As he nonchalantly spun the last of his axes, Rowan cocked his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Amidst the wreckage of battle, where blood soaked the ground and bodies of fallen Plumacrypts lay scattered, he moved forward with a casual air, like the chaos hadn't touched him at all.
"You guys really know how to stir up trouble," Rowan remarked, his sharp eyes glancing over the group before finally landing on Connor and Jacob, who stood side by side—bound together, as always. He gave a quick nod to Lyle, who remained tense, bow still partially raised. "Figured you could use a hand."
Lyle exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he studied Rowan. "And you are?" he asked, suspicion bleeding into his voice.
"Rowan Ashford," the newcomer replied easily, resting his axe over one shoulder. "Been tracking this pack of Plumacrypts for a while. Didn't expect to find a bunch of half-dead adventurers doing the job for me."
Rowan's gaze lingered on Jacob, sharp and assessing, before shifting to Connor. "I was actually out hunting something a lot bigger," Rowan admitted, voice dropping slightly. "But once I followed these feathered nightmares, I found you instead. Guess I wasn't the only one causing waves out here."
From beside his brother, Connor shifted, adjusting their shared balance, his arm bracing subtly against Jacob's side. Jacob looked pale, breaths shallow, his hands still trembling from the effort of channeling Emerald Ensnarement, its fading glow barely illuminating his spear's edge.
Connor leaned closer, speaking low enough for only Jacob to hear. "You did good, Jacob. Really."
Jacob swallowed, not sure if he believed that, but the way Connor said it—steady, like an anchor—kept him grounded.
Nearby, Markus wiped blood from his face, shaking his arms out. "We had it under control," he muttered, though no one believed him.
Rowan smirked wider, tilting his head. "Yeah, sure looked like it."
The corpses of the Plumacrypts lay still, their once-vibrant feathers dulled by death, and for a moment, an eerie silence settled over the forest. The scent of blood and ozone hung thick in the humid air.
Finn sheathed his sword with a sharp motion, glancing toward Rowan. "If you've been tracking these things, why wait until after we're nearly torn to pieces to show up?"
Rowan shrugged, casual but not careless. "Patience is a virtue," he said, but then his grin faded, voice hardening. "Besides, it wasn't them I was hunting."
His eyes flicked back to Jacob, unreadable. "You looked like you were learning something... valuable."
Jacob tensed, his fingers tightening around his spear. He couldn't tell if it was a jab or a warning—or maybe both.
Lyle finally let his bow lower all the way, though his sharp gaze never left Rowan. "Appreciate the assist, but how are you walking around like this place is a park? You level up faster than us or something?"
Rowan's smirk faded, replaced by something darker. "Yeah... I did. Came here with someone else." His voice dropped, somber. "But they didn't make it."
Connor and Jacob exchanged a glance, their shared body shifting slightly. Jacob's hand instinctively gripped Connor's arm, as though steadying both of them.
"There's a lot worse out here than just Plumacrypts," Rowan added, kicking one of the feathered corpses with a hollow thud. "These were nothing."
Connor's brows furrowed. "There's more?"
Rowan gave a sharp nod. "Plenty more." He turned slightly, as if scanning the shadows of the forest. "And bigger. Smarter. Hungrier."
The group's mood darkened at his words, tension thickening the air. Jacob's pulse quickened again, and Connor nudged him, murmuring, "Stay with me, alright?"
Trying to focus, Jacob asked, "How did you level up so fast?"
Rowan glanced back, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "Oh, what are you guys, still under level ten?" He let out a short laugh. "Guess no one told you about Fields of Discipline."
Connor blinked, "Fields of Discipline?"
Rowan leaned on his axe, speaking like a teacher humoring slow students. "It's a specialization that makes leveling faster—and stronger. Enhances your class, ties into how you fight."
Jacob, curious despite himself, tilted his head. "What's yours?"
"Wilderness Craftsman," Rowan answered casually, as if that explained everything.
Jacob frowned. "Sounds... cool?"
Rowan barked a laugh. "Cool? You don't even know what it does!"
Jacob shrugged, glancing toward Connor as if seeking silent agreement. "Still sounds cool."
Rowan eyed him for a long moment, then gave a half-smile. "You're a weird one."
Jacob returned the smile, just a little, but Connor kept watching Rowan carefully, sensing something under the surface.
Connor was the first to ask, "You made it out here alone?"
Rowan's smirk faltered, his fingers tightening around the axe handle. "...No." His gaze dropped. "I had help." The weight of that statement hung heavy, and when he looked up again, grief flickered in his eyes. "They're not here anymore."
Jacob took a step forward—Connor adjusting easily with him, a practiced motion—and placed a steady hand on Rowan's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Jacob said quietly, sincere. "But you're not alone now. We've lost people too… we know what it's like."
Rowan's jaw worked as if he wanted to argue, but instead he nodded, the tension in his arms easing just slightly.
"You can come with us," Connor added, surprising even Jacob. "If you want. You don't have to keep walking this place alone."
Rowan blinked at them, surprised by the offer. Lyle and Aria gave faint nods in agreement, though Markus looked skeptical.
After a pause, Rowan asked, "How long have you guys been here?"
"About a month," Jacob answered, voice softer now.
Rowan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So you know about the… 'requirements' then."
The group exchanged looks.
Connor tensed. "Yeah. We know."
Rowan's face grew darker. "You realize only one of us is supposed to make it, right?" His voice was quiet but sharp as a blade.
Jacob looked him in the eye, calm but firm. "We're going to find a way around that."
Rowan scoffed. "Not everyone's going to see it that way. Some people will do anything to survive."
Connor's voice was quiet but dangerous. "Then we'll deal with them when we have to."
Rowan studied the twins for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze.
"Maybe you will," he said finally, with the hint of a grin returning. "Maybe you will."