The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the dense forest as Sienna's group settled into the second temporary rebel camp. Nestled in a clearing surrounded by towering pines and thick brush, the camp had been hastily set up with tents, wooden barricades, and a few lookout posts crafted from sharpened logs and rope. Smoke curled from makeshift fire pits, and the scent of burning wood lingered in the air.
Despite all the peace, a tension was present—unmistakable if subtle.
Sienna stood toward the middle of the camp, speaking in hushed tones with Garrick and Holt. Her usual calm face was drawn, her eyes flicking toward the five otherworlders now grouped together near one of the larger tents.
Zero sat on a stump next to Ash, the little wolf curled up at his feet. His burnt arm twitched sporadically, faint tendrils of the dark goo pulling back into his flesh like it was breathing. His golden eyes flicked from person to person, his God's Eye automatically activating with each new face he looked at.
God's Eye Activated: Vivian
Race: Human. Class: Mana Thread Weaver.
Skill: Thread Manipulation – Permits the manipulation of invisible mana threads to bind, scout, or detect.
God's Eye Activated: Elise
Race: Human. Class: Nurturer of Light.
Skill: Gentle Radiance – Able to release soft healing auras, but unstable at present.
God's Eye Activated: Felix
Race: Human. Class: Roughblade.
Skill: Rebound Force – Enhances attack strength when counterattacking after receiving damage.
God's Eye Activated: Damon
Race: Human. Class: Iron Fang.
Skill: Pain Tolerance – High tolerance for physical harm, gets stronger the more damage received.
God's Eye Activated: Marcus
Race: Human. Class: Supporter.
Skill: Risk Assessment – Having the ability to intuitively read risks in a situation or person.
Zero flinched. Vivian's strings were like spider silk—delicate, functional, invisible. Elise had influence, but no direction. And Damon well, he scowled at Zero like he was attempting to calculate how to punch a recollection back into his brain.
"Still don't trust him," Damon said to Felix in a side manner. "Doesn't even recall who he is, and his creepy arm looks like it's going to devour somebody."
Zero didn't respond. He was used to the stares by now.
Vivian, sitting a little ways off with her legs crossed, tied a string into a knot between her fingers. "You two ever consider that maybe he doesn't trust us either?" she spoke up quietly. "He didn't volunteer for any of this. None of us did."
Marcus snorted. "Weird that he's the only one without a mark."
That remark cooled the air. The others instinctively reached for their necks or forearms, where the fine, glowing line of the Empire's stamp still throbbed weakly under their skin.
"They say once it's in you, they can track you anywhere," Elise murmured, clinging to her knees. "Like a leash."
"That's why we're here," Lyra chimed in from the side, adjusting the string on her bow. "The healers from the main camp are already on their way. Once they get here, you'll be free of that leash."
"But what if it's too late?" Garrick added, arms crossed. "We're sitting in the open. If they sent a scout behind us, they could be tracking the signal now."
There was a silence among the group. Even the nervous-sounding crackle of the fire seemed to pause.
Zero gazed down at his arm. The black goo throbbed in time with his mind. That afternoon, a tree branch fell toward Elise, his reflexive thought to "protect" had made the goo lash out and deflect it—creating a sharp, curved shield around his shoulder. That was new.
He still didn't know where it originated.
Ash whined softly beside him, picking up on his tension.
Abruptly, a burst of activity flared at the edge of the camp. A scout rushed in, panting.
"Nothing yet," the scout said. "But birds are taking flight east. Somebody's on the move."
Sienna moved forward, her voice crisp. "Maintain all lookouts. If anything breaches the perimeter, I want to know."
For all her calm, Zero noticed how her hand hovered close to her knife.
Far from the forest, far beneath the Empire's fortress with its obsidian floor, there stood an army in silence.
At the room's center was Rika—clad in jet-black armor tailored to her form, her dark hair falling to her shoulders. Golden patterns on her breastplate shone softly with cursed mana.
She sheathed her sword silently in the scabbard on her back. The sword was almost too large to be wielded easily—but she wielded it like a dance.
A high-ranking imperial officer approached and bowed. "The mark responded, Lady Rika. They've stopped. They're waiting for someone to remove it."
Rika didn't even blink. She stepped forward, black boots clinking on the stone.
"They're fools," she said, voice cold and smooth. "They gave us time to catch up."
The officer stood straight. "Shall I tell the generals?"
"No." She turned, eyes shining faintly red in the dark. "This one is mine."
Behind her, more than a hundred elite soldiers moved, armored in black iron. They didn't talk. They didn't ask.
Rika's hands tightened as she gazed ahead.
"You escaped once. Let's see how far you run this time."
At the rebel camp, Zero's breath caught abruptly. Something cold trickled down his spine. He looked at the trees. The wind whispered—but it wasn't natural.
Something was on its way.