Rovan Ashford raised his voice again, cutting through the tide of flattery that clung to him like swamp mist.
"Gentlemen—has anyone here actually laid eyes on a blood… red-bone skeleton?"
Silence fell at once.
The gathered fighters glanced at one another, unease creeping across their faces. After a long moment, someone spat and cursed.
"Damn it all! Someone's been playing us for fools—spreading false rumors! Forget red-bone horrors, there aren't even that many of the common scraps of bone here!"
Others quickly joined in, anger spilling loose.
"That's right! We were the first to arrive—we barely found twenty or thirty broken skeletons!"
"We didn't find a single one! Should've stayed home instead of running a hundred miles for nothing—bloody waste!"
"If I find the bastard who spread this lie, I'll crush his stones into paste!"
The curses grew louder, uglier.
The women frowned at the vulgarity. Only Kael Ashvane listened with bright curiosity, clearly entertained.
Rovan's expression dimmed. Disappointment settled into his bones, but he forced a steady tone.
"The information may not be false. Perhaps those red-bone creatures caught wind of our arrival and fled before we got here. Either way—stay sharp. Tomorrow we search elsewhere."
He offered a few more words of reassurance before dismissing the crowd.
Then he strode over to Isara Ashvane and her party, spreading his hands in resignation.
"A wasted trip. No red-bones here."
Lyra Farrow spoke coolly, "Then we follow the pattern of the blood pools. The main source must lie somewhere along that arrangement."
Isara gave a slight nod. Her gaze lifted toward the dying light on the horizon.
"It's late. We rest for now. Tomorrow, we move again."
By then, Ashford's fifty-odd shield-axemen had arrived. He ordered them to establish camp near the ruins of the Ancient War Camp.
Isara and Lyra led the disciples farther out, choosing a wind-sheltered rise. They lit a fire and began preparing a meal.
---
Selene Voss sat by the fire, leaning close to Sylva Dreyn. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Second Soror… when we came off that island earlier… Kael seemed… off. Like his mind wasn't here."
Sylva frowned slightly.
"I noticed too."
She glanced out into the darkness. The surrounding wilderness had fallen into black silence. Only the Ancient War Camp flickered with scattered firelight—bonfires lit by the gathered fighters.
And yet, the unease in her chest only deepened.
"You… didn't ask him what's wrong?" Selene prodded carefully, poking the fire with a stick.
"I did," Sylva said. "But he mumbled like he was dreaming. I'll ask again later."
She paused, then turned her head sharply.
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"
Selene blinked, caught off guard.
"I will… later. He's always acting like a lunatic anyway. Not worth pressing."
Sylva studied her.
"You two usually never stop bickering. Why so quiet today?"
Nearby, Mira Stonwell giggled.
"That's true. I haven't heard Third Soror call him 'pig-head' once all day."
Selene stiffened.
"I did! We talked! Just… less. We've been running around all day, that's all."
---
"Is the soup ready yet?"
Kael emerged from the darkness, arms loaded with dry firewood. He dumped it beside the fire with a loud clatter and dusted off his hands.
"Found plenty. Should keep us going all night."
"Almost done," Zaeli said with a smile, stirring the pot. The rich aroma spread through the air.
"What's in it?" Kael dropped down between Selene and Mira without hesitation.
"Wood-ear mushrooms, grass mushrooms, bamboo shoots… and tofu skin. Your favorites."
"Perfect. I'm starving."
Mira shot him an annoyed look.
"There's plenty of space. Why squeeze in here?"
"It's cold at night. Closer means warmer." Kael grinned, sneaking a glance at Selene.
She rose abruptly.
"I'm hot enough."
She gathered her skirts and moved to sit opposite him.
Kael blinked, deflated, and fell silent.
---
"When did you piss off Third Soror?" Mira whispered.
Before Kael could answer, torchlight flickered nearby.
Rovan Ashford approached with two soldiers. He bowed toward Isara.
"These are provisions from the nearby town. A small offering—please make do."
The soldiers set down a large tray: braised beef, sauced pork knuckle, and a small jar of wine.
Kael's eyes lit up.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" He grabbed a pork knuckle and tore into it without ceremony.
Ashford sniffed the air.
"That soup smells incredible…"
He didn't move.
Lyra smiled faintly. "Then join us."
He didn't need asking twice. Dismissing his soldiers, he scanned the group and quickly took the empty spot beside Mira.
The moment he sat, Kael shot him a vicious glare.
Ashford merely blinked back at him and flashed a bright, carefree grin.
Between them, Mira curled up, hugging her knees. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, made all the more striking in the firelight.
---
The soup was finally ready.
Zaeli ladled it out into bowls. Mira produced a large bundle of bread from her satchel and set it in the center for everyone.
Ashford eagerly helped serve the soup, subtly handing Mira a bowl first.
Kael noticed.
He also remembered Selene liked the grass mushrooms.
While no one was looking, he quickly scooped a generous portion into her bowl.
Selene exploded.
"I can serve myself!"
She shoved every last mushroom out of her bowl—straight into Zaeli's.
Zaeli calmly ate, her dark eyes flicking between the two of them.
The others watched with thinly veiled amusement.
Kael flushed, utterly embarrassed.
He forced a laugh and started serving everyone else instead.
"Eat more, eat more—don't hold back."
As if he were the host.
When he reached Ashford, the two men locked eyes for a few long seconds—neither smiling.
Then both looked away.
---
By the time the meal ended, Kael felt like he'd survived a battlefield.
He seized the first excuse he could and slipped into the darkness to relieve himself.
A long breath left his chest.
After finishing, he leaned against a tree, thoughts drifting.
Selene.
Last night.
The memory came back sharp and vivid—reckless, intoxicating.
A slow heat spread through him.
He exhaled, half sigh, half laugh.
Then—
A soft chuckle behind him.
"Already sighing at your age? Careful—you'll grow old too soon."
Kael spun around.
Lyra Farrow stood beneath the broken shadow of the trees, her pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She looked like something out of legend—an enchantress, or a fox-spirit in human skin.
"Shreve Lyra? What are you doing here?"
"I came to find you."
"Me? For what?"
"To help me with something."
Kael blinked.
"You need my help?"
She smiled slightly.
"Go beat someone for me."
"…Who?"
"The bearded brute from the tavern earlier. I saw him among the crowd tonight. He's probably staying in the camp."
Kael grinned.
"Ah. That one. Say no more—"
He stopped.
A thought struck him.
"…but."
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
"But what?"
Kael scratched his head awkwardly.
"Before we left the mountain, I promised my Master I wouldn't cause trouble. If she finds out—"
"We'll go quietly. She won't know. And if she does, I'll take the blame."
Kael still hesitated.
Lyra's gaze sharpened.
"Are you helping or not?"
Kael's eyes flickered—then steadied.
"For you, Shreve… I'll do it. But…"
"Another 'but'?"
He swallowed, suddenly embarrassed.
Lyra stepped closer.
Her lips curved—sweet, dangerous. She leaned in, her face inches from his, voice soft and intimate.
"Go on. What do you want?"
The scent of her—something floral, something intoxicating—hit him like a wave.
His gaze dropped involuntarily.
Her chest rose before him, full and impossibly close.
His throat went dry.
"Well?" she murmured.
Kael forced himself to speak.
"I just… hoped you might teach me a few techniques sometime. The Artificer's Art… or Wardplate Mastery…"
Lyra froze.
Then stepped back, eyes flashing.
"You dare bargain with me?"
Kael grinned sheepishly.
"I've long admired your abilities. Just… asking."
"I wouldn't mind teaching you," she said coldly. "But I despise being negotiated with."
"I wouldn't dare threaten you," Kael said quickly. "Just a humble request."
Lyra studied him.
Then—her lips curled again.
"Oh… I just remembered something."
"What?"
"Last night, I couldn't sleep. Took a walk on Vane's Summit… wandered past a certain room…"
Kael's heart skipped.
"What room?"
"Oh, nothing special. But I heard… interesting sounds."
She leaned in again, voice dripping honey.
"I got curious. Took a peek."
Kael went pale.
"What… did you see?"
"A delightful little scene. Two children playing house. A little rogue tying up a pretty girl… then stripping her clothes off…"
"Stop! I surrender!" Kael nearly collapsed. "I'll go! I'll beat him senseless for you!"
Lyra laughed softly.
"Good. Follow me."
She slipped toward the Ancient War Camp.
Kael trailed behind, miserable.
"Shreve… please don't tell my Master…"
"That depends on how obedient you are," she said lightly.
"I will be! Completely obedient! Just… don't tell anyone else either!"
---
Then—
A streak of ghostly green flame rose silently from the horizon, arcing into the night sky before plunging into the Ancient War Camp.
Both of them saw it.
Lyra stopped.
Kael opened his mouth—
More followed.
Dozens of green flames streaked through the sky, tracing the same path, weaving a bizarre, eerie pattern across the darkness.
Then the screams began.
Agonized. Sudden. Everywhere.
"Hellfire," Lyra said, her expression tightening.
The flames clung where they struck—burning without extinguishing, boiling blood and marrow alike.
A long, droning howl rolled across the land.
The ground trembled faintly.
Within the camp, chaos erupted. Fires spread. Green light painted the night in sickly hues.
Men ran—some fleeing outward, others rushing in—colliding in blind panic.
"An ambush," Lyra said, already moving.
Kael followed.
Then—
The earth shook violently.
From beside the camp came the thunder of hooves—fast, relentless.
Kael frowned.
"This place is a graveyard. Who the hell rides horses here?"
---
Outside the camp, Ashford's shield-axemen rose as one, forming ranks—shields locked, axes ready.
The sound grew louder.
Closer.
Then—
They appeared.
A formation of cavalry—over a hundred strong—emerged from the darkness.
Black armor gleamed. Shields and spears held steady.
Metal rang with every movement.
They charged straight for the gate.
And in the firelight—
The truth revealed itself.
They were skeletons.
Riding skeletal horses.
Their bones shone blood-red beneath the armor.
Panic shattered the crowd.
Some didn't even react before they were skewered and flung screaming into the air—blood spraying in arcs.
The skeletal cavalry crashed through like a tidal wave.
Hooves trampled.
Spears pierced.
Slaughter followed.
"My gods… what are those things?" Kael breathed, stunned.
His Sundering Flame Art surged within him, heat rising fast.
Lyra said nothing—only accelerated forward.
---
These were no ordinary fighters.
Men who had hunted demons—seasoned killers—fell like wheat before a scythe.
Some tried to flee.
Every single one was struck down by the hellfire raining from the darkness.
Their screams clawed at the night.
---
The shield-axemen faltered.
Fear rippled through their ranks.
Then a commanding shout cut through it.
"Hold the line!"
They rallied—disciplined, elite.
Shields locked.
A fortress of steel formed in seconds.
The skeletal cavalry split apart—
And from their center—
A war chariot burst forth, pulled by three massive armored skeletal horses.
It slammed into the shield wall.
Men crumpled instantly—bodies crushed without even a cry.
The formation broke open.
Axes swung in desperate retaliation—
But struck uselessly, as if against diamond.
An officer charged, roaring—
A flash—
He split clean in half.
---
Atop the chariot stood a towering skeletal general clad in crimson armor.
It grinned.
Its blade swept once—
Shields shattered.
Three heads flew.
Blood rained down, still warm.
The remaining soldiers broke.
The cavalry surged through the gap, splitting them apart, cutting them down piece by piece.
The chariot carved through the battlefield, its wheels lined with long green blades that shredded flesh as it passed.
The Ancient War Camp—
Silent for a thousand years—
Had become a slaughterhouse once more.
---
Lyra arrived first.
Her sleeve snapped outward, striking a charging skeletal horse and sending it stumbling, its rider thrown clear.
She did not pursue.
Instead, she closed her eyes.
White mist gathered before her—coiling, thickening, forming a massive, shifting mass.
---
Kael arrived a heartbeat later.
With a roar, he leapt into the swarm.
The Eight-Claw Flamescourge whipped from his sleeve, blazing like a living dragon as it lashed toward the crimson-armored general—
---
Behind him—
Lyra's spell completed.
She opened her eyes.
And from the swirling mist—
A giant rose.
A towering blue crystal colossus, more than ten feet tall, its body sculpted like living gemstone. Muscles coiled with impossible strength, power radiating from every inch.
The Stone Colossus had awakened.