Day 2: Evening
Location: Forest of Overgrowth – 12km away from Orc Camp
Twilight bled across the canopy, staining the sky in bruised purples and dying golds. Aexl stood atop a mound of bundled hay and dry moss, his silhouette half-devoured by mist rising from the roots below.
His black cloak fluttered behind him, fastened over sleek, shadow-toned leather armor—the kind worn by assassins or scouts before a kingdom's fall. It didn't flap like a hero's banner...
It snapped like a warning, the kind hoisted before the first arrow flies.
"Time to poke the bear," he thought, scanning the treeline.
Behind him stood three gentlemen and three Valkyrie units.
The hunters were silent shadows in the dark.
Lego, with his high cheekbones and quiet draw, eyes sharp as obsidian, barely made a sound. His bow sat calmly across his back, but his posture suggested he was always seconds from loosing an arrow.
Quink, the burly one. His footsteps were heavy, but steady—like someone who'd hunted beasts heavier than orcs.
Then there was the old man, Gruff, chewing dried meat like this was just another walk through the forest. No tension. No nerves. Just another night before sunrise.
To be honest, they weren't part of the plan.
They had insisted. Said they needed to see "how big the bear was" before setting traps tomorrow. Meaning the orcs.
I had protested. Told them I wanted their minds fresh and their energy intact. Their job was to prepare traps, fortify kill-zones, and create fallback options. This wasn't their fight.
But what could I do?
They stared at me and said it plainly. They were used to this. Night hunts. No sleep. Their bodies had been doing this since before I was summoned.
Beside them stood three of the Valkyrie units—the same guards who had greeted me on the morning watch.
Rina. Kaela. Sinia.
And behind them, seven more followed.
Ten in total. Young, inexperienced. Nervous.
But they held their javelins and shields with white-knuckled resolve. Trained soldiers, maybe. But this was their first time tasting actual battle.
Still… I had seen enough wars to know one truth:
Sometimes, morale was worth more than mastery.
Ten shields. Hundreds of javelins—each Valkyrie carrying twenty, with a few more stuffed into Gruff's cuckoo for backup.
Four bows, counting mine.
Four men. Ten Valkyrie guards.
One test... to see how deep the orcs' spine reacts.
I tapped my Ephone briefly. The red trail blinked across the floating map, pulsing with data.
Current Location of Orc Scouts: 12 kilometers northeast
Estimated Time to Camp: 8 to 16 minutes
"Bird stride puts us there in sixteen," I muttered, just loud enough for Gruff to grunt in agreement behind me.
"Exhausting this bird before the battle is dangerous," I added, my hand gently patting Kentucky's neck.
He let out a low squawk in reply, as if he agreed.
Quink rolled his shoulders. "How many are we pokin'?"
Aexl shrugged. "Enough to make them panic."
Sinia swallowed hard. "And… what if they don't panic?"
"Then they chase," Aexl replied, eyes narrowing. "And a chase means they burn time. Time we need."
He stepped off the mound and landed with a quiet thud.
"The moment you throw, don't wait to admire your work. We strike, we fade, we vanish. Understand?"
All of them nodded. Some grimly, some with a little too much eagerness.
Above them, a cuckoo bird croaked from the shadows. Its tone was low and uneasy, as if even it could sense the tension building.
Aexl cast one last glance toward the far edge of the Forest of Overgrowth's exit.
As his mind speaks, Lyssa, you better be ready.
This is the first push of the domino.
If this fails, hopefully you know what you should do.
He exhaled slowly.
Then he gave the order.
"Here's the plan. Clear and simple."
"The Battle of Ain Jalut, 1260," he began, tightening the worn leather strap across his shoulder. "The first time anyone stopped the Mongols."
He paused, tapping two fingers against his temple.
"Not by luck. By maneuver."
His gaze swept the horizon, then turned back to the hunters.
"The Mamluks had mounted archers. They'd ride in, shoot, pull back—then shoot again. Fast. Annoying. Relentless. The Mongols, proud and pissed, chased them."
Gruff frowned. "And that worked?"
"Oh, it worked," Aexl said with a grin. "They kept doing it—ride in, fire, fall back. Each time, they pulled the Mongols deeper. Until finally, they led them straight into an ambush. Hidden reserves closed in from both flanks and from the rear. They crushed them."
Gruff scratched his chin. "Sounds good, except… we don't have reserves"
"True," Aexl nodded. "But we've got something better. Speed."
He pointed behind him.
"These cuckoos are faster than horses, meaner than wolves, and smarter than they look. Best of all, they know how to evade."
As if on cue, one of the birds let out a sharp caw and snapped its beak at a nearby camp stool.
"Here's what we do," Axl continued, pacing in front of them. "We mimic the same idea. We ride in, rain arrows and Javelin on the orcs. When they react and start chasing, we retreat and zigzag if we need to. Use the forest as cover and get distance. Then we turn and shoot again."
He held up a finger.
"No standstill fights. We stay close together just like we practice this afternoon, we don't take them head-on. If they chase us left we run right. If they shift right we go left. We keep harassing, keep circling, keep their brains scrambled and their morale cracked. We do this long enough… and they'll collapse in their own rage."
Kaela raised an eyebrow. "So instead of facing them... we avoid them?"
Axl grinned. "Exactly. Hit-and-fade. No backup. No second line. Just speed, grit, and cuckoo legs."
A Sinia raised an eyebrow. "They have worgs?"
Aexl shook his head from side to side.
"Nothing. Even if these birds are supreme, I checked their gear. No bows, no crossbows, no slings. Just cleavers, axes, meat clubs—and what might've been finger bones. Their supply line? A cart stuffed with dead animals and rotten ale. Smells like my college dorm after finals."
He turned to the unit, all perched nervously atop their cuckoos.
"Side shots are fatal. Headshots are better. But hit anything. These orcs wear heavy armor, not like those orc riders."
Someone raised a hand. "What if we miss?"
"Then try harder," Axl replied, deadpan.
Just then, a golden-feathered cuckoo swooped down with a gust of wind, talons kicking up dust as it skidded to a graceful stop. Atop the saddle sat Selene calm, composed, and utterly magnetic.
Her face was streaked with coal paint in warrior markings, eyes as sharp as flint under the moonlight. She wore a tailored black combat corset, reinforced with dark leather plating across her ribs and shoulders, hugging her form while leaving enough freedom to throw, flip, or kill in a blink. Silver buckles lined her fitted bracers, and a dark crimson sash was tied loosely around her hips, its fabric fluttering like a warning flag behind her.
A single thigh strap secured a throwing knife. Her high-slit battle skirt revealed toned legs wrapped in obsidian thigh guards and lace-wrapped leather boots built for speed—but not modesty. She looked like a rogue general in an assassin's ball gown: lethal, beautiful, and never unsure of who was watching her.
"I'll help," she said, dismounting.
"Who's helping roderick," Aexl said.
He's more than capable of training them," she said, pulling out a javelin. "But I have this" as she threw the javelin piercing a fruit on a tree and pin on tree behind
There was silence. Even the cuckoos stared.
"…We take what hand we have," Aexl muttered.
Thud!
"Let's move out!" Aexl commanded, voice crisp like drawn steel.
He led from the front, black cloak snapping in rhythm with his stride, the shadows of his light leather armor catching brief glints of twilight through the trees. The others followed, boots muffled against moss and fallen leaves.
Selene trailed at the rear—silent, eyes not on the path, but on the back of Aexl's head.
She had seen that stride before.
Not his, but her husband's.
Selene stared ahead, her grip tightening on the spear.
But her eyes weren't seeing the trees anymore.
She was back there—in this very forest.
The sun was warm that day.
She and the other women of Eldenthyr were laughing, gathering herbs for the festival.
Baskets in hand. Petals in their hair.
Then the wind shifted.
A sound. Heavy. Wrong.
The bushes split open
Orcs.
Armored. Filthy. Faces twisted in hunger.
They weren't running—but somehow, they were fast. Too fast.
"Run!" someone shouted.
And they did.
Selene sprinted. Heart pounding.
But her foot struck a stone.
She fell—hard—skinning her palms, the world tilting.
She tried to crawl, but hand grabbed her ankle.
An orc loomed over her, tusked mouth curling into a snarl.
Then thunder.
A roar of hooves.
A flash of silver.
Her husband—riding a warhorse—burst from the trees like a storm made flesh.
He screamed her name as he cleaved through the orc's arm, tossing its stump to the dirt.
Behind him came the village soldiers—blades flashing, shields rising.
The forest became a battlefield.
Trees split.
Fire took root.
Screams tore through the air.
The orcs were eventually slain.
The flames died down.
But when Selene searched for her husband—
All she found…
…was his hand.
Torn from his body.
The same one that had held hers for many years
A soldier placed a hand on her shoulder.
No words.
Selene knelt, trembling, clutching that severed hand to her chest as the smoke swirled around her and tears roll on her cheek
As anger roared in his body the memory vanished like smoke in the wind.
Selene's jaw tightened.
Her fingers dug into her palm until her nails bit skin.
This is it.
This is where it ends.
My revenge… begins here.
Aexl, marching ahead, suddenly glanced back.
He felt it.
That pressure. That heat.
Bloodlust.
He turned—just in time to see Selene staring, her eyes fierce but sad.
She looked away before their gazes could meet.
Aexl smirked to himself.
"She doesn't need to be sad."
"She said she'd be the prize, right? I'm not backing away from that."
His mind drifted—briefly, sinfully—until he slapped his own cheek.
"Focus," he muttered. "Win first. Kinks later."
He glanced at his palm again, remembering the warmth of Lyssa's hand wishing them luck.
"Hope you're doing your part, Chief," Aexl whispered into the wind.
The hunt had begun.
To Be Continued…