A Few Hours Later…
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Aeron and his team stood at the gates of Riverbranch Town, preparing for their departure. The scent of fresh earth and distant river mist lingered in the air as townsfolk gathered to see them off.
The Guild Leader crossed his arms, his voice firm yet appreciative. "Even with the fastest carriage available, it will take you about two days to reach your camp."
Aeron nodded in gratitude. "Thank you for everything. And… we're sorry. We couldn't save those two men of yours." His voice was heavy with regret.
The Guild Leader shook his head, his expression solemn yet understanding. "Don't burden yourself with guilt. That man was beyond any of us… If not for you, we would have never stopped these kidnappings." He paused for a moment, then spoke with sincerity. "This town owes you a great debt."
At his words, the townspeople and guild members bowed their heads, a silent but powerful gesture of gratitude.
"We are truly grateful," one of them said, voice filled with emotion.
Aeron and his team exchanged glances, humbled by the display of appreciation.
The Guild Leader turned to an elderly man standing beside a sturdy, well-kept carriage. "This old man will escort you to your destination. He knows the safest routes."
The old man gave a warm, reassuring smile. "I'll make sure you reach your camp safely."
Aeron and the others returned the smile and bowed slightly. "We'll be in your care."
The wind carried away their words as they stepped forward, ready to leave Riverbranch Town behind and continue their journey.
Two Days Later…
Aeron, Emma, Kael, Miley, and the old man driving the carriage finally arrived at the camp.
As they entered, a wave of devastation greeted them. The camp was in ruins—tents torn apart, the ground stained with blood and scorched earth. Injured new cadets lay scattered, some receiving medical aid, others writhing in pain. Some were lifeless, their bodies covered with makeshift sheets, while others sat in grim silence, waiting for treatment.
Among the carnage, the corpses of Shadowfangs and Stormclaw Wyverns littered the battlefield. The Stormclaw Wyvern, a fearsome winged beast resembling a colossal pterosaur, had a sleek, aerodynamic body covered in jagged, metallic scales that shimmered darkly. Its vast, leathery wings were tipped with razor-sharp claws capable of slicing through steel. A long, whip-like tail ended in a deadly bladed spike, designed to pierce armor or strike prey from above. Its angular, fearsome head bore a curved, serrated beak lined with rows of needle-like teeth. Two prominent horns curved backward from its skull, and its eyes burned with a crimson glow, like fresh-spilled blood.
Aeron clenched his fists at the sight. This wasn't just a battle. It was a massacre.
Before he could say a word, Lieutenant Zei approached them, his face cold and unreadable. "Your mission is complete?"
"Yes, sir," Aeron replied, trying to process what he was seeing. Then he finally asked the question burning in his mind, "What happened here?"
From above, a familiar voice answered. "The cultist we captured... he escaped. And not long after, a swarm of Shadowfangs and Stormclaws tore through the camp."
Aeron turned his gaze upward and saw Mihon sitting casually on a tree branch, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. He looked battered—his clothes torn, his arm wrapped in fresh bandages.
Kael stepped forward, his expression dark. "How did this happen?" His voice was calm, but the tension in his fists betrayed his anger.
Earlier That Day – Noon at the Camp
Commander Luth stood outside a dimly lit tent, his expression hard as stone. The camp was eerily quiet—most of the senior officers were away, and only a handful of cadets remained stationed nearby.
"Lieutenant Zei took the new recruits to the testing grounds, correct?" Commander Luth asked, his voice steady.
"Yes, Sir," Colonel Leona responded, her arms crossed, her sharp gaze never leaving the tent.
At that moment, a young cadet rushed toward them, his breath ragged. "Sir, the cultist has woken up."
Commander Luth and Colonel Leona exchanged glances before stepping into the tent.
Inside, the air was thick with an unsettling stillness. The cultist sat tied to a chair, his hands bound behind him, his head tilted downward, eyes hidden beneath his messy hair.
Luth exhaled sharply. "It's been six months. Every single day, you wake up, we ask you questions, and what do you do? You sit there, staring at the ground. Some days you glare at us, other days you spit curses, and when you're bored, you go back to sleep." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a low growl. "We've tried being nice, but clearly, you don't respond well to kindness."
The cultist remained motionless, his silence as infuriating as ever.
Luth straightened up. "Enough of this nice-guy act. Leona—get him talking."
Without hesitation, Colonel Leona clenched her fist and struck the cultist hard across the face. His head snapped to the side, but he didn't flinch. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, yet he remained eerily composed.
"You… bastards," the cultist muttered, his voice filled with venom. Slowly, he lifted his head, his bloodstained lips curling into a smirk. "You ruined our world. You slaughtered our animals. You burned our lands. You murder our people and act like you're the heroes. You'll regret this, every last one of you."
His voice was a promise of vengeance, laced with an almost unholy fury.
Leona's eyes narrowed as she delivered another brutal punch, making the cultist spit blood onto the dirt floor. "I don't need a history lesson," she spat. "I need answers."
The cultist let out a low, mocking chuckle before slumping forward. He went limp, his breathing shallow.
"Tch. He's pretending to be unconscious," Leona muttered, shaking her head in frustration. "This is useless, Commander. He won't give us anything." She exhaled sharply. "Maybe we should hand him over to the Interworld Security. Let them deal with him."
The Interworld Security (IWS) is the highest governing body overseeing all military operations and corporate activities in the Other World. Established to regulate and monitor the actions of various private military companies, IWS holds absolute authority over the deployment of soldiers, issuing and revoking licenses to ensure only authorized forces operate beyond the portal. Acting as the supreme law enforcement and judicial body, they investigate crimes, deliver judgments, and maintain order, preventing unauthorized wars and ensuring no single faction gains too much power. Unlike profit-driven corporations, IWS remains neutral, enforcing balance with an iron grip. No soldier moves, no battle is fought, and no deal is made without their knowledge, making them the ultimate force that decides the fate of those who dare cross the portal.
Before Luth could reply, a voice—deep, guttural, and unnatural—rippled through the tent.
"You've made a huge mistake keeping me here…"
A sickening crack filled the air as the cultist lifted his head, his neck twisting unnaturally. He stood up from the chair, the ropes that once bound him now in tatters on the ground.
Luth's breath caught in his throat. "How the hell did he—?"
The cultist's grin widened, a crazed glint in his eyes. "You dare to imprison me? You dare to lay your filthy hands on me? You insignificant bastards… you will suffer for this."
"Get back!" Luth barked at Leona, instinctively reaching for his gun.
Before he could draw, a shadowy figure emerged from behind him—silent as death. A brutal fist slammed into Luth's back, forcing him to his knees.
Leona spun around, but before she could react, the cultist lunged at her, his fingers wrapping around her throat like a vice. Lifting her off the ground, he sneered, "This is for the punches and humiliation." With a swift motion, he plunged a dagger deep into her chest.
Leona gasped, blood bubbling up from her lips. But despite the pain, she gritted her teeth. "I-I'm okay… Sir…"
"STOP!" Luth roared, his voice filled with both rage and desperation.
Hearing the commotion, cadets from outside the tent rushed in, their guns raised and aimed. "Freeze!" one of them shouted.
A sudden noise—like a hundred thundering footsteps—echoed across the camp. The ground trembled. The air grew thick with tension.
"What is that sound…?" a cadet whispered, eyes darting around.
Everyone's eyes widened in horror. "It's a monster swarm."
The cultist's laugh echoed through the chaos. "And now… your suffering truly begins."
In the split second the cadets were distracted, he vanished into thin air.
The earth shook as a pack of Shadowfangs and Stromclaw Wyverns crashed into the camp, their glowing eyes filled with murderous hunger.