“Oof!” Antchaser fell to the group as the cloth suspending him in the air unwound. He rolled onto his back and groaned as he waited for the feeling to return to his limbs. A process Antchaser felt was taking a worryingly long time.

A shadow fell over him as he stared up at the jungle canopy. Antchaser turned his head and locked eyes with Boarslayer, the massive goblin frowning down at him.

“You look like shit…” she said before reaching out her hand.

Antchaser rolled his eyes and grasped the woman’s hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs, feeling creaking bones and overexerted ligaments settle back into their proper place.

“Thanks… you too,” he said flatly.

Boarslayer was covered in broken plant matter and a splattering of unidentified purple goop. Had the oversized goblin woman simply bulldozed her way through the jungle? Any other time, Antchaser would have called that reckless… but he couldn’t deny she had saved his life.

Boarslayer tsked and folded her arms. “Guess this makes us even now.”

Antchaser chuckled and shook his head. “Sure. Let’s say it is,” he said in response.

Boarslayer had always remembered that day, months ago, when Antchaser had saved her from the group of bandits. It had heckled her warrior’s pride to be saved by someone she considered so much weaker than herself.

Antchaser had never really thought of it as much of a debt himself. Boarslayer had more than proven herself useful several times over since then. But the woman was nothing if not stubborn. Maybe now she would stop heckling him about it.

Antchaser turned and looked in the direction the cloth-wielding woman had been thrown. “Let’s hurry before she—”

“Going so soon? ‘Before she’ what, exactly?!” an icy voice filled with spiritual pressure spoke, turning the air thick and making it hard to move.

From the shadows on the jungle’s edge, the cloth-wielding woman strolled into the small clearing.

Her silk robe was in tattered disarray, and her once smooth, long black hair appeared more like a bird’s nest, filled with leaves and twigs. Her words were calm and silky, but her beautiful face, twisted in a dark snarl as it was, was fit more for a demon than a human.

Yet… despite their disheveled appearance, the woman herself seemed utterly unharmed.

That likely had to do with the dozens of cloth strips extending from her tattered robes. Each one wrapped tightly around the massive log Boarslayer had tossed only moments before.

Did she… catch it?! Antchaser thought to himself, his eyes wide. What kind of monstrous reflexes would something like that take? Even for someone at [Golden Spirit].

Before he could let his surprise show on his face, however, Antchaser’s mind whirled with plans.

“I take it back,” Antchaser said as he stared at the woman. “You look absolutely radiant compared to our guest over there.”

Boarslayer raised a brow and frowned at Antchaser. One look at the bandit woman’s twitching eye and clenched teeth flipped her frown into a grin.

“Why, thank you. It’s the beast blood. Really brightens the skin. Though, remind me, Antchaser, when did the Adventurer’s Guild start recruiting homeless women? Are they that starved for real talent?”

The bandit’s eyes widened, and she screeched in rage. The cloth strips wrapping the log tightened until it exploded in a shower of splinters.

“Enough games! You both die. NOW!” she screamed before charging through the falling splinters. Before either goblin could blink, the woman was only two meters away. Dozens of cloth tendrils twisted to wicked points, threatening to skewer them from every angle in an inescapable cage.

The bandit sneered at the two goblins, dark glee flashing in her eyes, and brought her hand down.

In that same instant, a massive wall of white flames erupted between the bandit and the goblins.

The bandit woman once more screamed, though this time in pain rather than fury. Even Boarslayer and Antchaser had to take several leaping steps back and shield themselves from the flame’s intense heat.

When the flames died, the bandit was kneeling on the ground, wheezing. Her left arm was charred black, and even the porcelain skin of her face had turned an angry red. Every one of the cloth tendrils flailing around her had been reduced to half their length, their ends turned to crumbling ash. Though Antchaser could see the charred ends slowly repairing themselves.

The bandit’s eyes suddenly snapped up. Not toward the goblins, but to the side. Two blinding pinpricks of light burst from the jungle’s edge, shooting toward the downed woman like arrows.

What remained of the cloth tendrils wove together to form a large shield. The pinpricks of light slammed into the makeshift shield and exploded in massive fireballs. The shield held, but the bandit woman was once more thrown backward.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She rolled for several meters, then sprung to her feet and snarled in the direction of the attack, her hands outstretched and bent into claws like some feral animal.

Before a real arrow, this one sheathed in flickering lightning, soundlessly shot at her from the opposite direction.

The canopy rustled, and the same strange transparent cloth puppet creature Antchaser had noticed before dropped to the ground beside her.

More cloth tendrils erupted from the creature, deflecting the arrow away from the woman, though not without obvious damage.

Maggy, her staff outstretched, and Garrelt, holding an ornate bow covered in more runes than Antchaser thought possible, stepped from the jungle shadows at opposite ends of the clearing.

Both of his Adventurers companions stared at the bandit woman with hard, cold eyes that the goblin found odd on the otherwise cheerful due.

The cloth-wielding bandit clenched her teeth, her gaze flickering back and forth between both Maggy and Garrelt. Then, finally, she gave another primal scream, and the strange transparent cloth puppet enveloped her.

Garrelt raised his bow and shot three more silent lightning-covered arrows at the woman, while Maggy cast another of her pinprick fireball spells.

Both attacks reached the woman’s position in less than a heartbeat, exploding in a massive ball of flames and electricity.

Yet, when the dust settled, the woman was… gone.

“Shit!” Garrelt rushed to the small crater and knelt at the edge. He stared down for a long moment before standing with a frown and shaking his head.

“She’s gone. Can’t track her either,” he said.

“Gone? How?!” Maggy asked.

“Whatever the hell that artifact she was using was, it’s blocking all of my techniques,” he said with a shrug. He wiped the dirt from his hands, stored the bow, and turned toward the group. “Come on, we need to finish our mission and report what happened here.”

Antchaser blinked. That was sudden. It was strange for the man to give up so quickly. He would have suspected another trick if Alpha didn’t confirm this was the real Garrelt. Maggy seemed equally confused.

“Wait, you can’t be serious!” she complained. “That woman is still out there. She’s already taken one of us. What if she does it again?!” Her eyes flickered through the shadows just beyond the clearing’s edge.

“I have to agree,” Antchaser said, swaying on his feet and doing his best not to collapse. “That woman is dangerous; she knows we took a shortcut to get to this cavern. If we waste time, we risk her returning and leading her to the tunnel.”

Garrelt shook his head. “No. Her artifact was damaged in that last attack. I might not be able to track her, but she won’t be able to sneak up on us like that again.”

He turned and gave the group a cheeky grin. “Besides, that woman’s a coward. She’s likelier to run away and lick her wounds than hang around for round two. I guess she’s running off to whomever she’s here with to whine and complain.”

Boarslayer narrowed her eyes. “You know who that was?” she asked.

Garrelt raised a hand and wiggled it back and forth. “I know of her. Aria the Threadsmith. An up-and-coming newblood who was making splashes in the Guild a few months back. Rumor has it she’s an expert at setting traps and ambushes. With the sadistic personality to match.”

“That tracks…” Antchaser muttered, rubbing his sore shoulders.

Garrelt nodded and continued. “She’s also known to be rather skittish when her traps don’t work and rarely fights anyone her equal directly. Now that she knows we know she’s here, I doubt she’ll try anything again. We should hurry, though. There’s no telling how close her companions are; they could send someone else after us.”

The Adventurers and goblins exchanged a look, nodded, and walked further into the jungle.

——————————————————

Over the next five hours, Garrelt’s assessment of ‘Aria the Threadsmith’ proved accurate.

Despite three full trips from the grove to the tunnel, the group saw neither hide nor hair of the bandit scout.

Alpha wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Letting an enemy go, more so one that had such critical information as the scout, didn’t sit well with Alpha. Nonetheless, there was little they could do at this point. All he could do was collapse the tunnel once Antchaser and the others had crossed over for the last time and place guards around the area.

If the bandits did find the tunnel, and wasted time trying to dig it out rather than go the long way around, Alpha would have even more ‘surprises’ waiting for them.

… Who was Alpha kidding? There was no way he was going to leave it at just that.

Alpha turned his attention to the nanites rapidly traveling away from the goblin’s cavern.

A tiny amount of nanites that had slipped into the ‘Threadsmith’s’ bloodstream when she was cut by the needle previously. With only a handful of the microscopic constructs, he couldn’t do much or move quickly, but Alpha knew he had time.

While the others gathered peaches, Alpha directed the nanites to Aria’s ear. He instructed the tiny machines to begin working on a special project there. One built out of the woman’s own flesh and materials, as to go undetected.

As his present slowly took shape, Alpha mentally grinned to himself.

Maybe the ‘heavens’ that the Cultivators wouldn’t shut up about really were watching out for them.

At the very least, Alpha wouldn’t have an issue locating their new ‘guests’ for much longer.

——————————————————

Aria scratched at her cheek as she leaped from branch to branch, making a beeline back to camp. The entire time she ground her teeth so hard she would have tasted blood… if her tongue hadn’t been scorched.

Never had she ever suffered such humiliation. She was the predator. She was the one who stalked and hunted! Yet… she had not only been forced to retreat, but had been trounced by some washed-out-scout, an apprentice mage, and their pet goblins! What’s more, that bloody goblin’s needle must have been poisoned. There was no way a goblin would have gotten ahold of a poison capable of actually threatening her, of course, but it itched. And no matter how she cycled her spirit energy, she couldn’t find it.

That wasn’t even the worst part.

No, what was worse was imagining the others laughing at her when she reported what had happened.

If Magnus didn’t outright kill her for letting them escape. The whole matter had her questioning if she wasn’t better off turning around and leaving. Let them think she had been killed or something. What did she care about Magnus’ little expedition?

Icefinger would, though…

That thought alone was enough to make her pause. An icy shiver ran down her spine as she remembered her first walk through Icefinger’s ‘gallery.’ Seeing all those faces frozen in time — some raging, some pleading, others lost in despair — was something she would remember until the end of time. She could imagine what would happen to her if she ran. She could imagine herself standing in that cold, dark room, alive, aware, but unable to so much as twitch an eyelash.

Aria shivered uncontrollably as if she were running through an icebox, not a sweltering jungle.

Death at the hand of Ironheart would be preferable, even if the man was more sadistic than her — though he hid it better.

With that thought in mind, she clenched her teeth until they cracked and turned back toward camp.

Though she slowed her pace.

After all, if she was going to die either way, why not take the scenic route?