The forest silence felt… quieter than usual. The kind that settles after chaos—like the world taking a deep breath of relief. Or bracing for another scream.

  Nessa, Layla, Su Mei, and Jay had left the dungeon entrance hours ago, camping in a small clearing ringed by tall trees and thin mist dancing with the breeze. Late-afternoon light filtered through in golden shafts, brushing the earth like distracted gods’ fingers.

  Jay built the fire with exaggerated care. Bandaged fingers—still crusted with dried blood—worked with near-ritual precision. The stew’s aroma rose in hot spirals, earthy and promising, yanking Layla’s stomach by the nose.

  “If this tastes like wet rock again, I’m biting your ankle, meow,” grumbled the tiny amazon, flat on her back, head pillowed on a pack, belly growling shamelessly.

  Jay rolled his eyes.

  “I said that rock looked like a mushroom. Blame the biome, not me.”

  In an old apron and hair tied back with an improvised cord, he handled the cauldron and pans with skill bordering on divine. On a flat stone nearby, pan-bread swelled over hot iron—golden outside, fragrant, crust crackling softly. Beside it, a row of herb-and-black-garlic confit potatoes simmered in creamy butter bath with shredded dried meat, everything glistening buttery.

  “My yellow slime butter’s running low…” Jay muttered, poking meat with fork tip. “And I’ve only got one drop of reserve sauce left…”

  “That legendary sauce you hide even from Nessa?” Layla teased, sitting up with abs alone to peek over cauldron rim. “Jay… tell me we’re eating this soon or I’ll cry until Nessa’s cloak becomes my pillow.”

  Farther back, legs crossed and gaze distant, Nessa murmured low prayers. Malkut pendant rested in her lap; moonlight reflected in cerulean eyes with wet shimmer. She glanced briefly at hungry Layla and smiled—tired but genuine.

  Something about watching the starving amazon complain made life feel… normal.

  “This looks good, Jay…” Nessa said softly. “But… why’s the juice so… purple?”

  Jay didn’t answer immediately. Just held up the makeshift gourd jug he’d emptied with desperate craftsman patience. Liquid inside bubbled faintly, murky shade shifting between inviting and… suspicious.

  Sweet aroma drifted from rough rim—thick, almost cloying—like air itself warning too much sugar to be natural.

  “Tasted some local fruit,” Jay broke silence with weather-report calm. “Really sweet… maybe too sweet. Or poisonous. Depends on your digestion.”

  Layla’s ears perked, suspicious.

  “You’re immune to poison, paladin.”

  Jay tilted head, agreeing naturally, smile carrying unsettling doubt—like even he wasn’t sure what he’d serve.

  “Yeah. But you’re not.”

  Silence dropped over group a heartbeat. Then he added—moral-lesson tone hiding provocation:

  “Great team-building exercise.”

  Nessa sighed deeply, hand to forehead like preparing divine sermon. Su Mei smiled wickedly, half-lidded eyes sparkling.

  “This one appreciates challenges… didn’t know they’d be culinary too.”

  Layla huffed, arms crossed.

  “If I wake up dead, I’m dragging your foot to the afterlife, Jay.”

  Paladin just served a cup—solemn as priest in ritual—and offered it like nothing happened.

  …

  A little later, Jay slipped away from camp silently, stepping careful over damp moss. His experimental mix might—maybe—not have been masterpiece. Better safe.

  Among low bushes and twisted roots, paladin eyes hunted familiar herbs. Dual moonlight—Lunis ethereal-pale, Sissifus golden-intense—spilled over shallow stream ahead like liquid silver and gold. Reflections shimmered on stones, luminous path to water’s edge.

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  There—lifting wild mint leaf to inspect—Jay froze.

  In center of shallow pool, Su Mei spun silently. Naked body moving painting: jade-golden skin drinking dual moonlight, glistening live amber. Short wet hair streamed over shoulders like dark silk threads; two long strands framed tilted face—as if dancing music only her soul heard.

  Jay swallowed hard. Turned immediately—eyes nailed to ground with altar-level devotion. Nothing right about staying. Still heart raced like Gram personally testing him.

  Su Mei stopped spin. Voice—silk soaked in venom—slid across water to paladin ears:

  “This one believes… Sissifus light revitalizes soul pores.”

  Arms moved slow; water streamed silver threads from hands; she touched floating water-flower lightly.

  “And Lunis… purifies carnal essence.”

  Jay stayed frozen—mint still in hand—like statue act enough to escape moment. Su Mei smiled—but didn’t cover. Moonlight gleamed in half-lidded eyes, flashing sharp blades.

  “This one also believes Jay shouldn’t spy…” contemplative, almost melodic whisper. “…but he’s there, behind that bush, very quiet… pretending only hunting herbs.”

  Jay sighed—defeated before speaking.

  “I was hunting wild mint. Digestive. Someone might need… after juice. Or bread. Or… well, everything.”

  Monk’s low laugh crossed night like distant bells—graceful, merciless. She made no effort to cover.

  Jay turned fully back—eyes seeking ground salvation. Then changed subject.

  “Su Mei, you’ve been with us weeks—never told your story. Why this wandering life? What’s your goal?”

  Silence.

  Su Mei stepped from water, crouched calmly, took towel from stone, began drying. Every move choreographed—like dancing with own body.

  But what came next… held no playfulness.

  “This one… chases someone. A man.”

  Jay said nothing.

  “He destroyed my village. My people. And the style that guided us: Ascendant Phoenix Fist.”

  Jay half-turned—just enough to face without seeing beyond shadow and outline.

  “Ascendant Phoenix… the mythic style…”

  “Myths always hold some truth,” she said, lips pursing. “This one was child. Too small. Father… protected me. But in end… only little Su Mei remained…”

  Towel passed over arms.

  “…and sea of black flames. Since then—travel. Train. Grow stronger—” towel gripped tight. “So when I find him… no running again.”

  Jay silent.

  Su Mei smiled faintly—slanted eyes gleaming near-red under moonlight.

  “This one wonders… does Jay also have someone deserving revenge?”

  He closed eyes. One second. Answer stayed in chest.

  “I… always preferred campfires, pots, and dough, Su Mei.”

  She laughed. First time… sounded a little sad.

  “Good cook… knows everything has right boiling point. Even past.”

  Jay swallowed hard.

  And moons kept shining—indifferent. They returned to camp without another word.

  …

  Campfire scent faded. Burnt husks, damp wood… forgotten fat hiss on hot stone.

  Jay alone now—carefully stacking utensils in pack. Cauldron scrubbed with dry leaves, cutlery rolled in clean cloth. Ritual care of man used to ceremonies.

  Far off, Su Mei and Layla slept—each curled their way into own worlds: Su Mei wrapped light blanket, bare legs peeking provocative—even asleep, pure sin. Layla huddled, hugging new axe, mumbling about yellow slime bread.

  Outside tent—Nessa still awake. Sat on campaign bed, hands clasped silent prayer. Eyes fixed on Malkut pendant—but mind wandered far.

  Jay cast last look at them.

  Silence. Real silence.

  He turned skyward. Lunis and Sissifus hung overhead—ancient, resigned witnesses.

  “Revenge… does anyone… deserve that from me?”

  People. Faces. Old times. Cities now dust. Friends now nameless. He saw it all inside.

  And still…

  “Most died for world—not because of me…”

  Thought didn’t finish.

  Sound. Dry. Cutting. No warning.

  CRACK tore air—like divine whip breaking night veil. Jay spun.

  Pain came with it.

  Lance pierced chest clean—like line drawn by impatient god. Right shoulder through left ribs.

  He staggered. Didn’t fall. Knees sank earth. Breath stopped.

  Metal burned.

  World muted. Even campfire hesitated.

  “JAY!” Nessa scream ripped air like failed prayer.

  Tent burst open.

  “MEOW?! WHAT?!” Layla rolled out axe-in-hand, eyes wide, tail puffed.

  “This one feels… something terrible,” Su Mei right behind—blanket still tangled legs, eyes narrowed but alert.

  Jay stayed kneeling. Blood flowed. One hand gripped lance shaft in chest. Other… held Visingr. Sword trembled.

  He lifted eyes. And saw.

  Shadow among trees.

  Tall. Skeletal. Covered black-scale armor and ancient leather. Eyes glowed crimson—like poorly-banked coals. Back… muffled roar.

  Wings beat.

  Wind shook trees. Campfire died. Dragon wasn’t huge. But black as death. Living whisper. Corpse with claws.

  “No…” Jay murmured, spitting blood. “…You.”

  Figure walked clearing edge. Didn’t run. Didn’t need to.

  Pretoriann.

  Man-hunter. Once-elf. Now… something else. A Vampyr.

  “Been a while, paladin,” voice wet blade. “Still bleed like man. How unusual.”

  Jay tried standing… managed.

  Visingr shook in hand—light-wreathed. But body… failing.

  Su Mei slid beside Jay—touching wound.

  “This one… never seen being like this.”

  “Ah… you brought cubs,” Pretorian tilted head. “Force me kill them too?”

  Nessa behind—shield up, cure light already dancing fingers.

  “You bastard! I’ll split you in half, meow!” Layla charged.

  “Stop…” Jay raised hand. “Not time. Not place.”

  “Even dying edge—you still sacrifice,” Pretorian smiled. “Beautiful paladin you remain.”

  Jay breathed deep. Shook. Then smiled.

  “Last time… Pretoriann—if memory serves… you ran.”

  Pretoriann laughed—dry, starving-animal laugh.

  “Last time… you had no cubs to protect.”

  ?