“Hold,” Fang said, holding up his palm to the group behind him. Ame was ahead of him, and when the blademaster stopped, he also took two steps back. His eyes were scanning the chamber.

“This is the safe point?” Nissa asked, gawking at the large, seemingly naturally-formed chamber. It was dome-like, with natural, stone walls and wild growth. The surprising part was the size of it. It was easily fifty meters across with topography that seemed ripped out of a mountainous or hilly region — it was very uneven but mostly green. There was a stream coming from the northern walls and forming a pool with a fishing spot in the middle.

Old furniture lay strewn about, mostly useless and covered in moss by now, and even the remnants of old cottages took up much of the available space. This place had once been a small but thriving settlement.

“Cass?” Fang asked, his gaze also scanning the chamber.

Cassandra shook her head. “Tha wards are there, bu’ weak,” she said.

Fang took a step deeper into the chamber, flattening the grass that almost reached up to his knees. “Can you rebuild them?”

Cassandra thought about the question, chewing on her lower lip before shrugging. “I could try,” she said. “Bu’ I need to find the shrine vessel.”

Fang glanced over his shoulder with such haste to suggest that he was extremely wary of the chamber ahead of him. “The what?”

“To rebuild the wards, she needs to dedicate this holy ground to the Pantheon,” Estella explained, her forearm resting on the hilt of her sheathed longsword.

“Do you need materials?” Fang asked.

Cassandra shook her head. “Nah. I just need ta find th’ center and about two uninterrupted hours of focus.”

Aren saw Fang’s eyes narrow as he heard those words, his eyebrows furrowing and coming closer together in displeasure. Aren figured that Fang did not think they would have two hours. Maybe not even two minutes once they stepped into the chamber proper.

Aren came to agree with Fang’s assessment that this place was their reaping ground. Here, something planned to slaughter them. If Fang was right, there was not a chance that they would be given an opportunity to rebuild or reinforce the wards. Maybe that is why the Howlers were so interested in killing Cassandra first. Maybe it wasn’t just the quality of her holy light.

“Ame, I will tell you now, whether we are attacked here or not,” Fang said, causing the black-haired swordsman to look at the eastern warrior. “Under no circumstances is Aren allowed to die.”

Ame glanced at Aren, his expression unreadable.

Aren offered a carefully crafted, apologetic smile. Calamity status in the world was a very rare thing. There were many potential reasons why it could be problematic for someone to die. Blessings, special items that drop on death, losing skills, and many more. Something related to skills was the most popular reason. Many skills were conditional things. One of the best examples was the Maiden class which forbade the user from doing many, many things, but in return, offered great power and easy ascension through the Pantheon ranks. Failing one of the conditions — such as never tasting alcohol — could have great consequences, or entirely change the class.

But the reason behind why Aren was not allowed to die did not seem to bother Ame as much as the idea of it being related to Aren did. “Why? He is useless,” Ame said. “I should be protecting our healer.”

Fang shook his head. “You are wrong,” he said. “Aren is not useless.”

Ame’s eyes narrowed and with a click, he repeatedly popped his sword out of its sheath and then back in, as he considered his words. “He is strong,” Ame said. “But his ability here is more of a hindrance than a boon. Give me one good reason why I should prioritize him over the healer. What can he contribute?”

Fang thought about Ame’s words. It was a reasonable argument. Ame was absolutely right. If Aren used [Lightning Driver] again, it would just be a nuisance.

“Aren is stronger than you,” Estella said, her tone filled with a noble warmth and respect. “When it counts, he will come through for us. He always does.”

Aren looked between Estella and Ame. On one hand, he was glad that Estella stood up for him, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to be the source of infighting. Aren understood that Ame was obsessed with personal power more than anything else. Outright saying that Aren was stronger than Ame — whether it was true or not — was probably a mistake.

And yet, Ame raised an eyebrow and hummed with amusement. “Is that so?” he asked. “If you rate him that highly, then I have no choice. I will protect him if I can.”

Maybe Aren misunderstood Ame. Maybe Ame was not just obsessed with personal power and vainglory.

“All right,” Fang said. “We are heading in. I want three-sixty security. Watch the ceiling and the ground too. Assume nothing, verify everything.”

Aren glanced at the ceiling. The daylight in the cave-like chamber came from bluish-white crystal formations on the ceiling. A cloud of silvery dust cascaded off them, like glittering particles floating down towards the central pool of water. Aren realized that this was most likely the source of the Divine magic — or at least, it was caused by it. Of course, Aren had no way of sensing magic, but if he was capable of such a thing, his senses would probably verify that statement. Most of all, it was because the crystal formations were shrouded in a halo of light. It looked very obviously holy.

Cassandra also stared at the crystals, but her eyes were less filled with awe and more with curiosity. It wasn’t just casual curiosity either. She was looking for answers. She was seeking the center she mentioned earlier.

The group moved into the chamber, abandoning their arrowhead formation. It was an instinctive shift in tactics, rather than a communicated one. Ame remained on point, but their formation spread out to resemble a diamond, more than anything else, with Cassandra and Nissa in the center.

At first, the group moved slowly through the area but eventually started spreading out in order to navigate the uneven terrain and to check the small, grass-covered crevices that naturally formed. But the more they cleared, the more certain it became that there was no ambush waiting for them there.

They moved towards the central pond of water where the white, glittering dust was gathering. Cassandra approached the front of the formation and reached her hand out towards the dust when suddenly, a howl rumbled through the area coming from behind them. It sounded deep, and powerful as if to suggest that the creature that produced it was not a small wolf-like creature, but much larger.

The party turned towards the sound immediately and Fang shouldered his way to the front of the formation. He smiled. It was an ice-cold smile, filled with maniacal glee. He looked like he wanted to laugh.

Estella and Ame drew their swords, moving to flank Fang on his left and right. Nissa crouched down to embed nearly a dozen arrows into the ground, at the same time indicating that she would stand there and fight.

Cassandra quietly whispered incantations and prayers, and the aura of light around her strengthened. A golden glow descended on her, shrouding her in a halo of light, and surprisingly, the same happened to Estella. Perhaps this was an interaction between their holy classes.

Glimmering, red eyes appeared in the darkness of the tunnel they came from and because of the light difference, it truly was an impenetrable darkness. But more and more pairs of red eyes appeared in the inky blackness, soon enough numbering in the dozens.

Fang’s smile slowly faded as he came to an uncomfortable conclusion. Maybe — just maybe — he had underestimated the number of opponents. No, that was not it entirely. The problem was the safe point. It was too large. If it were smaller, then there would be less chance of them getting surrounded.

But then Fang’s smile returned with a newfound zeal and an even colder edge. “Cassandra,” he called to the priestess with a freezing tone. “You know what to do.”

“With pleasure,” Cassandra said, also smiling. She held her scepter to the side and pierced the air with the index finger of her other hand. Her fingertip caught fire, burning with a purple-black flame. She traced her finger through the air in a diagonal line and then slashed upwards as if drawing a Norse rune.

“Inferno,” she uttered the word and closed her eyes. Around them, flames burst into existence, creating a sea of fire that was purple, black, and orange in color. The flames, assuming the howlers were not immune to them, created a battlefield that was just one half of the entire chamber, otherwise covering the group's back, and their flanks to some degree.

Cassandra looked pleased that her [Inferno] skill-set could come in useful. In the past, because of it, she had suffered because she was not a traditional support. Her old clanmates treated her as a lackluster caster — someone responsible for dealing damage. But Fang must have realized the true potential of the [Inferno] skill-set when they fought the orcs in Trist.

Cassandra was a control mage and a support. Her ability to limit and shape the battlefield, whether in large or small groups, was incredibly valuable.

Cassandra may have always been misunderstood. The priestess probably picked [Inferno] in order to support her friends and clanmates better, but they instead maybe saw that action as either being greedy of her or thoughtless.

Aren realized that this was not the kind of person Cassandra was when she tried to convince Aren that, even if they one day decided to kick her out, Damien was still worth keeping. She wasn’t greedy. She was selfless!

Her warm, kind smile reflected that. It was the joy of finally being recognized and understood — even if it meant being understood by Fang as a pawn on an abstract chessboard. She had a job that only she could do, and her past mistake was a boon in the present.

So she gave it everything she had, and the flames became as thick as a fog, creating a shimmering mirage haze above the burning walls of fire that made the light from the crystals diffuse in a strange manner, almost creating the impression of a burning sunset above them.

Aren immediately felt the effects of the heat, and beads of sweat rolled down the side of his cheek, his hair messily sticking to his skin. That wall of flame might become a double-edged sword if this battle lasted longer than thirty minutes. It wouldn’t take long for them to suffer the effects of heatstroke at this rate. But that was still better than getting surrounded and slaughtered. But at the very least they still had the pool of water to quickly cool off if necessary. Its presence was either lucky or a clear sign of how well-prepared Fang was for this attempt.

Nissa created several phantasmal arrows — transparent and white-cyan in color — and then fired them into the air. They disappeared, in mid-air, shimmering away as if swallowed into another dimension.

“Trap set,” Nissa called out.

Aren couldn’t see it clearly, but on the ground, below where one of the arrows disappeared, there was a faintly glowing mark. It looked like a rune of some sort.

“Just so you know,” Nissa added. “That took out my entire buffer.”

Fang nodded. “That is fine. Just do it like we discussed.”

Nissa smiled. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”

The discussion took place in the corridor while they rested. Fang correctly predicted two potential scenarios. The first scenario was the simpler affair. If the monsters were waiting in ambush, then Cassandra would set the exits on fire to prevent reinforcements from coming in. Then there was the second scenario.

“Remember,” Fang said, taking a defensive position at the front, with his naginata ready to receive the charge from the swarm of monsters beyond the entrance to the safe point. “Don’t overextend for worthless cores. We are here to kill these pests. We will get rich later.”

Slowly, the Howlers began to emerge into the safe point, their shadow-cloaked forms shimmering under the influence of some of the remaining divine wards. They moved slowly, but not like predators, rather they moved in a way that suggested that they were being suppressed.

That was a good thing. It would make killing them easier if they could not fight at their full potential. In comparison, with the resting bonuses from the safe point, and the various buffs the group enjoyed, they were a fighting force operating far beyond their normal potential.

It was quite unfair, Aren thought. Other clans and alliances, if they found out, would probably threaten them — or outright harm them — in the real world for these unfair advantages.

Aren glanced at Ame. He was an unknown quantity. It was difficult to ascertain if he could be trusted. Despite what he brought to the group in terms of combat power, he also introduced a risk that had to be minimized. Estella likely could not show her [Divine Warfare] in front of Ame, and neither could Camille show herself either. As for himself, Aren did not have to try hard to hide the true nature of his class. Without a shadowblade, he was not strong enough to leave an impression of any quality.

Even so, Aren smiled because he felt good about their chances. Even though he knew it would be difficult, he still couldn’t help but think that everything was coming together well and that everything would work out.

He reached for the sword sheathed on his belt and the very moment his fingers touched the hilt, his body froze.

He felt like things would work out? He thought the plan was coming together nicely?

Then why was his instinct suddenly screaming at him to run — begging him to leave his friends here and flee?

What was it that his subconscious knew without a shadow of a doubt, that still had not reached his active awareness?