[Calyra’s POV]

[Location Grid: D1 — Calyra Arcanis]

The scent of fresh kill clung stubbornly to the air, threading itself into the crisp bite of the river breeze. Four Crestbeak Fowls lay sprawled across the damp earth, their once-proud dark-brown feathers now slicked and darkened by blood. Each carcass marred by ice-born wounds—jagged spears of frost driven into the gaps between bone and sinew, still steaming faintly in the morning chill.

Leyd let out a low, appreciative whistle, “Six of them, just like that, what a crazy precision,” his boot nudging aside a loose feather, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword he had only just sheathed.

Sorin silently crouched beside one of the bodies, dragging the flat of her dagger along the coarse grass until the last smear of blood came away. “They barely had time to react.” Her gaze never quite lifted from the frost-bitten wound that had ended the creature before its instincts had even caught up to the danger.

Garrick flexed his gauntleted fingers with a muted crack. “Yeah, and I barely got to do anything.”

Odion exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “At least, we’ve got food. That’s what matters.”

A rare curve touched Sorin’s lips. “Enough meat to last days. We won’t have to waste our strength chasing more prey.”

Then, a voice cut through them, sharp and absolute.

“Don’t let your guard down yet.”

The words left Calyra’s lips like a warning, colder than any magic.

For a moment, the wind seemed to lose its voice.

They turned toward her, one by one. She stood apart from them on the riverbank. Her dark cloak swayed in the sluggish breeze, catching faint glints of light where the dying sun struggled against the clouds. Frost still clung stubbornly to her fingers. Her face was a mask without cracks, but the stillness in her blue eyes was edged.

Leyd’s voice broke the silence, sharp with curiosity rather than concern. “Ehh~ Why?”

Calyra’s gaze drifted down to the slow-moving water. “Because… it's not over yet.” And then, without warning, the river moved.

The water swelled, folding upon itself in heavy spirals. Then came the sound—low, resonant, and wrong—less the voice of water and more the grinding roar of a creature that had been sleeping too long in the dark.

The wide river buckled.

One immense shape rising with the inevitability of a breaking storm. The sunlight dimmed further as that shape breached, dragging the scent of deep, stagnant depths into the air. The river broke apart in a single, violent eruption. A hulking form surged upward, shedding water in sheets as scales—the color of drowned metal—caught the last vestiges of day. Along its back, jagged fins rose like broken spears, glistening wet in the fading light. Its maw, lined with teeth uneven and cruel, and yawned wide.

Sorin’s grin vanished without a word. Garrick’s gauntleted fists clenched, his voice low and almost amused despite the weight pressing in around them. “That’s fuckin huge.”

The name came unbidden to Leyd’s mind, heavy and unpleasant: Tidebreaker Serpent—a Wretched-Rank predator, a creature whose hunger was not born of need but of nature.

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His blade was already in hand, flame blooming along its edge in reluctant acknowledgement of the threat. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Beside him, Odion’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly, the grip on his sword tightening, the tension in his shoulders settling into something patient and grim.

“Now, I see why she told us not to celebrate yet.”

Calyra’s gaze never left the thing in front of her. Her voice was calm when it came out.

“Well, this is barely a threat, but… battle formation, now.”

****

[Rosalin’s POV]

[Grid location: B5 — Rosalin Varion]

The desert stretched to every horizon, a wasteland of cracked dunes and pale, shifting sands. The air was heavy not with the blinding gold of a true sun, but with a dim, murky glow that pressed against their skin.

Heat danced faintly across the horizon, a warped haze that bent the world in unnatural ways. Rosalin rested her palm on the hilt of her longsword, feeling the worn leather with her fingers, her lips curving into the faintest shadow of a smile.

She could feel her pulse slowing rather than quickening. In this bleak expanse, where nothing should have been alive, the promise of danger rising to challenge her was almost… welcome.

“Of all the places…” Talon muttered behind her, the words half-lost to the dry wind.

The sand beneath their boots trembled, the subtle vibrations climbing up her legs, thrumming through her bones.

‘Something coming.’

A deep, subterranean growl followed, low enough to be felt more than heard. She tilted her head slightly. Then the ground tore open in a violent eruption of dust, a massive shape breaking free from the earth. Its shadow stretched long and crooked under the sickly cloud.

A Titanfang Desert.

A wretched-rank voidspawn towered above them, its enormous body a shifting cascade of golden scales, each shimmering with residual magic. Its head, broad and angular, bore curved fangs as long as swords, dripping with venom potent enough to kill on contact. Its eyes, dark and soulless, locked onto them with predatory intent.

Rosalin gritted her teeth. “Form up!”

The team moved instantly.

Arrin lifted her hands, a surge of wind swirling around him as water magic condensed at her fingertips, preparing a barrier against the creature’s inevitable sandstorm. Talon adjusted his footing, his spear poised, waiting for the perfect strike.

Freya stepped forward beside Rosalin, shield raised, her earth magic reinforcing the ground beneath them, preventing the shifting sands from compromising their footing. Argus positioned himself at the rear, lightning crackling at his fingertips as he notched an arrow, eyes locked onto their moving target.

Rosalin can easily defeat the creature alone, but she decided not to, in order to provide a learning experience to her team.

Then, the serpent lunged.

Rosalin met it head-on. She surged forward, blade igniting in a blaze of golden mana. The heat warped the air around her weapon as she swung, carving a deep gash along the serpent’s side. It screeched, twisting in agony, but before it could counter, Talon was already there, driving his spear into its exposed underbelly.

Arrin flicked her wrist, a concentrated burst of water magic slamming into the wound, forcing the creature to recoil.

Argus loosed an arrow crackling with lightning—it struck the beast’s skull, stunning it for a brief moment.

Then, Freya dashed in, shield raised high, before slamming it against the weakened serpent’s jaw, sending it reeling back.

‘Good! They're improving…’

Rosalin didn’t waste the opening.

“Now!” she commanded.

With synchronized precision, the team launched their final assault. Rosalin’s blade flared one last time as she drove it into the serpent’s heart. The Titanfang convulsed, its massive form trembling. Then, at last, it collapsed, lifeless.

Silence followed. Then, Talon let out a sharp breath.

“Good work everyone. That went well. Now, to extract the crystal—” Rosalin barely had time to respond before the ground trembled again.

Another beast surged from the dunes, this one even larger. Its scales gleamed darker, its venom dripping in thick, black rivulets. Rosalin inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing as she muttered under her breath.

“Ah, another one.”

She raised her sword again, flames erupting along its length.

“Everyone, no more delays,” she snapped. “We end this fast and move south. There’s a river source nearby, and we need water before nightfall.”

Rosalin’s eyes burned into a bright flame.

‘Or maybe, I can just do it myself. I can't let them exhaust all their energy before we escape from this region.’

As her teammates were about to get ready in their battle formation, Rosalin was nowhere to be seen in front of them… only the silence of dust scattering. The next instant, a loud guttural sound came from the towering beast. When they looked up—

The beast was already cut in half.

And some of its organs were raining down onto the white sand.