After a week of trudging through the twisted, suffocating woods of the middle ring, Kael and his ragtag party stumbled upon an unexpected sight: a military encampment. It was unlike anything Kael had ever seen. Rows of immaculate canvas tents lined up with military precision, the scent of order and discipline in the air. As the group made their way along the central path, Kael noted the clear division among the camp's inhabitants. On one side, adventuring groups like their own—scruffy and battle-worn—gathered around fires, sharing quiet conversations or repairing gear. On the other, clean-cut soldiers stood in formation, all clad in identical suits of armor typical of the realm of Thalrune, their movements sharp and practiced.
The camp was bustling, but not with the idle chatter of soldiers. There was an urgency, a quiet tension that hung in the air. Something was very wrong.
"Let's get to the command tent," Aldric said, his voice low and authoritative. They quickened their pace, threading through the organized chaos of the camp.
As they approached the tent city's heart, Kael's breath caught in his throat. Outside the command tent stood two guards, but it was the one on the right that made Kael's blood run cold—a towering knight clad in black rolled steel, his presence overwhelming. The man's armor was simple, functional, but it exuded an oppressive aura, the kind of quiet menace that screamed violence barely restrained.
"What business do you have with the commander?" the black knight asked, his steely gaze locking onto Aldric. His voice was a growl, like the rumble of thunder just before a storm.
Kael could feel the weight of the man's presence, like a hand pressing down on his chest. His knees buckled under the pressure, and he barely managed to stay standing. His heart raced, panic rising in his throat as the dark knight's gaze swept over him. It wasn't just the man's size or the black armor—it was the raw, murderous intent that bled from him, thick and suffocating. The knight's aura was terrifyingly palpable, though he showed no signs of aggression. He was bored, almost indifferent, yet the sheer force of his presence was enough to make Kael feel as though he'd been flayed open.
Aldric met the dark knight's gaze without flinching. "We're the team you requested to assist with the ruins. We're here at the commander's summons."
The knight snorted. "You're late. We expected you yesterday. We thought you might've been killed on the way."
The tension in the air eased slightly as the knight's aura lessened, but it wasn't enough to let Kael relax. His legs trembled, but he managed to hold his ground. The knight's gaze flicked back to Kael, his lips curling in what might have been disdain. "If you can't handle this," he said, his voice dripping with contempt, "I wouldn't bother stepping into that tent."
Aldric placed a reassuring hand on Kael's shoulder, steadying him. "He's with us," Aldric said firmly. "We're responsible for his safety."
The dark knight shrugged and stepped aside, allowing them passage into the command tent.
As soon as they entered, Kael's skin prickled with unease. The temperature seemed to drop, and the air inside was heavy with a sense of foreboding. The tent was massive, almost a small pavilion, with long tables piled high with scrolls and maps. Administrative workers buzzed around, shuffling papers and communicating in hushed tones. But at the center of it all, behind a grand mahogany desk, sat a man whose very presence made Kael's instincts scream to flee.
Commander Rasputin was a monster of a man—easily over seven feet tall, with a frame that seemed carved from stone. His thick, corded muscles strained beneath his armor, and his mere presence filled the tent, making it feel smaller and more claustrophobic than it was. Rasputin glanced up from the scroll he was reviewing, his face set in a permanent scowl. Steam hissed softly from his mouth as he sighed, as if the weight of the world sat squarely on his shoulders.
"Aldric" Rasputin rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural growl. "How long has it been since you've graced me with your divine presence?" There was a mocking edge to his words, though his expression remained hard as stone.
Aldric winced, the guilt of past decisions flashing briefly across his face. "It's been too long, Commander. The Church has stayed out of your affairs for years, but with the recent discoveries… we can no longer remain passive."
The two men shared a glance—veterans of countless battles, seasoned by war and hardship. Though their auras were vastly different—Aldric's a calming, healing presence and Rasputin's a storm waiting to break—there was a mutual respect between them, forged in bloodshed.
Commander Rasputin leaned back in his chair, studying the rest of the party with narrowed eyes. His gaze lingered on Kael for a moment, as if measuring him. "And who's this?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling through the tent like distant thunder.
Aldric placed a hand on Kael's shoulder again, this time in reassurance. "This is Kael, our engineer. We encountered complications in the forest, and we needed his skills to get here safely."
Rasputin's eyes flicked to the repaired shield strapped to Aldric's back, his gaze lingering on the freshly inscribed runes. A spark of approval crossed his face, though it disappeared just as quickly. "You're fortunate to have him," Rasputin muttered. "Even more fortunate that you made it here at all."
Kael nodded respectfully, though inside he was reeling. This wasn't his world—these were warriors, men who had stared death in the face and walked away unscathed. And here he was, a tinker's son, trying to keep up.
Aldric cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back on track. "We're here to assist in deciphering the ruins. What's the situation?"
Rasputin's expression darkened. "It's worse than we anticipated. The ruins are heavily guarded by creatures we've never seen before—things that don't belong in this world. And beneath the ruins, something ancient stirs. We've lost too many men already."
A heavy silence followed his words. The tension in the room was thick, the air heavy with unspoken fears. Kael could feel it—the doubt, the uncertainty that even these seasoned warriors were struggling to suppress.
"That's why we called you," Rasputin continued, his gaze hardening. "This isn't a problem of flesh and blood anymore. Whatever lies beneath those ruins, it's older than anything we've faced. We need your faith, Aldric. And your expertise."
Aldric nodded solemnly. "We'll do what must be done."
Rasputin stood, towering over the table. "Good. You'll be briefed on your mission at dawn. Rest until then, but stay vigilant. This place is far from safe."
As they exited the tent, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them, hidden in the depths of the forest. The wind whispered through the trees, and for the first time, Kael felt the full weight of what lay ahead.
The forest was alive. And it was waiting.