The dry winds swirled around them as they trudged across the deadened land, the air thick with dust and a haunting, acrid scent that clung to the back of Kyprosa's throat. Each step felt heavier, like the very earth beneath them was trying to drag them into the Blight. It wasn't a comforting thought, but it was one she was growing used to.
Razen was a silent force ahead of the group, his movements deliberate and calm, like the eye of a storm. His blood-red eyes, with those strange flower-patterned pupils, scanned the horizon without flinching. Kyprosa had long learned to read the subtle shifts in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed when danger was near. He was always on alert. But for now, the land was quiet—too quiet. The calm before the storm, perhaps.
Bunzer and Sarajin, on the other hand, were quieter than usual. Their cheerful banter had died down as they grew more aware of the shifting tension in the air. The sight of the approaching group, led by a man who radiated danger, had cast a shadow over their usually easygoing spirits.
"You know," Sarajin muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the horizon, "this might be the part where we regret not turning back."
Bunzer, usually quick with a joke, said nothing, his bright ears flattened slightly in unease. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a taut expression as he kept his eyes locked on the approaching figures. The warriors surrounding the leader were clearly in good spirits, but there was something too smug in the way they moved, too sure of themselves. They weren't the kind of people who had to fight to survive—they were the kind who thrived in chaos.
"And here I thought we were just getting into a nice stroll through the Blight," Bunzer said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Now we've got a charming band of assholes following us."
Kyprosa shot him a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You always have such a way with words. Really, Bunzer, ever thought about being a poet?"
Bunzer grinned, but it was more out of habit than anything else. "I'm not the one stuck with the high-and-mighty, half-blood princess here. I'd say my words are the least of your worries."
Sarajin snorted. "You two are like a couple of married old folks, bickering about whose turn it is to take out the trash."
Kyprosa raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. "If you keep calling us 'old,' Sarajin, I might just start thinking you've got a thing for dusty bones."
Sarajin shrugged, the corners of her lips twitching upward. "Well, maybe if those dusty bones knew how to use a decent weapon, I'd be all over it."
The banter continued as the group moved forward, but the conversation faded quickly as they noticed the two elves being dragged behind the group of warriors. The wind shifted, carrying with it the weight of something darker. Two female elves, shackled and bound, staggered behind the cruel men, their condition telling the story of torment that no words could truly capture.
One elf, with golden hair, was still a beautiful sight in the midst of her misery. Her chest was exposed, her fragile body clothed only in a ragged loincloth, the perverse stares of her captors gleaming in their eyes as they leered at her. The other elf, her features mixed with nymph blood, was once a vision of perfection, but now, her beauty had been stripped away. She wore only the shackles on her wrists, her form exposed to the men who dragged her along like a piece of meat, her eyes dull and empty, a broken thing.
Kyprosa's stomach twisted, but she didn't flinch. The sight made her want to act, to do something, but she kept her emotions in check. She could feel the tension in the air, a growing awareness that this wasn't just another random encounter. Bunzer and Sarajin, however, weren't so composed.
"Okay, I was really hoping I wouldn't have to deal with that today," Bunzer muttered under his breath, his usual mischievous grin replaced by a sharp, tense expression. He didn't like what he was seeing. None of them did.
Sarajin clenched her jaw, her hand hovering near the hilt of her sword, eyes burning with barely concealed anger. "If they think for one second they can mess with us…" she started, but her voice trailed off as the leader's gaze swept over them. His eyes briefly flicked over Kyprosa, then moved on to Razen, and that's when things shifted.
The leader's eyes locked onto Razen, assessing him with a sharp intensity. For a moment, Kyprosa could feel the air change—the kind of quiet before a storm. She glanced at Razen, whose face was unreadable, but she could see the slight shift in his stance, the way his aura rippled ever so slightly.
The leader smirked, clearly unfazed by the tense atmosphere. "You've got quite a little band," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "A half-devil, a rabbit, a changeling, and an elf. A motley crew. How quaint."
Kyprosa, never one to back down, shot back, "Not lost, I take it? Or are you just here looking for new toys to break?"
The leader's grin widened. "Well, these two elves are worth more than you'd think. A few broken ones like these fetch a good price." His eyes lingered on the helpless slaves, the glint of greed sharp in them.
Bunzer's fists clenched. "No. No way." He was trying to keep his cool, but the tension was building. "They're not getting anywhere near them."
Sarajin, her gaze fixed on the group, had one hand on her blade now. "We don't back down from this kind of filth," she said, low and dangerous.
Kyprosa, though, remained calm, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I'm sure you'll enjoy them for a little while longer. If that's what you're into." She tilted her head, unamused. "I'd say try something else, but I doubt any of you are worth the effort."
The leader, not used to being mocked so openly, narrowed his eyes. "You think you're better than me? Than us?"
Kyprosa's smirk deepened. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with. And I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing. So, if you don't mind, we've got places to be."
For a moment, the leader's smugness faltered. The tension was growing, and it was clear he wasn't prepared for the kind of resistance they were offering.
Then, one of the warriors, unable to control himself, reached out and grabbed the nymph elf, leering at her exposed body. "I bet she'd be fun to break," he chuckled, his hands wandering over her in a display of sickening entitlement. The elf didn't even flinch, her empty eyes staring ahead.
That's when Razen moved.
He stepped forward, just slightly, his presence a heavy weight that rippled out with the force of something far beyond what the others could see. His aura, quiet and contained, flooded the area, a silent storm that rolled over the group of warriors. It wasn't noticeable to Kyprosa and the rest, but the demons and devils—they could feel it. They could sense it.
The leader's smile faltered once again, his gaze flickering between Razen and the rest of the group. The warriors, once so confident, began to shift uneasily. The air around them felt thick, charged, like something dangerous was ready to snap.
The leader's bravado wavered. "Is that so?" he said, though his voice was strained, his confidence cracking.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and then, with a single nod, the leader gave the signal to retreat. He motioned for his men to fall back, his warriors slowly backing off, the slaves in tow.
Kyprosa stood still, watching them retreat with a smirk on her face. "See? Easy."
Sarajin exhaled sharply, her tension easing. "Yeah, too easy," she muttered, though the relief was clear in her voice.
Bunzer, though, wasn't as sure. "If only it worked every time. Those guys were definitely eyeing us. I don't know if they'll just forget about us." His ears twitched, a sign of his unease.
Kyprosa chuckled, her tone light again. "Let them look. It's not like they can do anything. And if they try, they'll regret it."
Razen, still standing in front of her, turned slightly, glancing back at the retreating group. His smirk, barely noticeable, tugged at the corner of his mouth. The storm had passed, for now, but the Blight was far from safe.
For now, though, the danger had receded. And for a moment, their misfit group was back to what they did best: surviving, and throwing around snark.
"Ready to move, princess?" Bunzer asked, grinning at Kyprosa.
"After you, bun-bun," she shot back, her playful tone returning as she led the way forward, her spirits light once more.
Razen's gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned to