The morning light in the Miasma Forest was faint, as grayish-purple mist thinned slightly, allowing occasional weak rays of sunlight to filter through the dense canopy. These rare beams of light brought a semblance of life to the otherwise dead land. Aaron led his team deeper into the Poison-Tendril Wolves' core territory. Their steps were deliberate and silent, everyone holding their breath, acutely aware of the dangers lurking in this area.
Poison-Tendril Wolves were pack hunters and notoriously cunning. A single misstep could provoke a coordinated, deadly attack. Strangely, however, Aaron and his group encountered none of the expected sounds of the forest: no howls, no lurking danger. The area was unnaturally quiet.
"Why is it so quiet?" Arna whispered, her wary eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Perhaps the wolves have moved elsewhere," Aaron replied, his tone steady but his expression reflecting a hint of doubt. "Poison-Tendril Wolves are highly territorial. They wouldn't abandon their domain unless faced with a significant threat."
As they ventured further into the heart of the forest, the trees grew taller, their decaying trunks wrapped in layers of thick, spongy moss. The ground was littered with decomposing leaves, soft underfoot, muffling even the slightest sound. The air grew heavier with the thickening miasma, the gray-purple mist clinging to them like a viscous liquid, suffocating and oppressive.
After hours of searching, they found no sign of the Nighttear Flower. Aaron stopped in front of a massive, rotting tree, his brow furrowed in frustration. A gnawing unease crept over him. By all accounts, this should have been the area described in the family archives as the flower's habitat, yet there were no traces of it.
"Could the records be wrong? Or… has the Nighttear Flower already vanished?" Aaron pondered silently. The archives were written decades ago, and given the flower's stringent growth requirements, changes in the environment or interference from other creatures might have led to its extinction.
Arna noticed Aaron deep in thought and softly asked, "Aaron, should we continue searching?"
He shook his head, his gaze calm yet firm as it swept over their surroundings. "No, we've searched this area thoroughly. If the flower were still here, we'd have found some evidence. Let's head back and reconsider our approach."
As they began retracing their steps, moving with the same caution as before, the scout at the front suddenly raised a hand, signaling the group to halt.
"What is it?" Aaron asked quietly, stepping forward.
"There's a body... a Poison-Tendril Wolf," the scout murmured, pointing toward a patch of low-lying shrubs.
Aaron's eyes narrowed as he pushed aside the foliage. Lying there was the lifeless body of a Poison-Tendril Wolf. Its venomous tendrils drooped lifelessly, and blood soaked the ground beneath it, filling the air with a pungent metallic stench. Aaron knelt beside the corpse, carefully examining the wounds. Almost immediately, he noticed something unusual.
"This wasn't done by a beast," Aaron said softly, tracing the clean, precise cuts along the wolf's body. "These wounds were made by a blade—human handiwork."
The group tensed at his words. The presence of another party in the Poison-Tendril Wolves' domain was both unexpected and troubling. Whoever these individuals were, they had already struck first.
"We're not the only ones searching this forest," Arna said coldly, her sharp gaze flicking across the area. "It's possible they've already taken the Nighttear Flower."
"Their purpose wouldn't be to kill the wolves alone," Aaron said as he stood, his tone measured but firm. "Anyone skilled enough to venture this deep isn't here for idle slaughter. Their goal is likely the same as ours—Nighttear Flowers. And judging by the lack of effort to hide their tracks, they didn't expect competition."
Arna considered this for a moment before replying, "Aaron, they likely have no idea someone else is here. I can track the traces they left behind; we might find where they went."
Aaron paused, considering her suggestion. The strangers were evidently capable—skilled enough to kill Poison-Tendril Wolves and navigate this treacherous forest. Were they operatives of the Shadow Alliance, or unaffiliated adventurers with their own motives? He couldn't be certain yet.
Finally, he nodded. "Do it. But be careful not to alert them. Once we locate them, we'll decide our next move."
Arna crouched to examine the ground closely, using her dagger to part leaves and debris. She quickly spotted faint footprints and areas of disturbed soil where something had been dragged. Following the trail, she led the group deeper into the forest.
"This group seems small—three to five people at most," Arna whispered as she moved. "They're moving quickly, though, as if they want to leave this place as soon as possible."
Aaron followed close behind, his expression calm but calculating. In his hand, he held a compact staff, prepared for any sudden attack. The miasma grew denser with each step, and the warped trees seemed to loom over them, hiding unseen eyes in their shadows.
"Who are these people, and why are they here?" Aaron pondered. "If they're from the Shadow Alliance, their methods wouldn't be this careless. If they belong to another black market faction, what could have driven them to take such risks?"
As they continued, the miasma gradually thinned, and the acrid stench of blood faded. Arna halted suddenly, pointing toward a sunken area ahead. "They're just up ahead. Judging by the tracks, they've stopped moving."
Aaron squinted through the trees and saw faint silhouettes moving in the distance. The strangers appeared to be sorting through something, with large sacks piled nearby. From one of the sacks, he caught a glimpse of a faint blue glow.
"The Nighttear Flower." Aaron's eyes glinted with cold determination. He was certain the luminous objects were the flower's buds. Turning to Arna, he whispered, "Approach them and assess their strength."
Arna nodded and disappeared into the shadows, silently advancing toward the group. Aaron remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the distant figures as his mind raced to devise a strategy.
"They've left their trail exposed, meaning they're not worried about being followed. But if that's the case, why haven't they left yet? They must have another goal…" His eyes darkened as a realization dawned.
Clutching his staff tightly, Aaron resolved, "No matter their plans, the Nighttear Flower will be mine."