As the first light of morning crept over the broken city, Kael was already gone, having returned to Na'reth's side before the day had truly begun. The night had been short, and though exhaustion weighed on those who had fought, Thal remained awake as always. Unlike the others, he did not need rest. Instead, he spent the early hours where he felt he was needed most beside Tar.
The great minotaur lay where the healers had placed him, massive frame barely fitting into the makeshift bedding the healers had set up for him. Even unconscious, Tar's presence was formidable, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. His wounds had been severe, but he was strong stronger than most. Even so, Thal could not push aside the quiet concern that had settled in his mind. He had known Tar for longer than most would realize, longer than even Tar himself remembered. After all, Thal had raised him and his sister, Tor.
That thought lingered as Thal sat beside him, waiting. Watching.
A ghost of a sigh left his lips as memories stirred, memories of a time when Tar and Tor had been little more than calves, barely able to wield the strength that ran through their veins. They had been nothing but lost children back then, wild, abandoned, and left to be prey in a world that had no place for them. Thal hadn't meant to take them in not at first.
Tar had always been less expressive of the two, a being of immense strength who rarely needed words to be understood. In contrast, Tor had been the storm a force of will as unrelenting as the tides. They were opposites, yet inseparable.
Minutes stretched into hours as the city outside began to stir. Survivors moved through the streets, picking up the pieces of what remained. Soldiers tended to their wounded, smiths repaired what weapons they could, and those who had lost everything mourned in the quiet corners of the ruins. But Thal did not move from his place.
Then, at last, there was a shift.
A deep, rumbling breath. A flicker of movement. Tar's massive fingers twitched against the stone floor, his breathing changing from the rhythm of sleep to something more aware. And then, slowly, his heavy eyelids cracked open.
Thal exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "About time," he muttered.
Tar grunted, shifting slightly before stilling again, as if assessing his own injuries. Thal simply sat there, waiting for him to gather himself.
Once Tar was awake, there would be no time to linger. The others needed to be gathered Nyra, Luken, Valen. It was time to move forward. Time to leave this city behind. But for now, Thal stayed where he was, waiting for the one he had raised to fully return to the waking world.
Thal rose to his feet, towering over Tar even as the minotaur remained seated. He studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers curled slightly as if testing their strength. Tar was awake, but he was not yet ready to stand.
"Meet me at the inn when you're ready," Thal said simply. There was no need to say more. Tar would come when he could.
With that, Thal turned and stepped out into the city, the broken streets stretching before him. The scent of blood and fire still lingered in the air, but the worst had passed. The dead no longer rose. The battle was over, and what remained was the aftermath.
As he walked, the people of the city took notice.
A beastkin woman, her fur matted with dirt and blood, bowed her head deeply as he passed. She clutched a child close to her chest, her grip tight, as if afraid he might vanish if she let go. "Thank you," she whispered.
An orc, clad in battered armor, slammed a fist against his chest in a soldier's salute. His tusks were chipped, his face streaked with dried blood, but his stance was firm. "If not for you and yours, we'd all be corpses. You have my respect, warrior."
Dwarves, ever stubborn, did not bow or salute but instead grunted their approval as they worked. They repaired what they could homes, weapons, defences without complaint, their calloused hands moving with practiced efficiency. One of them, an elder with a braided silver beard, gave Thal a long, appraising look before nodding. "A rare thing, what you did. We don't forget that."
The humans, despite their exhaustion, found ways to express their gratitude in their own ways. Some simply murmured thanks as he passed, others clasped his forearm briefly, their gazes full of something between admiration and disbelief. They had seen gods walk in stories, but Nephilim were not stories.
Among the crowd, the Kruu'Vesps moved with lethal grace, their chitinous wings humming softly as they carried wounded civilians to safety or scouted from above. A few paused mid flight to acknowledge Thal, dipping their heads in a rare show of respect. The Kruu'Stratas, ever the warriors, gave him the nod of equals silent, but filled with meaning. They had fought by his side. They understood.
But Thal did not linger on the gratitude. He accepted it as he always did without expectation, without need for recognition. He had done what needed to be done. That was all.
Still, as he continued through the ruined streets, stepping over broken stone and shattered remains of homes, he felt the weight of the city's survival pressing down on him. They had won this battle, but the war was far from over.
The inn was in sight now, still standing despite everything, now a place of refuge for the weary. He would wait there, as he had said. Tar would come. The others would gather. And then, they would leave.
The inn was quiet now, the last of the survivors getting what rest they could before the next step of their journey. Thal had remained outside, keeping watch over the city's edge, where the streets began to fade into the open fields. The air was still heavy, but the worst had passed. For now, the city was safe.
Nyra was the first to emerge from the inn. She had wrapped her silver hair back into a tight braid, the bloodstains now mostly washed away, though her armor still bore the marks of battle. The fatigue was visible in her posture, but there was a quiet strength in her stride.
When she saw Thal, she didn't speak immediately. Instead, she crossed the distance between them and gave a simple nod of acknowledgment.
"You did well with the Titan," Thal said, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "That was impressive."
Nyra smirked, but the expression was tired, almost dismissive. "It was nothing. Just a big target with too many limbs. You handled the Harbinger with far more grace than I could ever dream of."
Thal chuckled softly, but the sound was distant, almost absent, as his mind drifted elsewhere. He couldn't entirely focus on their conversation when his thoughts kept tugging him back to something that had been lingering at the back of his mind.
Nyra watched him for a moment, noticing the distant look in his eyes. Then, without skipping a beat, she asked a question that had clearly been bothering her since the battle had ended.
"How come you weren't affected by the miasma sludge?" she asked, her voice softer now, her eyes narrowing slightly with concern. "It hit Kael hard, and even I felt it. But you… you were fine."
Thal blinked, the question catching him off guard. In the heat of battle, he hadn't thought much of it there had been no time for introspection, only survival. But now, standing in the quiet ruins of victory, he realized just how strange it was. The sludge had swept through the battlefield like a living curse, tearing at flesh and bone, infecting even the most resilient.
But not him. Not even a flicker of pain. Not even a breath held in warning. He had walked through it untouched.
A chill crawled beneath his skin, slow and silent. There had been no resistance in him, not even a reaction, as if the miasma had recognized him or worse, had no reason to reject him. Like it was never meant to.
He had always known he was different, but this… this felt like confirmation of something darker. Something older. Something he hadn't dared name.
He looked back at Nyra, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. "I didn't realize… I wasn't affected," he murmured. "It didn't seem to touch me at all."
He thought about it for a moment, but there was no clear explanation that came to mind. As a Nephilim, he was different from mortals, yes, but there was nothing inherently immune in his nature that should have shielded him from the miasma. Kael had suffered, and so had Nyra and the others. Yet, somehow, he had been untouched.
His thoughts drifted to Kael. What had made him different from Kael? Why had Kael been affected by the sludge, and why hadn't he been?
Thal didn't know, and for the first time in a long time, uncertainty settled in his chest. It was something he'd need to look into, but for now, he could only offer Nyra a shrug.
"I don't know why, Nyra," he admitted, his voice low and thoughtful. "But maybe... maybe it's something to do with who I am. Or where I come from."
He wasn't entirely sure, and that bothered him. But the last thing he wanted was to explain something he didn't understand himself.
"So, I guess we'll just have to figure it out later," he said, trying to shake off the unease creeping in.
Nyra raised an eyebrow at him but didn't push the matter further. She could see how much this uncertainty weighed on him. Instead, she clapped him on the shoulder, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Whatever it is, you're lucky. Maybe we should all get some of whatever it is you're made of," she joked lightly, trying to lift the mood.
Thal gave a half smile but knew that something bigger was at play. There was more to his immunity than he understood and Kael's strange reaction to it had only added to the mystery.
As Nyra walked back to the inn to get the others, Thal stood still for a moment, his mind running through possibilities. What was it about him that made him immune? And why did Kael, of all people, suffer from it?
He knew he'd have to find the answers soon. But for now, he needed to focus on what lay ahead.
The morning light began to stretch over the city, casting a soft glow on the remnants of the battle. Thal stood quietly, still lost in his thoughts, when the sound of footsteps approaching broke his reverie.
Nyra, followed closely by Luken and Valen, emerged from the inn. They were all exhausted, their movements slower than usual, but there was a determination in their eyes. Nyra's silver hair was a mess of tangles, and Luken's cloak was singed, the once vibrant colors now muted by the ash and grime of battle. Valen, too, bore the marks of the fight, his usually sharp features softened by weariness. But despite the exhaustion that clung to them, there was a quiet resolve in their expressions.
"We're ready," Nyra said first, her voice firm but tinged with fatigue. "It's time we move on. We can't afford to waste any more time. The Kruul King and his Archons are still out there."
Luken gave a slight nod in agreement, his usually unreadable expression now showing a hint of urgency. "Every moment we delay, the more they can prepare. We have to strike while we still have the advantage."
Valen, standing slightly behind them, adjusted his grip on his blades, his body still sore from the previous day's battle. "The longer we wait, the more of a threat they become," he added, his voice steady, though it was clear that the weight of their previous fight still lingered on him.
Thal turned towards them, giving each of them a nod of acknowledgment. He had expected this there was little time for rest when the Kruul King and his Archons were still out there, threatening the world. And with every passing moment, the urgency to end that threat grew.
Before Thal could respond, a heavy thud echoed through the streets. His attention shifted, and there, walking toward them with an almost mechanical determination, was Tar. The massive minotaur, covered in battle scars and still bloodied from the previous day's fighting, had made his way over, ready to join them.
His eyes met Thal's for a brief moment before he simply stopped in front of the group. His presence alone spoke volumes Tar was ready.
Thal exchanged a silent glance with Nyra, Luken, and Valen before speaking again. "It's time, then. We've made it this far together, and we'll finish this together."
With that, they gathered their things, the weight of the journey ahead still heavy on their shoulders, but a shared sense of purpose driving them forward. Tar's silent but unwavering presence was a reminder of the battles that lay ahead and the strength they would need to face them.
As they moved out, Thal couldn't help but feel the weight of their mission. There was no turning back now. They would face the Kruul King and his Archons, no matter the cost.
As the group made their way through the city, the sounds of clattering hooves, footsteps, and whispers filled the air. The survivors, still reeling from the destruction but grateful for the courage shown by the warriors who'd defended them, came out from their homes, shops, and shelters. They offered their thanks in every form imaginable hands clasped in gratitude, cheers of admiration, and heartfelt gestures that spoke volumes.
Beastkin, Dwarfs, Orcs, Humans, Kruu'Vesp, and Kruu'Strata every race had been affected by the battle, and now, as the group prepared to leave, they all recognized their debt to the warriors that stood before them. Some offered food and supplies, while others simply stood in silence, heads bowed in respect.
As they walked through the streets, it was as though the city itself was mourning yet celebrating, both in the wake of the destruction and in the hope that these warriors would put an end to the threat that still lingered.
Thal, Nyra, Luken, Valen, and Tar walked with purpose, but even they couldn't help but feel the weight of the city's gratitude. They didn't stop for long, but each time a hand reached out, a word of thanks was given, or a bow of the head made, they felt the bond of this shared struggle deepen.
It wasn't just about the fight now it was about these people who, despite everything, were still standing, still believing in the fight ahead.
As they reached the outskirts of the city, Kael, Na'reth, and Kalrith were waiting for them. Kael leaned casually against a weathered stone, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent from his face. His eyes met Thal's, and there was a subtle, unspoken understanding between them a reminder that the journey wasn't over, but a new chapter was about to begin.
Na'reth, standing close to Kael, offered a nod to each of them. There was a strength in her that had been tested by the battle, but now it was more determined than ever. She stepped forward, her gaze lingering on Thal for a moment longer than the others, as if searching for something only she could see.
Kalrith stood a little farther back, arms crossed in her usual way, but there was a quiet admiration in her eyes for the group. "You've done more than anyone could have asked of you," she said, voice low but sincere.
Thal nodded in acknowledgment, his usual stoic expression softening just slightly.
Kael, however, couldn't resist a wry grin as he pushed himself off the stone and stepped forward, before his expression turned more serious. "But I'm glad to see you're all still standing. You're not done yet. We'll be here when you need us."
Na'reth approached, her eyes locked on Thal for a moment before she spoke. "Take care of yourselves," she said, almost as a command, but there was something personal in her tone, as though it was meant only for him. Then, her voice softened just slightly. "And if you ever need help… we'll be here, too."
There was a quiet pause between them, and then Thal gave a simple nod. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but sincere.
Kalrith stepped forward last, her gaze sweeping over each of them before she turned her eyes back to Thal. "Make sure you don't get yourself killed, Nephilim," she said, though there was a faint trace of affection hidden beneath her usual tough exterior. "I still want to learn from you."
Causing Thal to give a slight smirk "Sure Thing."
With that, the goodbyes were said. Kael and Na'reth gave one last look to the group before they turned to head back into the city, and Kalrith followed, her steps brisk as always.
The group, now complete with Tar by their side, stood together for a moment longer before moving on. The city behind them, its people still recovering, was a testament to their fight. They couldn't afford to waste any more time. The Kruul King and his Archons awaited.