Varun POV

  Quiet sobs echoed in the clearing, mingling with the faint rustle of leaves stirred by a chilly breeze. The smell of iron clung to the breeze—blood, fading but still present. No one was keeping watch, and even if something came at them, few looked capable of defending themselves.

  “What did you see?” Naga asked, eyes moving between Lauren and Mahesh.

  Mahesh pressed his shoulder against a tree, eyes far away, words slipping out under his breath. He kept his gaze on the ground.

  “It was two kids dressed in rags, I think,” Lauren said, breathing hard, her words fighting through sobs.

  “Are you sure it was kids?” Naga asked. “Kid-sized does not mean children; it could be another monster like those boars.” He kept his gaze on her, patient and steady.

  “I know what I saw, Naga,” Lauren said, a thin edge of anger showing. “They were about three feet tall, ran upright, and had short limbs. The head might have been a little larger than normal, but they looked like children to me.”

  The mist eased back. At the edge of the clearing, two fresh mounds showed in the leaf litter, soil dark and clumped.

  “Imran and Yogesh had both taken stab wounds to the neck,” Varun said. “That is unlikely for monsters like those boars or spiders.” We have been here a day and already lost four people, he thought.

  “You think there are other people here going around killing folks?” Naga asked. He held Varun’s gaze for a second, then turned back to Lauren, searching her face for any doubts.

  “It might be something else,” Varun said, turning to face Lauren. “Did it look like the house-elves or goblins from the Harry Potter movies?” He posed the question, using it as a lure. It had short limbs, an upright posture, and was about three feet tall. Could it be goblins or kobolds? He thought it fit the current theme.

  “No, it was a child,” Lauren said. Her words came clipped. “I saw it with my own two eyes.” Her breath rasped, and she rubbed at the grit on her face.

  “Based on how your watch went, I don’t trust your eyes all that much,” said Varun. The corner of his mouth lifted—he wanted that hit to land.

  “That’s enough,” said Naga. He stepped half a pace toward Varun, glaring at him. “It was an honest mistake.”

  “Tell that to the ones who still have to sleep tonight,” Varun shot back, glaring at him. “Instead of defending her, maybe check the tracks—see where those ‘children’ went,” he added, fingers curling into air quotes.

  “Varun,” Sid said, “please stop picking fights with everyone.” He pressed a hand to his stomach and swallowed hard. A sour smell hung around him. He had emptied his stomach in the brush, and the taste still lingered.

  Sid turned to Rohan. “What do we do now?”

  Rohan opened his hands, empty. “I don’t know, Sid. I don’t know.” He gave a thin smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’m just your office manager. I’m not trained for this.” The last line came out softer, more to himself than to the group.

  No one answered. The group’s gaze drifted to the ground. Shoes ground grit. A cough started, stopped.

  “What we lack now is information,” Naga said. His voice didn’t rise, but it cut cleanly through the quiet. He let the silence that followed stretch long enough for every set of eyes to turn toward him. “We need to find out if there are any hostile entities nearby.”

  He turned to Rohan. “Could you help with scouting the area? Take two or three people with you.”

  Rohan’s chin dipped slightly, his shoulders sagging as though the question had weight. “I don’t think I can right now.” His gaze stayed on the dirt, unfocused. A flicker of wetness rose in his eyes, held back by sheer will or shame.

  “It’s okay,” Naga said. His voice gentled, though his stance remained firm. “Take your time getting ready.” He didn’t say more, but his eyes flicked toward Mahesh, who sat apart, mumbling to himself and drawing shapes in the soil with a twig.

  Rohan opened his mouth, searching for the words to explain himself.

  “You have the Mana Web skill,” Naga said, leaning forward, meeting Rohan’s gaze. Gentle and unrushed, his words left space to breathe. “It will really help keep the scouting team safe. They’ll need someone who can trap threats before they strike.”

  Rohan’s mouth closed. He hesitated, then gave a small, reluctant nod.

  “What will you do while one team scouts?” Sid asked. He didn’t look up, but his voice was steady. He shaved a curl from his spear shaft with precise movements, the shavings falling like curls of paper to his lap. The task gave him an excuse to keep his hands steady—and his thoughts quieter.

  “We’ll set up the base,” Naga replied. He turned to address the group. “Firewood. Simple barricades.” His gaze landed on Sid’s blade. “We’ll need the knife for that. You’ll have to manage with just spears for now.”

  “Let’s go, Rohan. No point in sitting around,” Varun said, brushing dead leaves from his trousers as he stepped forward, spear tip low and impatient.

  “You’re not coming with me,” Rohan said. The delivery was flat, deliberate—no anger, just refusal. That made it sharper.

  “Oh?” Varun tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Then who’s going with you?” The words probed, hunting for weakness.

  “I’m taking Sid,” said Rohan, tone cool but unyielding.

  Sid stepped forward, cutting in. “We need at least two more. Having Varun and his skill increases our safety.” He met Varun’s gaze and gave the briefest shake of the head. Let it go.

  “I also want to join,” Aditi and Pallavi said in near unison. Both froze for a half-second, then smiled awkwardly at each other before facing the group again.

  Varun turned to Aditi, eyebrows already raised. “This isn’t an outing. You don’t get to tap out halfway.” His grin was sharp, designed to bite.

  “Varun…” Sid said, tone warning, but Varun had already pivoted to Pallavi.

  “You carried that backpack the whole day yesterday, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice lighter now, like he was offering a solution. “I vote we take her.” He looked between Rohan and Sid, waiting for a reaction, maybe even validation.

  “Why don’t we…” Sid began, uncertain.

  “I’m taking Aditi with us,” Rohan interrupted, his voice raised. It wasn’t a shout, but it had an edge.

  Sid’s gaze lingered on him. Rohan, usually the diplomat, now stood braced like he expected a fight. His jaw was tight.

  “This isn’t a dictatorship. It’s one each. Let Sid decide,” Varun said. The playfulness was gone. What remained was something colder, more pointed.

  Rohan didn’t respond right away. His eyes went to Naga, who watched from the side, arms folded, mouth unreadable except for the barest twitch. Amused? Disappointed? Impossible to tell.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Rohan drew in a breath, shoulders loosening slightly. “Varun, this isn’t a democracy. I’m the team lead. I pick my team. Clear?” He kept his tone steady. The pause afterward gave his words more bite.

  A few minutes passed.

  Then Varun exhaled. “Got it. I’m ready. Tell me when you’re actually ready.” He leaned against a tree, one foot up, eyes closed like he’d already moved on.

  Sid glanced toward Pallavi, caught her gaze, and mouthed, “Sorry.” Her lips pressed into a line, and she turned away without responding.

  Sid POV

  “It’s been three hours. Should we head back?” Aditi asked. She bit into a mushroom, then paused, sensing the tension. Her eyes lingered on Sid, then Rohan.

  Varun’s eyes snapped open. He pushed off the tree he’d been leaning on. “Told you she’d fold first,” he said, almost pleased. “You shouldn’t have come. We lost a skill because of you.”

  He didn’t need to shout; his words pinned her in place.

  “We’ve been over this. It was an honest mistake,” Rohan said, jaw tight. His voice remained level, though a vein had started showing at his temple.

  Varun stepped closer, shadows flickering on his face. “What’s with you all and that line? If you mess up, apologize and improve. Don’t just say it’s fine and move on.”

  He turned to Aditi, eyes sharp. “And you. How are you ever going to get a skill if you freeze up every time you have to kill something? It’s kill or be killed. No one here is going to carry you.”

  Aditi flinched, but didn’t step back. Her jaw clenched, and her hand dropped to her weapon.

  “Stop, stop—I saw something,” Sid lied, voice was too high, too urgent. They lost a fight with a couple of boars earlier in the day—despite Rohan trapping one with his skill, Aditi couldn’t kill it. It took a lot of effort to calm Varun down then; he didn’t want to deal with another argument.

  Weapons lifted. The four of them shifted without speaking, forming a loose ring. Their backs touched briefly before finding space, breaths aligned. Sid’s eyes scanned the gaps between trunks. Aditi dropped low, adjusting her stance as if she were ready to bolt. Rohan took half a step to anchor their shape, eyes locked forward.

  A full minute dragged by. A breeze stirred the leaves once, then went still.

  “Did you really see something?” Varun asked. His voice broke the quiet, not with alarm, but irritation. “Or did you just want to shut me up?”

  “I thought I heard something…” Sid said, averting his eyes.

  Varun dropped his spear to his side and turned to face Sid. “Really?” he muttered. His face gave away nothing, just a blank stare and half-lidded eyes.

  “Be alert,” Rohan said. His voice didn’t rise again—but now it carried a different weight. Cold and clipped, no room left for debate.

  “He made it up. There was nothing,” Varun said, not breaking eye contact with Sid.

  “Okay. Calm down,” Sid said, letting his shoulders drop a fraction. “If anything was close, the shouting pushed it off. One more sweep, then we head back.” He turned to address Rohan on purpose. “So far we have nothing to show for this scouting exercise.”

  “No news is good news,” said Rohan. “Let’s hope it stays that way,” he added, walking over to pick up his bag.

  They started moving again. Varun took point and set a moderate pace. Rohan matched him from the middle, watching both his and Aditi’s steps. Sid checked their rear every few paces.

  “I feel we are being watched,” said Sid. Tension crept into his words.

  “You sure you saw something?” Rohan asked, still facing forward, spear held ready.

  “No. It is just a feeling,” Sid said. I shouldn’t have lied earlier, he thought bitterly.

  “We can’t make our decisions based on feelings. Let’s keep walking,” said Varun.

  His steps slowed. “Cave. There.”

  They stepped into a perfectly round clearing, too precise to be natural. At its center, a jagged stack of stones formed a narrow doorway—unaged, unnatural, and wrong in a way that prickled the skin.

  Rohan took a few steps forward, frowning. “That just looks like a pile of rocks. You sure that’s a cave?”

  “That doesn’t look natural. It could be dangerous. Maybe we should head back,” added Aditi. There was a crack in her voice.

  “I think we should check it out,” Varun said. There was something bright in his tone now, a barely masked thrill. “Places like this mean something in games. Could be weapons or skills in there.”

  Aditi turned to him, incredulous. “Are you an adrenaline junkie, or do you just want to die?” Her voice dripped with scorn. “Either way, don’t drag us into it.”

  Sid cleared his throat, saying, “It could have proper weapons, Rohan.” He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes lingered on the stone shape just a little too long. “I don’t know how long we’ll last with these sticks and just one knife.”

  Rohan remained quiet. His gaze didn’t leave the structure.

  “Alright, let’s go check out the cave. But we’ll drop and run at the first sign of trouble, got it?” Rohan asked, earning him three nods of assent.

  “Sid, you stay near the entrance. Aditi, stick to Rohan. Rohan, aim your skill at the throat of the cave. If something chases me, you trap it. Sid finishes and takes the skill,” Varun said. He met each of their eyes to make sure they understood.

  Rohan and Aditi climbed the rock face above the entrance and settled onto a ledge crusted with grit. Aditi kept her gaze on the tree line beyond the clearing, eyes flicking between shadows. Rohan leaned forward, his body coiled, gaze fixed on the dark gash that served as an entrance.

  Sid took a position near the right wall, where the stone curved outward. He crouched low, knees bent, spear angled and ready. His eyes flicked constantly between the others and the cave mouth.

  Varun stepped into the dark and was gone.

  A breath passed; a soft clink broke the stillness; then even that vanished. The quiet deepened until not even the birds dared speak.

  A high-pitched screech rang out, unnatural and short.

  “Trap it!” Varun shouted from within. The words echoed, bouncing down the corridor and out into the open.

  A massive moth-like creature shot out of the dark, wings wide, fluttering low over the ground. Pale dust streamed from its wings as they beat, silent and strange. It banked sharply, wings angled like knives.

  Varun followed—barely a second behind—eyes wild, spear swinging in wide, reckless arcs. “Trap it!” he shouted again.

  Each time he moved, the creature swerved away as if reading him mid-motion. The spear never connected.

  “Clear!” Rohan shouted, bracing as the Mana Web launched from his mouth. At this range, it struck fast and full, latching onto the moth’s body in mid-flight. The creature’s momentum died, and it dropped like a sack of grain, wings folding as it hit the earth with a bone-jarring thud.

  Sid dashed in, narrowly missing the fringe of Varun’s wide swing. He ducked and slammed the creature’s head twice. The second strike cracked the tip of his spear in two. “Shit,” he spat, stabbing again with the jagged end.

  “Take out the wings!” Varun shouted, jabbing the joint where wing met thorax. “Stop it from getting back up!”

  Aditi and Rohan closed ranks, spears raised like clubs. They rained down blows—fast, deliberate—but the creature’s plated back flexed without giving. Their strikes left marks but not damage.

  “You have to do more,” Sid said, breathing hard. “Stop hitting like you’re chopping wood. Find the soft spots and stab!”

  “We should’ve taken the knife,” Varun muttered. His jaw clenched, and he counted silently, watching the web twitch. “Three… two… one…”

  “Spread out!” he called, just as the web went slack and fell apart as thin strands of light.

  They leapt back as the creature exploded upward, its wings stirring a gust that threw dust into the air and sent hair flying. Aditi shielded her face. Rohan stumbled half a step.

  “Varun, use your dash skill! Tackle it mid-air!” Sid called, urgency in his voice.

  “It’s flying away, not sprinting!” Varun shouted back, teeth gritted.

  “Use it just before the jump! Better than letting it go!” Sid yelled, already running after it.

  ‘Dash’ was a simple skill. It didn’t bend space, didn’t bend physics. It gave a hard, linear burst of speed, nothing more. No redirection midair. No softening at the end. Just a straight line, and all the momentum that came with it.

  Varun moved into a slow jog, adding small leaps between steps. He pictured the moth’s back, focused on the place inside where Dash sat, and triggered it just before a leap. Resistance met him at first, then gave way with a hard push of will. He darted through the air and slammed into the moth’s back.

  Both Varun and the moth crashed toward the forest floor, Varun using the creature as a landing pad.

  Sid reached them first, panting. The moth thrashed once, disoriented, a wing twitching in jagged beats. The other wing lay bent underneath its bulk.

  Without waiting, Sid raised his club and brought it down hard on the still-moving wing. The creature screamed—high and shrill—its mouth bubbling with dark blood. The stench hit like vinegar and rot.

  Sid didn’t flinch. He wedged the thin tip of his club between the mandibles, forcing the jaw open.

  Varun spat, the taste of raw grass in his mouth. He groaned and grabbed his spear.

  “Die, you bastard,” he growled. Then louder—yelling as much at himself as the monster—he brought his spear down on Sid’s spear, hammering it in. The strike landed with a crunch, driving the club deeper into the skull.

  The creature jerked once, then stilled.

  Its body didn’t bleed out like the others. It crumbled. Bit by bit, it turned to black grains, sifting away on the wind. A single dark crystal remained in the dirt, pulsing faintly.

  Sid moved before Varun could. He reached out, brushed it with his fingers.

  The crystal lit up, flared, and vanished in a swirl of blue-black motes. Sid collapsed without a sound, as if the world had yanked him out mid-step.