The swordsman didn't answer. He drove his longsword into the ground and rushed over to Misha in two quick strides, catching her by her slipping shoulders.
Misha pitched forward, her forehead bumping against his shoulder guard. She gritted her teeth, trying to heave Gerak up, but her arms had completely lost their strength.
“Let go.”
The swordsman's voice wasn't loud, but every word carried an undeniable authority. He crouched down, took Gerak from Misha's shoulders, and slung him onto his own back.
The half-beastkin's weight made his knees buckle slightly, squeezing a small puff of dust from the cracks in the stone floor.
“Elliot, pour a mana potion down her throat—do we have any left?”
“Only the last bottle.”
The mage, Elliot, fished a blue crystal vial the size of a thumb out of his waist pouch and shoved it into Misha's hand.
Misha tried to push it away, but Elliot ignored her, pressing the rim directly to her lips and pouring it in.
Her throat bobbed twice, and the crystal at the tip of her staff began to glow with a faint, milky-white halo once more.
“Which way?” Rayne turned to look at Misha.
“The backup passage,” Misha panted, pointing her staff in the direction she had come from. “There are no goblins there for now.”
“Then that's where we go.”
Rayne secured Gerak on his back and nodded to the dwarf and Elliot. “Retreat! I'll take the lead, Balen covers the rear.”
The goblin horde in front had already regrouped from the initial chaos. The hobgoblin whose face had been half-charred by Misha's Holy Light Burst glared at the retreating group of five with its sole remaining eye, a low growl rumbles in its throat.
It didn't order a pursuit yet, but the hobgoblins flanking them were already starting to move restlessly, their flails dragging against the ground with a harsh metallic scrape.
“Run!” The five of them moved at once.
Rayne charged at the front with Gerak on his back, while Misha followed closely behind, leaning on her staff. Elliot grabbed Misha's belt to help keep her balanced, and the dwarf, Balen, covered the rear, retreating backward with his shield raised. Seven or eight thrown spears still bristled from the shield's surface, yet to be pulled out.
The goblin horde snapped out of it, erupting into a cacophony of shrieks. A spear flew from behind, pinning itself into the stone tile right where Balen's heel had been a split second before. A second and third spear followed immediately. Balen deflected them left and right with his shield as he retreated, groaning with every impact.
The passage flew past them on both sides. Misha's breathing grew shallower and faster, her steps faltering, but she kept her eyes glued to Rayne's back, gritting her teeth and refusing to fall. The entrance to the backup passage was less than fifty paces ahead.
A hobgoblin lunged out from a side path, swinging its flail horizontally straight toward Misha's waist.
Elliot reacted instantly. He shoved Misha forward, causing her to stumble out of the way, while he dodged to the side. The head of the flail grazed the hem of his robe and smashed into the stone wall, sending sharp stone fragments flying and cutting a bloody line across his cheekbone.
With a flick of his wrist, he flung a Wind Blade back. It struck the hobgoblin dead center between its eyes, sending the creature crashing backward as its flail flew from its grip and disappeared into the darkness.
“Into the passage!” Rayne bellowed from up ahead.
The five of them filed into the narrow entrance of the backup passage. Balen was the last to squeeze through. He spun around and slammed his heavy shield onto the floor, its edge embedding deeply into the cracks of the stone tiles, sealing the entrance shut. Instantly, a frantic clatter echoed from the other side of the shield as goblin daggers and spears rained down against the iron, sounding like a torrential downpour on a tin roof.
Rayne slowly slid down against the stone wall, lowering Gerak to the ground and leaning him against the base of the wall. Only after confirming that the half-beastkin was still breathing did he turn to look at Misha.
Misha sat slumped on the opposite side, her back against the damp, cold stone wall, her staff resting across her knees as her chest heaved violently. The Tracking Mark on the back of her hand was still flashing, but the frequency had noticeably slowed, and its light had dimmed.
“I was late,” she said again, her voice even softer than before.
“You made it, that's what matters.” Rayne unstrapped the waterskin from his waist and handed it over. “Rest for a minute. Then tell me what happened.”
Misha briefly explained how she and Gerak had split up to destroy the altars marked on the map, only to be cornered, rescued by someone, and subsequently discover that she had been marked.
Rayne didn't speak immediately after she finished.
His expression turned complicated for a brief moment—his brow furrowed and then relaxed, and his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something but held it back.
He wiped the sweat and grime from his face, then extended his open hand toward Misha.
On the back of his calloused hand, a faint blue Tracking Mark was pulsing in perfect synchronization with the one on Misha's hand.
Misha's gaze froze.
“The three of us were marked as well.”
Rayne withdrew his hand and tilted his chin toward Balen.
Balen was crouching behind the shield, wiping blood off his hands with a tattered rag. Hearing this, he didn't even look up; he simply flipped his hand over to show Misha—the same spot, the same blue light.
Elliot, who was resting his eyes against the stone wall, silently slid his left hand out from his robe sleeve. The faint blue glow on his fingertip was exceptionally glaring in the dim passage.
“It started flashing on our way back from the altar,” Rayne said.
His voice was low, his tone as calm as if he were stating a plain fact. “I don't know if it triggered the moment we stepped in, or if those goblins did something near the altar. But it definitely has nothing to do with the person you met.”
Misha lowered her head, staring at the flashing blue light on her own hand. The pulsing glow cast an intermittent light over the dried blood on her skin. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She only gripped her staff tighter.
“You did well... Anyone in our shoes would have made the same choice under those circumstances. Besides, even if he wasn't the one who placed the Tracking Mark, the fact that he knew our party size is highly suspicious in itself.”
Just as Rayne finished comforting Misha, a hoarse plea came from beside them.
“...Water.”
A raspy syllable squeezed out of Gerak's throat, followed by a violent fit of coughing.
Misha snapped her head up. Rayne put down his whetstone, and Balen gulped down the dried meat he had been chewing on.
The half-beastkin leaned against the base of the wall, struggling to open his eyelids as he coughed. His eyes hadn't fully focused yet, but his intact left hand instinctively reached for his waist—only to find nothing. He had lost his dual blades back at the altar.
The goblins had likely made off with them during their retreat.
“Where are my blades?” he asked hoarsely.
Balen shoved the waterskin into his hand. “Drink some water first. You're lucky to even be alive.”
Gerak took two gulps of water, coughing up half of it. He then looked down at his bandaged right leg, and then at Misha's pale, almost translucent face, falling silent for a few seconds.
He didn't ask what had happened. He simply handed the waterskin back to Balen and said in his characteristic gravelly voice, “Don't carry me next time. Too heavy.”
Just as Rayne was about to speak, a dull, thunderous boom echoed from deep within the passage.
The entire passage trembled. Dust cascaded from the cracks in the stone walls, and a loose stone tile plummeted from the ceiling, shattering less than two feet from their feet.
Balen snatched up his spare shield from behind him to cover his head, while Elliot opened his eyes, the wind element runes on his staff suddenly flaring to life.
“What was that—” Before he could finish, a second boom followed.
This time they heard it clearly—the sound of shattering stone tiles, as if something were battering the entire passage.
Deep within the backup passage, from the direction they had just fled, massive chunks of rock were crashing down from the ceiling, sending a wave of dust billowing toward them.
A faint blue light gleamed through the dust.
Rayne grabbed his longsword, the jagged chips along the blade catching the dim light.
Balen had already stood up, his shield held at the ready, knees slightly bent as he lowered his center of gravity.
Elliot's fingers dug into the runic grooves of his staff, the wind element gathering around his fingertips into a visible vortex.
Misha pushed herself up with her staff and stepped up beside Rayne. Her hands were still trembling, but the crystal at the tip of her staff was already beginning to gather holy light once more.
Gerak leaned against the wall, looked down at his immobilized right leg, then reached out to pop the half-piece of dried meat Balen had left on his chest into his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Since we're already here...” he mumbled, “might as well get a full stomach.”
Rate on N.U.
