The light was coming towards them. Slowly. A small fire burned on a slab of stone, carried between the [Guardian Knight] and the [Swordswoman]. The others carried torches, expanding the protective circle of light ever so slightly. They were determined and grim, but they knew if they let that fire go out, the madness of the night would descent upon them.

Of course, they were seen. They approached a group of elite Wyldling [Hunters]. The Wyldlings did not understand why the group they had tracked was coming towards them in the middle of the night, but they knew no fear. Most of them could see in the dark. Their eyes glowed while reflecting the light of their own fire like cats or reptiles did. They were ready. They stood on the edge of their circle of light, studying the rag-tag group that approached them with professional seriousness but could not help but smile here and there. Tonight the levels would come to them.

They held bows, slings, and spears at the ready. A few of them might have remembered their old ways, and regret to have to ignore the fire laws. It was ingrained in their culture. Being cast out of their clan, the just punishment for violating the fire laws was the worst punishment they could imagine. And yet they had found something else to drive them on. To make them ignore their old ways.

Like the amulets they wore. What once was clear amber now had veins of pure black growing inside of it. And where the amulet touched flesh, and it did with all five of them, the black veins grew from the stone into the skin and flesh of the Wyldling, a nest of black tendrils on the neck and breast.

With a soft whistling, an arrow the length of an arm shot inches above the heads of the group. They shouted, crouching down, staring into the darkness with more focus. A bowman stood in front of the group that had moved the fire towards them. He held a longbow in his hands, looking over to the [Hunters], studying the distance. One of the Wyldlings grunted something in his language and another, the one with the bow, stood up, drawing his own. His arrow fell short.

To a duel of bows over a considerable distance you better bring a longbow.

Or a Skill. The bow of the Wyldling burst into flickering jade green light, concentrating on the arrow in the blink of an eye. You could hear the other group shouting, as they scrambled to put the fire down. The arrow drew a streak of green through the night, as it exploded in a cloud of green around the other fire. There were tendrils of black as well, following the shot like gulls a fishing boat.

There were curses in both languages and in both camps. The [Swordswoman] stood in front of Grim, the archer, sword drawn, holding her shoulder with a pained grimace. She had cut the arrow down. [Perfect Parry]. And it almost had not been enough. The man with the longbow answered.

That was the situation. Two groups of mortal enemies separated by the darkness of the night and the creatures that lurked within, shooting at each other, waiting for the inevitable escalation of violence.

And I? I ran across the flank of the mountain with as much speed as I could muster, heart beating in a frantic rhythm. [Walk the Night Unseen] and [Eyes to Pierce the Darkness] made me a creature of the night as much as the next Nightmare. Or the one beside that. Or the few above me. They came in all forms and colors, among them the huge abominations of combined animals, the worms with the thousand faces, flying insects with razor-sharp mandibles on both sides of its body and smaller creatures as well, combinations of just two or three animals. A mountain lion and a porcupine was the most terrifying combination I had seen.

They were behind me, but just a little bit too slow. All but the flying ones, that is. I dodged and weaved, terror gripping my heart, when they shot out of the dark, entering the radius of my detection Skill with a speed that made dodging their attacks all but impossible. I tumbled, rolled, jumped, and sprinted down the mountain. One wrong step and I was done for. But the mountain was mine. [Favorite Terrain: Moutains] let me find my steps with unrivaled surety and grace, [Improved Speed], and [Improved Agility] took care of the rest of the problems.

Oh, the noise could be heard. The screeching and yapping, buzzing and roaring. Oh, the creatures could be seen. Even I would have been seen by now. I did not doubt the Wyldlings to be able to pierce my veil of shadows.

But they were distracted. By a group of enemies with a pretty large bow. And the fires. Light blinds you to the secrets of the night. All I needed was an opening.

They were [Hunters]. They knew how to make a camp, even in the mountains. It gets cold and windy, and you needed protection from the elements just to keep your fire going. They had built their camp, just like we had, in the middle of a couple of rocks that shielded them from the wind and from the wildlife. I ran down the slope towards them.

I jumped and used [Airwalk]. One step was all it took, on the descending ground, to make me soar above the rocks and the fire of the Wyldlings. A man with a spear turned, saw me, and shouted something in his language. Just as he was about to swing back his arm to throw the spear at me, an arrow grazed his shoulder. Grim, you beautiful bastard.

That was all the openings that I would get. And all I needed. I threw the item I held in my hand with all the force I could, activating it with a mental command. It shot towards the fire, the Wyldling dove for it, suspecting it to be some kind of explosive substance that would ignite in the fire.

It was just a chest. But a chest suddenly growing to its giant size of four stacked coffins, filled to the brim with metal, tools, and Dragonamber, smashing heavily on top of the Wyldling and the fire, burying the light under it.

[Wyldling Elite Hunter defeated! Reward: 35 EP]

Darkness reigned once again and an avalanche of terrifying and strange creatures of the night followed me, crashing over the rocks like a screeching wave of madness and hunger.

The Wyldlings were surprised. They screamed in fear, for the Nightmares of the stories they had known all their life came upon them in droves. They were disoriented by the sudden darkness and chaos. They were shot at. And yet they did not lose their calm. There was a way out of their predicament, and they knew it. They just had to reach a fire.

They changed into their battle forms. Twisted beasts, sleek and filled with the power of darkness, radiating cold and hate. They turned. They ran for it. Mauling and clawing their way through the Nightmares, while tendrils od shadows shot out of their bodies, sucking the life out of the creatures.

Groaning and cursing. There was not one of us that had escaped the encounter without any wounds. What had crawled out of the darkness and thrown themselves onto us had been barely alive, barely conscious, but creatures of considerable strength and ferocity nonetheless. In the end, we even had been lucky the last of the Wyldling behemoths had not fallen on the fire after Grim had hit its eye with a point-blank arrow.

We stared over the heap of broken bodies, tore apart by the Wyldlings with claws and teeth. The Nightmares had been too much for them to handle, in the end. It had been clear and easy shooting for Grim as they ran all the way up the slope of the mountain. Only too reach the fire and to be intercepted by our melee fighters at the edge of it, nightmares in their back. Those [Hunters], mortally wounded and all but feral, had almost been enough to kill us. But we had saved a couple of key Skills, that saved the day. Like [Form of the Silver Giant], [Death by a Thousand Cuts], and [Perfect Lunge]. First Mate Higgins had displayed his [Weapon Art: Crashing Waves].

It had not been flashy, but he had moved in a particular way, swaying like the tidal waves, dodging blows with the simple motion of his body. On the way back he swung with inevitable force, landing three consecutive hits with his cutlass, not in a blur but deliberate and forceful while a blue-green sheen glistened on the blade, each hit stronger than the one before.

"I’ll curse myself for saying it.“ Zora said, prodding her bruises and cuts. Manus just had healed her and what she had left would have to heal on its own. "But I feel we can do it. For the first time really. I thought we would go out in a last blaze of glory. It's how I wanted to go out. But now I really think there might be a chance, however slim. “

Simue sat down next to her, grabbing her shoulder. She was the only one that only had suffered superficial cuts and bruises. She had been too slippery for the big behemoths to catch. She nodded emphatically, grinning wildly around the group, the excitement of the night still written on her face.

"I leveled, didn’t I?“ Grim grunted. His only measurement of success and happiness, it seemed.

"As did I.“ Higgins smiled. He had been overjoyed with the results of the battle. "It is hard to level on the sea. You can go months without any action. Under normal circumstances, that is.“

"I don‘t know if my heart will ever stop beating so hard.“ I groaned, lying on my back.

"I am so glad I cannot see in the dark. That noise was something else.“ Zora grinned.

"That was five of them.“ Manus said soberly, having just finished his round of [Lay on Hands]. "Just five.“

The group fell silent.

"Don’t.“ I said, sitting up. "Don’t sully our victory. That is what we achieved today. A victory for us and for the people that depend on us. We can beat them. With tricks and help. But we can do it again if we have to.“

Simue nodded. Pointing at her eyes, miming shooting a bow and seeing in the distance.

"Hunters?“ I asked and she nodded. She held up five fingers and took them away, one after the other.

"Yes!“ I smiled, understanding what she wanted to say. "They have five less [Hunters]. Five less of those that can see in the dark, or well at all. Five less of those that can navigate the Wyld without trouble. Everything we do from now on will be that much easier. And two of us leveled today. As if Grim needed levels to kill himself a Wyldling.“

Grim looked to the ground, a little bit embarrassed by the praise, as Manus slapped his shoulder in celebration. "Learned to shoot as a boy, didn‘t I?“ He grumbled.

"What Skill did you get?“ Zora asked.

"Class consolidation. [Archer] and [Poacher] to [Wild Stalker]. Got Level 10.“

"Poacher?“ Manus raised an eyebrow at him.

Grim just looked at him with a stoic challenge in his eyes.

"[Find the Weak Spot] for the class and [Camouflage] for level 10.“ He finally said, after making sure no one would make a comment about the [Poacher] class.

"Congratulations, Grim.“ I said, turning to Higgins. "And you?“

"Level 23. [Water Dragon Shot]. A special attack for my crossbow.“

The smiles and congratulations faded after a while. Emotions ran high, as always after a battle of life and death. Finally, somber thoughts entered the conversation again.

"Let's get to sleep. The next days will be exhausting.“ Manus said. "I want to be at my best when I meet that bastard. I have something to thank him for.“ He touched the burn scars on his head. "And for my eye, he will have to pay.“

"For my eye as well.“ Zora spat in the flames. "And the days of torture.“

"My family.“ Grim said silently.

Simue touched her mouth, fury in her eyes.

"The fall of the Empire.“ Higgins said somberly.

"For the dead. For the living. And a future.“ I said, looking around at my brothers and sisters in arms, loss written on everyone’s face. But there was something else. Something important. Grim confidence and plenty of reasons to fight.