Chapter thirty-two: Clashing with the Unseen

The voice rang in her head. Gilly spun around—just before she vanished, she glimpsed a silhouette standing behind her.
She tried to call out, but in the next instant she was in the forest.
The moons glowed faintly, casting their pale light beneath the thick canopy. Insects sang into the quiet night, their sounds too ordinary against the strangeness in her chest.
Gilly turned quickly to see if anyone else had noticed the voice—or the shadowed figure. They hadn’t. They were all oblivious.
Zin’s sharp eyes caught the change in her expression. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
She forced a smile and shook her head. But inside, the unease was worse than yesterday—heavier, pressing against her ribs.
Using the moons as their bearings, the group headed southwest. Running across the canopy had become routine with practice, but Gilly’s movements still felt rigid compared to the others. She didn’t lag far behind, but she was always at the rear.
After six hours, they stopped to rest. They had encountered no creatures during the night, which was fortunate. Had they run into nocturnal beasts, it would have been far more troublesome—many were stronger than their daylight counterparts.
An hour later, they resumed their journey.
Thirty minutes passed before Zin, leading at the front, halted suddenly. He dropped from the canopy to the forest floor, every sense sharpened. The forest was unnaturally quiet.
“...Concealing magic,” he muttered, crouching to pick up a twig. He snapped it between his fingers. “Heads up.”
The warning came just in time.
Gilly’s instincts screamed. She leapt sideways from the branch just as a massive axe ripped through the air, shattering the spot she had stood on moments earlier.
Siel and Zenora descended quickly, weapons ready.
From the left, two hulking figures emerged from the shadows. At first glance they looked like pigs, but they stood upright on thick legs, carrying crude metal axes and wearing patched leather armor.
“Ugh, I thought I smelled something foul,” Zin said mockingly. “Orcs.”
In truth, he had sensed them the moment they entered the forest.
“I thought Orcs were primitive… how did they get access to metal tools?” Siel frowned, his tone heavy with memory. Growing up as a half-elf slave in the southeastern continent of Noir, he knew their kind all too well.
But his frown deepened. For the past week he had scouted ahead, always finding only trails. No sightings. No proof. Only a lingering feeling of being watched—something even Penre had confirmed when they were together.
Zenora, meanwhile, instinctively stepped back toward Siel. She had never seen creatures so large before. Fear tightened her grip on her staff.
Zin, calm as always, read the tension in both Zenora and Gilly. He had hoped to let them gain battle experience, but against Orcs? Too soon.
For the first time, he drew his sword. His eyes narrowed with focus. The best course was clear: end this quickly.
“We don’t have time,” he said firmly. “I’ll handle them. Watch closely—you might learn a thing or two.”
Siel’s hand hovered on his own sword, but he stilled. He could have fought them, but Zin’s confidence was undeniable.
The Orcs grunted and charged, their size alone enough to intimidate.
Zin vanished. In a blink, he was in front of the first. The Orc’s axe swung down with brutal force—only to meet Zin’s blade.
The sword gleamed faintly. The axe and the Orc were cleaved in one stroke, falling apart as easily as butter under a hot knife.
The second Orc froze, stunned.
Zin blurred again. He reappeared behind the creature, swinging once more. The Orc split cleanly in half.
It was over in less than four seconds.
Sheathing his sword, Zin appeared at Gilly’s side. “Let’s go. No time to waste.”
The group snapped out of their shock and followed.
Still, questions lingered. Why were Orcs in this forest at all—one devoid of demonic energy?
As they traveled, Zin kept his eyes scanning the terrain. He found traces of more Orcs, but their numbers were too spread out to bother with. His mind turned inward.
If the Shadow Clan had sent Orcs this time, their true aim was elsewhere. Likely in Elnor. Yet Seras, his grandmother, refused to tell him what they sought.
That same mystery had led to his mother’s death. Zin had tried to uncover the truth, but every path ended in a dead end. Perhaps Seras was simply overprotective—but remembering his mother’s fate, he admitted she might be right.
He shook his head, forcing his thoughts back to the present. Then he remembered the tome Seras had given Gilly—the tattoo on her hand that had since disappeared. The girl grew stranger by the day. Too much had happened since her arrival.
By the time Zin’s thoughts settled, they had reached the shore near the Salamander’s dwelling.
The trip had been quiet, each member lost in their own mind.
Zenora slowed her pace until she was beside Gilly. She offered a small smile, trying to appear confident—but the whitened knuckles on her staff betrayed her fear.
Hours later, they emerged into an open stretch of sand. Beyond lay the sea, reflecting the three moons in shimmering silver.
Something massive rested near the water. Black scales glistened under moonlight, and faint snores rumbled from its slumbering bulk. The fire salamander—nearly two meters tall.
“So that’s what you’ll be facing,” Siel said grimly. “It has an incredible sense for prey. Get too close, and it will strike.”
“I’ll let you find the weak point, Gilly,” Zin cut in. “Siel, just support. Let her take the lead.”
He gave Gilly a reassuring pat on the back, leaning close to whisper: “Trust your team. They’re here to guard your back. Trust them—and make the right call.”
Siel overheard, shaking his head in quiet disbelief. Zin never doted on anyone. Not even outside his sister.
Gilly stepped forward, steadying her breathing. She raised her gaze between the second and third moon, southward. Closing her eyes, she drew her sword.
Zenora steadied herself too. As support, she tapped her staff gently against the ground, summoning a faint barrier around Gilly and Siel.
Then Gilly dashed forward toward the Salamander. Siel followed close behind.
Zin, however, glanced skyward. Gilly’s gaze from earlier lingered in his mind. He narrowed his eyes—and saw them. Two figures, distant but distinct, their auras sharp even from kilometers away.
“Demons…” he muttered, frowning. Moments later, he sensed hordes approaching, their presence faint but numerous. Orcs, goblins, kobolds—likely no stronger than those he had already dispatched.
He couldn’t leave now. Not with Gilly, Siel, and Zenora engaged. The two figures, though… they radiated power. Apex rank, at least.
The hordes were still thirty minutes away. Enough time, he hoped, for the others to finish the Salamander. All he could do now was wait.


---
High above the forest, two shadows floated in the night sky.
Hazaril, his mask etched with a question mark, glanced sideways. “Didn’t expect that dragon-kin to sense us.”
“Patience, Hazaril,” Kandili replied, voice calm. “This is only a test.”
He had seen Gilly glance in their direction earlier. His ability told him she was ordinary, but his instincts—honed through endless battle—whispered otherwise.
Kandili gave a small nod. Hazaril lifted his hand in response.
From the grasslands below, a horde rose: Orcs, goblins, kobolds—fifty in total. They marched steadily from Asram’s border toward Elador.
Kandili’s hand traced a vertical line. A glow shimmered across the land, revealing the elves’ barrier. A crack opened, just wide enough for the horde to slip through, before mending itself as though nothing had ever happened.
With their task complete, the two figures vanished into the night.
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Far away, Katharine’s eyes widened. She stood beside Seras, caught within the fury of a mana storm in a frozen wasteland. She clenched her fists. She had to reach that place. Only then would she decide whether or not to tell Seras the truth.