"I don't like it," Maria muttered, twisting a fiery lock of hair with her fingers, "Our mission was to evacuate as many people as possible, and we've done that. With Command not answering our calls, something must be going on in New York. We should pull back.”

"That's not really the question, though, is it?" Ezekiel asked, "The question is whether we'll be able to get there in time to do anything, and if we'll be able to even do anything, considering that Miss Walker's there.

Lauren interjected tersely, "Every second we debate this, those Grasstalkers get further away. We're not here to get levels and clear a dungeon; we're rescuers. Let's not forget that."

James saw the others turn to him. He was the leader, after all, and would have the last word. It was a role he had come to enjoy with time, even though he had fallen into it more by accident than design. Still, Lauren was right: time was tight.

He took a deep breath, looking each of his teammates in the eye. "We'll send a message to Miss Walker, let her know we're going into the forest. Command isn't responding, and we can't wait for orders that might not come. By the time we get to New York, things might already be over, and then we’d have left these people to their deaths.”

After a brief nod of consensus from the team, James quickly drafted a message on his phone detailing their decision and their coordinates in case backup became an option. With the message sent, he tucked the device away, and his gaze turned towards the dark canopy of the forest, where danger and duty awaited.

"Alright, let's move out. Keep your senses sharp. Something smells here, and I don’t want us to get caught with our pants down,” James ordered as they stepped into the fringe of the woods.

The Rockefeller State Park Preserve wasn't technically a forest, but time and wild mana had turned into an area so wild that calling it anything else felt wrong. Sitting just outside the edges of civilization, the Preserve had been regularly cleared of dangerous monsters ever since the area was first secured in the early days of the Apocalypse.

Now, however, the winds had changed. Something haunted these woods, and its presence could be felt immediately upon entering.

The air was thick with the scent of earth and growth, a living, breathing entity that seemed to watch them with a thousand unseen eyes. The trees stood tall and dense, their branches weaving a thick tapestry of leaves that muted the sparse light of the dawn into a perpetual twilight.

As they moved deeper, the underbrush grew thicker, snagging at their clothes and gear as if trying to stop their advance, though James couldn't feel the presence of any mana in the plants, much less a mind. Every step was cautious and measured, the silence around them a heavy cloak punctuated by the distant, eerie calls of creatures hidden in the depths of the thicket.

James extended his psychic senses, feeling the subtle vibrations of the forest's life force around them. It didn't take long for him to notice something off. An underlying pulse that didn't match the natural rhythm of the area. "Something is manipulating the ambient mana," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He scanned the surroundings cautiously, not wanting to miss anything that could reveal a clue. The almost complete absence of information they were working with was the most dangerous aspect of this self-imposed mission, and James would do his best to ensure his companions were as prepared as he could make them.

It had become a second nature for him to pluck at the threads of mana whenever he entered a new dungeon, curiously observing how they'd react. Despite the widespread belief that depicted them as ever-changing places, most dungeons were stable. The changes they experienced after the initial growth phase were usually measured over long periods and could be relied upon to remain at the same level if regularly culled.

This dungeon was different. To James' senses, it was like someone had clumsily tried to replicate the unique environment that could be found in the Everglades, where multiple mana sinks had merged into an interconnected web of dungeons. Florida's swamp worked because it had found an equilibrium of sorts with incredibly powerful monsters coexisting peacefully with weaker beings and showing little to no aggression.

Here, multiple spots of denser mana rippled through the forest, each enforcing their specific pattern on the surroundings.

It was a messy construct, and it was no wonder it had been unbalanced enough to cause a dungeon break.

As far as James knew, these weren't conditions that could happen in nature, which meant someone had tampered with a stable dungeon and caused this mess. He quickly relayed his observations even as he kept scanning, looking for clues.

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Maria glanced around nervously, her hands igniting with a soft glow, ready to cast at a moment's notice. "Could they be using magic to control the beasts?" she asked.

"I doubt that. At least not directly. The Grasstalkers we fought weren't being controlled by anything I could sense, so it would have to be a very powerful psychic to manipulate them in a way I didn't notice even while inside their minds," James replied, his focus splitting between the path ahead and the layers of magical energy that ebbed and flowed like a quiet tide. "Whatever it is, it's integrated deeply with the forest. There are many signs of tampering with the ambient mana, which makes me think they've been working on this for a long time."

With renewed caution, they pressed on, the forest around them a maze of beauty and danger. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig underfoot, heightened the tension that thrummed through the air.

"Hold up," James suddenly whispered, holding a hand to halt the group. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated, his psychic senses picking up on disturbances ahead.

"There's a group of three Grasstalkers about half a mile north-east,” he murmured, relaying the sensory data to his team. "There are no humans with them, but they are going in the direction the prisoners were taken,"

The monsters were moving languidly, as if sated after a successful hunt. James tried not to think what that meant but couldn't shake the thought.

He knew that not everyone could be saved. Hell, he had seen the destruction wrought on the neighborhood as soon as he arrived. But deep in his heart, he still held out hope that they'd be able to protect everyone.

It was one bit of naivety that he wasn't willing to give up on yet. He knew it made him ripe for disappointment, but James needed it. If he let go of it fully, he suspected he'd quickly become one of those jaded Awakeners who took missions only based on a ruthless cost-benefit calculation. And he didn't want that. It might be childish, but James thought Awakeners should use the power they were given for the betterment of everyone.

They fought monsters to conquer back territory and to defend the civilians. They gained power so they'd be able to protect their charges against stronger threats. Fighting just for benefits was a quick way of losing sight of the reason the System had given them Talents in the first place.

Considering James's title, he felt he had the right to it. He still hadn't been able to do much with the boons it gave him beyond the doubling of his reserves that had saved his life more than he could count. But its presence felt like a warm stamp of approval.

The System would ensure he had the necessary power as long as he kept fighting with a clear purpose.

Rapidly, Team 0 crossed the distance and reached the clearing the Grasstalkers had taken over as they stretched. Even without the imposing might of an Alpha, the adults were still massive creatures. They were longer than a car and had muscular forms that promised lightning-quick reactions.

Given their specific elemental affinity, that was true in more than one way. James extended a telekinetic bubble around them, an invisible shield that would contain any noise they made within. He couldn't feel any other creature nearby, but that didn't mean the sound wouldn't travel far enough to be heard. He had learned his lesson.

With everyone in position, James counted down silently on his fingers: three, two, one.

The flickering flames in Maria’s hands grew exponentially until they became a concentrated firestorm that roared toward the Grasstalkers with ferocious heat. At the same time, Lauren's shadows whipped forward, dark tendrils snaking through the underbrush with lethal precision, aimed to bind and choke.

The surprise attack went off without a hitch. The Grasstalkers, caught mid-step, barely had time to react. One tried to leap away, only to be caught by a barrier Daniel snapped into place, slamming the creature back into the fiery onslaught.

They yowled angrily, and lighting sparked, aimless, in a brutal display of power. Even as Maria's flames burned their flesh, electricity kept coming. Anyone caught in the thunderstorm would have died on the spot, but luckily, James and Daniel's efforts were enough to contain the raw fury.

Then, a bright beam of light pierced through the electric cage, and one of the Grasstalkers dropped dead. The others were too maddened to realize the loss of their companion, but the output lowered significantly, allowing Lauren to complete her maneuver.

A single, massive tentacle emerged from the darkness hidden between roots and the undergrowth. It whipped at the closest monster, apparently unfazed by the bright light it kept emitting, and quickly coiled around it.

Black smoke poured out of it, which flew towards the Grasstalker's mouth and nose and into them, causing the howl to be cut off abruptly.

The tentacle started squeezing. Crunch. Ribs began to fail under the enormous pressure. The feline couldn't direct its power anymore as it twisted and turned in the grasp, maddened with the need for air.

D-rank creatures, be they humans or monsters, were technically above the need to breathe for long periods of time. James himself had tested this out by dipping in the hotel pool in Miami for forty-seven minutes before he had to come up for air.

But the biological need to have unobstructed airways was still there. With its nose and mouth clogged by thick, oily smoke, the Grasstalker could not focus and was thus rapidly crushed by the tentacle holding it up.

The last remaining one, who had perhaps luckily avoided the brunt of everyone's attention until now and had only received minor burns before its lightning cloak activated, released an unearthly howl that would have undoubtedly been heard through the entire Preserve had James not taken the time to set his barrier first.

It didn't have the luxury of knowing its last message had been intercepted and thus set about ramming against Daniel’s barrier, which kept it from escaping the ambush, with the fury of a creature with nothing to lose.

Daniel took the challenge head-on. Three more spheres materialized around the Grasstalker, replacing the first one, which was about to break under its ministrations.

Again, it attacked mindlessly, unheeding the broken bones and bleeding from its ruptured skin.

Maria made to bring her flames over. Slow-roasting the creature would have been a cruel way to kill it, but considering what its last meal was, no one was feeling gracious.

But Daniel lifted a hand, stopping the fire mage in her tracks.

Then, grunting in effort, he did something to the fabric of his barriers. They merged into one, surprising the monster held within. Before it could resume its assault, the sphere intensified its glow until it was too bright to look at.

With the sound of a paper bag crumpling, it collapsed upon itself, and the clearing was silent.