Arvey followed above the three warriors and kept his feet off the thin branches. He moved when they moved and stopped when they stopped. Kozlo stayed two trunks behind him in the canopy, silent for once, eyes fixed on the ground team.

  The trail out of the camp was fresh and ugly. Broken mud edges marked fast steps, and the pressed grass pointed in a clear line. Marec checked it twice, then lifted his hand and made a tight gesture for the others to slow.

  Arvey watched their spacing and didn’t like how clean it was. They did not bunch up, and they did not overtake each other, even when the ground forced them into narrow gaps. They moved with rules they had practiced. He kept his breathing shallow, reminding himself that these were not goblins.

  Marec stopped near a tree with scraped bark and leaned in close. He touched the scrape with two fingers, then rubbed them together as if testing residue. Semir took half a step to his right and scanned the brush, and the third warrior watched the canopy with his spear angled up.

  “Here,” Marec said in a low voice. Semir moved in closer, and the third warrior tightened their circle without making noise.

  “What is it,” Semir asked, and his words came out clipped. “Tracks end.” He glanced back toward the camp, then forced himself to look forward again.

  Marec didn’t answer right away. He crouched and pressed his palm to the soil beside the scrape, then held still for two breaths. “The mana trail should tell us where it went,” he said in a low voice. Arvey watched his hand and saw the faint shimmer around Marec’s fingers.

  “This guy can track mana?” Arvey thought. He had seen mana before, but he had never seen someone use it like a tool for information, to track someone.

  “Residual,” Marec said. “Not goblins.” He lifted his palm and held it near his nose for a second. “Abyss beast. Tier four.”

  Semir’s shoulders locked. “Tier four,” he repeated, and his grip on the sword tightened. The third warriorshifted his spear forward and spoke in a low voice. “Tier four is no problem with you, Marec.”

  Marec looked at him and didn’t soften his face. “This isn’t a normal Tier four, Rovan” he said. “It’s marked. It’s been pushed.”

  Arvey’s pulse jumped. He had fought only goblins. Tier four meant a different kind of problem.

  “How can you tell,” Rovan asked.

  “The signature is thick,” Marec said. “It drags on the ground and on the bark.” He glanced at Semir. “And it is marked.”

  Semir lifted his chin. “Marked by what,” he asked.

  Marec didn’t look away. “The cult,” he said. “They fed it. They pushed it.” He tapped his own chest once. “I can read the residue. It is not natural growth.”

  Arvey stayed still in the canopy and felt the words sink in. A Tier four monster did not appear here by accident. The cult had pushed it to that tier.

  Then what about the Tier five beast I saw? Arvey’s jaw tightened, and he forced the thought down for now. “That means the cult is taking other beings and using rituals to strengthen Abyss monsters,” he thought, and his fingers tightened on the bark before he forced them to loosen again. He looked back to the ground team and kept his breathing shallow.

  Kozlo landed on a branch closer and made no sound. The owl’s eyes stayed wide, and his wings stayed tucked tight against his body. Arvey lifted two fingers once, and Kozlo nodded.

  Marec raised his head and looked forward. “It is close,” he said. “The residue is fresh.” He pointed down the line of broken mud. “We move.”

  Semir moved first, sword angled down, his shoulders set. Rovan took the flank with the spear, eyes scanning for movement. Marec stayed centered, hand free, weapon ready, and his posture said he expected the first strike.

  Arvey followed above, matching their pace without rushing. He watched the ground for signs the beast might circle back, and he watched the canopy for any threats. He still didn’t know how far the cult or any monsters reached, and he did not want to find out by taking a bolt through his ribs.

  The scent hit before the sound. Resin and blood mixed into a thick stench. He had smelled plenty of rot in the forest, but this smelled new and disturbed.

  Marec lifted a fist, and the other two stopped at once. Semir held his sword steady and shifted his feet into a wider stance. Rovan angled the spear forward and lowered his center of gravity.

  Arvey stopped in the canopy and pressed his chest to the trunk. Kozlo froze a branch behind him. Arvey listened for movement and heard a low scraping sound ahead.

  The trees thinned into another clearing, smaller than the last. The ground was torn up, and broken branches lay scattered around the center. Something large moved there, heavy enough to push its weight through mud with slow, deliberate steps.

  Arvey saw it between trunks and felt his chest tighten. The creature stood on four thick limbs, longer than a horse and heavy through the shoulders, and its joints bent with a wrong angle when it shifted its weight. Black hide covered most of it, and patches of it looked hardened like old burn scars where hair should have been. Dark red lines ran across its flank and neck, pressed into flesh in tight grooves, and the skin around them looked swollen and irritated.

  Marec breathed once and kept his hand low. “Tier four,” he said. His voice stayed controlled, but his posture tightened.

  Arvey felt pressure hit him the moment he looked at it long enough. His skin prickled, and his breathing got harder, like the air got heavier around his chest. He had felt pressure from Hal’Zurak before, and this was similiar.

  “Tier four,” Arvey thought. “And it pushes harder than Hal’Zurak.” His throat went dry, and he swallowed to clear it. He kept his eyes on the beast’s head and watched how it moved.

  The monster’s mouth was stained dark. It chewed on something near its feet, and Arvey saw a torn mask and a pale hand among the mud. The beast lifted its head and sniffed, and the red lines along its neck brightened for a moment.

  Semir stepped forward without waiting for permission. Marec caught his arm with one quick grip and held him back. “Not yet,” Marec said. “We don’t let it choose the first exchange.”

  Semir stared at Marec’s hand on his arm, then nodded once and stopped. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I want it.” He lifted his sword higher and set his feet.

  Rovan stayed on the flank, spear ready, and waited for Marec to speak. Marec looked at both of them and kept his voice low. “Listen,” he said. “Before it even notices us, I use my skill.”

  He lifted his hand and let a small flare of fire run over his palm, then cut it off at once. “I lock onto its signature and hit the marks first,” Marec said. “You two hold it as long as you can, I commit to the first strike.”

  Semir nodded once. Rovan shifted his grip on the spear and kept his eyes on the clearing. Neither of them argued, and they moved into position without wasting another word.

  Arvey watched Marec settle into a stance with his feet planted in the mud. Marec’s mana started to circulate around him in a tight flow, and the air near his hands heated up. He held one hand forward, and a curved arc of fire formed in front of it, shaped into a bow.

  Marec drew his other hand back and formed a fire arrow in his palm, then set it against the bowstring. The arrow held its shape, and the glow stayed tight along the edges. Arvey whispered, “Impressive,” because it was the first time he had seen someone control mana with that kind of precision.

  The moment Marec set the bow, the beast noticed him. Its head snapped up, and the red grooves along its neck brightened in a hard pulse. It lowered its front shoulders and drove forward, trying to reach Marec before the skill could finish.

  Semir and Rovan moved first. Their mana started to circulate in a controlled flow Arvey could feel even from the canopy. Semir’s sword arm steadied, and Rovan’s grip on the spear tightened as the air near them warmed and pushed back. Arvey’s eyes narrowed. “They can control their mana too,” he thought. "Can they use a skill, or is it only control?" Arvey kept the question in his head.

  Semir and Rovan stepped into the beast’s line and took the hit before it could reach Marec. The impact drove both of them backward through the mud, and they still held their weapons up.

  They fought with everything they had, but it only bought seconds. Semir stepped in first and met the beast’s shoulder with his blade and his body, trying to turn the charge off line. The impact shoved him backward, and his boots slid through mud until he caught a root and stopped the slide.

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  The beast swiped at his upper body, and the claws raked across Semir’s forearm when he raised it to protect his ribs. Semir hissed once, then forced his sword back up and cut at the same front leg to keep the beast from setting its weight. Rovan stabbed low from the flank and braced the spear with both hands, and the shaft shuddered when the beast slammed into it with its shoulder.

  Rovan held the line for a breath, then released and shifted his grip before the shaft could snap. The beast’s tail clipped his thigh on the follow-through, and a torn line opened as he stumbled and caught himself. Both men kept their weapons up, mana still circulating in tight controlled flows, but the damage was already stacking.

  Marec didn’t move from his stance. He kept drawing the fire arrow, charging it tighter and tighter until the heat around him climbed. The ground near his boots started to smoke, and dry bits of bark on the edges of the clearing caught and burned.

  “NOW!” Marec yelled.

  Semir and Rovan threw themselves away from the line at the same time. The beast sprinted for Marec, jaws open, claws digging deep. Marec released.

  The fire arrow hit and detonated. The blast turned the clearing white for a moment, and Arvey jumped back across two branches without thinking. A sharp ringing filled his ears, and his vision blurred as he tried to focus.

  He forced his eyes toward Kozlo and saw the owl clinging to a branch with his wings tight. Kozlo was safe and alive, and Arvey turned back at once. The beast had been thrown backward and torn open across the chest and shoulder, yet it was still moving, and it drove itself at Marec anyway.

  It moved faster than its size suggested. Mud sprayed from its claws, and its body slammed forward in a straight line at Marec. Marec stepped aside with a short pivot and brought his hand up.

  Fire flashed from Marec’s palm and struck the beast’s shoulder. The flame did not explode, and it did not spread on the ground. It held tight on contact and burned a narrow strip.

  The beast roared and twisted, yet it did not back off. It swiped with a thick forelimb, and the claws cut through air where Marec’s chest had been. Marec moved again and kept his feet under him.

  Semir took the opening and slashed at the beast’s hind leg. The blade cut hide and drew dark blood. The beast snapped its head back toward Semir and bared teeth wet with gore.

  The spear warrior jabbed from the flank and drove the tip into the beast’s shoulder near one of the red lines. The beast snarled and slammed its body sideways, forcing the spear back. The warrior held for a second, then released and stepped away.

  Arvey watched the exchange and felt his pulse climb. The beast’s swings carried enough force to break bone through armor. Marec stayed close anyway, and Arvey understood what Tier five meant.

  “Shit,” Arvey thought as he watched Marec hold the line. “They would’ve killed me easily. A Tier two worm.” A short laugh tried to escape his throat, and he swallowed it down before it made a sound. The pressure from the beast kept sitting on Arvey’s chest. His breathing stayed shallow even though he tried to open it. He shifted his grip on the branch and forced his shoulders to stay steady.

  Marec moved in and put his palm against the beast’s marked flank for a split second. Fire ran from his hand into the red lines, and the marks dimmed under the burn. The beast reacted fast, twisting its body and slamming Marec with its shoulder.

  Marec skidded back two steps, boots cutting grooves in mud. He did not fall, but he did not look comfortable either. Semir stepped between them and took a swipe at the beast’s face to buy space.

  The beast’s head snapped sideways and caught the blade on its jaw. Semir’s sword scraped teeth and bone, and the impact jolted his arms as he grunted and stepped back before the beast could bite down.

  “Keep it off my hands,” Marec said. His tone stayed controlled, but his breathing was louder now. “I need a clean touch.”

  The spear warrior nodded once and jabbed again, aiming lower this time. The tip hit the front leg, and the beast flinched. Semir followed with a cut to the same leg and drew more blood.

  The beast roared and slammed a forelimb down. The impact shook mud and sent a small shock through Arvey’s feet on the branch. The spear warrior jumped back, but the beast’s tail swung around and clipped his thigh.

  The warrior stumbled and caught himself. He didn’t drop the spear, but his steps slowed. Semir shifted toward him to cover, Marec took the opening to step in again.

  Marec placed his palm on the beast’s neck where the red marks were thickest. Fire surged tighter than before, and the marks dimmed in a line under his hand. The beast thrashed and tried to shake him off.

  Arvey saw something in the beast’s movement that did not match a normal animal. It did not just react to pain. It reacted to the burn on the marks like those marks mattered more than the wounds. “It’s feeding on that,” Arvey thought. He didn’t speak, but he watched the marks closely. They brightened every time the beast inhaled.

  The beast snapped its jaws at Marec’s arm. Marec pulled his hand back in time, but teeth scraped his sleeve and tore fabric. Marec stepped away and raised his other hand.

  A short burst of fire hit the beast’s face. The beast jerked back and shook its head, then slammed forward again with no hesitation. Semir moved in and cut at the beast’s foreleg to stop its momentum.

  The blade bit in deep this time. The beast stumbled, and its weight shifted. Marec used that shift and drove a palm strike into the marked chest.

  Fire flashed, and the red lines dimmed more than before. The beast roared and swung both forelimbs in a wide arc. Semir ducked under one and rolled to the side, and the spear warrior jumped back again.

  Marec didn’t have room to retreat. One claw caught his shoulder and tore across his upper arm. Blood sprayed, and Marec grunted, then shoved the beast’s limb away with his forearm.

  Arvey felt his own shoulder tense in sympathy. He watched Marec’s injury and measured how much that would slow him. The beast did not pause, and the pressure in the air stayed heavy.

  Marec backed up and pressed his injured arm against his body for a second. Fire flickered around his other hand, controlled and tight. “We end this fast,” Marec said.

  Semir’s face tightened. “Then end it,” he said, and he stepped in again.

  “Semir,” Rovan snapped. “Hold formation.” Semir’s eyes flicked to him. “Don’t tell me how to fight," Semir said. He kept his sword up anyway, and the brief pause saved him.

  The beast lunged at Semir next. Its jaws aimed for his torso, and its claws scraped the ground to build speed. Semir stepped aside and slashed at the head, but the beast turned its skull and took the blade along the side.

  The cut opened skin, yet the beast kept coming. Its shoulder slammed Semir and sent him back a step. Semir caught himself, but his footing broke in the mud.

  The spear warrior shoved his spear into the beast’s side to pull it off Semir. The beast snapped at the shaft, teeth grinding on wood, and the warrior yanked back before it could bite through. Marec moved in behind the beast and pressed his palm into the thickest cluster of red marks.

  Fire surged.

  The marks dimmed hard, and the beast screamed in a way Arvey did not expect. Its body stiffened, and its claws dug deep into mud. It twisted, trying to reach Marec with its head.

  Marec held for one more breath, then released and jumped back.

  Semir wiped mud from his cheek and stared at the beast with narrowed eyes. “It hates the marks burning,” he said. “It reacts more than to cuts.”

  Marec nodded once. “Because they made it depend on them,” he said. His voice stayed controlled, but the anger sat close now. “The cult did this.”

  Arvey’s chest tightened. He thought of Seryn’s words about slaves and masks, and he saw a new image now, cultists bending beasts into tools.

  The beast shook its head and then did something new. It lowered its chest and scraped its claws across the ground, dragging a line through the mud. The red marks along its neck brightened, and the pressure in the air increased.

  Arvey’s ears rang for a second. His breathing turned tight and shallow, and his skin prickled along his arms. He knew this feeling from the Hal’Zurak, and he hated that this felt worse.

  Marec took one step back. “It’s pushing mana out,” he said. He glanced at Rovan. “Stay out of its line!”

  The beast lunged again, faster than before. It slammed into Rovan’s side with its shoulder, and the impact knocked him off his feet. The warrior hit the mud and rolled, spear clattering, then grabbed it and tried to rise.

  Semir rushed in to cover him. He slashed at the beast’s foreleg and drew blood, then took a step back to keep the beast’s head from catching him. Marec moved in from the other side and aimed for the marks again.

  The beast snapped at Marec’s hand and missed by inches. Marec pressed his palm into the mark line, burned it, then pulled back his hand at once. The marks dimmed for a breath, then brightened again.

  “It’s not enough,” Arvey thought. His stomach tightened, and he felt the warmth in his chest respond like it wanted to rise. He did not move, but he watched Marec’s face.

  Marec’s breathing was heavier now. Blood ran down his arm, and he kept it from dripping into his hand by holding it tight against his side between strikes. He looked at Semir and spoke in a low voice.

  “Your sister went ahead because she could read these woods,” Marec said. “She was our eyes.” He nodded toward the beast. “She found this first.”

  Semir’s eyes flashed. “She should have waited,” he said, and his voice carried anger and pain. “She should have called us.”

  Marec cut in before Semir could build the thought into blame. “Probably attacked by this beast,” he said in a low voice. “She ran. Then goblins found her while she was already bleeding.”

  Rovan’s head turned toward Marec without moving his feet. “What about the boy?” he asked, and his grip tightened on the spear. Marec didn’t look away from the beast.

  “I don’t know,” Marec said. “But this beast attacked Seryn. That is safe to say.”

  Arvey felt the information settle in his gut. Seryn had been part of them and she had taken first contact with a marked Tier four beast. The goblins were not the main cause. They were the last hit on a wounded scout.

  The beast roared and charged Marec again. Marec raised both hands, fire gathering tight around his palms. Semir and Rovan moved to intercept, but they were a step late.

  The beast slammed into Marec with its full weight. Marec’s boots slid, and his back hit a tree hard enough to make his breath punch out. The beast’s jaws snapped toward his throat.

  Marec jammed a forearm into the beast’s mouth and held it back. Fire flared along his other hand, and he shoved it into the beast’s marked neck at the same time. The beast screamed and thrashed, and Marec’s arm shook under the bite pressure.

  Semir drove his sword into the beast’s side and twisted to force it off Marec. Rovan stabbed into the shoulder near the marks and held for a breath. The beast’s claws scraped the tree, and chunks of bark flew.

  Marec ripped his arm free and stumbled forward. Blood ran down his sleeve, and his face tightened.

  “Back,” Marec ordered. His voice stayed sharp. “Reset.”

  Semir and Rovan pulled back two steps and widened the triangle again. The beast shook its head and drooled blood and saliva into the mud. The red marks along its body brightened and then dimmed in a slow pulse.

  Marec lifted his hand and wiped blood from his mouth with his thumb. He kept his eyes on the marks and breathed once through his nose. “I’ll kill it, and then I’m done,” he said. “After this fight we go straight back to Duskmire and report to Sir Duskstone. No detours. That’s an order.”

  The beast lowered its shoulders and prepared another charge. The pressure in the air tightened. and Arvey’s breathing got harder. Marec lifted both hands, fire gathered tight, and his eyes locked onto the mark line on the beast’s neck.

  Arvey held his breath and watched the moment. The next exchange would decide whether this fight stayed controlled or turned into a run.

  Semir and Rovan answered at once. “Yes, boss,” Semir said, and his voice came out tight as he reset his feet in the mud. “Yes, boss,” Rovan echoed, spear angled forward as his mana kept circulating in a controlled flow.

  The beast lunged, and Marec stepped in to meet it.