The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting flickering shadows against the trees. The thick canopy of Duskwither Forest loomed above, shrouding the mercenaries in a cocoon of darkness. Their laughter and idle chatter filled the air as they rested from the day's hunt, the scent of roasted meat still lingering.
Xhaelyn remained where she sat, a short distance from the group, observing in silence.
She needed information about this world—its people, its structure, its dangers. But drawing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted.
"Child, come join us," Carlo called, his voice warm.
She hesitated. Several of the mercenaries turned to look at her—some smiling, though a few appeared awkward, as if unsure how to interact with a child. Jacob, however, merely gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.
After a brief pause, Xhaelyn stood and walked over, settling herself between Jacob and Carlo.
Carlo rummaged through his bag and pulled out a bundle of herbs. "Let me tend to your wounds. If left untreated, they might fester."
Xhaelyn let him inspect her injuries without complaint. As he worked, his brows furrowed. "These cuts are deeper than they look… yet you don't even flinch."
A brief silence followed. Some of the mercenaries exchanged glances.
"She's got guts, I'll give her that," Owen muttered.
Xhaelyn remained silent. If they were expecting an explanation, they wouldn't get one.
Jacob shifted the conversation. "Since we'll be traveling together for a while, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Jacob Martinez, captain of the Crimsonclaw Mercenaries."
The others followed his lead.
"I'm Owen Arthur, the vice-captain," Owen said, his voice steady but watchful.
Jacob smirked. "He might look like he eats nails for breakfast, but he's reliable."
Owen huffed. "I wouldn't be too sure about that if I were you."
"I'm Paulo Garcia," said a broad-shouldered man, cracking his knuckles.
"Samuel Gomez," added a lanky, sharp-eyed mercenary, his tone relaxed.
"Edgar Santiago," another introduced himself, his deep voice carrying quiet authority.
"The youngest in the group—Alex Anders," the last one chimed in, grinning mischievously.
Carlo, still tending to her wounds, finally spoke. "And I'm Carlo Vale, the group's healer."
As he pressed herbs against a bruise on her arm, Xhaelyn felt a faint warmth seep into her skin. The sharp pain dulled, replaced by a soothing sensation.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. She had read enough fantasy books in her past life to recognize this feeling. Taking a guess, she spoke.
"You have healing magic?"
The conversation halted. The group exchanged subtle glances—silent, but telling.
Crimsonclaw had only been established a year ago, but its members had fought side by side for five. They knew Carlo's ability was something best kept quiet.
Carlo flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Magic? You mean unique abilities? No, no. My ability just makes me more familiar with herbs and their effects."
Xhaelyn held his gaze.
He was lying.
She said nothing, instead tilting her head and offering a childlike, innocent remark. "Crimsonclaw is really strong, even with just a few members."
Jacob raised a brow. "Oh? You think so?"
She nodded. "You defeated three duskrends in under thirty minutes. That's impressive."
Jacob and the others exchanged amused looks.
Jacob leaned back. "It's not easy to recruit people. We're the founding members, and most mercenaries aim to join Ironclad Fang, the most famous group around."
Ironclad Fang? Xhaelyn frowned. That name sounds familiar…
Paulo crossed his arms. "We came to Duskwither Forest because we took on one of the hardest missions available—something only a group on Ironclad Fang's level would normally attempt."
"Duskwither Forest?" Xhaelyn echoed.
Owen nodded. "This place is crawling with hunter-type beasts. And duskrends? They're at the top of the hierarchy."
"They're fast and deadly," Samuel added. "But we've been tracking and studying them for months."
Alex grinned. "Enough about that! Little lady, you played us well—you never introduced yourself."
Eh? Xhaelyn blinked. She hadn't done that on purpose.
"…I'm Xhaelyn Silva," she said.
The mercenaries took note of her name, their expressions unreadable.
"Xhaelyn, huh?" Jacob murmured, rolling the name over his tongue. "Well then, let's see what kind of traveler you really are."
The fire burned low as the group settled in for the night. The thick canopy allowed only slivers of moonlight to seep through. The night was still—eerily so.
Jacob clapped his hands together. "We'll sleep in shifts. Owen and Samuel, you take first watch. Swap after three hours."
Owen nodded. "Got it."
Samuel leaned back against a tree, his sharp eyes glinting. "If anything moves out there, I'll see it."
The others laid down on their bedrolls. Xhaelyn curled up nearby, feigning exhaustion but remaining fully alert.
A shift in the air.
Owen stiffened. His Danger Instinct flared. Something was wrong.
"Wake up," he said, voice low yet firm. "We're not alone."
The mercenaries jolted awake, hands instinctively reaching for weapons.
Samuel's gaze swept through the shadows. His Nocturnal Farsight allowed him to see far beyond normal human sight—and what he saw made his breath hitch.
"…Nightstalkers."
Glowing red eyes flickered in the darkness, circling them.
Xhaelyn tensed. She had no knowledge of these creatures, but the sudden tension in the mercenaries told her all she needed to know.
Nightstalkers. Stealthy, pack-hunting predators that thrived in darkness. Unlike other hunter-type beasts, they did not overpower prey with brute force—they stalked, struck fast, and killed before their victims could react.
A snarl. Then—a blur of movement.
"Move!" Owen barked.
A Nightstalker lunged at Carlo—
A crack split the air.
Jacob slammed his palm into the ground, and jagged earth shards erupted upward, forming a barrier. The beast skidded to a halt.
Paulo moved next. His Titan's Might enhanced his strength, allowing him to send another Nightstalker flying with a single punch.
Owen, acting on instinct, spun to the right. "Jacob, right side!"
Jacob reacted instantly. A sharpened earth shard launched from the ground, impaling a charging beast mid-air.
Edgar, standing his ground, let another creature strike him—only for it to recoil in shock. His Ironhide granted him immense durability. Without hesitation, he grabbed the beast and snapped its neck.
Alex dodged another beast with uncanny reflexes, his Fleetfoot allowing him to maneuver effortlessly. He slashed upward, gutting the creature in one clean strike.
Now, only one Nightstalker remained.
It hesitated. Its pack had fallen in seconds.
With a final snarl, it turned and fled.
Samuel tracked it but didn't pursue. "It's retreating."
The camp fell silent. Only the sound of their breathing and the crackling fire remained.
Owen exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Tch. Damn things were waiting for us to drop our guard."
Jacob wiped the blood from his blade. "They won't get another chance."
Xhaelyn finally spoke.
"…You're strong."
The mercenaries turned to her.
Jacob smirked. "Of course. We're Crimsonclaw, after all."
As the group re-settled, Xhaelyn lay still, her thoughts drifting.
She had sensed their unique energies, concentrated in different parts of their bodies. She briefly wondered if others could perceive this—or if it was something unique to her.
Then, she dismissed the thought.
It was probably just her heightened assassin instincts.