"I think I've got something."

Imani shifts toward me but says nothing, waiting.

I tweak the frequency and narrow my gaze in that direction, but the mountain fog blurs everything. Still, I catch faint movement. Tiny dots.

I push Overdrive. My senses sharpen, vision clears just a little. The shapes come into focus—barely.

"I think it's Arjun and a couple of others, close to the west base of the mountain range. They're fighting… small raptors, I think. Not a hundred percent sure." I pause, trying to make out more, but that's all I get. "Can't tell much beyond that. Either way, I'm heading down. You guys follow after. And… take my backpack."

Imani nods, and takes it from me without a word.

I drop.

My body arcs downward—more glide than descent. My mass accelerates under gravity's pull, but I bend that pull, redirect it, push against it.

Air howls past. My body cuts through the fog like a knife. Four kilometers below—still far, but closing fast.

The cold stings my face. The wind roars. My wave output ramps higher—buffering drag, adjusting orientation. I shift my angle, let the slope steepen under me, gain speed deliberately.

Below, faint flashes—like sparks through smoke.

Then movement.

I focus—eyes narrow. Shapes flicker through mist. Arjun. Mid-dodge. His shots echo sharp and clean—three in sequence.

The others are spaced out—back-to-back in a rough arc, trying to hold ground. Raptors. Sleek, low, brutal. Clawed limbs. Muscular torsos. Antennae flaring, twitching. Metallic ridges shimmer down their backs like embedded circuit spines. They're fast—blurring across rock with unnatural coordination.

I flick a wave forward.

"Need some help?"

"Sure."

I press harder.

My trajectory shifts—a low glide becomes a hard dive. I magnetize again—armor sizzling faintly under pressure. I don't slow yet. The ground rises below, a clearing just beyond a broken ridge.

Then—release.

Waves blast outward. Counter-thrust. My momentum decelerates sharply. I flick two bullets from my pouch with a practiced motion—mid-air, I catch them in a controlled EM spin, tighten the frequency, and fire.

Both shots strike clean—rear legs of two raptors. Just enough to collapse their stance. They tumble sideways, claws scrabbling, impact breaking formation.

I descend the last hundred meters like a thunderbolt.

Impact.

The earth groans. Stone cracks. Dust erupts in all directions. Raptors flinch—shrieking in a chorus of static and sound.

I'm already moving.

Blade drawn mid-slide, I slash through the first raptor as it charges—spine to chest, a full diagonal cleave. Blood sprays high, coating my visor. It collapses mid-stride.

I pivot, duck low beneath the next—its claws whistle past my ear. I drive upward with the full force of my legs, slam my shoulder into its ribs. Bones crack. It sails sideways, smashing into a boulder and going still.

Snarl behind me.

I spin, blade trailing. A second swipe—lower, horizontal. I meet it halfway. Metal hits scale—sparks fly. My footing adjusts instantly, compensated by a micro-burst from my waves.

I slip inside the creature's guard—blade reversed.

One clean thrust to the base of the jaw.

It drops.

Around me, the others keep firing—measured, controlled, but pressure builds again. The raptors are adapting. Their antennae flick, reacting to pulses mid-fight. One even jerks just before I slash.

Smart.

But not enough.

Another charges a climber on the right. I'm on it before it closes the gap. I blur between them—one fluid slide over loose gravel. My blade carves a clean arc across its spine. It hits the ground twitching, already dead.

I land, skidding through blood-slick dirt, boots digging in.

I rise beside Arjun. Nod once.

"How many bullets left?"

"Not many."

"Alright. Fire only if necessary. I'll handle the rest."

I raise my blade.

Let's finish this.

I surge forward—two steps, and the first raptor lunges. Its claws slash wide trying to read me. I dive low, roll under the strike, blade slicing up and through its underbelly. Blood spills onto the stone.

I twist mid-rise, swing wide. Another raptor—closer now—catches the tip of the blade across its eye. It shrieks, stumbles back. I don't give it time to recover.

I close the distance. Kick its front leg. It folds. One clean stab through the throat ends it.

A third comes at my flank.

I leap, boot landing on its back. My weight drives it into the dirt. I ride the momentum, flip off, spin mid-air—land with both feet and cleave through its spine as it tries to rise.

Blood spatters hot against my visor. I wipe it with the back of my arm.

Two more raptors circle warily. They don't charge.

They run, vanishing into the tree line above.

I stare after them for a beat, breathing steady.

I flick my blade once—blood ribbons off in a clean arc.

Then I sheath it, turning back toward Arjun and the other five.

"Anyone hurt?"

Arjun shakes his head once. The others are still catching their breath—eyes wide, chests heaving—but they're upright. Scattered cuts. Scrapes. Nothing major.

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"Imani's with four others farther up the mountain," I say. "They'll be heading down soon. How's it been on your side? Seen anyone else?"

"No," Arjun replies. "I've sent out occasional waves as we moved, but so far—nothing. I have to limit the range. The raptors seem to pick up on it. They come from pretty far out."

I meet his gaze, then shift to a private wave. "Any casualties?"

"No."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Good."

We return to voice. "So, counting you six and us, that makes twelve. Half the group, give or take."

I glance back toward the slope. The mist is beginning to lift a little, sunlight streaking down in thin, cold shafts.

"It's something, at least," I murmur. "Were you heading up too?"

"Yes. We thought getting higher might boost signal strength. Maybe even spot others if the cloud breaks."

"Smart," I nod. "We had the same idea. But…"

I pause, letting the moment hang before lowering my voice slightly.

"There's something up there. Nasty. Some kind of wyvern—you familiar with the term? Like a dragon, but only two legs. Wings built into the forelimbs."

Arjun's expression tightens slightly. He nods.

"Well, it's dangerous. Electricity runs through its body even in sleep. Every breath it takes drops the surrounding temperature. It probably weighs several tons—but still manages to fly, which shouldn't be possible. My guess? It uses EM manipulation on a scale we can't begin to match."

"Active?" he asks.

"No. Hibernating. Which is probably the only reason we're still alive. We turned back immediately." I glance sideways. "We won't be going near it again unless we get a serious boost in power and regroup with the others."

Arjun exhales quietly, considering. "Ok."

"We'll need to find another path around the ridge," I continue. "Something that still gives us elevation but keeps us well clear of the mountain peaks. I'll check with Imani, see what he thinks."

He nods, glancing back at the others as they start to settle—wiping blood and grime from their faces, catching their breath.

"We were planning to catch a break here in the base. We've been moving and fighting nonstop for hours."

"Good call. Let them breathe. I'll ping Imani."

I step off slightly to the side, wind tugging gently at my armor as I send waves sweeping wide checking for any anomalies.

No threats.

"Imani, I'm with Arjun and five others. They're all alright. I told you to come down, but… should we go up instead?"

"We can't trust the wyvern to stay dormant," he replies. "We should avoid the mountain range if possible. We've already scouted the east and west sides—heading north would take us deeper into the range. Not ideal. We'll descend. It's better to move through the plains and jungle. More enemies, yes, but with the three of us, we can manage."

"Fair enough. We'll wait here then. I'm sending our coordinates. What's your ETA?"

A pause.

"ETA?"

"How long until you're down here? Want me to come up and help?"

"No need. We should be down in under an hour."

"Alright."

I disconnect and glance back at the group. Oh, young Ishaam's here. He's still got Arjun's sword—right, that tracks. And that should be Mei—the one who hit First Pillar State, Chiara's favorite. Not a bad lineup.

I walk toward them, half-considering helping with equipment or patch-ups—then remember my pack's still with Imani up the ridge.

Oh well… maybe just a bit of small talk instead.

"Hi guys, how's the new stage treating you so far?"

A pause.

Ishaam glances at me—brief, polite, distant. He says nothing, just wipes a smear of blood from his gauntlet and looks away.

"Like a boot to the face, sir," one of them mutters with a lopsided grin. "A fast, scaly, screeching boot."

Who is that again? Can't believe I don't have his name logged. Weird. Must've skipped him somehow.

"Well," I say, half-smiling, "I suppose it has been rough getting here. Hopefully we regroup with the others soon. Might finally catch a proper break."

"Thank you for coming to help us," Mei says suddenly. Her voice is quiet, composed. She gives a slight bow of her head.

"Don't mention it," I reply. "And honestly, gliding down from a mountain was kind of fun. Scratched an itch I didn't know I had."

"You can still fly with this gravity? That's insane." The same talkative guy leans forward, wide grin plastered on his face despite the mud and half his hair sticking up in all directions. "But well, I guess it's you, so makes sense."

I lift a brow. "Names?"

"Oh! Diego, sir."

"Sari," the Indian girl adds with a short nod, calm but friendly.

"Mei."

"Greg."

"Ishaam," comes the final voice after a short pause. I catch the tiny hesitation, though. There's no hint of hatred left—but he's keeping a line. Fair.

Arjun steps up from behind. "We should scavenge the orbs."

"Right… but I won't take any," I say. "These small raptors barely give me anything now. I hunted down a few dozen on the way to the mountain—last one gave me just 0.001%. Not worth it. Better if Mei, Ishaam, and the rest take them. They'll make better use of it."

Arjun studies me for a moment, then nods. "Alright."

The terrain was changing.

The thick, tangled jungle behind her had begun to thin hours ago—shrinking back into isolated clusters of trees. Now, ahead of her, stretched nothing but open plains.

Endless.

Wide bands of tall, wind-bent grass, brushing at her legs with every step. Patches of wildflowers bloomed here and there—soft yellows, muted purples—but no trees for cover, no cliffs, no mountains. Just sky above and green below.

Ayu slowed to a walk.

She turned once, scanning the way she came. Jungle, hills, the dark shadows of trees wrapped in vine. Her trail was faint, but she could still pick it out by scent, broken stalks and drops of blood.

She'd looped the region twice. Climbed every decent vantage point. No signal. No sign of the others.

Just more silence.

And that river—the only one she had found so far—had flowed eastward. Into the plains.

Ayu exhaled through her nose.

She didn't like wide-open spaces. No cover. No way to use the environment to her advantage.

But still…

Her gaze lifted again. Something about the horizon pulled at her.

She couldn't explain it. Not with words. Just instinct. A direction that felt... right. Not safe. Not easy. But right.

She rolled her shoulders, adjusted the grip on her blade, and stepped forward.

Then she ran.

Comfortable. Quiet. Letting her breath fall into rhythm with her steps. Grass parted around her legs. The scent of warm soil and something distant—pollen, maybe—brushed her nose.

The wind swept in low waves over the plain, pushing the green like an ocean.

There was no sound but her heartbeat, her feet striking dirt, and the wind curling past her armor.

She kept running for several more minutes, eyes scanning the horizon, but nothing changed. No tracks. No scent trails. No signs of the dinosaur-like creatures that had constantly attacked her so far.

It was calm. Almost peaceful.

Her gaze drifted to the river running alongside the plains. Clear, steady, glinting faintly under the sun.

Then she looked down at herself.

Her armor was stained deep red—splattered, soaked, crusted in layers of dried blood. Most of it wasn't hers. But some was.

Her skin underneath was sticky with sweat, patches of dried cuts and bruises pressed tight under the plates. The stench—metallic, sour—had blended into the background hours ago. But now, when she focused on it, it clawed at her senses.

She slowed. Stopped.

Stared at the river.

A few seconds passed. Her body remained still, but her mind measured risks.

Should she…?

Probably. She'd stay alert regardless. And if there was ever a chance to rinse off, even reset her focus enough to press the next step on the Body Path... it was now.

She stepped off the trail and made her way toward the river.

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