Cane ran through the streets, a leather backpack full of rocks pounding against his spine. Sweat stung his eyes as he veered through the slums toward the west gate, cursing the white dove flying overhead—marking the route.
Elohan had greeted them earlier with a grin, handed them weighted packs, and said, "No robes. No armor. Shirts, trousers only. Follow the dove." Like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Cane's psi-rune pulsed.
Clara:I'm… dying… Where… we going?
Cane almost laughed. Her message came in wheezing bursts, like an old man climbing stairs.
Fergis:Mages aren't meant to run.
The gate came into view. Cane slipped through it, taking a narrow path that cut across a field rich with snow peas—one of his favorite scents.
Half an hour passed. The dove veered sharply, climbing a narrow trail that turned into a steep hill. Cane glanced back. No sign of his team.
Cane:Where are you guys?
Fergis:Exiting the gate now.
Clara:Same… I... can… see Fergis.
Dhalia: Slums…
Even through the rune, Dhalia's breath came ragged. Running was bad enough. Running with weight was worse.
Cane shortened his stride, focusing on staying upright. He crested the hill a few minutes later, legs burning. The dove hovered, waiting.
Beneath it, Elohan sat on a boulder, cooling himself with a folding fan.
"Not bad, blacksmith," the elf said, annoyingly chipper. "Keep the pack on. Drink some water."
Cane nodded, pulled out his canteen, and drank.
Ten minutes later, Clara and Fergis staggered into view, both red-faced and gasping. Elohan didn't blink.
"Keep the packs on. Drink water."
Dhalia cursed the hill, the elf, and the blisters on her feet as she finally crested the rise. She nearly collapsed with joy when she saw the others.
"Keep the pack on," Elohan told her. He glanced at her feet. "Drink water. You have five minutes."
Clara frowned. "We rested longer than that."
"I know," Elohan replied. "She needs to run faster."
He stood and led them down a new trail, stopping beside a massive pile of rocks. "See these?"
"Yes," Cane said, since the others were still catching their breath.
"Take them up there." He pointed to another steep hill. "Keep your packs on. No storage rings. Finish in an hour and lunch is served."
"Lunch?" Clara asked, already picking up a stone and shuffling forward.
Cane grabbed two—one in each hand—and trotted past. "Keep it up, Clara."
"You too," she managed, breathless.
Near the top, Cane switched to shorter strides. He dropped the stones, turned, and headed back.
Halfway down, he saw Dhalia limping. Her shoes were soaked dark with blood.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yep." She gritted her teeth and kept going.
Cane:Take your time walking down. Use it to gather strength.
Clara: Strength?
At the bottom, Cane grabbed two more stones and began again.
And so it went.
By chance, they all arrived at the pile together. Cane counted the remaining stones after his teammates each grabbed one—three.
"Either way, I'm going to end up carrying the rest," Cane muttered.
He pulled off his shirt, laid it on the ground, and wrapped the remaining stones inside. Slinging the bundle over one shoulder, he started the climb.
He caught up to Dhalia first. "Last one," he told her.
"Got it," she breathed.
Then Clara and Fergis, both struggling, but still pushing.
Cane:This is the last trip. We're done after this.
At the top, Cane dumped the stones onto the pile. Elohan sat on a crate, grinning like a wolf.
"Take some water," he said. "Looks like you'll finish in time for lunch."
Cane turned as the others reached the hilltop. Fergis threw up onto the rocks, then stumbled away, still walking.
Elohan chuckled—a sound no one appreciated.
Dhalia dropped her rock and swayed in place.
"Drink water," Elohan told her. He eyed her shoes. "Next time, wear something sensible."
Clara scowled. "Instructor, Dhalia's feet are pretty bad."
"So?" Elohan raised an eyebrow.
Clara tilted her head. "So? That's what you have to say?"
Dhalia touched her arm. "I'm fine."
Elohan sighed. "Dhalia, right?"
She nodded.
"You're a healer?"
Another nod.
"So why haven't you healed your feet?"
"I… You didn't say I could."
Elohan laughed. "I didn't tell you to breathe either, but somehow you managed that."
Dhalia peeled off her cloth shoes, wincing at the damage. Her hands glowed, and she let out a breath of relief.
Cane knelt, rinsed the shoes, and dried them as best he could.
"Thank you," Dhalia said softly.
"I did promise lunch," Elohan said cheerfully.
Clara perked up. "What are we having?"
Elohan stomped on the crate beneath him. Whatever was inside growled.
"I said I brought lunch," he added with a wide grin. "Whether it's you or the contents of this crate… that's still undecided. You've got two minutes to prepare."
Cane didn't hesitate. His salt armor shimmered into place, and his trident snapped into his grip with a pulse of elemental magic. It slammed down against the stone.
"We're no one's lunch."
Cane:Give me an Ice Wall.
He summoned his shield and stepped forward.
ICEWALL
A shimmering barrier of frost rose behind him, splitting the hillside.
Dhalia climbed up onto the wall, still panting, but eyes alert. Clara and Fergis flanked the edges, weapons drawn.
Elohan smiled slightly. They've still got some fight in them… and know basic tactics. I suppose I won't throw anything more at them—today.
The elf rose, then leapt several meters with casual grace. A sharp blast of wind burst from his hand, shattering the front of the crate.
The creature that emerged was just shy of cow-sized—feline in frame, but layered in smooth, dark scales. Its eyes gleamed with reptilian intelligence. Its tail, long and sinuous, ended in a thick, bladed bone.
Cane:Let me go first—get it mad.
Fergis:Watch the tail. It's definitely a weapon.
Cane locked eyes with the beast and charged.
For a second, surprise flickered in its gaze—followed by rage.
The trident came forward in a feint toward its open, fanged mouth. The creature twitched, ready to dodge, but Cane spun, shield-first, and slammed it into the side of its head. The beast snarled, claws digging furrows as it skidded back.
Fergis:Tail!
Cane leapt. The bladed tail swept just beneath him.
He landed, circling wide.
Elohan crossed his arms. He turned it. Advantage is theirs now.
Cane:Now. Left rear leg.
He darted forward again, raising his shield to bait the charge.
FIREBOLT
Fergis's fire spell detonated at the creature's knee.
BOOM
Clara's blunderbuss shot tore through its hip in a thunderous blast. The beast wailed, blood spraying wide as it spun wildly.
Cane didn't stop. His trident drove deep into its neck—frost flaring out in a sudden bloom, icing the base of its skull.
He shifted—Starstrike in hand.
One breath.
Then the mythic hammer-axe came down with a savage crack, splitting the creature's head cleanly in two.
A long moment passed. Then, from the side, slow applause.
"Not the worst I've seen," Elohan said mildly.
He stepped forward, a blade appearing in his hand. With the smooth efficiency of a hunter, he sliced several strips of meat from the beast and laid them out on a warm sunlit rock.
Noticing their stares, he pointed at Fergis.
"You start fires, right?" He tossed the meat a glance. "Let's go. It's lunchtime."