The once ceremonial meeting tent at the heart of the neutral zone had become a bustling headquarters, a hive of frantic activity. Inside, the three tribal leaders—Zovar, Orvek, and Arika—were a flurry of motion, their calm composure from the alliance meeting replaced with urgency and determination. The fire in the center of the tent roared higher than usual, casting flickering shadows across maps, weapons, and hurriedly scribbled messages being passed between the leaders.
Orvek, standing tall and commanding, barked orders to his warriors through gritted teeth. "Send word to every Varuka fighter in the hills! I want every able-bodied warrior here by nightfall!" His sharp, dark eyes scanned a roughly drawn map of the surrounding territory as he pointed to key locations. "Double the patrols along the rocky passes. If anything tries to flank us, I want them dead before they even see the camp."
Across the tent, Zovar sat with a group of her Katalu strategists, her oceanic blue eyes sharp as she reviewed inventory lists. "We have enough dried fish and grains for at least a week," she murmured to her aides, her melodic voice steady despite the tension. "Prioritize feeding the warriors first. Make sure the children and elderly have their share, but ration carefully—we don't know how long this will last."
Meanwhile, Arika knelt beside another group, sketching out rows of makeshift shelters on a piece of tanned leather. "Set up tents here and here," she instructed, pointing to spaces just outside the central camp. "Once all the non-combatants arrive they will need somewhere safe to stay. Use the forest as cover, but keep them close enough to retreat to the tent if necessary." She looked up, her sharp eyes scanning the growing chaos. "And someone bring more firewood—we'll need it for the night."
The three outsiders weren't idle in the midst of the chaos.
Darius stood outside the tent, a line of warriors forming around him as he handed out freshly crafted bronze weapons. His hands moved with practiced precision, fitting blades to shafts and checking for balance before passing them off.
"This axe is heavier than your old one," he said, his voice calm but firm as he handed a Varuka warrior a weapon. "But it'll cut through crude armor like butter. Swing wide, aim for the torso."
The warriors nodded, their expressions a mix of awe and determination as they hefted their new weapons.
Nearby, Rice stirred a massive pot of stew over an open fire, the scent of herbs, spices, and roasted meat wafting through the camp. He moved quickly, his hands a blur as he chopped, stirred, and tasted. "Alright, everyone, listen up!" he called out, his silver-gray eyes sparkling despite the tension. "This stew is packed with energy, flavor, and just a little bit of love. Come grab a bowl and get ready to fight—or hide. Whatever works!"
The children and elderly gathered near his makeshift kitchen, their faces lighting up at the sight of the hearty meal. Even in the chaos, Rice's humor was a small comfort.
Ryden, meanwhile, moved through the camp with Arika, helping to organize the non-combatants who had just arrived. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd as he gently guided children to safer areas and reassured the elderly with his calm, steady presence.
"Stick together," he told a group of frightened villagers, his voice low but soothing. "If anything happens, follow the warriors' orders and get to the tents. You'll be safe there."
When a young boy tugged at his sleeve, tears streaming down his face, Ryden crouched down and whispered a few soft words. Moments later, the boy was smiling, clutching Ryden's hand as he led him to a group of other children.
The camp itself was alive with movement. Warriors practiced with their new bronze-tipped weapons, the glint of sunlight on polished blades a stark contrast to the crude stone tools they had used only weeks ago. Toquiri hunters tested their spear throwers, the sharp thrum of projectiles whistling through the air as they struck wooden targets.
Children darted between the adults, some carrying bundles of sticks for the fires while others clung nervously to their parents. The elderly sat in clusters, murmuring prayers and watching the organized chaos unfold with quiet resolve.
The first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, bathing the plains in a soft golden glow. Despite the frantic preparations, the rising sun brought a brief moment of calm, a reminder of the beauty of the land they were fighting to protect.
The peace didn't last. A pair of scouts burst into the camp, their faces pale and glistening with sweat as they ran toward the tent. One of them, a Katalu warrior with braided hair and a spear in hand, skidded to a stop in front of the tribal leaders.
"Chiefs!" she gasped, her voice trembling with urgency. "There's an army—heading straight for us!"
Zovar stood immediately, her eyes narrowing. "What kind of army?"
The scout stood before the tribal leaders, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes, wide with fear, darted to each chief in turn before she spoke again.
"They're coming from the hilly regions of the Varuka lands," she said. "Dozens—no, hundreds of them. Green-skinned, humanoid… monsters. They're unlike anything we've ever seen. Their weapons are crude—clubs, bone-tipped spears, and shields made of hide—but their numbers make them a true threat."
Orvek leaned forward, his scarred face tightening in a grim scowl. "Green-skinned, humanoid? What are these things?"
The scout hesitated. "They… they march like a horde. In the center, there's something else. A creature—huge, towering above them. It's unlike the others. Hulking, with thick limbs and skin like stone."
The crowd in the tent murmured uneasily, their whispers swirling like a gust of wind.
Outside the tent, Darius, who had been handing out weapons to a line of warriors, overheard the description. He looked up sharply. "Goblins," he muttered to himself.
Orvek's sharp ears caught the word. He turned toward Darius, his dark eyes narrowing. "Goblins," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. His lips twisted into a grim smile. "It's fitting. Goblins it is."
The other leaders exchanged a glance, nodding in agreement.
Before they could discuss further, another scout burst into the tent, her wet clothes clinging to her as if she had just emerged from the lake itself. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"From the lake, Chief Zovar," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "A host of monsters is emerging from the water. They… they're shaped like men, but their heads are like fish, their mouths filled with sharp teeth. Their hands are clawed, and they carry spears made of bone and coral. They move quickly in the water, slower on land, but their numbers…" She shook her head, her fear evident. "There are too many to count."
Rice, stirring a massive pot of stew nearby, froze mid-motion, his silver-gray eyes wide with alarm. "Fish monsters?" he said, his voice rising slightly. "You mean, like… mermen?"
Zovar's head turned toward him, her elegant features marred by a faint frown. "Mermen," she repeated thoughtfully. "Let's go with that name."
As the tension in the tent rose, a third scout entered, his face pale and his steps faltering as though he had run for miles. He bowed his head quickly before addressing Arika.
"Chief," he said, his voice strained, "monsters are emerging from the forest as well. Smaller in number, but they are fierce. The beasts… they resemble wolves, but they are larger, darker, and their eyes glow red. There are panther-like creatures too, and some that look like apes, massive and muscular, tearing through the trees with their bare hands."
The scout hesitated, then added, "They don't march like the goblins or the mermen. They move in small packs, but they are ferocious and fast. They are hunting us."
Ryden, who had been helping Arika manage the influx of non-combatants, stopped in his tracks. He turned to the scout, his expression serious. "I don't have a name for them," he said, "but let's keep it simple. We'll call them the Beasts of the Forest."
The leaders nodded grimly, their minds already racing with strategies to handle the threats.
The three chiefs stood over the central map, their voices low but urgent as they discussed the defense of their alliance. Orvek suggested reinforcing the hilly terrain to funnel the goblins into a bottleneck where their numbers could be neutralized. Zovar proposed setting traps near the lake's edge to slow the mermen's advance, ensuring they couldn't reach the camp. Arika emphasized the need to position scouts and warriors around the forest perimeter to prevent the Beasts of the Forest from ambushing their people.
The sound of plans being laid filled the tent, but outside the council, Ryden, Darius, and Rice stood in a tight circle, their expressions dark.
Ryden leaned against a support beam, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought. "This might be why all of the other people sent to GAIA died," he said quietly, his voice carrying an ominous weight.
Rice looked up from where he was ladling stew into bowls. "What do you mean?"
Ryden rubbed the back of his neck, his dark eyes scanning the bustling camp. "Think about it. All this… the monsters, the alliances, the advancements—it started when we arrived. What if we triggered this? The increase in monster activity, the attacks… what if it's because we helped them reach the Bronze Age?"
Rice's face fell, the humor draining from his eyes. "You're saying this is our fault?"
Ryden nodded, his expression grim. "It's possible. These monsters didn't appear in numbers like this until we started introducing new technologies, new ways of living. The balance of this world might have shifted because of us."
Darius, who had been silent up to this point, interrupted, his voice steady but firm. "It doesn't matter if it's because of us or not," he said, his dark gaze locking onto the others. "Right now, these people are depending on us. We don't have time to second-guess ourselves or wonder if we're the cause. What matters is helping them survive."
Ryden straightened, his thoughtful expression hardening into determination. Rice let out a shaky exhale, then nodded, the spark of his usual energy returning to his eyes.
"All right," Rice said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's get to work."