*drrrrr….
Engines from fifteen heavily reinforced vehicles roared to life, their deep growls merging into a single thunderous hum that shook the ground beneath them.
"Move! Move! Forward!"
"V3 inside the mist, no signs of hostiles!"
Each massive transport rumbled forward, moving slowly yet with undeniable purpose.
The bluish lanterns attached to their sides flickered to life, releasing a radiant glow that spilled over the soldiers marching beside them.
The light bathed the entire formation in an ethereal hue—both beautiful and haunting against the looming wall of mist ahead.
"Veil Torrent successfully consuming the mist around us, we're good over here at V1!"
"V2 Veil Torrent stable, over!"
This very glow was more than illumination—it was their salvation.
It was the only thing standing between life and damnation.
Once inside the mist, the light would act as their shield, their barrier against the corruption that dwelled within.
"V5 entering, godspeed, over!"
For any who dared to step beyond its reach, even for a single second, the price would be their very essence.
The mist would seep into their veins, corrupting their eidra—their soul—and twist them into mindless, monstrous beings born from agony and shadow.
"Once we are inside, stay your course and do not linger away from the light!" barked a commanding officer, his voice rising over the engines' growl.
He stood atop one of the vehicles, his cloak snapping behind him as the metallic clatter of weapons and armor filled the cold air.
"Shout if you see anything!" he added, his voice cutting through the rumble.
"Aye!" the soldiers shouted back in unison, their tone steady but layered with tension.
"Yeah, yeah, we heard ya…" came the lazy voice of a mercenary near the rear, her tone half-mocking yet steady enough to show no fear.
Despite her attitude, she still gripped her weapon tightly.
Only a handful of mercenaries had remained with the expedition—few, but seasoned.
These weren't ordinary sellswords; they were confident, even prideful, warriors with reputations carved in the fires of the Black Glenn.
And as the vehicles rolled forward, their smirks and silent readiness spoke louder than any vow.
"Hey Stuwart, ya got the stuff with ya, right?" said Jill, a rough-voiced mercenary who seemed to lead their little band.
She walked with a confident sway, her armor patched with scratches that told too many stories of close calls and bad decisions.
"Kikiki… of course I do!" Stuwart replied, his laugh sharp and twitchy.
The thin, hooded man clinked with every step—his belts and chest covered in flasks and bulbs filled with glowing liquid.
"These ones are eidric-enhanced. One splash from these babies, and those beasts'll get purified in a split second! The liquid was smuggled straight from the Holy Empire of Zefarex, after all…"
His voice rose with pride as he tapped one of the vials with a shaky finger.
"Shit, where'd you even get that?" asked Kraus, one of the older mercenaries, his weathered hand brushing through his graying beard.
His gaze narrowed as he studied Stuwart, suspicion creeping into his tone.
"The black market, of course… duh! The commander's!" Stuwart replied, pointing his thumb toward Gelhyne's direction as if the answer was obvious.
"That must've cost a fortune then," said Kreiz, the group's healer, folding his arms while his eyes darted over Stuwart's gear.
He looked unconvinced, his brow furrowing. "And I doubt you had the coin for that."
"Urgh, why are you guys looking at me like I've stolen something!" Stuwart barked back, his face twisting in irritation.
"Hey! Pipe down down there!" shouted a nearby officer, his voice cutting through the growing chatter.
He threw a sharp glare toward their group before turning back to his unit.
"Tsk, quiet down, all of you," Jill said firmly, not bothering to look at them.
Her eyes remained locked forward, cold and focused.
"We're about to enter the mist—you see? Half of the vehicles are already in there."
She pointed ahead, where the roaring transports were slowly vanishing one after another, swallowed whole by the shifting darkness.
"Shit, this is it. Hold me, man," Kraus said sarcastically, grabbing onto Kreiz's arm with a grin.
"Urgh, get off me, you freak!" Kreiz snapped, jerking his arm away and fixing his glasses in frustration.
His eyes then shifted forward, the humor dying from his face as the dark wall of mist loomed closer.
"It's not like this is the first time we've ventured through that death smoke," Kreiz muttered, his eyes narrowing, the usual playfulness in his voice fading into something grim.
A flicker of memory crossed his face—something dark, something best left unspoken.
"Y-Yeah…" Stuwart replied softly, his usual jittery grin gone, replaced by the same heavy look.
His fingers fidgeted nervously over one of his vials, as if the glass gave him comfort.
"Then let's not waste this chance," Jill said firmly, breaking the moment.
Her voice carried authority, steady and cold.
"We'll get the credits we're owed. This might be the one gig that finally gets us off the hook from that bastard."
She didn't look back at them, her gaze fixed on the fog ahead as the ground rumbled beneath their boots.
"Damn right," Kraus said with conviction, cracking a small grin despite the tension.
The mist now loomed just a few meters from the group, thick and restless, swirling like a living thing that breathed in anticipation.
It took only a few more steps before its shadow began to crawl over them.
"Time to get that money, baby," Kraus said one last time with a crooked smirk, stepping forward first as the darkness began to swallow his figure.
One by one, the entire expedition vanished into the mist—the vehicles, the soldiers, and the remaining mercenaries, all swallowed by the gray shroud that hissed and coiled like a living entity.
The faint glow of their blue lanterns dimmed as they advanced, their light fading to pale specks within the rolling darkness.
At the very front of the convoy rode Rox and Gelhyne, seated atop a massive, heavily armored vehicle.
Unlike the others, this one was reinforced with intricate eidric plating that shimmered faintly, forming a translucent barrier of energy that pulsed in rhythm with the vehicle's core.
Every few seconds, streaks of faint light crawled across its surface—defensive wards meant to repel the mist's corruption.
"So… we just head northeast from here," Rox began, tapping on the holomap projected in front of her with a faint grin.
"Then make a sharp left… and bam! We'll hit the spot—right where my ship picked up the highest anomaly readings." Her tone was casual, though her eyes betrayed the faint excitement of discovery.
"Hear that?" Gelhyne said, turning her gaze to the officer standing just behind them inside the command cabin.
Her tone carried both authority and a quiet warning.
"The explanation's crude," replied General Voxtrom, his deep voice steady despite the tension in the air,
"but we can manage. We'll follow as directed."
Voxtrom—seasoned, broad-shouldered, and bearing the insignia of the Red Fleet—wasn't just any officer.
He was a long-time comrade of both Gelhyne and the admiral himself, one of the few men who could stand beside them as an equal in both respect and trust.
And now, as the mist pressed closer against the armored hull, that trust would be tested like never before.