The first light of dawn spilled softly over the city gates, casting a warm, golden hue across the crowd gathered at the entrance. Ray and Nio stood at the edge, quietly observing the assembly forming around them. Today marked the beginning of their journey to the Immortal Cave, a place so feared that few dared even to whisper its name. Stories claimed that only "immortals" ever returned from its depths.
Ray's gaze moved over the faces of their fellow travelers, settling briefly on each one. In the center of the group stood the renowned mage, Andrew Paul. Nearing forty, Andrew had a calm but commanding presence, his golden hair falling to his shoulders and his eyes glinting with an intense, calculating intelligence. He wore a deep blue robe that shimmered in the early light, and in his hand, he carried an ornate staff capped with a gemstone as large as a fist, faintly glowing—a rare artifact of power.
Ten other mages flanked Andrew, all dressed in robes of the same deep blue. They reviewed their supplies in low murmurs, carefully checking vials of mana potions packed onto a cart and making last-minute adjustments to their spell components. Each mage appeared seasoned and adept, though none had the same quiet authority as Andrew.
Off to one side, five clerics from the Church of Altia stood together, distinguishable by their white robes emblazoned with the symbols of their goddess. Two among them were older, their robes edged in gold to mark their higher rank and experience. Their calm expressions stood in stark contrast to the younger three, who gripped their prayer beads tightly, faces pale with nervous anticipation. Barely out of their teens, these three seemed unprepared for the hardships ahead, casting uncertain glances between the roughened mercenaries and stoic knights.
Nio nudged Ray, nodding toward the next figure of interest: Alicia Roman, the daughter of Count Roman. In her early twenties, Alicia wore a finely crafted set of silver light armor that seemed made for her. Twin swords rested on her belt, and though she hadn't yet drawn them, her confident stance spoke volumes. She exuded authority, commanding the attention of the imperial knights near her as she gave quiet instructions.
Ray couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for Alicia. Known across the kingdom, not just as the count's daughter but as a captain of the Silver Knights, her reputation was well-earned. The Silver Knights—a prestigious, all-female squad under her command—stood behind her, disciplined and watchful in matching silver armor. Alongside them were imperial knights in full plate, their armor gleaming with the kingdom's crest, their expressions resolute and steady.
Ray's attention then shifted to the mercenaries gathered around him. They were a rough and varied crowd, armored in everything from worn leather to battered chainmail. Scars and hardened expressions marked them as veterans, though a nervous tension was evident in some. Many exchanged uneasy glances, some fidgeting or adjusting their grips on their weapons as they prepared to move out.
A senior knight raised his voice over the group. "Attention, all! We depart for the Immortal Cave shortly. Each group has a designated position—mercenaries, you'll be at the front, clearing any monsters we encounter."
Ray felt a familiar thrill at the challenge; he thrived on the dangers that lay ahead. Yet, he saw the frustration on the faces of the other mercenaries, clearly annoyed at being placed at the vanguard.
"Typical," grumbled a large, grizzled man, his voice thick with disdain. "Let the nobles sit pretty while we're up front, taking the blows."
Another mercenary scoffed, shaking his head. "They'd better pay us double if we're doing all the fighting."
Before any real discontent could take root, Alicia stepped forward, her tone authoritative but understanding. "I know this mission isn't easy," she said, her voice clear. "But each of you was chosen for your skill and courage. I expect every one of you to give your best. In return, you'll be compensated above standard rates—and you'll be remembered."
Her words eased some of the tension, though a few mercenaries muttered under their breath. A sense of grim determination settled over the group.
Nio leaned in close to Ray, muttering, "Guess that means we'll be doing the heavy lifting."
Ray smirked, replying quietly, "That's why we're here, isn't it?"
With final preparations complete, the company set off. The mercenaries formed a loose vanguard, their weapons drawn and ready. Behind them came the knights, mages, and clerics, the young clerics clinging together as if they could feel the ominous energy in the air. As they entered the dense forest, Ray felt the familiar hum of adrenaline begin to build. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers tightening instinctively around the worn leather.
They moved steadily through the woods as the sun rose higher, the trees casting long, shifting shadows. Hours passed, and the forest seemed to close in around them, the air growing chillier, the light dimmer. Suddenly, a pack of wolves burst from the underbrush, their eyes glinting with hunger. Ray's blade moved in a flash, slicing through a wolf mid-leap. More creatures followed, snarling as they lunged at the mercenaries. But Ray and his companions fought with practiced efficiency, their movements sharp and swift, blood quickly staining the forest floor.
As they pushed closer to the Immortal Cave, the creatures grew more vicious. Larger wolves with glowing red eyes and goblins brandishing crude weapons attacked in greater numbers. Despite the increasing danger, the knights and mages remained behind, leaving the mercenaries to fend off the creatures.
"This is ridiculous," muttered a young mercenary as he wiped blood from his sword. "They've got all those mages back there, and we're the ones doing the dirty work."
"Quiet," hissed an older mercenary. "Don't question the nobles. We're getting paid, remember?"
Ray remained focused, his thoughts fixed on each enemy before him. With every creature he cut down, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction—a small step toward redeeming himself, a way of facing the demons of his past.
The group continued onward, drawing closer to the cave entrance. Just as it came into view, a new sound rumbled through the trees. Heavy, guttural roars echoed, and moments later, a band of orcs emerged, their eyes blazing with malice. Massive and brutal, the orcs charged, their crude weapons gleaming in the dim light.
One young mercenary was quickly overwhelmed, thrown to the ground by the sheer force of an orc's blow. The orc raised a jagged axe, preparing to strike, a cruel snarl contorting its face.
Ray acted instantly. His blade sliced through the air with a deadly precision, cleaving into the orc's side. The creature stumbled back, roaring in agony, but before it could react, Ray thrust his sword forward, piercing its chest and finishing it off.
As the orc crumpled to the ground, Ray straightened, his gaze shifting to the rest of the group. His expression was dark, almost predatory, a sharp edge of menace glinting in his eyes. For a brief, chilling moment, the others glimpsed something unsettling—a look that hinted at something fierce and untamed within him. It was the look of a man who had been forged in violence, a man who seemed born to kill.
Silence fell as the other mercenaries, knights, and even mages stood, momentarily frozen by the sight of Ray's fierce expression. Nio broke the quiet, his voice a whisper, "Ray… what was that?"
But Ray simply wiped his blade clean, his features softening as he returned to his usual calm demeanour. Whatever darkness had risen in him had disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving only his focused resolve.
The group recomposed themselves, casting wary glances at Ray as they moved toward the cave entrance. The air was thick with anticipation, each person keenly aware that the true test lay within the shadows beyond.