Chapter 18: Guardian

With nightfall rapidly descending, the Eradication Squad made a temporary camp in the clearing, the flickering embers of their fire casting eerie shadows across the bloodstained grass. At the heart of the clearing lay the gruesome remains of a bisected creature, its jaguar-like form twisted unnaturally, lifeless eyes reflecting the dying light of day. The body, however, was incomplete. Its head had been wrenched away from the torso, dragged several feet across the dirt and tangled underbrush. The tears were brutal and uneven, as if immense force had been used to rip it free rather than cut it cleanly. Tendons and bones jutted from the ragged stump of its neck, a gruesome testament to the sheer strength of whatever had done this.

The tracker of the group had meticulously followed a trail of shoe prints leading here, a path that spoke of struggle, desperation, and perhaps, a battle of survival. But something about the scene felt off. The way the earth was disturbed, the jagged claw marks gouged into the dirt, and the telltale patterns of combat all suggested a fierce skirmish had taken place. As the tracker studied the ground, they found another set of tracks—smaller clawed impressions, most likely belonging to the one-horned creatures the squad had fought earlier in the day. The marks crisscrossed the area in chaotic patterns, suggesting frantic movement, but whether these creatures had been attackers, scavengers, or something else entirely remained uncertain.

Stranger still, the jaguar-like beast’s paws matched the tracks the squad had been following. This was the very creature they had been tracking. But had it been the predator or the prey? If it had been hunting something, it had clearly underestimated its target. The sheer amount of blood spilled here painted a grim picture—thick streaks of dried crimson soaking into the earth beside the bisected carcass. Whatever had done this had not just killed the creature; it had utterly dominated it.

As they examined the body, an unsettling realization crept in. Though the feline form shared the broad silhouette of a jaguar, its features were eerily mismatched—a patchwork of apex predator traits sculpted into one deadly beast. Its sleek fur shimmered with scaled ridges, while an unnatural number of limbs stretched from its muscular torso. It was as if some celestial force had taken inspiration from nature and then decided to rearrange the design entirely.

Yet, something was missing. Both Quil and Joseph studied the remains carefully, exchanging wary glances. There was no trace of mana. Neither in the one-horned creatures nor in the six-legged, scaled predator. It was an anomaly. The redwood forest was thick with ambient mana, its energy pulsing through the towering ancient trees, the very air alive with arcane resonance. And yet, here, in this place of bloodshed and violence, there was only silence. A stillness that gnawed at the edges of their senses, whispering that something far stranger lurked beneath the surface of this mystery.

Then the tracker found another set of tracks, partially buried beneath the chaos of battle. These prints were different. Larger. Heavier. They belonged to something that walked on its hind legs, its weight sinking deep into the damp earth. And unlike the others, these tracks radiated an undeniable mana presence—dense, heavy, and oppressive, as if whatever had left them was steeped in power.

Joseph exhaled sharply, his gaze following the tracks as they disappeared into the shadows of the redwoods. "Whatever did this," he muttered, "it wasn’t just another predator."

Something powerful had come through here.

That was when the tracker, known as Harrow, found something else that deepened the mystery of the battle-scarred clearing. The place was a mar of chaos, every inch of disturbed earth telling a fragmented story of violence. The last few minutes of daylight waned as he carefully followed the erratic trails, his keen eyes piecing together the sequence of events like a puzzle. And then, he found evidence that reshaped their understanding of what had happened here.

Without hesitation, he approached their squad leader, Joseph, his voice steady with conviction.

“Sir, I think I’ve figured out what went down here,” Harrow explained, resolute in his deduction. “The abnormal jaguar stalked its victim into this clearing, but the one-horns attacked it before it could strike. A fight broke out, but that wasn’t the end of it. Something else came into the clearing after that—something powerful. It didn’t just kill. It tormented our quarry.” His voice was grim, but he stood by his conclusions.

He motioned for Joseph to follow, leading him toward a scorched patch of earth. At first glance, it might have been mistaken for the remnants of a fire pit, but as Harrow pointed out the details, it became clear—this was no ordinary burn. The blackened ground stretched outward in uneven arcs; charred debris scattered around the area. The intense heat had seared the dirt itself, leaving behind deep cracks.

“This wasn’t just a campfire,” Harrow murmured, running his fingers along the brittle edges of a scorched root. “This looks like someone—or something—used a flamethrower.”

Joseph frowned, studying the destruction more closely. The burn pattern was too wild, too deliberate for a natural fire. There were no wood remnants, no signs of controlled ignition—only devastation. Whatever had done this had unleashed a wave of fire with purpose.

“I think our target didn’t just leave the clearing,” Harrow continued, glancing up from his analysis. “It came back. It tried to use this hollow for shelter. But it wasn’t alone for long.” He gestured toward the deep, gouged tracks leading away. “That’s when it encountered whatever left these—this thing you said had a heavy mana presence. And from how the tracks are spaced… it didn’t just appear. It chased.”

Joseph’s gaze followed the direction Harrow showed, the forest's shadows seeming even darker now. The weight of the revelation settled over them like a shroud.

Their target had fled into the depths of the redwoods, hounded by something unknown—something powerful. And whatever it was, it was still out there.

A growing sense of unease settled over him. The target chosen for eradication was proving to be remarkably fortunate, almost unnaturally so. Somehow, this entity had traversed the treacherous domain of the one-horns, evaded an apex predator, and then escaped from what seemed to be an even greater threat, one that exuded an overwhelming mana presence. The air still thrummed faintly with residual energy, a lingering testament to the sheer power that had passed through this clearing. And yet, despite these formidable dangers, their quarry remained free, slipping through the cracks time and time again.

By contrast, the Eradication Squad had fought a brutal battle against the one-horns, shedding blood to carve their way forward. They had gathered vital intelligence—documenting the creatures that prowled this world, cataloging behaviors, and expanding their understanding of this unforgiving planet. But it was becoming clear that their mission was pushing them toward an inevitable, dangerous confrontation. Unlike their target, who had eluded every lethal encounter so far, the squad’s luck would not last forever.

With a deep, weary sigh, he turned and made his way back to the center of the clearing. The faint rustle of movement met his ears as several of the lower-ranking members labored under the dimming twilight, working methodically to remove the remains of the dissected scaled jaguar. The acrid scent of dried blood lingered, mixing with the earth, the scent thick in the damp forest air. Their task was grim but necessary—leaving the carcass exposed would only draw more predators, perhaps creatures even deadlier than what had already passed through.

The dense redwood loomed over them like silent sentinels, their gnarled limbs swaying slightly in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the clearing. Every sound beyond their small circle of light felt amplified—the rustling of unseen creatures, the distant call of something unknown. The planet was alive, and the forest, deep and ancient, was watching.

And indeed, something was watching the small group of trespassers.

It had already dealt with the ones that fell from the sky, and now it was here. Perched high above in the dense canopy of the living forest, it waited. Observed. Judged.

The noble rabbit clan had fought bravely, their honor unshaken even in the face of death. Their warriors had leaped into battle with the ferocity of a storm, moving in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the forest. But it had not been enough.

A mere score of trespassers had undone them. These invaders possessed devastating ranged magic blasts of fire and lightning that burned through the underbrush, cutting down warriors before they could even reach their foes. And worse still, something among them had fought with a presence akin to the dwellers of the deep. A being whose power should have belonged to the abyssal horrors that lurked in the drowned places of the world, not to those who walked the land.

This failure burned like embers in its mind, fueling its growing fury.

Its slender, predatory form crouched atop a thick branch, nearly motionless, save for the slow, calculated curl of its segmented, scorpion-like tail. The crystalline tip of the appendage was buried deep into the wood, pulsing faintly with energy, as if drawing sustenance from the very lifeblood of the tree. Its large, owl-like eyes glowed with an eerie intensity, locked onto the cluster of trespassers below. Small cracks echoed in the hush of the night as its clawed hands flexed against the bark, the sharp talons digging deep into the trunk. Its bluish-grey, chitinous body pulsed with an ethereal glow, the dim bioluminescence shifting beneath its armored segments like a heartbeat. Its wings quivered in anticipation, muscles tensing for the inevitable strike.

These interlopers from the stars did not belong here.

This was its forest. Its domain. And they would not see the light of day.

Without hesitation, it launched itself from the limb, a silent shadow against the night. Its trajectory was calculated—precise. It targeted the smallest one of the group, the weakest link in the herd. The easiest to kill. Not only for its shock value but for something far more sinister.

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It could sense the ambient mana swirling around her, the way it clung to her like an unseen veil. She was touched by it. Infused with the very magic of the forest.

That could not be allowed.

Creatures that could wield such power had no place here. They were unnatural. And it would purge them accordingly.

“You shouldn’t have cut yourself, Zee!” Elaine scolded as she wrapped the archangel’s forearm tightly with a strip of her ever-diminishing hoodie. Her black, razor-sharp claws made the task delicate, but she managed to secure the final knot with an extra jerk for good measure. Zee grunted in response, granting Elaine a small moment of satisfaction.

“Seriously… that blade looks really sharp. If you hadn’t been more careful, you could have sliced your basilic vein!” she continued, giving Zee a pointed glare. “Lucky for you, though, you didn’t even nick it, so you should be fine.”

That was when she turned her attention to Xin-ta.

“You, on the other hand, did nick the vein.” Elaine sighed, reaching to tear another piece from her already-tattered hoodie, only to be stopped when Xin-ta raised a hand. The messy-haired woman pulled out a smooth, well-worn wooden box from her satchel and held it out.

“This is a healer’s kit,” Xin-ta explained as she flipped the lid open, revealing the meager remains of what had once been a fully stocked supply. “Every Seeker is given one when sent to find things that are lost.” Most of the contents had already been used—many of them on Elaine. “Use what you must but know that I have no way to replenish it until we return to the Clan.” She extended the box toward Elaine, offering it without hesitation.

Elaine blinked in surprise before taking the kit with a nod of thanks. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this earlier?” she asked, recalling how Xin-ta had simply watched her tear apart her own clothing to patch up Zee’s wound. Even Zee looked mildly exasperated by the revelation.

Xin-ta gave a slight shrug, clearly unbothered by their reactions.

“Oh well, nothing can be done for it now,” Elaine muttered, shaking her head. “We need to take care of that wound, though. I can already see blood pooling under the skin. It’s forming a hematoma—it’ll swell and hurt if we don’t handle it properly.” She gestured for Xin-ta to sit beside her, grateful that her high school biology classes—and that single college course—were coming in handy. Studying her own body had helped, but analyzing various animal anatomies had been just as useful.

Xin-ta hesitated for a moment before finally sitting cross-legged and extending her forearm toward the human. She watched as Elaine carefully examined the remaining supplies, pausing only to check if her own hands were relatively clean. Before she could ask, Xin-ta handed over her water skin.

Elaine hesitated, perplexed, before unscrewing the cap and peering inside. Water. Her eyes widened in realization.

“I haven’t had anything to drink in… a while,” she admitted, her throat suddenly dry as she recalled that her only source of moisture had been the partially dried meat she had eaten nearly an Earth day ago. It had done little to actually hydrate her.

“Do you mind if I drink some before washing my hands?” she asked, suddenly feeling the weight of her thirst.

Xin-ta simply nodded.

Elaine wasted no time, raising the waterskin to her lips and drinking in hurried gulps. The water was warm, but it hardly mattered. It tasted like salvation. She only stopped when she realized she had nearly drained the entire container.

“Oh—I'm sorry,” she said, lowering the waterskin with a sheepish expression. Guilt gnawed at her—she had taken something precious without thinking.

“It’s fine,” Xin-ta reassured her, though her voice held an edge of something unreadable. “I’m glad it quenched your thirst.”

Elaine exhaled in relief, but she didn’t miss the way Xin-ta’s gaze flickered toward Zee—not with curiosity, but with a quiet, calculating wariness.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Zee, for her part, said nothing. She merely watched Xin-ta in return, her blue-grey eyes calm but unwavering.

There was something unspoken between them, a weight that settled into the silence. The blood pact.

It had been made, binding them in an uneasy truce. But even as Xin-ta honored it, she knew the truth was one-sided, leaning heavily in favor of the winged one. It would do little to stop Zee if she ever decided to unleash havoc upon her people.

And yet, Xin-ta still met her gaze with quiet defiance.

If the day ever came when the archangel turned against them, it would not be an easy conquest.

Zee would learn that, just as surely as Xin-ta had accepted the risk.

A faint, almost knowing smile curled on Xin-ta’s lips, but it was not meant for Elaine. It was a message, directed solely at Zee.

“Do not be afraid,” she said, her voice steady, but layered with meaning. “Our kind have strong resilience to pain and tough skin.”

Elaine glanced between them, frowning slightly. She and Zee were friends, but Xin-ta?

Xin-ta didn’t trust the archangel.

And from the way she spoke, she wanted Zee to understand—if the winged one ever turned against them, the fight would not be easy.

Elaine just sighed at the two of them as she continued to examine the held-out forearm of Xin-ta. “You’ll really need to get over whatever this is.” She murmured as she pulled out a sewing needle that looked to be made from a thin bone. She quickly identified it as belonging to some sort of fish rib bone. She smiled at the thought of sashimi again. She quickly gathered herself back into the moment and not on the food that made her belly growl with anticipation.

Zee and Xin-ta both turned their gaze toward Elaine.

The human sat unaware of the silent war waged between them—a battle of unspoken intentions, each woman measuring the other in the dim glow of the forest.

Zee wanted to protect her human at all costs. It wasn’t a matter of obligation. It was something deeper, something that even she couldn’t fully explain. Elaine was fragile, mortal, and entirely too reckless for her own good. But she was hers, and Zee would tear through gods and galaxies alike before allowing anyone to take her away.

Xin-ta, on the other hand, saw Elaine as something entirely different. She was the prize from the search she had been sent on. A lost thing, something that belonged to the Clan—whether she realized it or not. The elders would know what to do with her and the winged one. Xin-ta wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she could take on Zee alone, but she also wasn’t naive enough to think the archangel was invincible.

The two stood at an impasse. The pact between them was unsteady, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. They both knew the other was dangerous.

Xin-ta knew that the archangel could most likely fight on par with the Guardian of the Forest, the monstrous enforcer that prowled the depths of this wood. But she wasn’t arrogant enough to ignore its strength. The Clan had warriors, ones who fought as a unit, their strength amplified in numbers. Alone, they were no match for her, but together? Together, they might have a chance. If they were able to get the aid of the Guardian. Which only the Elders of the forest knew how to do.

And that was the problem. Zee thought to herself.

Zee’s Divine Right of Creation was an unrivaled gift, but here—on this low-tech world—it was practically useless. These people had no great machines, no intricate weapons to refine or modify. They fought with steel and instinct, with blades forged by hand, and no matter how sharp she could make a knife, a knife was still just a knife.

Provide her with a cutting-edge piece of technology—something truly advanced, something that holds the potential for catastrophic impact—and she could unleash destruction like no other. However, in this realm? There was little to enhance, and she was acutely aware of it.

Xin-ta, in contrast, remained oblivious to this truth. She gazed at the spear and the knife, marveling at their inherent craftsmanship and beauty. Yet, even she understood that a knife is just that: a knife. Its effectiveness hinges entirely on the wielder's skill and artistry. Now, if that other figure with the crimson wings were to appear...

Xin-ta shuddered at the thought.

If that creature, the one from the forest, came with the white-winged one, then there would be no hope. Xin-ta knew it deep within her hearts. If the two of them stood together, it would spell the end of her Clan… and many others within the surrounding woods. Even the Guardian, with all its might, might not stand a chance against them.

The silent war between the alien and the archangel simmered beneath the surface, unspoken yet palpable. But Elaine, ever the optimist, was blissfully unaware. She only wished they would get along. Instead, her attention was drawn to something else.

“What are these?” she asked, pointing at the faintly glowing secondary veins beneath Xin-ta’s skin. The bioluminescent lines pulsed with a soft light, branching out like delicate rivers beneath the surface.

Xin-ta snapped out of her thoughts, her gaze darting to the wound on her arm. Her eyes widened in alarm. She had cut too deeply—dangerously close to her mana veins.

“It’s not cut, is it?” she asked, voice tight with worry. If she had severed it, her magic heart would begin to bleed, draining all the stored mana essence within her. That kind of wound could be fatal.

Elaine frowned, inspecting the wound more closely. If the mana vein had been severed, she imagined there would be some kind of color shift—perhaps a blueish tint to the blood. She carefully washed the wound with water, studying the flow of liquid over the skin before confirming, “No, it doesn’t look like it’s cut.”

Relieved, Xin-ta exhaled slowly, then noticed Elaine’s lingering curiosity.

“So… what is it?” Elaine asked again, holding Xin-ta’s wrist gently as she studied the veins up close. The human’s expression was a mixture of scientific intrigue and fascination.

Xin-ta hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. She pulled in ambient mana from the air, letting it flow into her body before casting it outward in a controlled pulse. She watched Elaine carefully, gauging her reaction.

Nothing.

Elaine didn’t react. Didn’t see it.

The realization made Xin-ta pause. This human… had no mana heart.

It was strange. No, impossible. Everything that lived under Father Sun, everything capable of interacting with ambient mana, was born with a mana heart. Even creatures that barely scraped the surface of magic had traces of it. But Elaine? There was nothing.

That alone made it easier for Xin-ta to speak freely.

“These are my mana channels,” she explained, moving her fingers in the air in fluid, deliberate motions. “They allow my kind to wield nature’s ambient mana.”

Elaine’s eyes lit up with excitement, watching Xin-ta’s fingers move. But then her enthusiasm faltered as she realized something.

“You can’t see mana, can you?” Xin-ta asked, reading her expression with a knowing look.

Elaine deflated. “No…”

Xin-ta nodded, then decided to show her instead. She reached out with her magic, drawing in water-aligned mana from the air. With a controlled motion, she streamed the gathered energy into the waterskin.

Elaine’s eyes bulged as the realization hit her.

“That… that was ma—magic?!” she exclaimed. “Wait—so that’s water? Like, real water? Drinkable water?”

Xin-ta tilted her head slightly, confused by the question.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice carrying the same puzzled curiosity she had earlier.

Elaine blinked, trying to reframe her question. “Is it pure water? Or does it have minerals and other elements? Or… is it just whatever you perceive to be water?”

Xin-ta frowned, processing the strange human logic. “I… have never heard of ‘pure’ water,” she admitted. “There is only salty water and drinking water.”

Elaine sighed. “Of course.”

Xin-ta, satisfied with her answer, returned her focus to her wound. She gestured toward her still-bleeding forearm.

“Are you going to patch me up, Shaman?” she asked, amusement creeping into her tone.

Elaine’s face flushed with embarrassment. She had gotten so caught up in her curiosity that she had completely forgotten the reason she was tending to Xin-ta in the first place.

Quickly, she used the fresh water to flush the wound again, making Xin-ta grunt in pain. She examined the cut more closely—it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but it would take a week or two to heal properly. She grabbed what little bandages remained and used one of the alien salves left in the healer’s kit, pressing it against the wound before wrapping the forearm securely.

“That should do it,” Elaine said, satisfied as she stood.

She turned toward Zee, ready to share the new discovery with her friend.

But then—

Her eyes widened.

Her mouth opened slightly in shock.

Zee turned toward her, confused. “Do I have something on my—?”

She never got the chance to finish her sentence.

The butt of a rifle slammed into the base of her neck with a sickening crack.

Elaine screamed as Zee’s body crumpled to the ground, her blue-grey eyes going glassy for a split second before the world erupted into chaos.