The canopy overhead filtered the dying light into fractured beams that danced like mocking specters. The rugged man and his accompanying adventurer emerged into the encampment's flickering firelight, the smell of woodsmoke and unwashed bodies rising to meet them.
Tanya, slung over Dorten's shoulder like discarded luggage, thrashed with every ounce of her bound fury. Her limbs strained against the ropes while muffled grunts of defiance escaped her gag.
The group erupted in cheers. Soldiers and crooked adventurers alike pounded fists and hollered triumphantly, their faces twisted in savage glee. Her struggles only fueled their delight, turning her desperation into a perverse spectacle.
The captain strode forward, clapping slowly. He wore a grin that didn't reach his cold eyes. "Ever the sly fox, Dorten—your reputation precedes you."
Dorten met his gaze with a dead-eyed stare. He hesitated for a heartbeat before flicking his eyes away in disdain.
With an aggressive brush of his hand against the captain's shoulder—a gesture loaded with unspoken contempt—Dorten pushed past. He marched toward the tent where Anyael was held captive. The slight wound to the captain's pride hung in the air like an unspoken challenge.
Reaching the tent, Dorten flung open the flap with a rough yank. Anyael, huddled in the dim interior, stirred at the sound.
Her amber eyes widened in terror. There, silhouetted against the firelight, stood Dorten. He hoisted Tanya like a burden to be discarded and hurled her inside.
Tanya's body tumbled to the dirt floor. She yelped in shock as her head grazed the ground, a sharp sting blooming on her forehead where a small cut began to weep blood.
Anyael's heart plummeted. If Tanya had been captured too, what fate had befallen Natsu, their protector?
The thought was a suffocating wave.
Tears welled as the shadows in the tent seemed to close in like living entities. For Tanya, the sight of Anyael—alive, though marred by bruises—unleashed a torrent of conflicting emotions. There was overwhelming relief that her sister breathed, mingled with the crushing despair of their reunion in this hell.
She inched closer on the cold ground, pressing her forehead gently against Anyael's. Their tears mingled in silent communion. Sobs wracked them both, raw and unfiltered. It was a relief at the touch after hours of separation, yet laced with the bitter agony of being bound together in the worst imaginable way.
Outside, the men's cheers swelled into a cacophony of revelry. Their voices rose in hymns praising Ares, the god whose divine message had guided their hunt. Snatches of conversation floated through the tent flaps—whispers of prophetic visions and holy mandates. It imbued the night with a fanaticism that heightened the sisters' dread.
The flames cast grotesque shadows that danced like harbingers of judgment.
Deeper in the forest, the two adventurers gathering firewood finished bundling their haul. The dry branches crackled faintly under twine. As they straightened, an unnatural wrongness settled over the woods.
It was a silence so profound it felt like a veil severing them from the world.
The usual rustle of leaves and distant birdcalls were extinguished. "Something's off," one muttered. His voice was edged with unease, his gold-ranked instincts prickling. They scanned the dim surroundings, axes gripped tighter.
Suddenly, a ruby-eyed hare burst from the underbrush. It leaped onto one adventurer's face with startling ferocity, its teeth sinking into his cheek before it bounded away.
The bitten man cursed, clutching his bleeding face.
The sting was a fleeting distraction. High above, Natsu perched atop a branch, blending seamlessly with the shadows. He watched with intent focus—an invisible specter in the gathering dusk. The pair shook off the incident and trudged back to camp, oblivious to the invisible mark now etched upon them.
It was an omen of inevitability.
Upon their return, the encampment buzzed with renewed energy. Natsu slipped closer, emerging from the shadow of a nearby tree to observe from the fringes.
His eyes swept the scene, cataloging threats with cold precision. "Six gold-ranked adventurers, eight silvers, twenty footmen, two platoon leaders, and one captain," he muttered. "Quite the party just to retrieve two women."
His expression hardened to ice. A storm was brewing.
Abruptly, a soldier's voice cut through the chatter, laced with lecherous eagerness. "Hey, Cap'n—can't we go ahead and feast on the women already? I'm itching to taste every nook and cranny of them!"
The words ignited a wave of laughter. Their eyes gleamed with dark anticipation.
Before the captain could respond, Dorten's voice sliced through like a blade. "The higher-ups' orders are for the captives to be delivered in good condition," he barked. His tone was laced with barely contained fury. "Violating them goes firmly against commands!"
The captain's face twisted into a wicked sneer. "I permit it," he declared. His voice dripped with authority, the words hanging like a noose. "They're about to be executed anyway—so they won't mind if these girls are a bit roughed up. Or are you going against my orders, Dorten?"
Dorten shot him a sharp, defiant glare. He scoffed deeply before turning on his heel and stalking toward a distant tent.
Hidden in the shadows, Natsu's internal fury ignited. Subconsciously, he released a chilling aura. The temperature plummeted as if winter's breath had swept through. Two silver-ranked adventurers nearby began to shiver uncontrollably.
"Why'd it get so cold all of a sudden?" one whispered, his voice trembling.
Undeterred, the captain barked an order. "You two—fetch the women from their tent and bring them here."
Inside the tent, Tanya and Anyael had heard every word. The soldier's depraved demand. The captain's damning permission.
Dread coiled tighter. Their breaths were shallow and synchronized in shared horror. Footsteps approached like the echo of doom.
The flaps rustled—
The steps halted. A sharp blow rang out, followed by the heavy thuds of two bodies crumpling to the dirt.
In a burst of motion, Dorten exploded into the tent. He dragged the unconscious soldiers inside and dumped them like refuse. With swift, precise slashes of his knife, he severed the sisters' binds.
He yanked away their gags, his rugged face etched with urgent resolve. He tore open the tent's rear fabric, creating a ragged exit into the dark. "Run," he commanded.
Tanya, bewildered, stared at him through tears. "Why are you doing this?!" she demanded. Her voice cracked with confusion and lingering betrayal. "I thought you were ordered to bring us back!"
Dorten's expression hardened. "JUST GO!!" he snarled. "Don't make me change my mind. Take your sister and run! Don't look back!"
Anyael choked on her words, her voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "Dorten..."
The sisters scrambled through the tear. Tanya paused just outside, turning back with a knowing gaze. Dorten's stoic facade finally cracked. His rugged features softened into a profoundly sad smile.
"I'm really sorry for everything, lass," he murmured. "Go now."
Tanya's tears fell freely. He was no monster; he was a kind soul crushed by the weight of his obligations. With a final nod, she fled into the darkness alongside Anyael.
The forest swallowed them.
But escape was fleeting. Another soldier, suspicious of the delay, approached the tent and peered inside. His eyes widened at the unconscious forms. "Traitor!" he shouted.
Dorten lunged. His blade flashed to silence the man with a strike through an armor gap. The body slumped lifelessly.
Chaos erupted. Shouts and clashes rang out as Dorten fought like a cornered beast. He felled three footmen in a whirlwind of steel, but the odds mounted. Five gold-ranked adventurers blocked his path. Silvers encircled him.
Incantations hummed in the air, spells unleashing in bursts of arcane light. Binding chains of energy coiled around him. Dorten claimed two silvers and three more footmen before being overwhelmed. He collapsed under the relentless assault, bound and broken.
The sisters, meanwhile, pushed deeper into the forest's inky maze. Their pace faltered as injuries screamed in protest. They collapsed into a thicket of bushes, exhaustion claiming them.
Tanya pulled Anyael into an embrace. "I was so scared... but you're alive. Thank god."
Anyael clung back, her sobs muffled. "What about Natsu? Is he...?"
"He's alive," Tanya assured, her tone laced with guilt. "I followed alone—didn't want to drag him into this."
They held each other tighter. The calm of the moment lulled them into an uneasy sleep, their forms concealed by the bushes as pursuers thundered past, missing them in the night.
Back at the ravaged camp, Dorten knelt before the captain. He was beaten and restrained by glowing binding spells.
The captain loomed over him. "Dorten, you've just committed the gravest treason imaginable," he intoned. "Killing your comrades, freeing vital prisoners—and for what? Pity?"
Dorten, weakened but unbowed, lifted his head. He met the captain's eyes with a glare that burned like forged steel. The captain twitched; a flicker of unease crossed his features. In defiance, Dorten spat onto the captain's boot.
A brutal punch from a gold-ranked brawler split his lip, sending blood trickling down his chin.
"Whatever," the captain snarled. "Even without you, we'll catch those lovely ladies. And after we do, we'll violate them right in front of your corpse."
The words ignited wicked laughter from the men.
Then, from the shadows, a voice slithered into the fray. It was casual, mocking, and laced with wicked amusement.
"Hehhhh, sounds like an interesting thing to do. Mind if I join you on that?"
The captain and his men froze. The sudden intrusion shattered the tension like glass.
A figure materialized just behind the captain. He draped an arm over the man's shoulder with unsettling familiarity.
"So, when do we start the party, dear captain?" Natsu continued.
His smirk was sharp. His eyes glinted with cold promise. "I'm itching to get some action right now, you know?"
The captain's skin prickled. Hairs stood on end as the group stiffened in stunned silence. Even Dorten's eyes widened in surprise.
The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and something much older. Natsu's grip tightened on the captain's shoulder, his fingers digging into the plate armor as if it were parchment.
The purple glow in his eyes intensified, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.
"You seem a little quiet," Natsu whispered. "Didn't you want a feast?"