Just then, Nightingale and Kestrel emerged from deep within the tribe.

Nightingale held several faintly glowing crystal vials in her hand, her expression as cool and detached as ever. Kestrel followed behind her, her face alight with the excitement of having her eyes opened to new wonders.

The two walked over to Sagres and nodded to him. Sagres's gaze lingered for a moment on the crystal vials in her hand, and he gave a slight nod.

"These items will serve as compensation for the offense," he said in a flat tone.

A hint of heartache flashed in Trom's eyes, but it was quickly masked.

"Then," Sagres's gaze shifted toward the depths of the forest, "next, we need to collect some 'fresh' Acromantula venom. Leader Trom, could you point us in the right direction? Preferably a 'quick' path."

"Acromantulas are very dangerous. I can…" Trom's gaze swept over the warriors in his tribe, seemingly considering whether to send someone to guide them.

"No need," Sagres interrupted him directly, his tone calm. "You only need to point out the direction and describe the most obvious landmarks. We do not need a guide."

The Centaur leader remained silent for a moment, then finally extended his hand and pointed into the depths of the dark, dense forest.

"Follow this ancient path covered in vines, heading east, until you see three strangler figs intertwined. Turn right at the largest tree hollow at their base and descend into the stream valley… that's where the most nests are."

Sagres nodded, and the three turned and left.

"Be careful… their eyes are everywhere, and their fangs are as fast as lightning."

Trom called out a warning to the retreating figures.

The three wizards quickly disappeared into the dense shadows of the trees, leaving behind only a heavy silence and the sound of stifled breaths in the tribal clearing.

Trom stood motionless, staring in the direction they had vanished. For a long time, he didn't move. Elder Kakus approached him, his face etched with worry and anger.

"Trom! You're playing with fire! Trading with wizards? And letting them provoke those Acromantula? If they die in there..."

"Then it means they weren't anything special," Trom interrupted. "And our problem solves itself."

"If they succeed..." He paused, his voice dropping lower.

"Then we'll have to face an even more terrifying truth—not only will we need to 'trade' with him… we may also need his 'protection.' For survival, Kakus, a price… always has to be paid."

...

...

As they followed the path Trom had described, the surrounding darkness grew thicker, closing in like a living presence.

Twisted vines hung from towering ancient trees like the bones of giant serpents. The path beneath their feet was buried under layers of damp leaves and slick moss, squelching coldly with every step.

"Um..." Kestrel's voice broke the silence, a bit abrupt and tinged with unease.

"Are Acromantulas… really as big as the books say?"

Sagres didn't turn back. His voice came calmly from ahead: "A normal adult is about the size of a car."

Kestrel swallowed, imagining the enormous, terrifying spiders from the illustrations in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

"Relax, Iresha," Nightingale's cool voice came from the side, carrying a faint trace of teasing. "Their size depends on age and food source. And in a place like this…" She paused deliberately. "The nutrition should be quite plentiful."

That seemingly reassuring statement only made Kestrel feel worse.

"Big Sis Nightingale," Kestrel couldn't help but ask again, "have you… collected Acromantula venom many times?"

"A few times," Nightingale replied tersely. "Most of the time I just bought it; this stuff isn't commonly found elsewhere."

"Acromantula venom is a Class A non-trade commodity, strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic in various countries. International trade is prohibited," Sagres added casually.

"Are they very dangerous?" Kestrel pressed, hoping for some reassurance from her more experienced companions.

Nightingale was silent for a moment, as if recalling something. "Quite dangerous. And loud—their hissing is piercing. Also, they move faster than you'd expect."

She glanced at Kestrel's tightly clenched wand hand. "They're carnivorous, and actively hunt large creatures, including humans. They're also intelligent—capable of understanding and executing complex commands, and even working together to hunt."

"That powerful?" Kestrel's eyes widened, a chill creeping up her spine.

"After all, they are XXXXX-rated magical creatures—the highest danger classification," Sagres added without turning. "They pose an extreme threat to a wizard's life and cannot be domesticated or safely controlled."

They carefully avoided the spider webs hanging from the branches and continued deeper.

The air grew damp and cold, thick with a cloying, rotten, fishy stench.

The ground beneath their feet began to slope downward, and the surrounding trees became increasingly twisted and grotesque. Their bark was covered in thick, grayish-white, fuzzy fungi—the source of the miasma Trom had mentioned.

Nightingale suddenly stopped and pointed her wand forward. "Strangler figs."

Three enormous ancient trees were intertwined in a bizarre formation, their massive buttress roots exposed, forming a deep, dark hollow—like a giant maw yawning open in the earth.

At the edge of the hollow hung several tattered, dust-covered cobwebs.

"Right turn, downwards," Sagres confirmed, his voice still steady.

He led the way into the tree hollow, the light from the tip of his wand pushing back a small circle of darkness at the entrance, revealing a steep slope slick with roots and moss.

The scene at the bottom of the stream valley was even more horrifying.

Grayish-white miasma drifted like a thin veil around their ankles, severely limiting visibility.

Countless layers of fine, net-like spider webs hung between the dead giant trees, forming enormous curtains.

The sickly sweet, rotten, fishy odor in the air was so thick it made them feel nauseated.

In the silence, a rustling sound—like something crawling through slime—came from all directions, setting everyone's nerves on edge.

Kestrel felt a chill creep up her spine. She couldn't tell if it was fear or if something had actually touched her.

All three wand lights extinguished at once, and darkness surged in like a tide, instantly engulfing them.

Kestrel's heart pounded wildly, threatening to burst from her chest. She struggled to adapt to the absolute darkness, relying only on the faintest movements and sounds from Sagres and Nightingale to orient herself.

"Eyes…" Nightingale's voice whispered into her ear, barely audible. "They're everywhere."

Kestrel forced her eyes wide open, and by the faintest sliver of natural light filtering through the towering canopy above, she finally saw it.

Behind the massive curtains of spiderwebs, in the cracks of twisted roots, in the shadows of the branches overhead… countless eerie green glints shimmered.

They were the eyes of Acromantulas.

Thousands upon thousands of cold, hungry eyes silently watched the intruders in the dark. The glowing dots flickered as the creatures moved, as if the entire forest were breathing.

"Merlin's beard…" Kestrel gasped, her voice trembling, nearly incoherent. She felt as though she had fallen into a jar full of spiders.

"Calm down." Sagres's cold voice carried an unquestionable authority, and a Silencing Charm instantly enveloped Kestrel. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

He cast her a calm, icy glance—his gaze like a cold tide.

Kestrel immediately froze, as quiet as a cicada in winter. She knew that look all too well; if she made too much of a mess, Sagres wouldn't hesitate to deal with her afterward.

Without sparing her another glance, Sagres turned to Nightingale. "What kind of target do you need?"

"Not newly molted, and not juveniles," Nightingale replied, her wand glowing faintly in the dark. "Preferably healthy adult individuals. The older, the better."

"Then we'll need to go deeper," Sagres said. "The outer areas are mostly juveniles or newly matured ones."

~~~~~~~

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