Arion looked at the ground, lost in thought. The packed dirt beneath his boots was trampled by too many tracks to count—deep boot prints crossing smaller scuffs and old drag marks from moved crates.
Then he glanced back at the children, their small faces pale in the flickering firelight leaking through the gaps. All staring at him with tense unease.
"Any of you able to fight?" He asked, quietly, voice low enough that only they could hear.
They looked at one another uncertainly, trading whispers and quick, darting glances.
The scene felt painfully familiar—more classroom than bandit camp—and it made his jaw tighten whether he wanted it to or not.
Then a boy raised his hand, slow and hesitant, like a student unsure if the answer would earn ridicule.
"Yeah?"
"I know how to cast spells…" the boy said sheepishly, fingers twisting together in front of his ragged tunic.
"Wow, amazing," Arion replied flatly, one eyebrow lifting just a fraction. "What kinds?"
"S-sparrow Hop and Warmth Glow."
Silence stretched, heavy and unkind, the distant crackle of campfires filling the void.
Arion coughed to fill the vacuum, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as his mind scrambled to remember that he was the one missing context here, the outsider still learning the rules of this world's magic.
"W-what do they do… exactly?" Arion asked, only then remembering he didn't know any real spells beyond the ones he had forged himself.
The children looked baffled for a moment, even within their tense predicament, until a girl piped up, shaking her head with the blunt honesty only children could manage. "One makes you briefly step on air and the other can warm up solids or liquids, just over lukewarm temperatures."
"So they're—"
"Useless, yes." The girl said, plainly, crossing her arms tight across her chest.
He groaned, the sound low in his throat.
"So you can stand a bit taller and warm up their tea whilst they kill us. Great."
His hand rubbed his temples in slow circles, pressure building behind his eyes.
Why did I think otherwise? They're just children.
He let out a slow breath and leaned back over the cage, peering through the gaps to check the camp's layout again, eyes tracing every shadow and torch placement.
Unfortunately, the approach path—the only one he'd used—sat fully within the line of sight from the recent newcomers, their silhouettes already moving between tents.
"Shit. Seriously?"
It's too late anyway, it's going to show up here sooner or later…
"Alright, children, we need to circle round and find another way out," he said, already shifting lower as he scanned the perimeter.
"Preferably one without eyes already on it…" He glanced back the way he'd come, the path now lit by fresh torches. "And one that gets us far away from this side of the camp."
…
They stayed low to the ground, Arion leading while the children huddled close behind him, small hands clutching at sleeves and one another, their breathing quick and shallow against his back, every change in direction making them bump shoulders and catch on each other's sleeves.
He guided them along the camp's edge—far enough to avoid the central firelight that painted everything in harsh orange, but close enough that they wouldn't blunder into roaming patrols, their footsteps muffled by the soft dirt and scattered pine needles.
They came up on three bandits mid-meal, laughter and argument spilling from them in equal measure, the smell of roasted meat and cheap ale thick in the air.
As the group bickered, one man stood and wandered away, grumbling under his breath, heading toward a nearby tent with a half-eaten drumstick still in hand.
The moment he passed behind the canvas, something struck him with a dull, solid DONK—the butt of Recall cracking against the base of his skull. The man crumpled without a sound, knees buckling first, then his whole weight dropping forward.
Arion caught him before he hit the ground, then dragged the unconscious body into the tent, boots scraping softly over the canvas floor.
The children stared, wide-eyed and silent, as he disappeared inside for a heartbeat.
"Huh? The fuck are you—BONK!"
One of the smaller girls flinched at the first crack, then blinked hard when the second followed.
Arion's head peeped out from the tent flap, hair slightly tousled, giving the children a quick thumbs-up.
"They're fast asleep now," he whispered, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might have been a smirk.
They continued quietly on their escape route, the group slipping between tents like ghosts, hearts hammering in every small chest.
We might actually pull this off…
Then shouting tore through the camp from behind them, voices rising sharp and frantic.
"The children—they've escaped!"
"Find them now!"
Arion whipped his head around, silver hair whipping across his vision.
"Arh—Shit!" He cursed for jinxing himself.
Bandits erupted into motion all around them. Fires flared brighter as torches were snatched up. Feet pounded dirt in every direction. Chaos spread faster than any orderly search ever could, shouts overlapping until the whole camp became a roaring mess.
Even with Resonant Scanner, the surge of returns would've been overwhelming—more noise than help.
"Stay behind me!"
They ran, leaving stealth behind in a burst of desperate speed, small feet pattering hard behind Arion's longer strides.
They turned a corner and nearly collided with two bandits head-on, the men skidding to a halt with weapons already half-drawn.
Recall flashed—horizontal strike to the temple, the staff whipping through the air with a low whistle before cracking bone with a wet thud. One dropped instantly, body folding like a puppet with cut strings.
Ice bloomed before the other even produced his weapon, frost racing up his legs in jagged tendrils that locked knees and hips in place. His mouth gasped for air as the ice consumed him upward, chest heaving once, twice, then freezing solid with a sharp crackle that left him statue-still.
They surged onward until sharp whistles cut through the air from the right, bolts slicing past their heads with lethal intent.
Arion reacted on instinct, throwing up an ice barrier just as bolts slammed into it metres away, the shards embedding deep with splintering cracks.
TUCK-TUCK-TUCK!
He saw the shooter holding a crossbow some distance away, fingers fumbling to reload his weapon.
He calculated the distance in a heartbeat, spun Recall in a tight circle and launched a spin-kick, boot connecting with the staff's base and sending it hurtling forward like a missile, end over end.
The bandit was too busy reloading to notice, head down, until the impact.
Recall struck his forehead dead-centre with a solid CRACK, the force snapping his head back and dropping him limp to the ground.
Arion recalled her as he turned, the staff whipping back into his waiting palm with a familiar hum—
—and found three more bandits blocking his path, weapons raised and grins splitting their faces. Two more emerged from the shadows behind, circling tight.
Surrounded…
Behind him, the children bunched tighter, sleeves brushing the back of his robe as one of the younger ones bit off a tiny choking sound.
"Well, well," a deep voice rumbled above the din, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Seems we've found our culprit, lads."
The crowd parted with shuffling feet and muttered curses.
A presence moved forward like it owned the space—Aura thick, heavy, predatory, pressing down on the air itself and making the flames rise higher.
The figure stood taller than most. Where skin should be, scales lay—natural armour of red hues layered the torso, arms and legs in overlapping plates that caught the torchlight like fresh blood. Large horns protruded from his head, flowing back over his dark hair in smooth curves. Eyes glowed dangerously, like a predator lay within, pupils slit and fixed.
"But it's strange… you don't seem to be a local, don't exactly look the Brisden type. So, I ask myself, who in their right mind has the balls to infiltrate my camp?"
On his shoulder, rested a curved sword, sharp fangs extended from its dull edge like serrated teeth. While its blade edge displayed signs of a recent kill, dark streaks still wet along the metal.
Damnit. Too soon…
"An agent of Haven Home, maybe?" the predator mused, hand cupping chin, claws scraping lightly against scale. "Or something spicier. An enemy of the organisation?"
The predator's grin filled his vision—horns, eyes, teeth—then nothing but those eyes, boring straight through him.
Arion watched as he glared at him with intrigue, the weight of that stare prickling across his skin.
"Or perhaps," the man continued brightly, voice almost cheerful, "just a man who felt pity for these little bundles of joy? Or regret? Oh, it's thrilling!"
C'mon… c'mon!
"You seem to have a strange fixation on someone's reasoning," Arion said evenly, Recall balanced across his shoulder. "What's it to you?"
The man paused, then sneered, lips pulling back to show too many teeth.
"Of course! The reason behind the means holds the value of one's worth. It separates us from mere beasts and creatures."
He shrugged, then grinned wider, the expression twisting something ugly in the firelight.
"Otherwise we might as well be lumped together—killing, fucking, and eating. Ah… wait. We already do that!"
Laughter rippled outward, some genuine and booming, some forced and nervous, echoing off the tents.
Great. Out of all the villains, I had to be given the classic psychological maniac…
The thought snagged on him for half a beat.
Maybe… I don't really have the right to judge.
"An interesting point of view, not that I care for your personal delusional thought process."
He shrugged, the motion casual.
"You'll have to find out who I am yourself," Arion said coolly, eyes never leaving the scaled face. "If you can."
Take the bait.
The man's eyes opened wider, gleaming with fresh hunger.
"You're surrounded, in enemy territory… And yet, you act all so brave. I haven't met a man in a long while that has left such an impression on me…" he said, intrusively eyeing Arion's figure from top to bottom, head tilting like he was sizing up prey.
Great! It gets even worse! Much worse!
"Friend, you're all alone. Why not surrender yourself? Hmmm~?" he asked, an eerie softness settling through his voice. The question hung there, barbed and waiting.
Arion stood there, slightly trembling, a bead of sweat rolled down his neck, travelling down his torso in a cold trail that soaked into his robe.
Then his tension eased as a faint rumble reached his feet, the ground vibrating beneath him.
A grin slid across his face, slow and sharp.
Cups rattled on nearby tables. Braziers hissed as flames danced wildly. Even the laughter died, swallowed by a low vibration climbing from the soil and into every bone.
The rumbling got louder and louder, building into a steady quake that made loose stones jump.
"Funny thing is… I didn't come alone."
The figure frowned, head snapping toward the growing tremor, only then did he feel it—quakes of earth, their bass travelling through everyone's bones, throbbing as if to announce an arrival.
Distant screams of panic and fear came from behind, rising in pitch.
GOAARRR!
A reverberating earth-like roar shook the entire camp, the sound rolling like thunder trapped underground.
BOOM!-CRACK!
"RUN!"
"Earthroot Titan!"
A voice screamed as a vast earth-and-stone beast on four legs stomped through the camp, each step sending shockwaves that cracked tent poles and toppled supply stacks.
It was searching for a certain individual, but at this point, it was happy to take its rage on anything it could find, massive limbs swinging and crushing crates into splinters.
"Boss! The supplies and orders are over there."
The figure glanced toward the chaos, horns catching the firelight as dust billowed upward, then back at Arion, eyes narrowing with fresh calculation.
"So? What are you lads standing around for? Go deal with it!" He barked, voice cutting through the panic like a whip, then stared back at Arion, the grin returning sharper than before. "This one is all mine."
An eerie chill slid down Arion's spine and settled deep in his gut.
He may have started to regret his decision.