she was too focused to even notice. Her mind was elsewhere, uncaring of the sideways glances the others gave her. She played back the memories of her life, understanding that they were her past. She had to move on, she had to let them die. She had to die. They wouldn’t be forgotten, but their flame wouldn’t burn anymore. Those who had died for her were kindling, fuel of anger, depression, hopelessness, and guilt. All culminating together to form her, Clammy of Lesterwood. A warrior, a scrapper, a survivor, and most importantly alive.

She would always be Bella of Salae, but Bella of Salae had to change, had to morph, had to evolve. Into what? She didn’t know, but she did know one thing: Her name would be Clammy, she would have friends and loved ones. She would be a part of the Humble Titans, and she would be able to see the future. She would defend and she would kill, she would destroy, and she would create. She was a royal and a commoner. She was a contradiction. She was Clammy, princess and adventurer.

“It’s time.” Bishop said, causing a collective groan from wave three.

Clammy’s mana infused breaths ended. She stretched her stiff muscles, tied her boots, adjusted her wet armor, and readied her weapon. It was time for revenge.