Chapter 12: The Price of Hunger (Part 2)

--Minutes before Cal's assault on the nest--

The group trudged through the cave, their footsteps echoing softly off the damp stone walls. The only light came from the magical lantern Beron carried, its soft glow barely piercing the darkness that surrounded them.

"You sure this is the right way?" Fael asked, her sharp green eyes scanning the narrow tunnel ahead.

Beron nodded, his red hair catching the light as he glanced back at her. "The compass hasn’t led us wrong yet. Whatever we’re hunting, it’s down here."

Tain, the short and wiry man at the rear, snorted. "I still don’t get why we’re chasing some mystery creature in these pits. Feels like we’re being sent on a fool’s errand."

"Keep your complaints to yourself," Jora, Tain’s older sister, said with a scowl. Her voice was firm, carrying the same weight as the heavy sword strapped to her back. "We’ve got a job to do. And if it’s something worth hunting, it’ll be worth the risk."

"She’s right," Beron added, his tone lighter. "Besides, where’s your sense of adventure, Tain? We’re adventurers, remember? It’s kind of our thing."

"Adventure, sure," Tain muttered. "But getting stuck in a dark, damp cave? I’ll pass."

Fael smirked, glancing over her shoulder at Tain. "You’re just scared of the dark."

Tain shot her a glare, but before he could retort, Beron raised a hand, signaling for quiet. The group halted, their ears straining to catch any sound beyond the faint drip of water from the cave’s ceiling.

"Did you hear that?" Beron whispered, his voice tense.

They all stood still, listening. For a moment, there was nothing, just the sound of their own breathing. Then, faintly, a low, echoing rumble reached their ears, like something large moving in the depths of the cave.

Jora’s grip tightened on her sword. "That doesn’t sound friendly."

"Could be what we’re looking for," Fael suggested, her voice low. "Or it could be something worse."

Beron turned to his team, his expression serious. "Stay sharp. Whatever it is, we’ll find out soon enough."

The group resumed their cautious march through the cave, the air thick with tension and the unknown danger that lay ahead. Beron's compass, which had been their guide, now moved more rapidly back and forth, signaling that their target was close—very close. The compass led them to a flat wall, a dead end, but they could hear the sounds of battle on the other side. Beron tucked the compass into his pack and turned to his team.

"Alright, this is it," he said, his voice steady. "We bust through here and take care of business. Sounds like a bigger fight than we expected, so stay sharp. We’ll use the Y formation. No need to act like amateurs."

Beron approached the wall and drew his rapier with a practiced, fluid motion. The blade slid out of its sheath with a soft ring. He hooked the lantern to his belt, freeing his hands. His rapier, with its ring hilt and silvery wooden handle, gleamed faintly in the dim light. Blue gems adorned the handle, and the blade’s dark gray metal contrasted sharply with the rest of the weapon. As Beron prepared himself, the sword emitted a low hum, almost as if it were alive.

Sword essence, though invisible to Beron himself, clung to the blade—an aura of pure swordsmanship that radiated from him like a beacon. Essence could be harnessed in various ways, with the main methods being essence arts or spells. Beron was an art user. He had spent countless hours meditating in areas rich in essence attuned to his chosen aspect. These meditations and specific breathing techniques allowed him to channel essence through his body and mind, making him stronger, faster, and tougher over time. His particular art, known as The Oath of Needles, had been honed through countless sessions of dancing through hanging blades and needles, learning to move without being touched, or deliberately wading through them to shape his sword essence.

Beron flourished his blade, the sword ringing in harmony with his movements, as if the two were one.

Jora stepped up beside Beron, stretching her arms before hefting her massive, wide blade. It resembled a slab of metal attached to a plank of wood more than a traditional sword, but she wielded it with ease, as if it were lighter than a feather. She nodded and offered a small smile as she glanced at Beron.

"I know you're nervous," she whispered. Beron shot her a quick look, but she just smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don’t worry, Beron. This is light work. I won’t let anything happen to the others."

Jora wore no heavy metal armor like Beron, but she didn’t need it. She didn’t rely on essence for combat; instead, she had taken elixirs that enhanced her physical abilities. Her strength and resilience came from her body itself, a result of numerous enhancements, making her a formidable force in battle.

Behind and between them stood Fael. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing runes tattooed across her arms. With a flick of her fingers, the runes lit up with blue light, and her eyes began to glow. Fael was an elvish spellcaster, specializing in earth, water, and life essence. She served as the team’s healer and battlefield controller, adept at positioning her comrades to devastate their opponents while keeping enemies off balance.

Unlike Art users, spellcasters like Fael didn’t control internal essence and neither Mages or Art users possess cores like monsters. Instead, they influenced the ambient essence through intent, spell incantations, or hand motions. Fael’s tattoos stored essence, much like Beron’s lantern. As water essence flowed from them, she muttered something in Elvish under her breath, causing the essence to coalesce into a bright, glowing orb of water. A simple light spell, but far brighter than the lantern, it illuminated the cave, making the impending battle easier.

Behind Fael stood Tain, his usual nervous expression replaced by a cool resolve. He held two short swords, one with a green blade and the other yellow. His hood was drawn up, and shadows began to fill it, completely obscuring his face. As the enchantments on his swords activated, they glowed faintly—the green blade with a slight hypnotic property that could sometimes draw an enemy's attention, creating the perfect moment for Tain to strike, and the yellow blade with a mirage effect, shimmering and difficult to focus on, causing opponents to miss their blocks or dodges.

Tain didn’t use essence arts or body enhancements, and he wasn’t a mage. His success in combat relied entirely on his equipment and skill. The shadow enchantment on his cloak made him hard to detect, turning him into a deadly force of precision and stealth. In the Y formation, his duty was to guard the team’s rear, protecting Fael from stray enemies while she cast spells. Beron and Jora handled the frontal assault, while Fael provided support.

Beron took a deep breath and gave the signal, “Now.”

Fael immediately raised her hand and pushed it forward toward the wall. She muttered a few words in Elvish, her voice steady as the runes on her arms glowed brighter. The earth in front of them responded to her spell, folding onto itself and creating an opening that revealed the cavern beyond.

Light from the glowing water orb she had summoned spilled into the newly opened space, illuminating the vast chamber ahead.

The cavern before them was massive, its high ceilings vanishing into the darkness above. The walls glistened with moisture, reflecting the eerie glow of the magical light that filled the space. Stalactites hung like jagged teeth from the ceiling, and the ground was uneven, covered in slick patches of stone and shallow pools of water.

At the center of the cavern was a large pool, its surface disturbed by ripples emanating from the still form of a figure lying face down in the water—a young man with a massive spiked leg piercing through his back, pinning him to the ground beneath the surface. His body was unmoving, and the pool around him was tinged with blood.

Surrounding the pool, hundreds of massive, grotesque bugs scuttled and writhed, their spindly legs and chitinous bodies reflecting the dim light. Their mandibles clicked together in a rhythmic, unsettling chorus, and their multifaceted eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as they crowded around the scene, their attention seemingly fixated on the motionless figure in the water.

Beron’s command sliced through the chaos of the cavern. “Abort Y formation! We have a downed humanoid 40 paces forward. Tain and Fael, you’re on recovery and restitution. Jora and I are on distraction!”

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The team responded with practiced efficiency, breaking off into their designated roles. Beron and Jora sprinted to the right, their figures a blur as they charged into the horde of giant bugs. Beron’s rapier flashed, and with a swift flick of his blade, a wave of sword essence cleaved through a bug nearly ten feet away, sending its halves crashing to the ground in a gruesome pile.

Jora, moving with a terrifying grace, outpaced Beron and reached the thick of the swarm first. Her enormous blade swung in wide, powerful arcs, cleaving through the bugs with every stroke. The sheer force of her strikes sent the creatures flying, their chitinous bodies crumpling under the impact.

Meanwhile, Tain crouched in front of Fael, his cloak billowing around them as he obscured her from the bugs’ view. Fael, her eyes glowing with concentrated magic, prepared her spell. After a tense five seconds, Tain turned and darted toward the pool, Fael close behind him, her focus entirely on the target.

The bugs, momentarily distracted by the fierce combat of Beron and Jora, began to turn their attention away from the pool. Their clicks and chittering grew more chaotic as the distraction took effect. Tain and Fael moved swiftly, weaving through the chaos to reach Cal.

Tain reached the edge of the pool first, his eyes quickly assessing the situation. The figure before him was a fit man, stark naked except for shards of bone-like armor strapped haphazardly across his body. A gaping hole marred his back, blood mixing with the water in the pool.

Fael arrived moments later, her hands already moving in practiced patterns. As she chanted softly in Elvish, her runes glowed brighter, weaving a spell of healing and restoration. The blue light from her runes flowed towards the injured man, wrapping him in a soothing aura that began to mend his wounds and stabilize his condition. The spell worked to close the gaping wound and alleviate the critical damage.

Tain, with his sharp eyes trained on the surrounding area, kept a vigilant watch for any approaching threats while Fael focused on her magic.

The bugs surged with renewed fury as Beron and Jora battled relentlessly. Jora, a formidable force, stood her ground, her massive blade cleaving through any bug foolish enough to come within reach. Her swings were powerful and precise, each strike a testament to her enhanced strength.

Beron, agile and swift, danced around Jora's defensive perimeter. He drew the bugs toward him with calculated movements, executing hit-and-run tactics that left chaos in his wake. His rapier flashed with lethal precision, slicing through enemies with deft strokes. The essence emanating from Jora's blade was a guiding beacon, allowing Beron to weave through the mayhem with uncanny reflexes. He never ventured close enough to be in danger from Jora’s massive swings, knowing the deadly choreography of their practiced formation.

As Beron slid between the legs of a giant bug, he raked his blade across its belly, disemboweling the creature before pivoting to face another threat. He dropped to his knees, thrusting his sword forward with a burst of sword essence that pierced through the head of an approaching bug. In the midst of this frenzy, he detected a new threat—multiple claws swinging toward him.

Reacting with practiced precision, Beron deflected one claw with his armor, parried another with his sword, and dodged the third. For the fourth claw, he focused on the essence embedded within it. Expanding the sword essence, he sent invisible cutting force streaking back into the claw, slicing the monster from within.

Jora’s voice rang out over the chaos, her tone urgent. "They’re within range now. Are you going to end it? Some are heading back toward Tain. He can handle them, but we might miss an opportunity to get most of them together like this!"

Beron, mid-swing, glanced over at Tain. Several bugs were indeed moving in his direction. Jora was right; it was time to act. He climbed onto a monster, using its bulk to survey the battlefield.

"Yes, get out of range! I’ll draw them closer!" he shouted back.

Beron concentrated on the essence flowing through him and his sword. His Art, the Oath of Needles, was not about mercy. It was about precision, pain, and death. Jora leapt high, her sword embedding into the wall as she anchored herself. The essence around Beron flared into visibility, a dazzling display of power. Blades of wind and metal spun around him, their sounds merging into a discordant symphony.

As the bugs rushed toward him, Beron screamed with fury. He unleashed a devastating wave of essence, a torrent of slicing blades that cleaved through the oncoming horde. Bugs were torn apart, their bodies scattered into pieces, blood and gore splattering across the cavern. The cacophony of battle fell silent, leaving only the sound of Beron’s ragged breaths. He dropped to a knee. His own skin was not unmarked and small cuts covered his hands and face.

Tain crouched low, watching as the bugs streamed past him. He waited until they were sufficiently distant, then sprang into action. His blades flashed, severing legs and sending bugs crashing to the ground. He leapt high, driving his yellow blade into the head of a charging bug, cleaving its brain stem.

As one bug veered past him, aiming for Fael, Tain sheathed his green blade with a practiced motion. He drew a throwing knife from his belt and hurled it into the back of the creature. Without hesitation, he tapped a rune on his belt, speaking the command word, “Return.” The knife and the bug stopped in their tracks. The creature struggled against the blade's pull, but the knife remained lodged firmly, drawing it back toward Tain.

With calm precision, Tain advanced and severed the bug’s head as it was yanked closer to him. Then he caught the enchanted dagger as it flew towards him, wiggling free of the bugs corpse, and placed it back onto its rune on his belt.

As the last of the bugs fell, the cavern fell silent except for the distant drip of water and the heavy breathing of the adventurers. The group gathered near the pool where Cal lay, their movements reflecting a mix of relief and exhaustion.

Beron sheathed his sword, his face marked by sweat and blood. He wiped his brow with a rag, his expression a mix of satisfaction and fatigue. Jora joined him, her massive blade now resting on her shoulder as she scanned the cavern, ensuring no threats remained.

Fael and Tain approached the pool. Fael's hands were still glowing faintly from her spells, but her focus was now on Cal. She knelt beside him, her eyes narrowing as she assessed his condition. Tain stood nearby, his cloak still flickering with residual magic, his blades cleaned and sheathed.

"Is he alive?" Beron asked, his voice carrying the weight of their battle.

Fael nodded, her voice calm and professional. "He’s alive, but we need to get him out of here. His injuries are severe, but we can stabilize him."

Tain glanced around, his eyes still sharp despite the battle’s end. "What about the other bugs? Are there more?"

Jora shook her head. "We cleared them all. This part of the cavern is secure, for now."

Beron nodded, turning his attention back to Cal. "Alright, let's get him out of here. We need to make sure he gets the care he needs... Wait, are you all seeing what I'm seeing?"

The group watched in stunned silence as Cal's body began to knit itself back together. His wounds closed rapidly, the once gaping hole in his back healing before their eyes.

Tain turned to Fael, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "What did you do?"

Fael's brows furrowed in bewilderment. "Nothing. I just stabilized him, filled him with water essence from my tattoos, and used the essence here to stop his bleeding and keep his organs intact. I didn't even use life essence. This shouldn’t be possible."

Fael muttered a spell under her breath, her eyes widening as she cast an essence sight spell to see the innate essence in the area. She gasped.

"What is it?" Beron asked, his voice edged with curiosity.

"Well, for starters," Fael began, her voice shaky, "this water is saturated with pure essence. Secondly, the essence I used to stabilize him is completely gone. It’s as if it just vanished, not in him anymore. And the big one is, he has a core. This isn’t a person—it's a monster."

Beron’s gaze shifted from Fael to Cal, who was now looking more whole with each passing moment. He took out the compass from his bag, observing how it pointed directly at Cal.

A subtle smile curved on Beron's lips as he processed this new information.

At that moment, Cal’s eyes fluttered, and Beron let out a laugh before slapping some shackles onto the man.