Spectral swords materialized from thin air, their azure blades singing with a high-pitched resonance as they clashed against the village spears. The lead warrior, clad in a black mask, stood firm, precise, and deadly.

Drifter's left hand aimed at one of the defenders. A beam lanced out, and azure light exploded against the raised shield, metal ringing like a struck bell.

Suddenly, the elder roared and leaped into the fray. Flames erupted in a perfect ring, cutting through Drifter's path. Six black-masked guards, each towering over 190 cm tall, surrounded him. Strange tattoos marked their skin like war paint, dark ink shifting in the firelight.

Heat pressed against his skin, sweat beading along Drifter’s forehead. He tried to teleport beyond the flame barrier, his form scattering into blue particles. But instead of escaping, he reappeared at the ring’s edge, colliding with an invisible wall as his natural barrier clashed against the red fire.

He gritted his teeth. Hot. Too hot.

Disruption Spell. The realization hit him as he steadied his stance, boots sliding on scorched earth. Seven against one. Three sigils blazed to life around him, and azure beams rained down like cerulean meteors. However, flame shields rose to meet them, scattering his attacks uselessly. His chest tightened. He had underestimated them. Energy wasted. These weren't the same weak opponents from before.

A flame spear whistled past his head. He ducked, feeling the searing heat kiss his scalp, singeing his hair. Spectral swords circled protectively as sweat turned cold against his skin. The ring of fire hemmed him in on all sides, crackling and spitting embers. They wanted him cornered. Finished.

Just as the situation seemed dire, violet and crimson arcs of light tore through the settlement. A deafening roar shook the earth beneath him, and Drifter's gaze snapped toward the commotion. His friends had arrived. With renewed determination, Drifter focused his gaze forward, clashing fiercely with the other seven while his friends rushed to his side.

"Just as I feared, it's worse than I thought," Leila's voice came tight and strained.

"Never should’ve trusted those bloodsuckin’ liars," Grae hefted his hammer, knuckles white around the worn handle.

Friedrich, Lorcan, and Grae charged forward with weapons drawn. Behind them, Leila and Alma raised their hands, sigils forming in the smoky air. Village spears thrust toward them through the chaos. Magic and steel collided as the group focused on disarming the weapons aimed at them. One by one, the spears were shattered or sent soaring into the air.

But then, a new blockade of spears appeared in front of them. Grae’s hammer hit the ground with a loud crash, and the earth transformed into a golden tidal wave, destroying the path before them. The sound boomed across the settlement, echoing off stone walls. Villagers who had blocked the path disengaged and quickly ran, their eyes wide as they stumbled backward, ears ringing. Dust swirled around their feet in the aftermath.

"Out of my way, or I’ll crack your skull open!" Grae's voice carried the weight of mountains, deep and rumbling.

The remaining villagers stared a bit, then one by one they ran. They scattered like leaves before a storm, their footsteps pounding on the packed earth.

Only the flame circle remained, along with the elder and his six specialists. The elder’s teeth pressed together, his face set like stone.

At last, the elder’s lips moved as his flames guttered out, leaving only trails of smoke.

"Go. But know this. Leave if you must, yet you will never return."

Their stares locked, the air between them heavy and unyielding.

Fury lit in Drifter’s eyes as he faced the elder. Arza’s body lay nearby, motionless and broken. A promise made. The words echoed through his mind, Don’t hurt the others. His teeth pressed hard together as he turned away, the taste of failure bitter on his tongue.

Leila reached him first as they regrouped. "Mr. Time Traveler, where's—" Her voice caught as she followed his gaze. "Where's Arza?"

No one spoke, as if sound itself had abandoned them.

She caught sight of the body, and the truth rushed in, heavy enough to buckle her inside. Her hand flew to her mouth. "No. No, no, no..."

The others turned, silence etching grief across their features in the half-light.

They backed away from the settlement in stunned quiet, weapons lowered but ready, moving like sleepwalkers through the debris. No one spoke until the village disappeared behind them and the weight of what had happened finally settled in.

Leila's voice cracked. "It's my fault. I… I started this whole mess." She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Not yer fault, lass," Grae said, his brow knotted tight. "Blame that lying bastard. Shoulda crushed 'im when we had the chance."

“You're right." Lorcan ground his hands into fists, shoulders rigid with heat . "We didn't know each other long, but he... damn it, he was decent to me. Really decent. And I never got to—"

He shook his head. "Never got to return the favor."

Alma stared at the ground, shoulders hunched. "All he wanted was to see what we see. Now he's gone." Her words caught, thinning to a whisper. "It's just cruel."

"Can we really save them all, Dad?"

Lorcan crossed his arms, jaw tight. "She's right. It's not fair that he forces them to live there." He kicked at a stone. "Once we're back, we should report this. Help free them from that egghead bastard."

Friedrich shook his head, . "Maybe we should just leave things as they are. They see us as invaders. What happened today shows just how different we are from them."

"Oh, come on!" Lorcan's frustration was evident as he gestured sharply with his hands. "I can't believe you, Professor. He saved us, and now you're just going to give up? So we should just pretend it never happened, right?"

Alma spun around to face her father, crossing her arms. "Dad, you're just like that Elder. I thought you were better than this."

Her voice quivered with emotion. "I really expected more from you."

Friedrich let out a heavy sigh, exhaustion clear in his tone.

Al-Kindi, who had been deep in thought, finally spoke up. "You two might have a point. It's too early to give up." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "There's still a chance for peaceful contact while respecting their independence. Maybe someday they'll see outsiders in a different light."

Leila's tone was sharp, her arms crossed tightly. "How can you be so sure? Our government hasn't done anything to fix their problems."

Al-Kindi's eyes hardened. "Who mentioned reporting to them? I'll make sure the world knows. Their land should be off-limits with troops nearby to keep an eye." He turned to Friedrich. "It is possible for the Order to persuade the Serrahn to make it happen, is it not?"

"Of course," Friedrich nodded slowly. "Our president will likely support it."

The group managed weak smiles. But guilt still haunted Leila's mind, a cold weight in her chest. Debt and failure. If she'd been more convincing before, maybe Arza would still be alive. The past couldn't be changed.

She was determined now. Protect Arza's world. If the government wouldn't act, maybe she could.

"Mr. Grae, what do you do in your free time?"

"Why d'you ask, lass?" The dwarf's eyes narrowed with curiosity.

"If you're available, I'd like to hire you as a bodyguard," she said, smiling at him. "The boy's home might get raided if someone learns about this place. Could you and some of your friends help?"

Grae's laughter rumbled like distant thunder, deep and genuine. "Interesting proposition, lass. Fine." He took a pull at his beard. "The boy saved my hide once. Debt's gotta be paid. Coin's not bad either."

Drifter looked at them. Their smiles brightened, just a little. He said nothing, watching shadows lengthen across their faces.

It was their way of life, something that couldn't change overnight.

He sighed, breath misting in the cooling air. Too bad. The spirited boy who just wanted to see the world beyond the village was gone.

As they finally reunited with the others, they continued their journey through the dark corridors of the abandoned tunnel. Only the sound of footsteps echoed around them, lit by the pale glow of their Lumina Cores and a few floating magic orbs.

After a full day of walking and riding ancient transport, Drifter checked his Lumina Core. It read 23:06.

Time to rest.

They set up their portable shelters in the vast space where the ancient, round transports had once been, the night shift settling in. The others kept quiet about what had happened when they fell, saying only that the journey had been long and troublesome. No one mentioned what they'd truly faced in the village. Jaxon, Drifter, Grae, and Rahzarin gathered around a round, white warming device.

"Lad." Grae's gruff voice cut through the stillness. The dwarf scratched his beard. "How can ye have a president or somethin'? Wasn't yer leader Grand…. Grandmister?"

"Grandmaster," Rahzarin corrected gently.

"Aye, that’s it," Grae said quickly.

"There isn't Grandmaster anymore. We changed recently," Drifter replied.

He glanced between Grae and Rahzarin. Still no Lumina Cores on their wrists, and no network connection in their remote town either. Maybe they still relied on physical newspapers.

"So..." Grae bent nearer, lamplight catching the cracks and stories etched in his skin. "How be Sunshine and Mina-Mina farin' these days?"

Drifter's brow furrowed. "I’m sorry, who?"

"Forgive him. He doth speak of Shining Virtue and Mina," Rahzarin clarified.

Jaxon laughed. Drifter chuckled at the unexpected nicknames.

"I like your style, man." Jaxon grinned at Grae, whose eyes narrowed in response.

"Mina is still alive and leading an expedition to Kaen," Drifter explained calmly. "But Shining Virtue is still missing."

Rahzarin's face became unreadable. Grae's eyes went wide, his mouth working as if to form a question he couldn't quite voice.

"Missing?" The word came out strangled. "How in the world does lass like her just vanish?"

"So, you knew them both personally?" Jaxon asked.

"Aye, we did." Grae's voice carried weight now, memories stirring behind his eyes. "Now listen up..."

His voice trailed off, then strengthened with remembrance.

Seven hundred years past, during the Abyss War. Rahzarin and Grae had met on blood-soaked battlefields. They hadn't matched at first, too different in every way that mattered. But great friendships were forged in fire. They became like brothers as battles raged across the land.

Reinforcements had come from the Order, led by the 1st grandmaster, Shining Virtue with Mina as her trusted second-in-command.

"Wait." Drifter leaned closer, the light casting sharp shadows across his face. "I heard rumors of an Infernal Knight who helped from time to time. Is that true?"

Grae and Rahzarin exchanged dark glances. The temperature seemed to drop around their small circle.

"Infernal-Who?" Grae spat.

"Likely him, the angry lad who'd always argue with ye," Rahzarin said.

"Oh, that bastard…" Grae grumbled. "Help? More like a damn leech."

"Truth be told, he fought no alliance," Rahzarin said. "We clashed with him more than once ourselves."

Drifter nodded slowly. It seemed contradictory to what his friend had once said, or maybe his friend didn’t know the full truth.

"If ye meet Mina-Mina again, tell her Rahzarin and Grae send regards." Grae's voice softened unexpectedly.

"I'm certain I will," Drifter smiled.

"Mayhap 'tis time thou start reading the newpapers, dear friend." Rahzarin smiled at Grae.

"Aye, good point." Grae chuckled, the sound echoing off the conjured walls of their shelter. "Should probably catch up on current events before I go callin' presidents by the wrong bloody titles."

"Hey, how many more days of walking do we have?" Jaxon asked them, stretching his legs toward the warmth.

"What? Ye complainin' or somethin'?" Grae shot him a look. "Like I said before, three to five days. Count yerself! That's why ye should've listened when I explained it the first time."

Jaxon gave a lazy grin, as if Grae’s words rolled right past him.

They settled in for the night, aware that another day or two awaited them in the dark corridors ahead. As Drifter entered the room to rest for the shift change, the pale light faded, and sleep gradually took hold. The ancient tunnel, once again, returned to its patient silence.