Chương 18: Chapter 15 - Preparing the Way

Dory led the group toward an area where several currents of spiritual essence converged, their fluctuations colliding in chaotic waves. Veteran scouts usually avoided such places. Physical tracks could still be followed, but any trail left within the currents quickly dissolved into the turbulence, making spiritual tracking nearly impossible. Experience had taught him that much. It also meant danger. Most monsters instinctively chose places like this as dens.

The turbulence concealed their presence from other monsters. They walked at an easy pace and stumbled onto dozens of spirit trees, every one of them heavy with fruit. Cheers broke out among the scouts. Hands reached for branches sagging under the weight, sacks filling one after another as laughter spread through the group. The fruits ranged from Mortal Early Stage all the way up to Seeker Early Stage. A middle-aged orc stepped forward and cracked open a small tear in space, no bigger than a head.

The scouts began feeding fruit into it while he held the opening steady. After a while, he said, "My spatial storage is full now; the rest goes in the sacks." While they worked, one of the scouts pulled Dory aside.

"Captain, I spotted a reddish, fiery-looking herb over there. Didn't touch it, never seen anything like it before." Caution ran deep, drilled in by the elders back home: report anything unfamiliar in a spiritual realm, no exceptions, no assumptions. Dory followed without hesitation.

"Guide me." The moment he saw it, he recognized it instantly.

"Fire-attributed herb."

"An herb with an attribute?" the scout asked.

"Spiritual realms produce them sometimes." Dory crouched beside it.

"Rare stuff. It nourishes the soul core of anyone with a fire attribute." He glanced at the young orc.

"No wonder you didn't recognize it. These don't grow anywhere outside a realm like this." He shared the information freely. To Dory, it wasn't some secret worth guarding, just something people rarely had reason to talk about. The scouts fanned out through the grove, stripping every tree of fruit they could reach. One tree led to another, then another. Several hours passed before they'd cleared the grove of everything worth taking. They began moving out to the overlapping spiritual essence area.

"Move out. We've got the advantage of surprise here—no need to fight them head-on, just keep whittling their numbers down." As they neared the ground they'd already cleared earlier that day, the smell of blood hit them again. Fresh howls rang out through the trees. Another pack had already moved in, tearing into the corpses left over from the morning's fight.

"That wolf, there." Dory pointed out a target, one isolated from the rest of the pack. A fiery arrow tore through the air, flame trailing behind it like a comet's tail, hissing against the wind. It found its mark in a heartbeat. Thwack. The arrow punched through the wolf's skull, bursting out the back in a spray of embers and blood. The beast froze mid-bite, jaw loosening, the carcass slipping free of its mouth. For a moment it just stood there, eyes empty, before its legs gave out beneath it.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. It dropped without a sound. Dory picked another target, and the process repeated. Eventually, the rest of the pack noticed, and there was no more picking off stragglers, only a straight fight. The wolves surged forward in a wave of claws and fangs, howling.

Another volley of arrows met them before they closed the gap, dropping several mid-charge, though the rest kept coming, trampling over their own fallen packmates without slowing.

"Hold the line!" Dory roared. The front rank absorbed the charge. Steel met claw, spears drove into snapping jaws, buying just enough time for the rear to loose another round of arrows and spells. Fire streaked across the clearing, earth spikes tore up from the ground, blades flashed under the canopy. Unlike the first pack, this one had no alpha to hold the formation together. They fought on raw instinct alone, throwing themselves at the line in reckless, uncoordinated waves.

The orcs, by contrast, fought like a single organism. Whenever one warrior burned through his spiritual essence, another slid seamlessly into his place. No one chased a retreating wolf. No one broke formation. Every motion was calculated—kill as many as possible, keep losses to a minimum. Before long, the wolves started to break. One by one they peeled off from the fight and vanished into the trees, whimpering. Dory watched them go and didn't give the order to chase.

"Let them run," he said.

"We got what we came for." The surviving orcs lowered their weapons, breathing hard. Wounds marked most of them, blood staining torn armor, but smiles crept across their faces all the same. The path to the spiritual door was safer now than it had been when they first arrived. Dory glanced back toward the distant castle, its outline barely visible through the fog.

"We're heading out." Without another word, the team turned and started back toward the exit, carrying their spoils and everything they'd risked their lives to learn.... That afternoon, the door to the spiritual realm finally released the group, one by one, slowly and deliberately. The orc reconnaissance team had returned, exhaustion and grief written plainly across their faces.

"They're back! The reconnaissance team is back!" someone shouted. A crowd gathered quickly, and the smiles faded the moment anyone actually counted heads. Blood stained most of them, fresh wounds marking their bodies. And their numbers had thinned considerably since they'd left. Half the team hadn't made it back at all. Roc stood still, caught off guard. Not even a full day had passed. Dory addressed the elders directly.

"We've come back to report. Dire wolves are the main threat in the area, but we've cleared most of them out. The area around the door itself isn't as hostile as we feared. We should move in and set up our base." His team brought forward the sacks of spiritual fruit and the fire-attributed herb.

"As for the rest," he added, more careful now, "better you see it yourselves."

"A shame we lost people," Roc said, grief plain in his voice, "but we'll make it count. This expedition's going to pay off." He drew a breath and raised his voice.

"Prepare for departure!" The army had just started moving when a new arrival stopped everyone cold. A group of towering, black-skinned beasts approached, every step carrying enough weight to shake the ground. Roc and Geldo stepped forward to meet them.

"State your business," Geldo said, unhurried.

"We have no reason to fight, but we won't back down if you force our hand."

"We only want a temporary alliance, old friend," Saro said.

"The realm is vast enough. We just want the right to go in." Geldo glanced between Roc and Saro.

"So? Reasonable enough, isn't it?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"Better than unnecessary bloodshed." Roc didn't seem to hear him. He stepped past Geldo, closing the distance toward Saro instead.

"Old friend, you say? Rival," Roc corrected flatly.

"You've never once acknowledged me as one, whatever you call me to my face."

"Why are you still hung up on that? I thought it was just something you said once, half-joking."

"That's exactly why I'm stronger than you. Then or now, doesn't matter."

"Bastard. And you're still just as arrogant as ever." Veins stood out along Roc's neck.

"That's enough," Seri cut in.

"What's your answer, Elders?"

"The realm's vast, and there's no bad blood between us, so it's only natural we accept it," Roc said, though he couldn't keep the bite out of his voice.

"Still. You've got some nerve showing up now, after we've already done all the work."

"We cleared out most of the monsters in your path on the way here," Seri pointed out.

"Isn't that a helping hand in itself?"

"Tsk." Roc had no comeback for that, and no real grounds to refuse either. Nobody could afford a fight between allies this deep in a place already dangerous enough on its own.

"Thank you, old friend," Saro said, and meant it. His plan had worked exactly as intended. The orcs accepted the terms without further argument, more resigned than surprised. They'd already talked this outcome through back when they first claimed the site, planning ahead for exactly this kind of arrival. After a short stretch of preparation, both forces fell into formation, tight and disciplined, like an army marching to war. Then, together, they started forward into the spiritual realm. One by one, they vanished.