Tara sits in a cave, his consciousness split between his main form and his clones. Four clones patrol the borders, creating a 10-mile radius of coverage around the cave.

  Clone 3—on the northern side—notices something first.

  Two figures, running for their lives.

  Clone 3 shifts position, moving closer but staying hidden, using the terrain to remain unseen. Through the clone's eyes, Tara can see them clearly now—a man and a woman, both young, both injured. The woman is limping, blood staining her robes. The man is supporting her, half-carrying her, his own wounds visible.

  Behind them, in the distance, soldiers. Five of them, maybe six. Wearing armor—a different design than what Tara has seen before in Valdiris.

  "They're being chased," Tara thinks, watching through Clone 3's perspective.

  The woman stumbles. The man catches her and helps her up, but they're slowing down. The soldiers are gaining ground.

  They reach a riverside—trapped. The river on one side, the soldiers closing in on the other.

  The soldiers catch up, surrounding them. The man draws a sword—a desperate, last-stand gesture. The woman raises her hands, magical energy gathering, but she's weak, exhausted. Her magic flickers, unstable.

  "Give up," one of the soldiers says, his voice cold. "You can't escape. Come quietly, and we'll make it quick."

  The man stands protectively in front of the woman. "We're not going back."

  "You don't have a choice," the soldier says. "Traitors! You dare betray Xian. You're both wanted. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter to us."

  The soldiers attack.

  The woman's magic creates a weak barrier. The man uses the moment to strike, taking down one soldier, wounding another. But more soldiers press forward, and the barrier breaks.

  The man takes a sword to the side. The woman takes a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. They both fall, bleeding, near death.

  The soldiers approach, ready to finish them.

  "Let me use appraisal," Tara thinks as he uses appraisal on one of the soldiers.

  **APPRAISAL:**

  **Jin Xiang (Level 29)**

  - **Class:** Swordsman (Intermediate)

  - **Skills:**

  - **Sword Strike (Common)** - Delivers powerful, precise strikes with blade

  - **Parry (Common)** - Can deflect and counter enemy attacks

  - **Ember Chain (Uncommon)** - Chains three strikes together in rapid succession, each strike infused with fire element, like flowing embers

  - **Combat Veteran (Uncommon)** - Experienced fighter, can read enemy movements

  Sergeant Jin stops, looking around, sensing something.

  "Wait," he says. "Something's watching us."

  "What is it, Sergeant?" another soldier asks.

  Clone 3 hides in the undergrowth, perfectly still like an object, which it is. Sergeant Jin looks around, but finds nothing. After a moment, he turns back to their targets.

  "Finish them," Sergeant Jin says. "Then we'll search the area."

  But before they can strike, the woman's magic flares one last time—a desperate, final spell. A flash of light, blinding, disorienting. The soldiers stagger back, temporarily blinded.

  When their vision clears, the man and woman are gone—fallen into the river, swept away by the current. The soldiers search the riverbank but find nothing.

  "Damn it," Sergeant Jin says. "Jumped in the river. They're dead anyway. Those wounds were fatal. Everyone, search the area."

  Clone 3 remains hidden as the soldiers search, finding nothing. They leave, heading back the way they came. Clone 3 watches them go, then moves to the riverbank, scanning the water.

  But then Clone 3 notices something—movement downstream. Faint, weak, but there. The man and woman, washed ashore on the other side, barely alive. They've survived the river, but they're dying. Their wounds are severe, their strength gone. It seems they used some skill to stay hidden underwater.

  Back in the cave, Tara receives the information seamlessly through the clone and processes it.

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  He thinks about what Clone 3 saw. Soldiers chasing them. Calling them traitors. Saying they betrayed something called "Xian." But Tara doesn't know what that means, who these people are, or why they're being hunted.

  A conflict rises in Tara's mind. Should he help them? These are humans. On Earth, he's seen how the world works—humans don't interfere in animal conflicts. So should he interfere in human conflicts? He's not human anymore. He's an artifact. A wolf. Part of a pack. It is not his responsibility in any sense.

  But he was human once. The memories might be distant, but they are there. The connection, the affection, the lingering sense of belonging to humanity—buried deep, but present. His affection towards humans overpowers his logic. He can't just leave them. Not when he has the power to save them.

  He shifts to his wolf form, rushing toward the riverside. Notail is playing with the cubs. "Follow me," Tara communicates with Notail. "Unolf, you as well."

  Notail asks someone to watch over the kids. Unolf is sharpening his claws, but he promptly gets up and follows along.

  They run through the forest, heading north. Tara runs at the front, moving quickly. Notail and Unolf struggle to keep up, forcing him to stop periodically, checking the surroundings and allowing them to catch up.

  They reach the riverside. The woman is unconscious, her robes torn and bloodied. Tara can see something—a symbol, a mark on her robes.

  Tara approaches carefully.

  The man's eyes flutter open. He looks at the unconscious woman, his gaze desperate. "Aria," he whispers, her name barely audible. Then he turns his head, looking at Tara's wolf form. "Run," he says, terrified, desperate. Then his eyes close, and he's unconscious.

  Tara looks at them, assessing. The man seems protective even in unconsciousness—his hand is still reaching toward the woman, as if trying to shield her. "Okay, that's either true love or true stupidity," Tara thinks. "Probably both."

  They're both unconscious, their breathing shallow. Tara examines their wounds—the woman has a crossbow bolt in her shoulder, multiple cuts, blood loss. The man has a sword wound to his side, more cuts, more blood loss. Both are near death.

  Tara administers health potions to both, and their wounds begin to heal. Then the three wolves work together, gently moving the man onto Tara's back and the woman onto Notail's back. They carry them slowly and carefully.

  They settle them in a safe area of the cave, away from the main chamber.

  Tara looks at them, unconscious, being watched over by Unolf. Unolf volunteered, visibly skeptical about the humans.

  "I hope I didn't catch a flying arrow and put it in my backside. This was not something I needed to do. Moreover, it could be dangerous for the pack," Tara thinks. "No use thinking about it. Besides, when they wake up, I have a lot of questions for them."

  He shifts back to his pyramid form, settling into place.

  ---

  The soldiers make their way back through the forest, moving quickly, efficiently.

  They reach the camp as the sun begins to set—a temporary Xian military encampment, tents arranged in a defensive formation, guards posted, fires burning low.

  Sergeant Jin approaches the command tent, where a senior officer waits. The officer is older, experienced, his armor more ornate, his bearing more authoritative. He sits at a small table, a thin cigar clenched between his teeth, smoke curling upward in lazy tendrils. His cap sits tilted slightly to one side, shadowing one eye, giving him a calculating, almost predatory look. The cigar glows faintly in the dim light of the tent, and he takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke before turning his attention to Sergeant Jin. He's been waiting for their report.

  "Sir," Sergeant Jin says, saluting. "We found them. We cornered them by the river, but..."

  "But?" the officer says, his voice cold, expectant.

  "They escaped into the river, sir. The current was too strong. We searched the banks, but found nothing. They're dead. They were both wounded."

  The officer's expression doesn't change. "You're certain?"

  "Yes, sir. The wounds were fatal. They couldn't have survived."

  The officer considers this for a moment. "We cannot assume anything. But even if they are alive, I doubt they will be able to do anything now. We will move in the morning. You are dismissed."

  The soldiers salute and leave, heading to their tents. Outside, a small group of soldiers gather around the fire, away from the command tent.

  The officer remains in the command tent, thinking. He takes another drag from his cigar, the ember glowing brighter in the dim tent, then taps the ash into a small metal tray. His cap still sits at that slight angle, casting shadows across his weathered face, making him look even more severe. He calls his attendant. "Send scouts to search the riverbanks downstream. Tell them to meet at the next rendezvous. Can't have loose ends."

  He sets the cigar down in the tray, picks up a quill, and begins writing a message, preparing to send it back to command. The smoke continues to curl upward, filling the tent with its acrid scent.

  ********* Chapter end *********