The soft whimpering became louder as the party moved into the sandstone village deep within the cave. The captive old man, bound tightly in vines conjured by Ngieri, suddenly let out an ear-piercing wail. Before anyone could react, he tried to bolt, his chains clattering against the stone floor.
Ngieri sighed, her frustration evident. "Enough." She stomped her foot, and emerald vines erupted from the ground, coiling around the old man's legs and arms, slamming him face-first into the dirt.
"You're going to give away our position," Gwendon muttered. "And Ngieri, try to construct your magic circles more visibly next time. Using raw magic like that makes people. curious."
Ngieri shrugged. "We are in hostile territory. Drama can wait."
Larin nodded, his voice low but firm. "We clear the village, house by house. No rushing. We don't know what is waiting for us."
---
It was exploring such homes, gingerly inspecting each one, that the group found some abandoned spoils: heaps of baubles, arms, and provisions speaking of a bandit raid. Rinku paused mid-step, her eyes going wide at what she saw in one house. "Manacite and.eonite?" she breathed, running her fingers over the smooth, glowing crystals stacked neatly in a chest.
"What?" he said, advancing. His eyes went dark as he took in the hoard.
Rinku turned to the others. "This isn't random loot," he said. "Eonite is used in time-altering devices, like those Kirat machines—walking heaps of clockwork and enchantments. And manacite? That's the cornerstone of mana conservation. Whoever these people are, they were stockpiling for something big."
Ngieri knelt by the chest, her expression unreadable. "This. this is far beyond ordinary bandits. This isn't just greed; this is preparation for war."
Larin grimaced. "We'll take a handful for ourselves. If the military seizes everything, we'll have nothing to show for this."
They gathered a meager share, just enough to forge a few tools or weapons. Their hands moved swiftly; their silence betrayed a collective nervousness.
---
The last house confronted them, and a bloodcurdling scream shook the air. Wordlessly, the group moved forward with their weapons drawn and spells ready.
The door creaked open to a gruesome sight. Blood was splattered across the floor, and several bodies lay strewn, their dead eyes staring into nothingness. At the center of it all stood a man, eerily identical to their captive. He clutched a bloodied knife in one hand and the entrails of a woman in the other. Her gag had slipped loose, explaining the scream.
He looked up at them, his eyes black as stone and cold. "Ah, you are the ones who detained Number 81. Novices with high-tech equipment, I see. But you come too late. I didn't finish, but this will suffice.".
The group tensed as the man's eyes darkened further, until the whites had vanished completely. A haze erupted from his body, spreading rapidly. It was an oppressive, cloying fog that dulled their senses. Sight blurred, sound muffled, and the air felt thick with malice.
Larin raised his voice, though it felt distant even to his own ears. "Defensive spells, now!"
The group staggered to create barriers, their movements slowed by the pervasive curse. The haze was unlike anything they had ever faced—a sensory onslaught that made their training nearly irrelevant.
"This is the beginning," the man said, his voice echoing unnaturally through the haze. "Acceleration is coming. Everything will fall, and we will rebuild. Those are our holy words."
Rinku, her voice shaking, whispered, "We have to get out of here."
Ngieri nodded. "Agreed. Move!"
They grabbed their captive and ran, their instincts guiding them through the thick fog. Yet, every path seemed to lead them back to the same spot-the house where the ritual had taken place.
The old man in their grasp began laughing hysterically. "You can't escape. You're trapped, just like the rest of them."
The earth shook violently, and the stone ceiling of the cave tore open, a clean and precise cut as if made by an invisible blade. A gust of cold air swept through, carrying with it an overwhelming presence.
A figure emerged from the tear in the rock. His skin was shining blue and had thin gills where he used to have ears. Those were moving delicately with every breath. His eyes were pools of deep water examining everything with calm and decisive completeness.
"You always make a mess, sister," he said his voice calm but firmly final.
The black-eyed man stumbled and lost his bravado in the twinkling of an eye. He squirmed under the weight of the stranger's stare but said nothing.
The blue-skinned figure landed as if weightless. He turned to Larin and his companions, who were frozen in their tracks. He waved his hand, and the oppressive haze cleared, restoring clarity to their senses.
"I hope my sister didn't bother you too much," he said, his voice almost apologetic. "Here, take this."
A pouch flew through the air, landing at Larin's feet. "Consider it compensation. I think you'll find it useful."
Before anyone could speak, the blue-skinned being and his "sister" vanished, leaving behind a stunned silence.
The group gazed at the place where the beings had stood, their breathing heavy.
"What just happened?" Rinku finally dared to ask, her voice trembling.
Ngieri shook her head. "I do not know, but that was not. normal. No circles, no visible casting. That haze was something entirely different.
Gwendon reached out to pick up the pouch, opening it slowly. Inside were perfectly cut mana crystals and a few stones they couldn't immediately identify.
"We made it," Larin said softly. "By the skin of our teeth. Let's get done what we need to do in here."
They went back into the final house and found some women and children alive, huddled together in the corner. Their faces were ghostly white, and their eyes were very wide with fear.
"They were going to kill us," one of the women whispered. "We were. we were next."
Larin's stomach churned. If they hadn't cleared the other houses first, these people would have been missed. But there was something to their survival that didn't ring true. The group exchanged hesitant glances, unspoken decision to not relax their vigil.
As they finished escorting all the survivors and gave an update on the Bandit quest. That was what the cutting of the ears were for. They were asked to write a report, and the transfer of 10,000 credit as 2500 each among them happened. They found it hard to get a conversation running, they just were working harder but looked anxious all the time.
After the transfer the decided to go back to the bandit camp, after taking care of all that were needed for the Khausa Ritual.Using long bamboo stakes, they hung the heads in rows, the gruesome spectacle spinning slowly as green flames licked at its edges. The group wore empty Bi-horn horns that they struck together in rhythmic tones, echoing through the cavern. Chanting together, they wove the flames of their magic to bind the ritual to their intent.
In one simultaneous burst, the heads were consumed by green fire, ash structures turning them into.
"That," Larin said, his voice laced with frustration, "was the most depressing Khausa Ritual I've ever done. We got our asses handed to us, and we still had the nerve to do it.".
Gwendon clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We survived, Larin. That's what matters. But you're right—we have a lot of work to do."
The group stood in silence, the weight of the day pressing heavily on their shoulders. Today wasn't a victory. It was a lesson—a humbling reminder of how far they still had to go.