The hunters’ voices blended into a background hum as Ronin rode, the rhythmic clop of hooves vibrating up through his legs.
Disconnected from their conversation, he fidgeted with his left hand, the crystalline surface cool and unnaturally smooth beneath his fingertips. The red orb embedded in his fist caught the afternoon sunlight, casting tiny, shifting reflections onto his sleeve like shards of stained glass.
Noticing his distraction, Gloria guided her horse closer, the faint scent of sweat and oiled leather drifting between them. “You’re not good when it comes to socializing, are you?” she teased, her voice carrying easily over the creak of saddles and the whisper of wind through tall grass.
“My social skills liven up only when I need them to,” Ronin replied, his tone flat as he watched a hawk wheel overhead. “Talking about things that don’t matter to me feels like a pitiful way for distracted minds to avoid their problems.” He flexed his crystalline fingers, feeling the subtle resistance in the joints.
A voice from the group piped up, rough with emotion, “No! Talking about my wife and child is not a pitiful thing.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Wyran clenched his fist, the leather of his glove creaking softly. “I’ve been struggling with my shield and sword a lot,” he admitted, his jaw tight and gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun painted the clouds in bruised purple and gold.
“Isn’t that your way of thinking because you’re running from things too?” Gloria asked, her eyes crinkling with a hidden smile beneath the edge of her new mask. The polished metal caught the fading light, reflecting a sliver of Ronin’s face back at him.
“Well, I’m no sage. I just have my own ideals,” Ronin replied, his gaze dropping to the shifting shadows on the ground as the horses moved.
“Hey, we all have them, don’t we?” Kade called back, turning with a grin that flashed white in the dappled sunlight. The others nodded, the horses’ manes rippling in the breeze as they rode through a patch of wildflowers that released a sweet, earthy scent.
Ronin eyed Gloria’s horse, noticing its sleek flanks unburdened by packs or bundles. “Why don’t you have any bags hanging on your horse?” he asked, curiosity sharpening his tone.
“Because I have this!” Gloria replied, her eyes sparkling as she pointed at the shimmering, translucent pouch. Light Reflected on it, casting prismatic patterns onto Ronin’s arm, it was a bit different than the ones Ronin had seen.
“Oh, of course, the dimensional pocket,” Ronin sighed, rolling his head back and feeling the stiff muscles in his neck crackle in protest.
“You’re one to talk,” Kade shot back, laughter rumbling in his chest. “You didn’t bring anything either. I assume the Old Man gave you one too?”
“It’s… complicated,” Ronin replied, his voice dropping to a hush as the wind picked up, carrying the distant cry of a hawk. “So I won’t say no, but don’t ask me more than that.”
A brief silence settled over the group, broken only by the rhythmic creak of saddles and the soft snort of a horse. Ronin finally spoke again.
“Anyway, what are these horses called?” Ronin asked, running his hand along the fine, silken mane of his steed, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath him with every stride.
“These bad boys? We call them Greizers,” the lead rider explained, pride coloring his words. “They’re adept at using wind and gravitational magic to levitate just above the ground, which gives them a strange, weightless glide. When they pick up speed, you can feel the air humming around their hooves. Not everyone can tame them—they’re a reaver-class beast breed.”
“Reaver class?!” Ronin’s eyebrows shot up. “Then can I assume we’re going this slow because of my artifact?” He eyed the group, catching their sheepish nods and shrugs. The horses’ pace felt almost lazy, the wind barely tugging at his cloak.
A pause hung in the air before Wyran asked, “Why do you never take off your artifact?” The question was quiet, almost lost beneath the steady rhythm of hooves and the creak of leather saddles.
Ronin turned his head, his gaze sharp beneath the mask, making the speaker drop his eyes. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice low.
“It’s Wyran…sir,” came the hesitant reply, barely more than a whisper.
Ronin let out a dry chuckle, the sound muffled by the mask. “Wyran? Did you know your name means ‘Deserted’?”
Gloria reached over and gave Ronin a sharp tap on the head, the movement swift despite the mask covering the lower half of her face. Her eyes narrowed above the mask, voice stern but slightly muffled. “Don’t be mean to him!”
Ronin rubbed the spot, feigning offense. “Hey! Why would you hit me? I’m just telling him its meaning!” His tone was light, the corners of Gloria’s eyes crinkling in silent amusement above the mask.
Kade spoke up, curiosity in his voice. “Even I’m interested in your answer to that question, to be honest.”
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the steady clop of hooves and the wind rustling through grass. All eyes turned to Ronin, then the group burst out together: “What?!”
Gloria leaned forward, her gaze sharp and incredulous above the mask that shielded her mouth and chin. “How can that be possible?”
“What do you mean how? It is what it is.” Ronin states flatly with a poker face
Ronin’s expression stayed unreadable. “What do you mean, how? It is what it is.”
Kade’s skeptical voice cut in, tossing a half-eaten purple apple to the plains. “An artifact loses its power when combined with or consumed by organic beings. It can only be used as an object or embedded onto something else before being used. You saying the artifact is a part of you is nigh impossible.” The others murmured their agreement, faces tight with disbelief.
Ronin shrugged, the motion making his cloak rustle. “It is what it is.” His voice was final, leaving the others to exchange dissatisfied glances as the horses continued their slow, steady march through the open plain.
Ronin squinted up at the sky, the sunlight glinting off the crystalline surface of his hand as he shielded his eyes. High above, Baverins wheeled in slow, wide arcs, their dark wings catching the light. “By the way, what are those birds doing over our heads? I have been noticing them since we departed,” Ronin asked, tracking their movement.
“Those are Baverins, they are large birds that Kade uses to scout the terrain,” Guothur replied, his deep voice steady as he watched the sky with practiced eyes.
Ronin turned in his saddle, studying the older man. “And, who are you?”
“I am Guothur. Except the Flame Queen, I am the oldest hunter in this group,” Guothur replied, a faint smile creasing the weathered skin around his eyes.
Ronin’s head tilted slightly in Gloria’s direction, the gesture subtle beneath the smooth, impassive surface of his full-face mask. His voice carried a note of curiosity, but his expression was hidden from view. “What do you mean, second oldest?”
Gloria’s eyes glinted with a hint of mischief above the lower half-mask that covered her mouth and chin. “Oh, it’s nothing. Dragons and gods have long lives. I’m almost a hundred years old, but for other species, that would be around twenty-five or twenty-six.” Her tone was light, pride shimmering in her gaze—she waited for Ronin to show even a flicker of jealousy.
But Ronin’s masked head turned away, his posture abruptly shifting as he spoke over her, “Kade, why did you let me sit with you? Doesn’t that cut your ability to use your power to scout?”
For a heartbeat, Gloria’s gaze lingered on him, her eyes losing their playful spark. The pride in her expression faltered, replaced by a brief, uncertain flicker. She shifted in her saddle, fingers tightening on the reins as a faint flush crept up her cheeks, hidden by her mask. The silence that followed was just a beat too long, awkward and heavy, before Kade answered.
Kade’s voice was calm, the steady clop of hooves and whisper of grass underscoring his words. “That’s because we’re not too far from town. I know these lands well. And I wanted to experience how it feels to navigate the terrain without sensing mana. I must say, the world looks like it’s lost its charm and glow because of sitting with you.”
Ronin adjusted his full-face mask, the gesture practiced and precise. “At least you can see one at a time. I can see both forms of the world at once. It’s nauseating, trust me.”
A deep, rumbling voice broke in, tinged with amusement. “Why do you wear a mask, are you trying to be more like Miss Gloria?” Jembo, the tiger beastman, teased, his striped ears flicking back.
Ronin turned his masked face toward Jembo, the expression unreadable, only the faintest tilt of his head betraying any reaction.
Jembo grinned, tail flicking. “Oh, I am Jembo. But feel free to call me Jem.”
Ronin thinks “I can’t just tell them, ‘Oh, it’s a high tech mask.’ ”.
Ronin’s gaze lingered, the black eye-slits of his mask fixed on Jembo in an attempt to distract him from the question. His voice was playful, “You don’t say ‘Nyan’ like that girl I saw near the guild. Is it because she was a cat and you’re a tiger?”
Jembo’s tail lashed, pride sharpening his words. “I’m surprised you know of Tigers. They were our ancestors. They live in the forbidden lands. But yes, you’re right—although we are relatives of the cat family, I hope you do not mistake us for them. They are animals, and we are not.” He emphasized his point with a firm nod.
“Yeah, right,” Ronin replied, his tone light. Jembo grunted, feigning annoyance.
Jembo shook his head, a resigned smile tugging at his mouth. “I should have kept my mouth shut.” The group’s laughter rippled through the air, mingling with the steady rhythm of hooves and the soft breeze.
As the day wore on, they gathered herbs and made a few small hunts, the earthy scent of crushed leaves and fresh game clinging to their clothes. By nightfall, they camped in an open field, the grass cool and damp beneath their boots, a patch of trees rustling nearby.
“Won’t you tie the horses?” Ronin asks
“Greizers are loyal companions, they won’t leave their riders even if a giant cyclops were to appear.” Jembo says
“Shit, you have those one eyed monsters here too?” Ronin asks
“They are everywhere.” Kade says
As the day sets in and night rises. Gloria insists ronin to make the meal, on which Ronin gives in and prepares the dinner.
He crouched by the campfire, the flames casting flickering shadows on his mask. The others gathered around, drawn by the promise of food and Gloria’s determined request, though Ronin grumbled under his breath.
Kade leaned in, eyes bright with anticipation. “I don’t have a favourable opinion of a veg diet, but the way the Old Man and Gloria talk about your cooking, I’m eager to taste it.”
Ronin shot Gloria a look. “Gloria, you have any dairy product with you?”
She rummaged in her dimensional pouch, pulling out a small jar. “Yes, I did bring some Traenicon milk, but unfortunately it’s ruined,” she said, disappointment creasing her brow above the half-mask.
“What’s a Traenicon?” Ronin asked, curiosity piqued.
“You don’t know about the rulers of the plains?!” Wyran blurted, scandalized.
Ronin rolled his eyes, the firelight glinting off his mask. “Gloria didn’t tell you I’m from the mountains?”
Wyran explained, “It’s a branch species of Binecons—the cosmic cow species.”
“Oh, so it’s a cow. Why not just say that?” Ronin muttered, snatching the jar from Gloria. He popped the lid, and a tangy, earthy scent of curd wafted up, thick and inviting. “You call this ruined? It’s perfect for a dish I’ve been dying to taste.”
He wiped the dust from a large steel pot Jembo had crafted, the cold metal ringing as he set it near the fire. Pouring in the curd and a splash of water, he stirred, the mixture swirling into a creamy base. He added a generous spoonful of flour and handed it to Gloria. “Stir it. Make it thick.”
Ronin’s knife flashed in the firelight as he chopped green chilies and garlic, their sharp, pungent aroma rising and mingling with the night air. He tossed in a handful of spices from Gloria’s stash—coriander, cumin, a pinch of turmeric, and a secret blend that made Gloria’s eyes widen with curiosity.
He glanced up. “This isn’t a restaurant, so you’re getting plain fry curry. That’s all.”
Wyran frowned. “We know curry, but what’s a plain fry curry?”
“It’s a dish that changes with the cook’s skill. Easy to make, hard to balance. You’ll see,” Ronin replied, voice low.
Gloria handed him the thickened dough. “Done.”
He nodded, adding a swirl of red chili powder and finely sliced green chilies, then returned the bowl to Gloria. “Stir again. Get the colour even.”
He heated a steel pan, the metal hissing as he poured in oil. The scent of hot oil and spices filled the air, making stomachs rumble. When the oil shimmered, he leaned over the pan, spooning in a heap of ground spices. “Brace yourselves. This’ll be spicy—don’t sneeze in the food.”
The spices hit the oil with a wild sizzle, sending up a cloud of mouthwatering, nose-tingling aroma. The campfire crackled, and even Ronin sneezed twice before folding in the dough, the mixture turning golden and crisp at the edges. The curry thickened, bubbling with flecks of green and red, the scent now a riot of tang, heat, and toasted flour.
“It’s ready. Bowls out. Bread ready,” Ronin commanded, voice sharp.
Sneezing and laughter echoed as they served themselves, the curry’s aroma so intense it made eyes water. Ronin sat with his share, puzzled when no one took a bite.
“Eat up,” he ordered.
Kade eyed his bowl warily. “I fear my intestines will burn if I eat something so spicy.”
Gloria gulped, then turned, lifting her mask just enough to dip bread into the curry. She took a slow, cautious bite—a long pause, then another, faster, her eyes widening with delight.
Seeing her eat, Wyran steeled himself and tried a bite. His face lit up. “UMMM! This is… jilecious!” he mumbled, mouth full, eyes wide. “I’ve never tasted anything so good!”
The others dug in, and soon the pot was scraped clean, every last drop mopped up with bread. The firelight danced on satisfied faces.
Kade licked his lips. “I take everything back! You’re cooking every time we hunt. Grandma Sil needs to try this!”
Ronin waved a hand, voice mock-menacing. “Hey, hey, this is a one-time deal. Next time, the dish might be you.”
The threat made everyone laugh—except Gloria, who just smiled behind her mask.
Ronin leaned back, exhaling. The warmth of the curry lingered, a pleasant burn on his tongue and a fullness in his chest. “That hit the spot. Now I can retire for the day.”
But Furvin licked his lips, frowning. “The dish is awesome, but it felt… incomplete.”
“Oh shut up, Furvin, it was PERFECT!” Jembo retorted.
Wyran nodded, “Now that you mention it, I too felt something missing.”
“You’re right,” Gloria agreed, thoughtful. Kade just looked at Ronin, waiting.
Ronin shrugged. “Well, you’re not wrong. It’s missing something fibrous—like roti. But there wasn’t enough flour, and the dish was meant for Gloria, so I couldn’t make it.”
“It was for both of us!” Gloria protested.
“You got just that much for both?” Ronin asked.
“What do you mean ‘just’?” Gloria snapped, Annoyance hinting in her voice.
“I can just eat a tree if I need to,” Ronin deadpanned, earning confused looks.
Gloria groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Stick to fighting, Ronin, I told you this before but your jokes suck, even worse in the wild.”
“Didn’t Old Dwarf tell you about my absorption ability?” Ronin asked.
“No,” Kade replied, frowning.
“Gosh, that Old Dwarf…” Ronin muttered. “I need sleep. No more discussions.”
Ronin let out a soft, muffled huff behind his mask and stretched out by the dying fire. Best I keep my abilities hidden for now. Too many eyes, too many questions, he thought, letting his body relax as if drifting into sleep.
The embers of the campfire glowed low, casting a gentle orange halo over the group as they settled into the hush of the forest night. The spicy tang of Ronin’s curry still lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of dew-soaked leaves and the faint musk of horses nearby. Stomachs full and tongues tingling, the hunters sprawled around the fire, some still licking their fingers, others already drifting toward sleep.
A gentle breeze rustled the canopy above, sending tiny motes of ash swirling skyward. Gloria, sitting a little apart, watched the flames dance, her mask hiding a small, contented smile. The memory of the meal—its creamy tang, the fiery bite of chilies, the subtle crunch of toasted flour—was still vivid on her tongue. She found herself craving just one more bite, wishing for a scrap of roti to mop up the last golden streaks from her bowl.
Kade, sprawled on his back, let out a low, satisfied groan. “I swear, Ronin, if you ever open a tavern, I’ll be your first customer. Even if you serve nothing but that plain fry curry.”
Jembo, still sniffling from the spice, grinned. “I’d pay extra for the nose-clearing effect. Beats any medicine I’ve tried.”
Ronin snorted softly, eyes already half-closed. “Don’t get used to it. Next time, you’re all eating whatever you can catch or dig up yourselves.”
Wyran, picking at the last crumbs in his bowl, said, “I’ve never tasted anything like it. The spices… the way the curd thickened, the crispy edges—how did you get that texture?”
Ronin’s lips twitched beneath his mask. “Trade secret. Maybe I’ll teach you if you survive this hunt.”
A companionable silence settled over the group, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant hoot of an owl. The night pressed in, cool and comforting, the afterglow of the meal warming them from within.
Gloria, emboldened by the camaraderie, glanced at Ronin. “Next time, I’ll bring more flour. And maybe some fresh herbs. You’ll have no excuse to hold back.”
Ronin grunted, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “You bring the ingredients, I’ll consider it. But only if you promise not to complain about the spice.”
She laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Deal. But you’ll have to teach me how to balance those Flavors. My last attempt nearly set the kitchen on fire.”
Jembo chimed in, “You should’ve seen it. Smoke everywhere. Even the horses sneezed.”
The group erupted in quiet laughter, the tension of the day melting away in the warmth of shared stories and full bellies.
“I will keep watch” Wyran says.
“Me too.” Gloria says, the sound of her clothes shifting fills the air.
A few minutes pass
Still hungry. Healing’s great, but this metabolism is a curse. I’m burning through energy faster than I can replace it, Ronin grumbled inwardly, his stomach already rumbling again.
As he gets up, he expected everyone except Wyran and gloria to be asleep.
He rose quietly, expecting only Wyran and Gloria to be awake. To his surprise, Wyran was slumped against a tree, snoring softly, and Gloria was curled up on the ground, shivering, looking more delicate than ever.
A faint smile tugged at Ronin’s lips. He slipped off his coat and gently draped it over Gloria’s shoulders, the heavy fabric cocooning her in warmth.
As he turned to leave, a small hand clutched at his pant leg. Gloria, eyes half-lidded with sleep, mumbled, “Where are you going?”
“Nature calls,” he replied in a low, gruff voice, careful not to wake the others.
Gloria’s hand fell away, and she rolled over, pulling his coat tighter around her. Ronin padded away into the trees, the forest swallowing him in shadow.
A few minutes passed. Gloria, cocooned in his coat, stirred. The warmth was comforting, and a faint, unfamiliar scent—smoke, steel, something wild—clung to the fabric. She pressed her nose to the collar, sighing. Then, as the night’s chill crept back in, she realized Ronin still hadn’t returned. He’s taking too long for a nature break. A frown creased beneath her mask. And we’re in dangerous territory…
She rose, careful not to wake the others, and slipped into the woods, following the faint trail Ronin had left. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, painting silver patterns on the leaf-littered ground. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and distant blossoms, the silence broken only by the chirr of crickets and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.
As she drew closer, she heard a low, almost reverent whisper—Ronin’s voice, carried on the breeze. “I’m sorry, friend. But I need your life to save mine.” He stood before an ancient tree, his armoured form half-shrouded in moonlight, mask glinting dully, posture solemn.
Gloria froze, heart pounding. She watched as Ronin pressed his palm to the trunk. Slowly, impossibly, the tree’s colour began to drain, its leaves curling and bark cracking as if its very life was being siphoned away. The air grew colder, the shadows deepening around him.
“Oh gods…” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Ronin’s head snapped in her direction, his masked face unreadable but his posture suddenly tense. A faint red glow flickered behind the left eye-slit of his mask—predatory, unnatural.
“Gloria?” His voice was sharp, a ripple of alarm and something rawer beneath. “Why are you here?”
Shit, I let my guard down. Ronin thinks
Gloria’s training took over. She drew her sword, levelling it at him, her hands trembling but her voice steady. “Ronin… what are you? Who are you really?”
He let out a long, muffled sigh, shoulders sagging. “You shouldn’t have followed me. I told you I was just… lightening myself.”
“You call this lightening? Don’t lie to me!” Gloria’s voice cracked, a mix of anger and fear. “I saw you drain the life from that tree. That’s not something any normal person can do. Are you even Ronin? Or a demon?”
So she thinks I am a demon, I need to deescalate this situation. Ronin thought
He stepped forward, hands raised, palms open. “I am Ronin. I wish I could give you a better answer, but that’s all I have.” His voice was calm, but there was a gravity to it, a weight that made her chest tighten.
She hesitated, sword still raised. “That’s not enough to trust you—”
He cut her off, a note of vulnerability slipping through the mask. “You have every right to be afraid. But I promise you, I’m not your enemy. Not now, not ever.”
The silence between them was thick, the air heavy with the scent of dying leaves and cold earth. Ronin’s hand drifted out, not toward her, but toward the coat she clutched unconsciously to her chest.
“…May I have my coat back?” His tone was softer now, almost pleading.
Gloria blinked, caught off guard, and thrust the coat at him, her cheeks burning beneath her mask. “Don’t change the subject.”
He accepted the coat, wrapping it around his shoulders. For a moment, he just stood there, the two of them separated by confusion and fear.
“Do you… hate me now?” The words were barely audible, muffled by the mask, but raw with vulnerability.
Gloria’s grip on her sword loosened. “No. I don’t hate you. I just—” She faltered, searching for words. “I don’t understand. And that scares me.”
Ronin nodded, the red glow in his mask dimming. “I don’t blame you. I barely understand myself.”
A hush fell, broken only by the distant chirr of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves. The forest felt both impossibly vast and claustrophobically close.
He finally broke the silence. “Now that you know about this, I might as well show you the rest. Remember how my spear disappeared as I turned out of my room?” He extended his right hand, and with a shimmer, the Ramoon Spear materialized, cosmic runes glinting in the moonlight. Gloria’s eyes widened.
“How…?” she whispered, awe and fear mingling in her voice.
“I call it the dimensional ability,” Ronin said quietly. “It just… happened one day. I’m still learning how to use it. My left eye stores things. I wish I could explain it better.”
Gloria’s grip tightened on her sword again, but her voice softened. “Just—How much are you hiding? And Why tell me this? You barely know me. I haven’t even told you the full extent of my powers—and not like they’d work on you anyway.”
Ronin’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe because… I want someone to know who I am, even if it’s just a glimpse.”
She let out a shaky breath, lowering her sword. “It’s midnight. We can talk more later. Let’s head back.”
He nodded, turning, but paused. “By the way… how far are we from Illumin Forest?”
She sheathed her sword, voice clipped but steadier. “Another day, maybe. We’d have been there by now if it weren’t for you.”
He stopped, the moonlight catching the edge of his mask. “Gloria.”
She flinched. “Yes?”
I am supposed to be her god’s father. It falls on me to protect her, but what if she thinks I am a monster?. Ronin’s mind spiral.
“Do I… scare you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and uncertain.
Gloria hesitated, then nodded, her voice trembling. “You do. Who wouldn’t be?” She came out raw “Magic doesn’t work on you, runes fizzle, you’re terrifyingly good at martial arts, and you killed the demon lord without being a hero. You’re the first person since the Great Holy War to be unaffected by the curse.”
He stared at his crystalline hand, voice shaking. “I get it. I try not to let it show, but… even I’m scared of what I’m becoming. I just hope I don’t turn into the mindless monster I was before I met the old dwarf.”
“You’re not a bad person, Ronin.” Gloria’s hands clenched around her armoured skirt, her voice trembling but sincere. “You’re just… lost. That happens to everyone at one point or other. That’s life.”
He let out a shaky breath, relief flickering across his hidden face. “Didn’t think I’d hear that from anyone but the old Dwarf.”
Instead of helping her, she is the one helping me instead. I guess I am still as useless as I was before. Ronin thinks.
They walked back in silence, the night air thick with unspoken questions and the scent of damp earth.
At the edge of camp, Gloria asked, almost shyly, “What will you do if your sister forgives you?”
He hesitated, then spoke, voice distant but more open than before. “Maybe… repay my father and grandfather. Rebuild the family. But my hands are bloodied. I’ve destroyed more families than I can count. Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve a second chance.”
Gloria’s tone softened, curiosity and compassion mingling. “Rebuild? How?”
He stared at the ground, voice rough. “Buy land, build a house somewhere peaceful. Help raise my niece. Maybe try to live a life that isn’t about running or fighting or hiding.”
“And if they don’t forgive you, or don’t want to live with you?”
He paused, the question hanging heavy. “I… haven’t thought about that. Maybe I’d just… keep wandering. Try to help where I can. Or disappear.”
Gloria’s voice was gentle. “In most traditions, the eldest starts a family of his own. Marries, leads. Have you considered that?”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Me, marry? At this age? Oh, right… I’m back in my late twenties. Feels like a lifetime ago.”
She smiled, just a little, behind her mask. “You could do worse.”
He shrugged, the movement weary. “I’ll think about it after my contracts are done.”
“Contracts?” Gloria pressed.
He hesitated, then let the words spill. “I’m a hitman. Still have jobs to finish. Not a pretty line of work. But it’s all I know. Maybe one day I’ll be free of it. Maybe not.”
“Must be hard,” she murmured as they reached camp.
Ronin didn’t reply, dropping to sit by the dying embers.
“I’ll keep watch. You can sleep,” he said, voice soft.
“But what about you?” Gloria asked, worry flickering in her eyes.
“I’ll sleep during the day.” He nodded
Gloria finally succumbed to her sleep.
Ronin sat awake, mind churning, trying to control the strange barrier within him. The night stretched on, silent but for the crackle of coals and distant animal calls.
Dawn crept over the horizon, painting the world in pale gold. The others stirred, groggy and stiff. Though the sun was not yet visible, suggesting its still a few hours before it does.
“You were up all night?” Kade asked, eyeing Ronin’s haggard posture.
“Yeah. Surprised you all can sleep so soundly out here,” Ronin replied, voice flat.
“I get the newbie Wyran being out, but Gloria? You too?” Kade teased.
Gloria shrugged, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I’m the leader. Ronin said he’d keep watch.”
“He did?” Kade looked at Ronin, who just nodded.
“Alright, everyone, eat up and let’s move!” Gloria called, her voice regaining its usual authority.
They packed up, mounting their horses and eating breakfast in the saddle.
Ronin sits with Jembo this time.
Kade offered Ronin a loaf of bread, but he shook his head.
“Come on, man, you can’t run on just one bowl of curry. You’ll keel over,” Kade insisted.
“Instructor Kade’s right,” Jembo purred, tail flicking.
Ronin smirked. “And here I thought you were above cat clichés.”
“We’re serious, Mister Ronin,” Furvin said, glancing back.
Ronin shrugged, voice casual. “Told you, I’d eat a tree if I had to. Did so last night.”
Furvin snorted. “Pfft. Sure, a tree. Next you’ll say you eat rocks for dessert.”
After a few hours had asses
The sun had crested the horizon, painting the plains in pale gold, when Kade’s shout snapped everyone out of their morning lull.
“Halt! By the Gods, look at that!” Kade pointed sharply to the east, his voice tight.
The group reined in, eyes squinting into the distance. On the far horizon, a dark, undulating mass crept across the land—skeletal banners and the glint of rusted armor catching the light.
Ronin rubbed his eyes, then with a frustrated huff, unfastened his mask and pulled it off, letting the cool morning air hit his face. His hair was damp with sweat, jaw set, eyes sharp and restless. “What’s that? Looks like a moving graveyard.”
Kade’s jaw tightened. “A huge-ass army of skeletons and undead filth. Seven hundred strong, at least. Death knights, rot golems… the works.”
As Ronin squinted, his left eye tingled—vision sharpening, then zooming in with unnatural clarity. He could make out the flicker of necromantic fire in empty sockets, the shamble of bone and rotted flesh. He blinked, startled. “Huh. My eye just zoomed in. That’s new.”
Jembo gave him a sidelong look. “Your eyes zoom now? What are you, a hawk?”
Ronin shrugged, rubbing his exposed face. “I don’t know. I just focus and… it happens.”
“How did you do it?” Gloria asked, her gaze lingering on his now-unmasked features.
Ronin shot her a dry look. “Don’t ask me for a manual. I barely know how half my body works.” He turned to Kade. “How can you see them? Special eyes like mine?”
Kade’s attention flicked between the horizon and a black bird circling above the undead. “I’m scouting through my Baverian. That bird’s my eyes out there—I can piggyback its vision. That’s how I knew what was coming.”
Ronin’s lips twitched. “That’s actually cool.”
Wyran piped up, “Kade’s always had a way with beasts. Animals trust him.”
“Is that so?” Ronin mused, but before Wyran could answer, Gloria’s voice cut through the chatter.
She rode up beside Ronin, her tone all business. “We need to move. Fast. We’re not fighting that army.”
Kade was already tugging his reins. “If they spot us, we’re dead. Even the best fighters would struggle with a death knight, let alone a whole army.”
Jembo’s tail flicked, brushing Ronin’s cheek. “We’re not paid enough for this,” he grumbled.
Ronin looked at the group, then at the Greizer horses, their manes shimmering with pent-up magic. He took a deep breath, mask dangling from his hand. “You know… I’ve been thinking. We’re crawling along because of my artifact, right?”
Gloria eyed him, skeptical. “What are you suggesting?”
Ronin’s lips curled into a confident grin, his face open for the first time. “Let’s pick up the pace. If I’m not riding, your Greizers can use their wind and gravity magic again. My artifact only affects things around me in a limited radius. I can run alongside—or ahead. I’ll finally see what these horses can really do.”
Kade Frowned. “Don’t kid around Ronin. We don’t have time for that. I will keep one Baverians watching over that army lets get out of this place before we get malice sickness.”
Ronin’s eyes flashed, and he swung off his horse, stretching his legs. “I’m not joking, Kade. Back at Dratnir Bridge, I ran at 110 kilometers an hour for hours—carrying a dwarf, without one on my back I am sure I can out pace these steads.”
The steads seem to understand as they recoil with flutters of lips.
“Now its about their pride” Kade says calming his horse “If you lag behind for even a minute, we are forcing you back on the horse back.”
“Works for me.” Ronin says as he gets ready to blitz off.