"The Crimson Tribe? Did you choose that name just to please this new God?" Akrion smirked, his eyes sliding toward Shelya as if urging her to add her own barb. But she only bit her lower lip and said nothing.

The veins on Mirion's forehead swelled, but he held his tongue, thinking that the mission came first. Ninali, however, wasn't about to show the same restraint. She was already drawing in a sharp breath when Avenor spoke instead.

"Careful, Vael Akrion," he said with a faint smile, resting his hand on Huanir's neck. The beast rumbled low, its growl carrying the weight of threat. "We came to fight monsters, not to suffer insults to our God."

With that, Avenor slid down from Huanir in a clean jump. The tharuun towered now, nearly double the size it had been before my blessing a few days ago. Somehow, the effects on him had been greater than on the others - his body broader, his gaze fiercer, and two yellow horns sprouting from his brow as if he was slowly becoming something more.

Under normal circumstances, a sharp rebuke from the smallest tribe would probably have earned Akrion's fury. But the memory of Avenor calling on me, and my smiting of one of the spider mutants in answer, must have been etched in his mind. That display had cost me dearly back then, but seeing Akrion bow his head now made it worthwhile.

"You are correct. No mortal should ever disrespect a deity," Akrion said at last, his voice flatter than his posture as he lowered his head.

"Now that it is settled, let us discuss strategy," Othrien interjected smoothly, cutting off any chance for the tension to rise again. He flicked his wrist toward one of his mages, who began forming a dark green diagram in the air. A moment later, thick green vines burst from the ground, curling into six chairs that rooted themselves into a circle.

They weren't ornate, but the control behind them was obvious, which likely meant that the mage had mastered his nature magic.

The Vaels glanced at one another, each waiting for the first move. It didn't take long. Othrien lowered himself into a chair with surprising speed, a pleased hum slipping from him as his old legs finally stopped their protest.

"Has anyone scouted the entrance?" Dariel asked, folding his massive arms as he dropped into one of the vine chairs. The wood creaked under his weight, forcing him to spread his legs wider to shift the load.

"Obviously," Akrion snorted, scanning the other Vaels with his nose held high. "Our glorious tribe scouted the tunnels until the mounts sensed the monsters' presence. The beasts panicked, and we were forced to retreat."

His smug attitude irritated me enough that I decided to shake his confidence while lifting the image of my tribe at the same time. I narrowed my focus on Mirion and slowly pushed the vision into him.

I should have thought of this earlier.

I had warned Tekla about the nest so that my squad would be prepared, but I hadn't shown her the vision itself. I'd thought it might damage my image - a god doing scouting hardly sounded divine. That was what I had assumed. I no longer believed it. I was certain the Velmoryns would see any act of mine as godly, so long as I didn't fail.

I can't allow him to lose consciousness.

Tekla had always blacked out whenever I granted her a vision, but Mirion's body was stronger. I was hopeful he could endure. Still, I extended some of my divine power to steady him, wrapping it around his mind in case he faltered. If he collapsed now, it would be a humiliation, both for me and for my tribe.

A faint crimson aura swirled around him, energy I had wished invisible but could not erase completely. It carried weight, enough to be sensed by anyone with high magical perception.

Aria raised her brows the moment she recognized it. She closed her eyes, as if trying to register its source. Othrien flinched but quickly composed himself, gaze fixed on Mirion, whose eyes had gone unfocused.

"It's impossible…" Shelya muttered, fingers tightening around the edge of her robe as her eyes darted about but avoided Mirion entirely.

I guided the vision into him as gently as I could. He saw what the basilisk had witnessed: hundreds of spider mutants sleeping in the tunnels, thousands of eggs swelling in the dark, and the strange entity bound at the center. I revealed its power but kept hidden the fact that the mysterious being was already grievously wounded. My victory would seem more glorious that way.

The mages sensed the divine aura even through my attempts to conceal it, while the fighters who relied on their physique remained oblivious. But one exception stood out.

Lyle.

The twin blades strapped across her back marked her as a dual-wielder, but the way her eyes lingered on Mirion told another story. Her magical perception was sharper than the others', strong enough that she must have been skilled in magic as well. That explained how someone so young had already risen to the seat of a Vael.

Her gaze stayed fixed on Mirion. No fear, no caution. Only curiosity.

[Warning: Passing the Divinity consumed 0.3 Divinity Points!]

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Mirion's eyes slowly regained focus, his mind still heavy with the vision he had just seen.

"This must be how Tekla feels whenever High Father communicates with her…" He had already realized the source of the vision. "Lord, thank You!" His voice reached me, eyes alight with resolve.

The others had been watching him closely. Even Dariel and Akrion seemed to sense a silent exchange had taken place, but since it had only been seconds, none spoke.

"I also have information to share," Mirion said after blinking hard, as if trying to shake off the lingering dizziness. "There are at least three types of monsters inside. Two of them we've already seen outside, attacking our tribes. But the third is different. Pale, smaller than the rest… I don't know their strength or how they fight."

The other Vaels exchanged doubtful glances at first, but as Mirion added more detail, skepticism gave way to concern. Surprise spread across their faces.

"How exactly do you know all this?" Akrion snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Everything that happens, happens by our Lord's will," Mirion answered without hesitation. His voice was cold, indifferent, and it only seemed to fuel Akrion's anger.

"Answer…" Akrion began, but a deep, cold voice cut across him.

"That's enough." Dariel sneered, muscles swelling beneath his clothes. His hatred for the Blue Tribe's Vael had been simmering ever since he learned how he and Joriel had schemed to start a war between tribes, and Akrion's current actions only deepened it. "We are here to cooperate, not question each other. Otherwise, if anyone should be speaking with you, it would be me."

Othrien, Lyle, and Shelya furrowed brows in confusion, their eyes darting between Akrion, Dariel, and Mirion. They must have realized there was history there, though none seemed to know the truth.

"Hmph." Akrion crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair, the wood groaning under the strain.

Othrien's staff struck the ground once, a hollow thud that pulled eyes back to him.

"Do we know how many monsters are in the nest?" he asked quickly, eager to steer the talk back to the subject.

"Thousands," Mirion responded. "Most are the same kind that already attacked our tribes."

"So they've truly multiplied," Othrien muttered, his finger tapping along the shaft of his staff.

Faces around the circle grew dark. Even Akrion seemed unsettled, scratching his chin with absent thought. But Mirion wasn't finished.

"And that's not the worst of it." His gaze shifted to Dariel. "There is one entity far stronger than the rest. Its aura is overwhelming, its mana denser than anything I've ever felt."

"That must be the Mother," Akrion said, unimpressed, though this time his tone carried no disdain. "The last time we entered the nest and tried to eradicate them, she slaughtered our combined forces. That is why I asked Avenor for help."

The Vaels nodded in agreement. Even those who had never set foot in the nest had heard the stories.

"The last time, our strategy was simple," Akrion said. "Mages and archers stayed at the rear while the frontline fought as hard as they could. Unfortunately, healers are not very effective inside the nest. There is some kind of aura that weakens healing magic while boosting dark magic."

Othrien nodded, tapping his staff as though confirming his words.

"That is one of the things I wanted to warn you about. Healers below Gold Rank must stay outside. They won't be able to help in the nest, and they'll die without achieving anything."

"But Vael Othrien, Gold Rank healers… Do we even have those?" Dariel muttered, scanning the table only to see Shelya lower her head. Even Akrion avoided his gaze. Lyle, however, looked back unbothered. It was clear to everyone that the Brown Tribe had brought no mages, let alone healers. They were only warriors.

"We have one," Othrien said proudly. "But I need guarantees she will be in the center of our forces with at least three Gold Ranks guarding her at all times."

"We also have one," Mirion said, catching everyone off guard. "And Vaelari has his own guardian. He doesn't require additional protection."

Eyes widened around the circle. Even Dariel looked shocked. He knew Vaelari was a healer, but he had assumed the man was a Silver Rank.

"Your… your tribe has a Gold Rank healer?" Shelya stammered, chewing her lower lip and tracing a half-moon on her chest as if to ward off the devil.

When Mirion added nothing further, Akrion seized the moment again.

"Actually, there is a reason I mentioned the failure of the last campaign," he said, shaking his head. "The strategy itself was one of the reasons we lost so badly that only a handful survived. The frontline carried all the burden while mages, archers, and healers took their time at range. In the end it was melee fighters with enchanted blades who did the most work, but their lives were thrown away while others barely scratched the monsters' chitin."

Othrien and Shelya's eyes widened, their gazes fixed on him as he pressed on.

"This time, we must ensure the campaign does not fail. We have all brought our strongest warriors, and if we lose, no one will be left to protect our tribes. We cannot allow the frontline to sacrifice themselves for lesser fighters. Our tactics must be efficient, not bound by tradition. Asking for three Gold Ranks to protect one healer is wasteful. How many Gold Ranks do we even have? We cannot squander them like that."

Othrien pressed his lips thin; he must've assumed that only his tribe had a Gold Rank healer. Now, his unreasonable demand had turned against him in a way that undercut his authority.

"Our blades are sharper, our warriors harder. No tribe here can match us!" Akrion boomed, glaring at every Vael as if daring contradiction.

"I beg to differ," Mirion cut in coldly. "If it is equipment we are comparing, I am certain our tribe is better supplied than any of yours."

He didn't explain why. He simply gestured toward the Velmoryns behind him, every one of them clad in enchanted armor and carrying rune-inscribed weapons. Even the mages' robes had inscriptions, their staves carved by Gundir himself - though the Drukyr had always claimed his engraving was nothing special.

"How is that possible?" The words slipped from Akrion before he could stop them. He could see with his own eyes that the Crimson Tribe's equipment outmatched the others'. What he could not know was that my tribe had no potions or elixirs, nothing that a master blacksmith could not forge.

"So by your logic," Mirion continued, "it should be our tribe stationed at the rear, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

Akrion clenched his jaw, but he couldn't refute his own logic.

"We don't want that," Mirion said with a thin smile. "This campaign will succeed by our Lord's will! We will propose a plan that makes use of every tribe's strengths. But for it to work, I need all of you to cooperate."

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