Legs pumping, Hector’s feet slammed against the ground, kicking up dirt and dead leaves. Behind him, the group lurched into motion—some breaking into sprints with panicked cries, others stumbling forward on injured limbs. He swivelled on his heels, taking stock of the encroaching swarm.

  Purple energy bristled at his shoulders. He thrust his hand forward, and the power ripped free in sharp bursts of light. Purple leaves cut through the air like thrown blades. Several bugs dropped, bodies pierced clean through, their screeches cutting through the air.

  “Keep moving!” Hector yelled as people rushed past him.

  Tyler appeared at his side, scar-faced and breathing hard, hovering on the edge of indecision. Stay and fight, or run with the others?

  “Tyler.” Hector barely spared the man a glance. “Go.”

  What would someone barely at Gravity Forging-One provide in this situation? Just another weight to worry about. Another life to protect when his attention needed to be everywhere else.

  Tyler’s jaw worked. Then he nodded once and sprinted after the others.

  The line of people streamed past—stumbling, limping, half-carrying each other through underbrush that tore at clothes and skin. Bushes rustled. Chittering rose on all sides. Ants burst from cover with their mandibles clicking as their legs churned the earth.

  Jodie’s claws extended with a wiggling of flesh. She tore through the first wave, fingers hooking through carapace and ripping heads clean off bodies. Green ichor splattered across bark and leaves. All the while, she stayed close to Caris, positioning herself between the injured woman and incoming threats.

  An ant lunged at Caris’s wounded side.

  Seeing this, Samuel roared, muscles bulging. His sword came down in a brutal arc, cleaving the bug in half. Segments hit the ground in wet chunks. Without breaking stride, he scooped Caris onto his back and charged forward. Thankfully, the woman didn’t protest. Realising her situation, she simply frowned with disapproval.

  Moments later, the group, with Hector helping at the rear, broke through the treeline.

  The fort rose ahead, walls visible, figures moving along the battlements.

  Hector glanced back.

  More bugs poured from the forest, the ground shaking as they moved. A seething mass of chitin and clicking mandibles, pouring toward him like a black tide.

  With the world’s clarity sharpening, Hector’s heart hammered against his ribs. Palms grew slick.

  He wasn’t worried about his own safety; he had the Talents to pull through. But if the bugs started picking people off, that would be a terrible loss of life and make the entire rescue pointless.

  With a jerk, he skidded to a stop, planting his feet as an ant sailed through the air toward him. Barely registering it, Hector’s hand shot out, fingers closing around a leg before he wrenched the creature from the air and slammed it into the ground. In an instant, sparks crackled down his arm, pooling in his palm briefly before the energy condensed, forming a sword of purple.

  He thrust it through the ant’s skull. Then the blade kept moving, dragging sideways as another ant jumped toward him.

  The edge caught chitin and split it, cutting the second creature in half. Both chunks slapped wetly onto the trampled earth as survivors continued to run.

  “Hector!” Jodie’s voice cut through the chaos. “We have to hold them here!”

  She skidded to a stop, sandals digging tiny trenches in the dirt. She splayed both hands forward, and a wall of fire erupted from nothing, flames roaring upward in a blazing curtain. Bugs screeched, clawing backwards from the sudden heat.

  Hector reached for his [Blazing Arsenal]. The familiar molten pool bubbled to life at his side, and a fireball coalesced above the surface.

  A breath later, the projectile ripped forward, punching through Jodie’s firewall and exploding on the other side. The blast wave sent bugs tumbling, bodies charred and smoking.

  Fingers clenching, Hector pulled on [Quickening Brace]. Time slammed almost to a stop as the world slowed around him. Not wasting a second, he willed another fireball to life. It formed instantaneously in the frozen moment. He released it, forming another just as time snapped back into motion.

  The second explosion followed the first by a heartbeat, a wave of bombardment that left nothing but screeching and roaring behind the firewall.

  They ran.

  Jodie was beside him, both of them just behind the struggling survivors. Ahead, Brick dragged the stretcher with gritted teeth, a vein on his neck bulging. Should he help? No, he had to keep the bugs off. But Hector had to admit the boy had heart; part of him had thought the boy would drop it, abandon the weight in favour of speed. But he didn’t. Kept pulling, kept fighting forward.

  Hector wouldn’t have found it in himself to abandon someone either.

  The man on the stretcher pulled a cluster of talismans from his hand, the paper sizzling with activated mana. He threw them backwards at a group of ants circling toward their flank. The talismans floated free, slapping onto carapaces before exploding in small gouts of flame. The ants rocked sideways, injured but not dead.

  So that’s why Raquel was low on talismans despite Brick being a crafter. His talisman-crafting skills hadn’t refined enough to be valuable, not yet, at least.

  Shouts erupted from the fortification walls as figures lined up along the battlements. Within moments, arrows began raining down. Shafts punched through chitin, pinning bugs to earth and buying precious seconds.

  The gate groaned. Wood scraped against wood as the massive doors swung inward.

  Lincoln reached the entrance first. He stopped, spear in hand, letting others rush past him into safety. One man carrying a woman stumbled, legs giving out. An ant seized the opening, lunging forward with mandibles spread.

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  Then Lincoln—in what Hector would have thought highly unlikely—rushed toward them. His spear left his hand and tore through the air, the weapon punching straight through the bug and pinning it to the ground.

  Life saved, the man scrambled forward, with the woman still on his back, disappearing through the gate.

  Samuel thundered past with Caris clinging to his shoulders. Hector and Jodie followed, sprinting through as Lincoln retrieved his spear and followed them. But before any form of relief could fill them, a screech split the air behind them.

  Hector spun.

  A furry mantis-ant, easily twice the size of the other ants, tore through the gate defenders. Bladed forearms knocked aside swords and spears, mercenaries stumbling back from the assault. It began holding its ground, stopping anyone from drawing near and thus leaving the entrance open.

  Hector’s muscles tensed, ready to throw himself back into the fight, but movement on the walls caused him to stop.

  Chest plate gleaming in the sunlight, red hair streaming behind him, Raquel leapt from the battlements. His sword caught flame mid-fall, fire wrapping around the blade in a roaring spiral. The weapon came down in an arc, cleaving straight through the mantis’s thorax.

  The creature split. Both halves crashed to the ground in sprays of purple blood, fire lingering on the bisected flesh.

  Hector’s throat went dry as his gaze locked onto the weapon in Raquel’s hand.

  A mana armament.

  He’d seen Wymon’s back at the Hilda Festival. The weapon had carved through most materials with ease, the elemental attribute making it even more deadly. Part of him desperately wanted one. Anyone with a functioning brain would. The weapons at that level were to be feared. Yet he had no way of getting his own.

  His [Mana Forge] Talent flickered through his thoughts. How would it measure up against a true mana armament? Maybe the uncommon version of the Talent—or whatever rank came after that—might surpass it. But for now?

  He doubted his conjured weapons could match.

  His gaze fell to his palms. Then lifted to meet Raquel’s eyes.

  The man wore a blank expression, carefully composed to hide whatever energy that display had cost him. What had Raquel been fighting since they’d entered the hive?

  Hector’s sandals slapped against the mud as he stepped forward. Raquel slid his sword into its sheath with a soft rasp, approaching with measured steps.

  “It’s good to have you back.”

  Part of Hector wanted to be pleased at that. But his next words would make the situation considerably tenser.

  “It’s good to be back.” Any enthusiasm he tried to mount dissipated as he organised his next words. He paused, wetting his lips. “We have something to discuss. And it’s serious.”

  Raquel’s expression fell. His eyes moved to the survivors—counting faces, noting injuries. He’d picked up on Hector’s meaning. From the look in his eyes and the frown pulling at his lips, he seemed to have some idea of what was going on already, with his gaze even flicking to Haydon, the Blackbridge Company leader standing off to the side.

  The man’s face had gone pale. Practically all the blood had left it; it was as if he’d seen a ghost.

  He didn’t want these people back. Their return clearly disturbed him.

  This was going to be an interesting conversation.

  —- —- —- —-

  Standing at the back of Raquel’s office, Hector let his gaze sweep across the occupants.

  Sitting behind his desk, Raquel crossed his arms, gaze drifting between the two groups standing before him. Neat stacks of paper occupied the desk’s far side, probably reports or forms recommending the movement of resources to certain parts of the fort.

  Hector didn’t know, but none of that mattered right now. The man’s red hair fell forward, partially obscuring his face, but his darkened eyes continued to track the two groups, visible exhaustion on his features as tension filled the air.

  On the left stood the Blackbridge Company mercenaries. Three of them. Haydon was at the front. In Hector’s opinion, the man had far too much confidence compared to the crimes he was being accused of. Arms crossed, weight balanced evenly on both feet. It was almost as if he expected this to be over with a few simple words.

  On the right, four leading survivors. Tyler at the front, scar cutting across his weathered face, jaw tight. Samuel, beside him, hands flexing at his sides as if itching to reach for his weapon. While Meribel stood with her arms crossed, blonde braid dishevelled, green eyes burning with barely contained rage. And the injured Caris stood slightly off to the side, leaning against the wall for support.

  Hector wasn’t sure what to make of this situation. On one hand, he wanted to believe the Blackbridge Company had a good reason for abandoning people the way they did. But on the other hand, he couldn’t come up with a plausible reason himself.

  “You twats abandoned us.” Meribel’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. She stabbed a finger toward Haydon, disgust twisting her features as her lips pulled into a sneer. It almost looked as if she wanted to spit on the ground right beneath the man’s feet.

  Haydon gave her a sidelong glance, seemingly uninterested in responding. His attention flickered to Tyler instead, probably viewing the group’s leader as the only person worth talking to out of the four.

  “When we were there fighting, your group split off.” Haydon’s voice came out smooth. Too smooth. He turned to Raquel. “How is that our fault? If anything, it was a miracle we even had time to think about them. It pained us to leave them behind. My lord, you must believe me.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it.” Tyler’s hand moved to his waist. For a moment, Hector thought he’d grab his sword. But he simply rested his palm on the hilt, fingers curling around the pommel. “You three caved in that place to save your own hides. And perhaps to use us as bait.”

  Haydon scoffed. Before he could respond, the woman from the Blackbridge Company laughed—a sharp, dismissive sound. “Really? You think we had the time to do that? With what means?”

  “Don’t you dare lie.” Tyler’s knuckles whitened on his sword. “I know you had a flame talisman before you got there. We all did. Raquel’s maid provided them to us.”

  Hector’s gaze drifted to the maid in question.

  She stood by the door, eyes staring straight ahead, expression blank. No signs she’d side with either group. She seemed almost detached—as if this entire situation was a trivial matter that ultimately wouldn’t affect her.

  If that was her thinking, she was probably right. After all, Raquel held the final decision. And by the looks of it, having shifted a hand to his chin, eyes narrowed, he wasn’t having an easy time of it.

  “Raquel, you must understand.” Haydon brought a fist to his chest, seemingly trying to project sincerity. “Those people were stuck in there for hours. They’re desperate. They probably misunderstood things. We all risked our lives. I’ll admit that maybe we could have handled things better.” He turned to Tyler, expression softening into something that might pass for sympathy. “I understand your pain, but you have to believe me. The way things turned out was not how we wanted. It would have been great if we could have all come back with the egg in tow.”

  And it was that egg that caused this entire situation.

  Hector brought a finger to his lip.

  At first, he didn’t feel he should step forward. They had more than enough witnesses. In his eyes, it was practically a done deal. However, condemning a man on the words of others alone wasn’t exactly cut-and-dry.

  But Haydon was strange.

  Ever since Hector had met the man hours earlier, he’d seemed shifty. His eyes had always darted around whenever the topic of the cave-in came up. He seemed to want to distance the subject from everyone’s minds. If anything, his urgency to abandon the survivors had been too desperate—as if it went beyond simple fear of the bugs and more like he was worried that a truth he didn’t like would surface.

  “I think you’re lying.” Hector stepped away from Jodie and Lincoln, keeping his voice steady as all eyes turned to him. The last thing he needed now was a voice crack throwing off his entire momentum. “You’ve been very shifty on the topic of the egg. And when asked, you voiced wanting to abandon people.” He met Raquel’s gaze. “Let’s not forget that.”

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