The fire crackled, spitting embers into the cool night. Kael sat cross-legged, tracing the map they had recovered on the dirt with the tip of his dagger. The crude sketches showed the raider encampment beyond the ridge — larger than expected, with at least two watchtowers and a central bonfire.
"This isn't just a bandit hideout," Corin said, crouching beside him. His bow rested across his knees, hands restless. "That's a small army."
"Then we strike fast and hard," Jarek said, leaning against a log, arms crossed. His broad frame seemed even larger in the firelight. "Hit them before dawn, break their morale before they know what's coming."
Lyra frowned. "And risk losing innocent captives if they panic? We don't even know who they're holding. We should try to negotiate—"
Belphegor's low laugh cut across her words. He sat a little apart from the circle, crimson eyes glinting in the firelight, turning a stolen blade over and over in his hands.
"You think these raiders will parley?" he said, voice smooth, almost amused. "They will slit your throat the moment you lower your guard. If you hesitate, you die."
Lyra bristled, but Kael raised a hand to stop the argument. "Enough. We go at dawn. Corin, you'll take the east ridge and deal with the sentries. Jarek, you're with me up front. Lyra, keep your shields ready. Belphegor—"
Belphegor tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I will do what I always do — end this quickly."
The others exchanged glances. No one pressed him for details.
The night passed without incident.
By the time the sun rose, they were already moving. The forest thickened as they went, the air cool and damp, silence broken only by distant bird calls. Corin scouted ahead, slipping between the trees like a shadow, while Lyra kept close to Jarek, murmuring soft prayers of protection under her breath.
The camp appeared just past a ridge — a scattering of tents, crates, and weapon racks. Raiders were loading wagons with stolen goods, laughing and shouting, oblivious to their approach.
Kael crouched behind a fallen tree and signaled to the others. "Corin, take the first shot. Jarek, we push from the left. Belphegor—"
But Belphegor was already gone.
The first man screamed before Kael could finish. Belphegor dropped into the middle of the camp like a falling shadow, his fist smashing into a raider's jaw with a crack that silenced the clearing.
Kael cursed under his breath. "Guess we're doing this loud!"
Corin loosed an arrow that punched through a raider's chest. Jarek roared, leapt the barricade, and brought his hammer down with a bone-shaking impact that sent two men flying. Lyra dashed after him, her ward flaring into a dome of silver light as arrows whistled toward them.
Kael vaulted over the log, sparks dancing along his arms. A flick of his wrist sent a blast of wind that toppled a wagon and scattered the raiders hiding behind it. He followed up with a lightning strike that arced from one man to another, dropping both in twitching heaps.
Belphegor moved like a storm given flesh. He stepped through shadows, appearing and disappearing between strikes, his movements impossibly precise. A raider swung a sword — Belphegor caught the blade mid-swing, twisted until the man's arm broke, and kicked him into a crate hard enough to splinter the wood.
Three spellcasters appeared near the edge of the camp, chanting in unison. Spears of fire shot toward the group. Kael swept his arm, a gust of wind scattering most of the flames, but two still flew true — until Belphegor's Chrono Shield shimmered to life, freezing them midair.
He stepped past the suspended fire and drove his fist into the nearest caster's chest, the impact caving in the man's armor. When time snapped back, the fire spears fizzled harmlessly into the ground.
Jarek was laughing now, swinging his hammer like a madman, but even he paused to watch Belphegor. Lyra's magic flared, saving him from a strike at the last second, but her eyes were fixed on the crimson-eyed figure tearing through their enemies with terrifying efficiency.
When the last raider tried to flee, Belphegor appeared in his path, one hand closing around his throat. For a long moment, it looked like he would snap the man's neck.
"Alive," Kael barked, his voice sharp.
Belphegor held the man a moment longer, crimson eyes glowing, before he dropped him to the dirt.
The camp was silent except for the crackle of burning wagons. Jarek wiped soot from his face and let out a low whistle. "Remind me never to piss him off."
Lyra exhaled, lowering her glowing hands. "I don't think he has an off switch."
Corin retrieved one of his arrows and gave Belphegor a wary look. "You fight like a demon."
Belphegor didn't deny it.
The raider coughed in the dirt, clutching his throat where Belphegor's grip had nearly crushed it. His eyes darted wildly between them, like a trapped animal.
Kael stepped forward, his dagger glinting faintly in the firelight. Sparks still danced along his fingers, the fading echo of the lightning he had unleashed moments ago. His voice was steady, but carried the weight of command.
"Talk. Why are you here? Who sent you?"
The man spat blood, shaking his head. "We—we're raiders. We take what we want. No one—"
Jarek slammed the butt of his hammer into the ground, sending a crack through the dirt. The man flinched violently.
"Try lying again," Jarek growled, "and I'll make sure you can't use that tongue anymore."
Lyra crouched beside the captive, her voice softer but no less dangerous. "If you value your life, you'll tell us the truth. The gods are patient, but I am not."
The raider's gaze flicked from her calm eyes to Belphegor's unblinking crimson stare. That was what finally broke him.
"All right! All right!" he stammered. "We were paid! We don't choose these raids—we're told where to strike, what caravans to hit, which villages to burn."
Kael's brow furrowed. "Paid? By who?"
The man licked his lips, trembling. "A noble. Lord Veynar of Greywatch. He gives us gold, weapons, food. Says the roads must bleed, that merchants should beg him for protection."
Corin muttered a curse under his breath, his hand tightening on his bow. "A noble funding this filth… making coin off the suffering he causes."
Lyra's jaw clenched. "And he positions himself as the savior, no doubt. The protector they'll all turn to."
Jarek spat into the dirt. "Coward's game. Let others do the killing, then play the hero."
The raider's voice cracked as he tried again. "Please, I told you everything. Just—just let me go. I swear I'll vanish, you'll never see me again—"
Belphegor knelt beside him in one smooth motion, so close their faces nearly touched. His tone was quiet, but every word carried a weight that froze the man's blood.
"You breathe because Kael ordered it. But make no mistake — if it were my choice, you would already be nothing but a smear in the ashes."
The raider's body shook violently, tears streaking the grime on his face.
Kael's hand tightened on his dagger, then relaxed. "We take him with us. If what he says is true, we'll need proof when we confront Greywatch. A corpse tells no tales."
Corin nodded reluctantly. "Better to have a witness than a grave."
Belphegor stood, expression unreadable. For a long moment, he stared at the captive as if weighing the worth of his existence. Then, without a word, he turned away and vanished into the shadows of the ruined camp, leaving the man trembling in the dirt.
The fire crackled in the silence that followed.
Lyra finally spoke, her voice low. "If a noble truly fuels this chaos, then we are walking into something far larger than raiders."
Kael folded the map again, his expression grim. "Then we'll burn the roots, not just the branches."
The raider whimpered, but no one was listening to him anymore.
Belphegor's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Well, our mission here is complete — to investigate the raiders. I'm not doing above the pay." He rose smoothly to his feet, brushing soot from his coat. "What some pampered noble does in his manor is no concern of mine."
Jarek grunted, shifting his hammer onto his shoulder. "Can't say I disagree. Greywatch isn't paying us, and poking at nobles tends to end badly." He didn't press further, but his silence was agreement enough.
Kael stood as well, meeting Belphegor's crimson gaze without flinching. "And what happens when Greywatch funds more of these raids? More blood, more chaos. You think this is the last time you'll cross paths with his dogs? Ignore it now, and he'll be a thorn in your side every step of the way."
Belphegor tilted his head, amused. "And what do I gain by caring? Sentiment doesn't pay. Blood doesn't buy."
Kael's hand went to the pouch at his belt, where a faint metallic hum pulsed. He drew out a small, rune-marked crystal that shimmered faintly in the firelight. "Resources. Things not for sale in any market. Artifacts, scrolls, access to knowledge that most men die chasing. Greywatch hoards them. And when we break him, I'll make sure some of them end up in your hands."
Belphegor's crimson eyes flickered at that, the faintest sign of interest breaking his mask of indifference.
Lyra stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "You may not care for the innocent, Belphegor, but you do care for power. And if Kael is right, then Greywatch has plenty of it hidden behind his walls. Stay, and you'll reap more than coin."
The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the air. For a long moment, Belphegor said nothing, only watching the flames with that unreadable smile.
Finally, he gave a quiet laugh. "You're persistent, Kael. Very well — I'll play your game. But remember, I move for reward, not for faith."
Jarek muttered under his breath, "Figures," but Kael's lips curved in the faintest of smiles.
"Then it's settled," Kael said, turning back to the map. "Greywatch falls next."
The captive whimpered again, but none of them paid him any mind still.