Nick glided through the forest, making no sound. The midnight silk of the Stillness draped over his shoulders, folding him into the woods.
To the hunting predators of the borderlands, the space he occupied was nothing but empty air.
He kept fifty paces behind his quarry.
Last evening, seated by the roaring hearth in the manor's dining hall, he had shared a meal of roasted pheasant and spiced wine with his mother, brother, and Sonya.
He traded stories of the North, listening carefully as Devon recounted the drills Grandmaster Xander had left him and as Sonya detailed her experiments with local ingredients to create new and better clothing and food.
When the hour grew late, Nick excused himself, claiming he intended to visit Master Ogden’s apothecary at first light to discuss Rhea’s return to apprenticeship without ever discussing the deeper truths of his journey.
It was a necessary deception, and he was thankful his mother allowed it. He needed to observe them in the wild, unburdened by his presence, and he required a true measure of the girl traveling with them before he could finalize his choice of ritual.
Up ahead, the canopy thickened, filtering the morning sun into a murky dimness.
Devon led the formation. He wore a padded arming doublet reinforced with steel splints, his bastard sword drawn and resting easily in his grip. He stalked with fluid grace, scanning the treeline and missing nothing but Nick.
Sonya walked a few paces behind him. Her tailored dark wool dress looked fit for court, but hardened leather patches sewn into the seams offered practical protection, and her hands hovered near bulging satchels at her sides.
Rose brought up the rear. Arthur's granddaughter wore scuffed leather armor and wielded a steel longsword few girls her age could have lifted, let alone wielded with such grace.
She was gripped by a coiled tension, her gaze darting at every snapping twig, clearly expecting an attack at any moment.
A low growl sounded from a tangle of twisted bushes on their left, confirming her suspicion.
Six Forest Wolves broke from cover. They were sleek predators the size of mountain cats, their fur matted with dried mud and leaves, offering more protection than one would assume.
Devon pivoted on his heel, already moving before the monsters could press their advantage. He intercepted the first wolf mid-leap, his blade biting deep into the creature's chest and hurling it aside in a spray of dark blood.
"Two on your left!" Sonya called out. She pulled a vial filled with swirling blue liquid from her satchel and hurled it to the ground near the approaching wolves.
The glass shattered. A biting frost erupted from the impact point, flash-freezing the ground and locking the two wolves’ paws in a crust of ice.
Rose gleefully took the opening, flying past Sonya.
Steel flared with gold light. She closed the distance in a heartbeat, her blade singing through the air.
The strike lacked Devon's polished technique, but its sheer potency made up for any clumsiness. She cleaved the first frozen wolf in two, spun, and drove the glowing point of her sword through the second's skull.
Nick alighted atop the branches of an ancient oak, focusing his senses solely on the light radiating from Rose's weapon. He trusted his brother to handle the rest without much trouble.
Peeling back the visual layer of the magic, he studied the etheric structure beneath.
When a standard mage cast a spell, there was always a spark of friction, a momentary resistance as mortal intent wrestled the World into a new shape. The same was true for martial classes as they wielded skills.
Only Prestige-level warriors could actualize their intent without delay.
Yet, Rose’s magic lacked that friction.
It was a seamless meld of her will and the forest's ambient mana. The light was demanding, arrogant in its authority, and the World yielded to it without negotiation.
It was a clear sign of her class, he could tell, an authority granted by the blood of rulers. Detecting the nuanced mechanics of her command demanded the heightened senses of a Prestige entity and a strong grasp of [Worldcraft], yet any King's Shadow familiar with their liege would recognize the mana’s distinct flavor.
Nick took note of everything. To mask her, he would need to craft a spiritual filter that reintroduced the friction of standard casting, making her power appear as the strained effort of a common swordswoman, if a talented one, given who her grandfather was.
As predicted, the trio dispatched the remaining wolves with ease. Devon wiped his blade on a patch of moss, and they resumed their march for another two hours, dispatching a wandering pack of goblins and a solitary armored bear.
They pushed deeper into the woods, eventually crossing the threshold where the mana grew wilder. The trees were wider here, their bark weeping black sap in rivulets where they’d been clawed by some monster. The air felt humid and oppressive.
Nick sensed its presence long before the others and waited for the ground to tremble to signal that they’d been spotted.
A cluster of ancient roots tore free from the loam, and a Vine-Devil hauled itself from the earth.
It was a towering construct of writhing, thorn-covered vines, poisonous sap, and iron-hard blackwood. Nick’s senses pegged it at about level eighty. A creature of that power had no business roaming the border to the civilized parts of the Green Ocean, but upheaval had been the name of the game in the forest, so he wasn’t too surprised.
The beast let out a screech and lashed out with a whip-like appendage.
"Spread out!" Devon shouted, ducking under the sweeping strike. The thorns ripped a deep gouge in the tree's bark behind him.
The trio worked smoothly, showing that they’d been fighting together for quite some time.
Devon served as the anvil, using his footwork and the reach of his bastard sword to parry the creature's probing strikes. He fought smartly, aiming his cuts at the joints where the vines were thinnest, bleeding the monster of its dark sap.
Nick watched his brother’s soul and was gratified to see that Devon had grown significantly over the past month since they’d last seen each other. His aura was dense, and before too long, it’d be pressing against the boundary of mortality.
He possessed the foundation required to reach Prestige; he simply needed the crucible of a true Feat to forge the crossing, and less than twenty levels to get there.
Considering his own success, it might not have been as impressive, but for a boy still in his teenage years, it was nothing short of a miracle. Xander’s teachings were not so well regarded for nothing, after all.
He’s only slightly weaker than Dad was when we fought in the dungeon, Nick realized with a proud smile.
Sonya danced around the periphery of the fight. She rarely interfered, but was ruthless in exploiting any opening, hurling vials of corrosive acid that melted through the Vine-Devil's thick outer armor, exposing the softer green wood beneath.
Rose acted as the executioner. Whenever Sonya laid bare a vulnerability, the golden light flared, and she dashed in, searing through the exposed wood and drawing pained growls.
They fought with admirable patience, dismantling the monster piece by piece. It took several grueling minutes of near misses and precise strikes before Devon finally severed the creature's support roots, leaving it unable to reach the ground and heal.
Rose drove her glowing blade deep into the monster's core, incinerating it.
The Vine-Devil collapsed into a smoldering heap.
Devon leaned against his sword, breathing hard, a thin line of blood trickling from a scratch on his cheek. Rose wiped sweat from her brow, her chest heaving as the golden light faded from her steel. Sonya pulled a clean linen cloth from her satchel and wiped a mud spatter from her sleeve.
Yet it wasn’t over. The forest before them still rustled.
A second Vine-Devil emerged from the dark. It had waited until their guard was down, displaying more cunning than its kin, and aimed its first strike squarely at Sonya’s blind spot.
They were out of position. Devon yelled a warning and lunged forward, but the distance was too great. The creature’s limb, thick as a battering ram and studded with jagged thorns, swung down toward the Maid with enough force to break most of her bones.
Even given who she descended from, Nick couldn’t risk it.
He dismissed the Stillness, drawing the intent from the midnight silk as he flew down his perch.
He called upon the ambient moisture in the humid air, drawing it into a crushing vise around the whipping limb. The water halted it mid-air, just ten feet from Sonya's head.
With a flick of his wrist, Nick summoned a cutting gale that sheared the outer layer of vines from the construct, revealing the pulsing green core.
He raised his right hand, pointing a single finger at the frozen beast.
A bolt of white lightning arced from his fingertip, striking the monster and superheating the moisture trapped in its vines.
The Vine-Devil detonated, blowing apart in a shower of boiling sap and charred splinters, its concussive force rattling the leaves of the surrounding trees.
To be thorough, Nick raised a subtle kinetic shield, deflecting the falling debris from the trio.
The whole display took less than a second.
Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the hiss of steam.
Now, that’s a suitably dramatic entrance.
Devon stared at the remains of the monster, his bastard sword half-raised, his jaw slack. Sonya lowered the volatile vial she had instinctively drawn, blinking rapidly to clear the lightning's afterimages from her vision.
Rose was the first to notice Nick and stepped back, raising her longsword toward him. Golden light flickered uncertainly along the blade's edge, her expression wary and tight.
He, on the other hand, walked casually into the center of the clearing, making no attempt to hide.
“You still tend to focus too much on your own fight and lose track of your surroundings, Dev. The forest is always dangerous,” he observed, his tone conversational.
Devon lowered his sword, a grin breaking through the shock on his face. He shook his head, staring at the crater left by the lightning. “What are you doing here? You said you were going to the apothecary.”
"I took a detour," Nick replied, offering his brother a brief smile. He turned to the girl holding the glowing sword. “You fought pretty well, Rose. A bit reckless, but you have the power to risk it.”
She hesitated, her shoulders tense and coiled. "Are you going to tell my grandfather?”
“I’m sure he has more pressing matters to consider, what with our forces’ impending return,” Nick assured her, his voice softening. "Lower your sword. There are no more monsters around.”
Rose studied his face for a long moment, searching for deception. Finding none, she slowly lowered the weapon. The golden light receded into her soul, leaving ordinary steel behind.
Sonya seemed the only one unsurprised to see him. Not that she’d sensed him, but she was always one to roll with the punches. “Thank you,” she murmured, still staring at the ruins of the second monster. “We really should have kept our guard up.”
“You should have," Nick agreed, looking into the deeper gloom of the forest. "That means you have pushed far enough for one day. We are returning to Floria.”
Devon grunted in assent. He was still in good shape and could probably have continued fighting for quite some time, but he was wise enough not to push.
“Will you join us openly next time?” he asked instead.
Nick inclined his head, and a thrum of excitement passed through Rose. She knew that meant they could finally push much deeper, and she didn’t seem too worried about the near disaster he’d just averted.
Gods save me from eager swordsmen, Nick sighed.