The forest pressed in around Alex, each shadow a potential threat. He crouched low in the underbrush, heart pounding as he stared at the flickering firelight of the Blackfang camp.
The warmth of the flames contrasted sharply with the chill seeping into his bones, but he couldn't afford to let the cold or fear take hold. His hand gripped the short sword Mira had thrust at him earlier. It felt awkward, alien, and heavier than he'd expected, but it was all he had.
Ahead, the bandits moved carelessly, shouting and laughing as though their raid on Riverend had been nothing more than a routine chore. Their camp sprawled in a loose circle, with tents made of patched fabric and stolen goods piled in crude heaps. The bandits themselves were as rough as their camp—scarred, grimy, and armed with mismatched weapons.
Mira crouched beside Alex, her green eyes scanning the camp with deadly focus. Even now, her presence was commanding, her leather armor scarred but intact, her movements precise. She'd given everyone their roles and expected them to follow her orders without question.
"Remember," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We're not here to fight all of them. We cause chaos, cripple their supplies, and retreat before they can regroup. No heroics. If things go wrong, you run. Do you understand?"
Alex nodded. The plan was simple, but he couldn't shake the knot of fear in his stomach. This was different from the desperate defense of the village. There, the chaos of the attack had carried him along. Here, they were the aggressors. He'd volunteered for this, and now, every moment felt like a test of whether he'd made a terrible mistake.
From the far side of the camp, a sharp whistle pierced the night air. It was low and deliberate—the signal. Mira tensed beside him, and Alex felt his breath catch.
"Corin's group will start the distraction," she whispered. "We move as soon as they react."
Alex's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. His hands were slick with sweat despite the cold.
The whistle was followed by a second, louder one. The bandits stiffened, looking around in confusion. Then, out of the darkness, a flaming arrow streaked into one of the supply tents, igniting it instantly.
Shouts erupted from the camp as the bandits scrambled to respond. More arrows followed, striking the edges of the camp and scattering the firelight in chaotic flashes. Some bandits ran toward the source of the attack, while others rushed to douse the flames.
Mira nudged Alex and gestured forward. "Now," she hissed.
They crept into the chaos, their movements silent and deliberate. Alex's heart hammered in his chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. He followed Mira as she weaved between tents, her blade glinting faintly in the firelight.
The first bandit they came across didn't even see her coming. Mira's blade flashed, and the man crumpled silently to the ground. Alex froze, staring at the body. It was one thing to know this was necessary, but seeing it—watching someone's life end so suddenly—sent a cold shiver down his spine.
"Don't freeze," Mira whispered harshly, dragging him back to reality. "Keep moving."
He nodded, forcing himself to follow her. His grip on the sword tightened until his knuckles turned white.
The camp was in disarray. The bandits were yelling, trying to organize, but the flames and arrows kept them scattered. Mira moved like a shadow, striking down isolated bandits with ruthless efficiency. Alex tried to mimic her, but his movements were slow, hesitant. When he finally came face to face with a bandit, his body locked up.
The man lunged at him with a knife, and Alex barely managed to block the attack. The force of it jarred his arm, and the knife scraped against the blade of his sword with a high-pitched screech. Alex stumbled back, fear overwhelming his thoughts.
"Swing, damn it!" Mira's voice cut through the chaos.
Alex swung wildly, the sword connecting with the bandit's side. The man let out a strangled cry and fell, clutching the wound. Alex stared at the blood, his stomach churning.
"Keep moving!" Mira shouted, grabbing his arm and dragging him forward.
Alex shook himself, forcing the bile in his throat back down. There wasn't time to think, to process. He had to focus.
They reached another supply tent, this one piled high with food and weapons. Mira grabbed a torch from the ground and shoved it into Alex's hand.
"Light it," she ordered.
He hesitated, staring at the supplies. He thought of Riverend, of the people who had been hurt and killed because of the Blackfangs. With a deep breath, he thrust the torch into the pile. Flames leapt to life, spreading quickly.
The fire illuminated the camp, drawing more attention to their position. Mira pulled Alex back into the shadows as several bandits rushed toward the burning tent, shouting in alarm.
"We're done here," Mira said. "Time to pull back."
Alex nodded, relief flooding through him. He was ready to leave, to get out of this nightmare.
But as they moved toward the edge of the camp, a roar cut through the air, freezing them in their tracks.
A massive man emerged from one of the larger tents, his face twisted in rage. His bald head gleamed in the firelight, and he carried a warhammer that looked like it could crush a man's skull with ease. But it wasn't the weapon that made Alex's blood run cold—it was the faint shimmer in the air around him, the way the flames seemed to flicker and twist unnaturally as he moved.
"A mage," Mira muttered, her voice low and tense. "Damn it. He wasn't supposed to be here."
The man swept his gaze over the camp, his eyes landing on Mira and Alex almost instantly.
"There you are," he growled, his voice like rolling thunder. He raised his free hand, and flames sprang to life in his palm, casting an eerie orange glow over the clearing.
"Retreat!" Mira shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Everyone, fall back now!"
The villagers began to scatter, retreating into the forest as the mage strode into the center of the camp. He swung his warhammer, smashing a burning tent into pieces, and sent a wave of fire hurtling toward the treeline.
Alex barely had time to dive out of the way. The heat seared his skin, and the force of the blast sent him tumbling into the dirt. He scrambled to his feet, panic surging through him as he saw the mage advancing.
"Run!" Mira shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the forest.
The group regrouped at their original position, panting and trembling from the adrenaline. Mira paced back and forth, her expression stormy.
"That was too close," she muttered. "I should've known they'd have a mage."
Alex leaned against a tree, his body aching and his mind racing. He'd barely survived, and every step of the fight had shown him how unprepared he was. Mira's words from earlier rang in his ears: Hesitation will get you killed.
"What do we do now?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Mira stopped pacing and looked at him, her green eyes hard. "We'll figure it out," she said. "But one thing is clear—you need to get stronger."
Alex looked at her, surprised. "What?"
"You survived tonight," she said.
"Barely. But survival isn't enough. This world doesn't care about people who hesitate, who freeze, who rely on others to pull them out of the fire. If you don't learn to fight—to really fight—you'll die. Simple as that."
Her words hit Alex like a punch to the gut, but he couldn't argue with her. The fear he'd felt during the raid, the helplessness—it wasn't something he wanted to experience again. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to be stronger.
"I'll learn," he said, his voice steadier than he expected. "I'll get stronger."
Mira nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Good. Because this was just the beginning."
Alex stared into the darkness of the forest, his mind churning. He didn't know how he'd ended up in this world or why, but one thing was clear: if he wanted to survive, he couldn't stay the way he was.
He had to change. He had to grow. And he would—no matter what it took.