Kale stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the light of dawn creeping through the tent's flap. The faint warmth of the rising sun brushed against his face, but something felt… off. He sat up slowly, wincing slightly, still sore from the previous day's battle. The tent was silent, almost unnervingly so.

He looked around, and he realized he was alone.

"Figures," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. I'm the last one to wake up. Guess someone decided to let me sleep.

As he stretched, something else tugged at the edge of his awareness—a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his senses. It wasn't just the lingering ache of battle. It was deeper, sharper. Familiar.

Kale froze. A level-up.

"Huh."

Must've happened during the chaos. Didn't even notice. Too busy trying not to die I guess.

Curiosity overtook him, and he sat back down, focusing inward. The world around him seemed to fade as his mind zeroed in on the subtle hum of energy coursing through him. A new skill awaited his discovery.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself, and opened the mental menu of his abilities. As he focused, the name of the new skill lit up in his mind.

Threads of Silver Ruin.

It was elegant, almost beautiful, but the explanation that followed left no doubt about its purpose: Razor-sharp, flexible threads of steel, laced with cutting edges and designed to slice, ensnare, and destroy.

Kale frowned, leaning forward as the details settled in. He couldn't help but recall the thorny vines from the verdant fury—the way they'd lashed at him, bound him, pierced his armor. The memory still made his skin crawl, but now, he saw the parallel.

Curiosity stirred in his chest. He raised his hand cautiously, willing the threads to appear. For a moment, nothing happened, then, with a sharp, metallic hiss, they erupted from his palm.

Silver strands laced with jagged edges shot forward, their speed catching him off guard. They lashed out wildly, slicing through the tent wall as if it were paper. Kale flinched as the fabric collapsed in a heap, leaving the opening flapping in the morning breeze.

"Whoops," he said, quickly retracting the threads. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed his accidental handiwork. It remained quiet, save for the faint rustling of the shredded tent flap.

Guess I need to practice.

This time, he tried a slower approach, focusing on control. The threads unfurled like liquid steel, glinting faintly. He marveled at their precision, watching as they coiled through the air, responding to his every thought. A flick of his wrist sent them curving in graceful arcs, their edges whistling faintly with each movement.

He experimented further, wrapping the threads around a nearby chair. The wire coiled effortlessly around its legs, slicing into the wood with a faint crackling sound. Kale gave a cautious tug, and the chair creaked as splinters began to form along the points of contact. A twist of his wrist, and the threads tightened, cutting cleanly through one of the legs. The chair toppled, collapsing into a pile of severed pieces.

He stared at the fragments for a moment "Efficient," he said, retracting the threads again. They shimmered faintly before vanishing entirely, leaving no trace of their presence except for the wreckage on the ground.

Threads of Silver Ruin. Alright. That's enough for now, he thought. I should see how Rika is doing.

Kale got to his feet, brushing off the splinters that clung to his pants. As he stepped out of the torn tent, the early morning air greeted him. He looked around the quiet camp until he spotted Rika.

She was wandering through the aftermath of the battlefield. It looked as though she had washed the blood off her skin, her turquoise hair loose and untamed, no longer tied in her signature two ponytails. Even from a distance, she looked… different.

Kale's eyes followed her as she approached one of the corpses—the woman who had taunted them before the battle. A shadowfang, Namara had called her. Rika crouched next to the body and pulled out a small knife. He watched as she sliced a piece of leather from the corpse's armor, seemingly unconcerned by the grim task.

She rose, the leather in her hand, and walked toward another body. This time, it was the verdant fury. Rika knelt, cutting off a thin vine from the tangle of thorny growth that had withered around the corpse. Straightening, she used the vine to pull her loose hair back, tying it into a single messy ponytail.

Kale watched as she sat on a nearby rock and began working the leather piece into an eyepatch. Her movements were steady, but there was a quietness to her that unsettled him. She wasn't the grinning, bold Rika he was used to.

After watching her for a short time, he stepped closer. Her golden eye looked up to meet his, and she gave him a small, almost sad smile, a mix of emotions Kale couldn't quite read. There was a weight to it: a quiet sadness, but also gratitude, relief, and maybe… something brighter.

He reached out, gently aiming for her shoulder, but she flinched. Not much, just a reflex. Enough.

Kale froze, pulling his hand back without a word. Her golden eye flicked up to meet his again. That same sad smile, but this time… tinged with apology.

"Hey," he said. "Are you okay?"

Rika looked down at the leather in her hands, smoothing it absently with her thumb. She hesitated before answering. "I'm… getting there." Her voice was steady, but there was a crack beneath the surface, something she was trying hard to hide.

Kale crouched next to her, not pressing, just letting the moment sit. "You don't have to hide it," he said after a moment.

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She glanced at him, her expression faltering. "I know," she whispered. "But I need to be strong. For all of us."

"You already are."

Rika blinked, her eye shimmering briefly before she looked away, focusing back on the eyepatch she was making. "Thanks," she said quietly. "I'm glad you're here."

Kale smiled faintly, sitting down on the ground beside her. "Always."

Kale shifted, leaning forward slightly as he watched her work on the makeshift eyepatch.

"Rika… I'm sorry."

She paused, her hands stilling as she looked at him. "For what?"

"For not getting to you sooner. We tried, but… we had to find a way to deal with Voss first. We couldn't just charge in without a plan. We weren't fast enough, and you paid the price. I'm sorry we let you down. I'm sorry we weren't faster."

Rika studied him, then shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "Kale, you don't have to apologize for that. You did come. You saved me. That's what matters."

"But—"

"No 'but,'" she cut him off. "You think I don't know how impossible that situation was? You did what you had to. And I… I held out as long as I could. I knew you would come for me."

Her voice wavered slightly at the last words.

"I'm just—" Kale hesitated, searching for the right words. "I'm glad you're still here."

Rika's smile grew a fraction wider, though her eye glistened with unshed tears. "Yeah. Me too." She glanced down at the leather in her hands, smoothing it again with her thumb. "They wanted me to break, you know. They didn't even want information. They just… wanted to see me beg."

"But you didn't."

"No. I didn't."

He smiled, a mixture of pride and sadness. "That's the Rika I know."

Her expression softened again, and she looked away, focusing back on her work. "I wasn't sure I'd make it, but every time I thought I couldn't take another second, I thought about you. And Liliana. I thought, They'll come. I just have to hold on."

Kale's throat tightened, and he nodded, though she wasn't looking at him. "We'll always come for you, Rika. Always."

Rika held up the finished eyepatch. "There. Not bad for something I threw together in the middle of a war zone, huh?"

Kale chuckled. "Didn't take you for the creative type."

She laughed softly, slipping the eyepatch over her missing eye and adjusting the strap. When she looked back at him, there was a glimmer of something brighter in her expression—something closer to the Rika he knew. "Thanks, Kale," she said, her voice steady now. "For everything."

Her gaze flicked to the side, landing on her warhammer. "And… for bringing Guts," she added softly, hefting the weapon in one hand. Despite its massive size, it looked like it belonged there, like a piece of her had been restored.

"We couldn't leave it behind," Kale said. "You'd miss that old thing too much."

Rika ran her fingers along the worn grip, her thumb brushing over the familiar grooves. "It means a lot," she said, then turned back to him, her eye meeting his. "You mean a lot."

Kale's throat tightened again, but this time he managed to speak. "Well, you know. Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble."

Rika laughed—a quiet, genuine laugh that felt like a small victory in itself. She shouldered Guts. "If I remember correctly you're the one who's always getting us into trouble."

"Hey, I'm just giving you opportunities to show off."

Rika smiled faintly. "Right. Always thinking of others, aren't you?"

Kale shrugged. "I can't help it."

She paused at that. "You're a good guy, Kale. A pain in the ass sometimes, but… a good guy."

Kale didn't answer right away. He got quiet, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment.

After everything she's been through, after all this… Rika still thinks I'm a good guy.

The thought sat heavy with him, more than he cared to admit. But before the silence stretched too far, something else clicked in his mind.

"We didn't just bring Guts," he said.

"What do you mean?"

Kale gestured toward the camp. "There's someone else you should meet."

She frowned, her eye narrowing as she tried to piece it together. "Someone else?"

"Come on," Kale said, starting back toward the camp. "You'll see."

As they walked back into the camp, Rika spotted the others gathered near the edge, talking quietly. Namara was lounging against a tree, Sadek stood near the harriers, and Liliana was seated, absently twisting a strand of her white hair.

Oh, I love the eyepatch," Namara said. "Makes you look fierce."

Rika touched the edge of the patch, her expression skeptical. "Fierce, huh?"

"Absolutely. Might even scare Kale into behaving for once."

"I don't scare that easily," Kale said.

"Hmm, I don't know," Namara teased. "I seem to recall a certain someone screaming like a girl when I—"

"Namara," Liliana interrupted.

Namara grinned but said nothing more.

Kale cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Hey, Rika. There's… something else we need to do. Something for you."

"What do you mean?"

Rika's attention drifted to the harriers. One of them shifted, and its obsidian-like scales shimmered with faint undertones of crimson and gold. Its segmented mandibles clicked softly, the faint sound sending a shiver down her spine. Unlike the others, which remained still and watchful, this one moved. It took a step forward, its eye-slits narrowing slightly as if assessing her.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Kusari harriers," Liliana said. "They're a breed of harrier created by the beastmasters at the Bastion."

"They're meant to be bonded mounts," Kale explained, stepping to her side. "We all went through the bonding ritual to ride them. Now it's your turn."

"Ritual? What kind of ritual?" Rika asked.

"It's simple," Liliana said. "You exchange blood. It's not just symbolic, it binds you to the harrier, and it to you."

Rika watched as the harrier closed the remaining distance, its movements smooth. Up close, the details of its chitinous body became clear—the ridged fins along its neck, the whip-like tail ending in serrated spines, and the faint pulse of its breathing that made the air around it feel charged.

Rika studied the harrier in front of her. It clicked its mandibles softly, tilting its angular head. "And if it's not willing?"

"They're not pets," Sadek said. "They don't follow unless there's something worth following. But this one hasn't stopped staring at you since you got here."

"Alright," she said. "What do I need to do?"

Kale handed her a small blade. "The ritual is simple. You cut yourself and offer your blood. If it accepts, it will return the gesture. When the exchange is complete, the bond forms."

"What if it doesn't like me?" she asked, half-joking but with a trace of genuine concern.

Kale shrugged. "Then it's got terrible taste."

Rika laughed softly, then took the blade, glancing at the others. Liliana gave her an encouraging nod.

"Fine," Rika said. She held the blade steady, drawing it carefully across her forearm. A thin line of blood welled up, trailing down her skin.

The harrier stepped closer, making soft clicking sounds. Its angular jaws parted slightly as it examined the fresh cut on Rika's arm.

The harrier moved, its segmented mandibles parting further as it lowered its head. Rika held her breath as it leaned in, its needle-like teeth glinting briefly before it pressed them against its own foreleg. It bit down sharply, drawing a drop of thick, dark ichor from the wound.

The harrier turned its head back toward her, offering its foreleg. Rika hesitated only a moment before leaning forward, her lips brushing against the wound. The ichor was bitter, metallic, and sharp as it touched her tongue.

The harrier straightened, and before she could process the heat coursing through her veins, it struck. It bit into her arm just below the cut she had made. The sharpness of its needle-like teeth was tempered by an almost surgical care, and the pain was fleeting.

As the harrier withdrew, a golden rune flared to life over the bite mark on her arm, glowing with radiant intensity before settling into her skin like a faint tattoo. The warmth surged again, and Rika stumbled slightly, catching herself before she fell.

The harrier tilted its head, its luminous slits shifting from their natural pale light to a striking golden hue, mirroring her own eye.

"What's its name?" Kale asked.

Rika blinked, her breathing still uneven. But the answer was clear, as if it had been whispered directly into her mind.

"Eryxis."

The harrier lowered its head, almost as if bowing, and clicked its mandibles in response.

"Welcome to the team, Eryxis," said Kale.

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