The slope was quiet again. The Nerathil had passed. The fleeing Dazhûm marines were gone, either escaped or cut down out of sight.
Ryoku lowered his head slightly, watching the last of the shadows slip between the valley rocks. Then he looked to Teshar.
"Status. Where was the last Veilguard marker?"
Teshar unrolled a small terrain map, already weathered with field use. His finger traced a line west, past the acropolis and out toward a red-marked zone.
"They left their final scent trail along the western incline," he said. "Near the ruins here. If they kept moving inland, they would've broken contact."
Connach stepped in. "And the acropolis? North ridge?"
Teshar nodded. "If it's compromised, the survivors won't head there. No one does. If the city's fallen, they'd retreat to the countryside. The ruins give more cover. Debris, fractured terrain, old tunnel systems under the central quarter."
Ryoku didn't speak at first. He studied the map again.
Connach folded his arms. "We move to the ruins then?"
"Eventually," Teshar said. "But not until I confirm it."
He looked up, voice calm but firm. "I'll scout ahead. If the ruins are clear, I'll mark safe entry points. If they've been breached, I'll signal fallback. Your units don't move until I report."
Ryoku nodded once. "Go."
Teshar packed the map and adjusted his webbing. He tapped the wasp's container twice, and the insect slid free, buzzing low into the wind. He followed the ridgeline, staying low, vanishing between folds of broken rock and scorched ferns.
Connach watched the direction he vanished into. "How far?"
Ryoku answered without looking. "He won't say."
Both men turned their attention to the perimeter. The Blacktide took up wedge formation behind the gully wall, silent and ready. Moortide held a wide arc, bows unstrung but close. They didn't light a fire. They didn't speak.
This wasn't a patrol zone anymore.
This was enemy ground.
And now, they waited.
Later, west of the valley
Teshar moved like dust, present but unseen. He crossed the ridge in silence, using old paths and erosion cuts to stay hidden. No scent. No light. Ruun circled high above, never calling out.
After a steady climb and descent, he reached the outer ridge overlooking the ruins.
He paused.
Below, the remnants of an old temple compound stretched along a broken plateau. Dozens of collapsed walls, shattered columns, and burnt halls covered the area. Weathered flags of Dazhûm origin lay half-buried in the rubble. The outer ring was scattered with makeshift barricades, crates, carts, and torn banners now hardened by rain and ash.
Then movement.
Teshar shifted to a higher vantage point, braced against a basalt slab, and pulled a viewing scope from his gear.
It wasn't glass.
The sigil scope was forged by Stormguard engineer mages, three crystals aligned inside a reinforced brass tube etched with viewing runes. The outer housing bore stormsteel rings, and its grip was wrapped in fire-treated leather. When activated, the internal sigils aligned, adjusting for distance and light distortion.
Teshar rotated the side dial and adjusted the clarity rune. The image locked into focus.
Human figures. Mixed gear. A few bore Dazhûm marine colors, but most were civilians. A line of them had formed along the north wall. They weren't running. They were defending.
Across from them came the shapes.
Skeletal frames, stretched limbs, blades fused to bone. Nerathil.
Ruinborn.
They charged.
What followed wasn't organized combat. It was desperation.
Teshar tracked the line.
One figure stood near the center, striking with fluid movements, not just surviving but directing others, cutting efficiently, defending the weak points.
The stance. The armor. The sigil lines along the shoulder.
Teshar narrowed his eyes.
A Veilguard agent. Still alive.
Their face had been altered, part of the cover. No Dazhûm armor should be that precise. But he recognized them.
Teshar ducked lower, backed down the ridge, and activated his signal rune.
Back at the gully
Teshar relayed what he saw. "Fifty defenders. Mixed group. Civilians and former marines. One of the Veilguard is with them. They're holding the ruins, but they're outnumbered. Three hundred Nerathil at least."
Connach scowled. "Outnumbered six to one."
Ryoku didn't hesitate. "We hit them. Rear flank."
Teshar nodded. "They haven't spotted us yet. We still have surprise."
Connach turned to his squad. "Gear up. Stealth until contact. After that, burn everything."
The orders went down the line.
The Blacktide and Moortide units shifted into low formation. No torches. No sigils visible. Every weapon was readied for fast, lethal work.
Teshar moved first, cutting through the ridge with his wasp scouting ahead. The others followed, led by Ryoku's measured stride.
What followed wasn't a skirmish. It was a slaughter.
The Nerathil never saw them coming.
Ryoku's blade was first. Kensho carved through two Ruinborn in a single horizontal sweep. The sword didn't slow. Echo Strike activated, his movement rebounded into the next slash, layering force and rhythm like a beating forge hammer. Bones shattered. Fused steel cracked. The line broke.
Connach and his Moortide led from the flanks, tidecut spears finding soft points between armor plates and fungal growths. They moved in pairs, one pinned, the other killed. Their formation stayed tight, brutal, and fast.
Teshar was everywhere at once.
He vaulted from ridge to ridge, raining sigil-tipped arrows onto clustered Nerathil. Each shot flared red just before impact, then burst into flame on contact, searing flesh and splintering rot. His warhawk circled above, marking targets with shrill calls. A flame orb detonated near the center group, bodies torn apart in a column of scorched air.
The Nerathil reeled. They hadn't prepared for this. No ritual. No buildup. Just disciplined violence from the dark.
One charged Ryoku directly, a Dreadblade-class Ruinborn wielding a jagged fused cleaver. Ryoku shifted, caught the strike with his weighted vestment, let the kinetic force rebound, then countered. His second blade, the Resolve short sword, found the creature's neck seam and drove through clean. The head didn't fall. It burst from the pressure.
Blood soaked the ground.
Another Nerathil attempted a flank.
Teshar was already behind it.
He slipped between its legs, drove his falcata into the lower spine, and twisted. When it shrieked, he climbed its back in one motion, gripped the exposed bone joint at the base of its skull, and drove the blade upward through the gap with both hands. The creature convulsed once, then dropped like stone.
They pushed forward like a controlled storm.
The rear of the Nerathil force collapsed. Those at the front turned, but it was too late. The remaining defenders in the ruins saw the shift and surged forward.
Lines broke. The enemy scattered.
And the earth burned beneath them.
As the last of the Nerathil fell, Captain Connach barked orders.
"Moorfire! Sweep and clear. Five-man squads. Confirm kills, burn anything that moves. Secure the perimeter now."
His command was met without hesitation. The Moortide split into rotating teams, checking bodies and burning any sign of lingering corruption. No risks were taken. Sigils were activated, toxin samples collected. Anything that twitched was silenced with fire.
Ryoku signaled for the Blacktide to hold. He stepped forward with Teshar.
Beyond the barricades, survivors regrouped. Smoke-smeared civilians, injured marines, a few bloodied defenders. Among them, a woman in reinforced leather stood out. Her posture was firm. Her stance trained. Her armor bore a Dazhûm insignia, but it was too clean, too precise.
Teshar spoke low. "That's her. Serana."
As they approached, a Dazhûm officer stepped in their path, blade drawn but not raised.
"Who are you? This is a secured evacuation line."
Before Ryoku could answer, Serana stepped between them.
"Captain," she said clearly. "They're mine."
The officer hesitated. "Yours?"
"They're a former unit I served with, Bloodtide Company, highly trained and efficient; they saved this position, and their help was unexpected."
The officer glanced at Ryoku, then back to Serana.
"I thought you were retired."
Serana gave the smallest shrug. "So did I. Until today."
That was enough. The officer grunted and moved back toward the wounded.
Ryoku tilted his head. "Retired, huh?"
Serana smirked. "Part of the cover. I stayed embedded when the city turned. Didn't expect anyone to come."
Ryoku moved in closer. "Status. Your team."
Serana's expression shifted, more composed now. "Ten agents were deployed to Zevekhan. Five confirmed active, including me. Five others are unaccounted. Last contact was during the sewer collapse under the central quarter. We split during the first breach."
"Time since last signal?"
"It's been three days with no signal runes, no beacon pulses, completely silent and status unknown."
Teshar narrowed his eyes. "Were they shadow aligned?"
Serana nodded. "One. They carried scatter runes and cloaking tags. If they're alive, they're either hiding or trapped deeper in the lower levels."
Ryoku's tone sharpened. "And the rest?"
"They're still in cover, operating under assumed identities. Dazhûm colors. Civilians, support crew, even wounded. Their posts are scattered between the outer ruins and the lowland bridges. We've maintained contact through markers and whisper threads."
She took a breath and added, "This site was our last fallback but the spread overwhelmed the perimeter."
Ryoku folded his arms. "Tell me how it happened."
Serana stepped aside and pointed toward the eastern ridge.
"The infestation started in the trade quarter. Silent. No warning. The first to turn were from the sewers. The main breach was coordinated. Nerathil units hit the north and south at once. We estimate five entry points."
Teshar frowned. "Shadow Adept?"
Serana nodded grimly. "Yes. One, at least. It led the first wave. After the outer walls fell, it disappeared. We believe it moved underground. That's when the command lines broke."
She gestured toward the ruins. "Crawlborn burrowed in under the barracks. Dreadblades took out the gate squads. Hollowhands pulsed down the warding sigils. They targeted anything enchanted. Every single magical defense failed in minutes."
Ryoku glanced toward the smoke trails curling from the ruins.
"How far did they spread?"
Serana answered immediately. "They overran the main city. The acropolis fell on the second day. Civilian convoys were ambushed before they could leave. The only reason we held this position is because the Crawlborn haven't breached the slope."
Ryoku nodded, absorbing the intel.
"That completes the first mission objective."
Serana blinked. "Stormguard mission?"
He nodded. "Assessment of spread. Primary command directive. Confirm status, engage targets only when viable."
Teshar looked between them. "And now?"
Ryoku exhaled slowly. "Five agents confirmed alive. Five are missing. Possibly dead, possibly still in play."
He looked west, toward the shattered city skyline.
"I need to decide. Pull out with the survivors, or commit to a deep-zone search."
Serana met his eyes. "I'll go if you order it. But you need to know, if the five are still alive, they won't last long. Not in that city. Not with a Shadow Adept loose."
Ryoku said nothing.
Then he turned to Teshar.
"Rest one hour. I want every marker rechecked. Every scent trail picked up. Then we move."
He looked back to the ruins.
"This isn't over."
Serana stood nearby, watching the Moortide work.
She stepped closer. "And the refugees? The civilians?"
There was a pause. Ryoku said nothing at first.
The sounds of fire crackling on the far side of the barricade filled the silence.
He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking.
Then he looked to her.
"Tell the other Veilguard. They'll volunteer to hold the line."
He pointed toward the western pass.
"Let the Dazhûm forces fall back. Take the refugees. Head for the main defensive line. The Veilguard have done enough."
Serana nodded slowly.
"You're sure?"
Ryoku didn't answer directly. He turned back toward the broken perimeter.
"Tell the captain. We'll defend this position."