Ch 3.4

The sky burned with streaks of orange and gold as the sun broke against the horizon, birds giving one last chorus before vanishing into the canopy. The tropical forest lay mostly behind them now, yet the woods ahead remained wild and treacherous—especially once the night creatures stirred.

That was reason enough for Benjamin’s carriage party to make camp before darkness fell.

The Hail Gekko lizard lay curled beside the trail, belly full and snoring softly. The dog‑beastman driver slept where he sat, hat tipped over his face, dreams unbothered by whatever prowled beyond the firelight.

From the carriage stepped the silver‑haired elf, sword buckled at his hip, armor gleaming in the dying light. The sunset lit his armor with a coppery sheen. Heilfem Silverstark—the heir of one of the three great elven clans on the Isle—looked ready for battle rather than rest.

“I’m going hunting,” he announced curtly.

By the campfire, the blonde elf puffed her cheeks. “Heil! What about dinner? Can’t you eat first?” Eliguen asked, stirring a pot of stew.

Heilfem scowled, his tone sharp. “My nose is already suffering from the reek of wet fur. I’ll take my meal fresh. Sitting in that wooden crate all day has made me stiff—I need to kill something.”

Eliguen sighed, ladle tapping the pot. “Fine. But be careful—and back by dawn. If not, we leave without you.”

“So be it. I don’t care,” he muttered, turning away.

Her lips curved in a teasing smile. “Then I’ll be sure to tell Uncle.”

Heilfem froze, jaw tightening. “Fine. I’ll be back,” he snapped.

A shadow dropped beside him in a single, fluid motion, landing with feline grace. “A hunt, you say? Excellent idea. I’ll join you.”

Heilfem looked up into the easy grin and gleaming eyes of Grimor Helvis, the lion‑beastman warrior, his mane catching the firelight like threads of gold.

A muscle twitched on Heilfem’s brow.

“You mongrel, why are you tagging along? I said I wanted some alone time.”

Grimor smirked, unbothered.

“Well, I could use a stretch, too. Let’s hunt together—it’ll be good practice for when we fight side by side. What do you say?”

Heilfem’s lip curled in disdain.

“I said, get lost. Or are you actually begging to die?”

At that, Grimor’s mirth sharpened into bloodlust.

“A fight, is it? Now that’s my kind of warm‑up.” He flexed his claws, the firelight catching on their sharp edges, “I’ve always wondered if your bark matched your bite.”

He drew his sword in one smooth motion; a breeze stirred around him. Across the campfire, Grimor spread his arms wide, nail tips catching the light like knives.

From where she sat by the fire, Eliguen’s melodic voice cut through the tension.

“You’re the diplomat of the Silverstark clan, and here you are, ready to brawl with a beastman? If you’d rather abdicate your position as next in line, go ahead. Personally, I always liked little Hidor better—far more agreeable.”

The firelight danced across her face, soft smile shaded with something sharper. Lukero and Rukas exchanged nervous glances, sweat beading at their temples.

Ben watched, stunned. Eliguen Cretzel… she’s far shrewder than she looks. If she ever leads the Cretzel clan, the Isle’s in for trouble. The Cretzels were another of the elven great houses, rivals to the Silverstarks—and her words had hit their mark.

Heilfem’s jaw tightened; his sword lowered by inches. He ground his teeth but said nothing. In the silence that followed, the fire popped, and Ben could almost see the moment the proud elf swallowed his anger—because Eliguen was right.

Grimor was startled by how quickly Heilfem backed down.

“Ha! Looks like she’s got you on a leash,” he taunted with a toothy grin.

Heilfem tensed, jaw tight, eyes flashing with restrained fury.

“Fuck off, you putrid vermin,” he growled through gritted teeth.

He wanted nothing more than to draw his blade and take the lion’s head there and then—but this envoy was his duty. The war council summit depended on him arriving intact, and his clan’s honor rested on his composure. If he slipped now, his brother would seize the clan’s favor again—and Heilfem refused to hand him that victory.

Grimor studied him with mock pity.

“Never thought I’d hear an elegant noble elf curse like that. Guess even you have it rough. Shame we can’t duel—I’d love to see how that temper holds up in a real fight.”

“Screw you! I’ll go butcher some wild mana beasts instead. Need to slice something before I lose my mind.”

Heilfem unsheathed his sword and stalked toward the woods.

“Hey! How about a little wager?” Grimor called after him, eyes gleaming. “Let’s see who can hunt the biggest, meanest mana beast tonight. Whoever brings down the fiercest one wins!”

“The hell I am—I’m not playing your stupid game. Leave me alone.”

“Scared you’ll lose?”

Heilfem froze, blade twitching. “Fine. You want competition, you’ve got it.”

Grimor’s grin widened. “Good! Then it’s settled.”

And with that, the two vanished beneath the dark canopy. The forest at night was as dangerous as it was alive—but tonight, it wouldn’t be the hunters who needed to be afraid.