"Go!"
Adlet didn't wait for Polo to repeat himself. The mountain was convulsing beneath them, the shrieks of the colossal Rokh rolling down the cliffs in furious waves. The creature's rage alone seemed to shake the air.
Polo swept Linoa's limp body into his tentacles with a delicacy that contrasted sharply with the chaos above. The four appendages folded around her like cushioning coils, adjusting constantly, softening each jolt as he broke into a run.
"Stay close!" he shouted.
Adlet followed instantly, boots hammering the stone as they sprinted down the narrow, dust-coated path. Pebbles skittered into the void beside them; even a misstep could send them sliding thousands of meters down sheer rock.
He didn't care.
Linoa hung unconscious in Polo's arms. That was all that mattered.
"Linoa… hey—Linoa." Adlet leaned closer as they ran, breath ragged. "Come on, wake up. Say something."
She didn't stir.
The world above them erupted again. A shockwave descended the mountain like a physical blow, and Adlet threw up an arm as grit blasted past his face. He looked over his shoulder—
Lucien and the Rokh Falcon were still clashing near the summit, silhouettes of gold and white locked in storm-like arcs of aura. Every impact shook the heavens.
Adlet swallowed hard and ran faster.
Minutes passed—maybe more; time had become a frantic blur—before Linoa's eyelashes finally fluttered.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "...Did I… succeed?"
Adlet nearly stumbled from relief. "Yeah. You did. You were incredible. You… you won, Linoa. You've got a rank 5 Guardian now."
She exhaled softly, a tiny smile forming on her pale lips. "Then… everything wasn't in vain."
"You don't need to talk," Polo said gently. His tentacles adjusted, holding her with even more care. "We're getting you somewhere safe. You'll recover."
"I just hope Lucien makes it out…" he added under his breath.
Linoa slowly shook her head, eyes still mostly closed. "Don't worry… Lucien is very strong. He'll join us soon."
Her trust was absolute.
Adlet wished he could share it.
For hours they continued downward, each step accompanied by distant tremors from the mountain's peak. The oppressive aura that had blanketed the island earlier was thinning, but faint aftershocks still pulsed through the stone under their feet.
Not a single Apex appeared on their path.
"They all felt it," Polo said quietly. "No creature will come near a fight like that."
Adlet nodded. "Makes sense."
When they finally reached the foot of the mountain, the world felt unnervingly still. The air was cold. Heavy. Yet safe enough to breathe freely for the first time since the summit.
Adlet allowed his shoulders to slacken. "Where do we go now?"
"Far," Polo replied. "As far from here as we can."
"And Lucien? How will he find us?"
"He will," Linoa murmured softly without opening her eyes. "He always does…"
Her conviction silenced both of them.
They kept moving until the mountain loomed far behind them and the oppressive pressure in the air finally faded entirely. Only then did they begin searching for shelter.
After some scouting, they found a narrow alcove concealed between two jagged rock formations. Not spacious—but hidden, wind-sheltered, and safe.
Perfect.
They worked quickly.
Gather rocks. Set a fire. Stack leaves. Create a makeshift bed.
Polo lowered Linoa onto the bedding, tentacles releasing her with a slow, careful slither as if she were made of glass. Adlet immediately knelt beside her, worry tightening his jaw.
He pressed his palms near her wound.
A faint green glow seeped out between his fingers.
He still didn't know if this healing aura worked on anyone other than himself.. He only knew he couldn't sit still while she was hurt.
But he watched her face carefully. The moment she stirred, he would have to stop—violently, instantly. No one could learn about the green aura. Not even Linoa. Not yet.
He swallowed and focused, forcing the energy to remain steady.
Minutes passed. Her breathing grew steadier. More regular. Less strained.
Good.
Meanwhile, Polo disappeared into the dark, returning hours later with medicinal herbs in his arms—dry stems, thick leaves, and small berries glowing faintly under moonlight.
"Found what I needed," he said, already grinding some into powder. "I'll make a paste for the wound… and a broth for her strength."
He worked with practiced precision, mixing the plants with water from a small stream nearby and stirring them over the fire. The scent was earthy, bitter, oddly soothing.
They fed Linoa tiny sips of the broth, Adlet helping her swallow each drop. She didn't open her eyes again, but color slowly returned to her cheeks.
When night finally settled, her breathing was calm. Deep. Even.
They had saved her.
A soft glow bloomed in the darkness.
Adlet instantly braced himself, aura bursting instinctively around his skin—but he relaxed the moment he saw the source.
Lucien stepped out from between the rocks, a small sphere of golden aura hovering above his finger like a floating lantern.
"You moved her somewhere safe," he said as he approached, voice steady, low. He surveyed the small camp, the medicines, the bedding. "Thank you."
"It's normal," Polo replied. "Are you hurt?" He looked Lucien over—his armor was dented, slightly scorched, but his body was intact.
"No," Lucien said with a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."
"And the Rokh?" Adlet asked.
Lucien exhaled. "Not defeated. Just… held back. Long enough for the assimilation to finish. That was the true objective."
He knelt beside Linoa, his expression softening as he brushed a bit of hair from her forehead. "She did well. Exceptionally well."
Silence settled for a moment.
Polo eventually asked, "What now? How do we get off this island?"
Lucien sat back, the golden orb flickering gently beside him. "Best option is to wait for rescue along the coast. They'll send another fleet if we're missing long enough. But it could take months."
"Months?" Adlet echoed.
"Couldn't you carry us to Atlantis?" he pressed. "With your wings?"
Lucien chuckled lightly. "It's possible. But unwise. Linoa needs rest. And carrying three people over the open sea… it's far more dangerous than you think."
"So we survive here until help arrives," Polo concluded.
Lucien tilted his head. "You say that like it's a burden."
Polo blinked. "What do you mean?"
Lucien's smile deepened. "You're forgetting something important. All of you are Protectors." He gestured at the wilderness around them. "This island is a dream for growth. Rare Apexes, untouched territory, harsh conditions… and months of time to sharpen your strength."
The words hit Adlet like a spark.
He exchanged a look with Polo.
The shipwreck.
The chaos.
The fight for survival.
They had been reacting for so long… they had forgotten why they came here in the first place.
Polo—who always wished to study new creatures, new plants, new materials.
Adlet—who wanted nothing more than to grow, explore, and push forward down the path of the Protector.
This island was dangerous.
Terrifying.
Unpredictable.
But it was also perfect.
A slow smile formed on Adlet's face.
Polo mirrored it.
Lucien's golden light flickered between them.
"Then it's decided," Adlet murmured. "We'll use this place. We'll grow."
Polo nodded firmly. "We won't waste these months."
Lucien leaned back, eyes bright with approval. "Good. That's what I wanted to hear."
The fire crackled.
The night deepened.
And somewhere far behind them, upon the summit of the Rokh Mountain, the wind still carried faint traces of the battle that had changed everything.
This was no longer just survival.
It was the beginning of their ascent.