The serpent’s form shifted and melted as the captain claimed its corpse, turning it into katapetra. The creature had been strong enough that the minor amounts of energy loss were enough to emit a weak light and boil the water surrounding it.

Thankfully, Amalia didn’t have to worry about detection in the light. The sudden dissolution of multiple tons of snake caused enough bubbles that Sabas couldn’t see further than the orb boiling the water around his hand.

Carrying her own stone, Amalia slipped down into the dark and hurried away. She shrouded hers to hide the light as it cooled down, though she wasn’t so tough as to hold the katapetra without consequence. She would’ve pushed it alongside her using absolute or an Ability, but she didn’t want to risk detection.

Soon, she had circled the nearest platform, one the mercenaries weren’t checking for Ranvir and rose to the surface. She would be the first to admit the way she’d strung up her friend wasn’t dignified. If necessary, she would admit to doing it again. She hadn’t had a lot of time and not getting their own katapetra seemed like too big a loss at this moment.

Two growths of fyla rose from the side of the stone. They grew close enough that Amalia’s knife could reach either, though the margins were a bit too slim for comfort. She’d used her shirt to tie Ranvir to the knife, placing it on the tiny platform to keep him above water.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she saw he hadn’t fallen off. Pulling him off, she considered slipping her shirt back on, but that would take unnecessary time. She just wanted out from among the mercenaries.

With Ranvir in hand, she slowly swam around the base, getting a feel for the locations of Mercy’s Redoubt. Unfortunately, she had to admit Mihail wasn’t as incompetent a tracker as his skill with gazing the lines suggested. With them trapped in the area, she couldn’t see no easy way to get out without risking Ranvir drowning or alerting the men when surfacing.

She swept the area with her soul-sight, gathering a taste for the soldiers. Like expected, most of them were around Tier 10 or 11, a few stood out with lower or higher rankings, but Sabas had kept them within line at least. More importantly, she got a sense that they moved in groups, under the control of section leaders.

Cursing internally, she swam under the deepest lip and considered her options. Ranvir couldn’t hold his breath properly, so there wouldn’t be any easy escapes underwater. She wouldn’t be able to cross the waters without someone spotting them and getting shot to shit and back.

What she needed was some sort of cover, some way to hide herself away. Preferably, something like a night sequence… She looked hopefully towards the sky, but light remained solidly emanating. From what she’d seen of the Orykto fold, it kept mostly to daytime, with only brief adventures into night, unfortunately.

She swung her sight about once more, looking for something else… Another opportunity. She couldn’t remain in the water for long. Ranvir’s arm was still ruined and the water could not be good for his stomach. She didn’t know how strong his body and spirit connection was, but there was a chance he couldn’t simply sustain himself through an illness like high-Urityons could.

Water mana was on the rise, she noticed. Already, it was mingling with the ambient air mana. There’s going to be a storm soon, she realized. Converting monsters into katapetra wasn’t a lossless transformation. At the lower tiers, it was mostly unnoticeable but Urityon and up the by products grew noticeable. Heat and light from the conversion of second order energy into matter, and the mana released when first order matter was, in turn, converted to energy.

She knew scholars had been working on the process for sometime, and had mostly copied it, though not near as efficient or cleanly as Amanaris could. However, Amanaris itself wasn’t perfect, and the serpent had a lot of mass to convert, not to mention all the energy it had been harboring within itself before expiring.

She sucked on her lower lip. Could she slip out in the rain and stormy weather? Potentially. Would she prefer it to be the backup, rather than the primary plan? Definitely. Amalia would need something to draw Mihail’s attention away, something he would notice but might not immediately spot as a trap.

Closing her eyes, Amalia focused internally traveling into the core of her spirit, to the Amanaris’ space within her soul. Slowly, she eked out the mana for one of her Abilities. It was a simple ball of murk mana, a concussive strike, one of her least used powers, but one that might come in handy today.

Nearly thirty minutes later, with rain beginning to pitter patter into the sea, Amalia quietly released her sphere of water and shadow mana. It didn’t move with haste, or catch the attention of any it passed. Instead, it quietly slipped by everyone, swimming past the stone pillars by the narrowest of margins. At least, until it reached the end of her soul-sight’s range.

The murk mana splashed against the stone, so distant that no one could even hear it, but it released mana as it broke. Within another minute, the remnants traveled down the lines towards them. She knew the instant the remnants touched Mihail’s Abilities. Cries sounded out and there was a mass amount of movement within the nearby area. Soldiers milling about, trying to figure out was what going on.

She grit her teeth and waited, hoping the tracker would take the bait. For a minute, nothing happened. Then two. After three minutes, she began worrying. Ranvir was getting pale. While his lips weren’t turning blue, the wound in his side was still leaking minor amounts of blood.

After five minutes, her patience ran out. A moment after Mihail’s. Just as she was about to brave the waters and rains, Mihail and a group of his men burst into motion. They rushed through the rain to check on the mana. The mercenaries, instead of watching the waters, turned their attention towards the spectacle, moving away.

Amalia rushed away, fast as she could move, covering herself and Ranvir in murk mana to hide. This close, she knew Mihail would eventually recognize what she’d done, but hopefully she’d be long gone by then.

She relapsed only briefly before resuming her flight, dragging a shroud of murk mana behind her as she traveled. She didn’t have the time to ensure Mihail couldn’t notice the slight gap of time, she just had to hope he wouldn’t. Perhaps the rain would confuse his Abilities.

“Captain,” Stelios’ voice sent an icy shiver down Sabas’ back, turning his gut to ice. He kept his face still, however, and turned slowly. On most days, it took effort to keep his poise, but today it took more than most. Stelios nodded towards the nearby tent. “I need to speak with you.”

The ice turned to water in his stomach, as Sabas realized they hadn’t found the Sentinel.

They’d set up temporary camp a few platforms away from where he’d fought the serpent and they’d nearly caught the Sentinel. Mostly, this was to give the troops space away from him. While he went out of his way to be frank and honest with the officers, he still presented a cold and distant front to his men. He didn’t want them to think of him as a friend.

Friends were fallible. Friends had issues with gambling, enjoyed chasing skirts a bit too much, and were too emotionally invested in their circumstances. The Captain was a stone plinth, immovable and solid. Undeterred by even the harshest environment. He needed to be that rock for his men.

Stelios and he walked solemnly through the rain, hands behind their back. He ran the length of chain he’d taken from the Sentinel through his fingers again. Frija, his daughter, had called through it a couple times over the past few days. The last time, she’d cried to him. Confessing her fear and worry for her father.

Ranvir.

Sabas drew in a harsh breath. Stelios glanced over his shoulder towards him as they reached the small tent. Pulling the flap to the side, the old man allowed his captain to enter first.

The rain pattered loudly on the tent, the oil lamp casting a firelight glow on the close walls. It had an almost cozy atmosphere, further helped by the cup of steaming tea sitting on the desk in front of his chair next to the lamp.

“What is this?” Sabas asked, running the chain through his fingers again. The symbols each felt like they stabbed into him as they passed over his fingers.

“Take a seat, sir,” Stelios said, sitting on the opposite side.

Sabas’ brows twitched, but did as his war strategist asked. He wrapped his fingers around the cup, feeling the metal trapped between warm clay and his hands dig at his rough callouses.

Stelios said nothing for a long time, simply sitting there and staring at the captain. In return, Sabas glared back. Soon, a quiet chattering could be heard under the sound of rain on the tent’s canvas.

Gritting his teeth, Sabas strengthened his defiant look, and the chattering stilled. For a few moments. The sound soon returned, and the captain was forced to look away. He pulled his shaking hand back, letting the bracelet chain drop from his fingers. It clattered onto the table, leaving his hands shaking freely.

Without warning, his breath hitched as he stared at his fingers. There were no stains on them. He didn’t even smell from the fight. So much of it had taken place under water that none of the blood and gore had dried on him.

“Are you okay, sir?” Stelios asked. He didn’t modulate his voice, he didn’t even try to sound sympathetic. It was very Stelios. The thought almost made Sabas chuckle. It would’ve if he’d been less distressed. He could see the worry, hidden beneath the old soldier’s gruff exterior, an exterior so old and worn in Sabas, doubted it could be removed without killing the man.

“I have to be, don’t I?” Sabas letting his gaze drop.

“Do you?”

That was it. That was all it took for the stone plinth to come falling down. Two words and Stelios brought all of Sabas’ pretensions to fall. Shattered on the cold plains of reality. Sabas sat in his chair, shaking and nauseous, though he didn’t cry.

One moment, he was swinging his spear through the tough scales of the serpent, the next he was swinging them through a house in a distant northerly village. The serpent’s screams modulated into the hundred screams of men and women.

Mihail entered at one point, so did Phineus. They each took a moment with him, though Mihail stayed the longest. He didn’t hold Sabas, or tell him it was okay, just kept a hand on his shoulder. Silently supporting.

When Sabas was finally under control, Mercy’s Redoubt had returned to their camp and the bracelet had been removed.