Draven's dagger was a cold, sharp line against the tamer's throat before the man's first whispered word had fully faded. Kael materialized from the shadows, a silent, hulking predator, his fangs bared inches from the tamer's face. In the same heartbeat, an arrow was nocked on Kara's bow, the Essence Fang arrowhead aimed squarely at the man's heart. The air in the tent was a thick, ringing silence, punctuated only by the high, unnatural screeching from the covered cage.
The one-eyed tamer didn't flinch. His gaze was locked on Draven's, his eyes wide with a desperate, frantic terror that was too raw to be faked. "Kill me and the guards outside will hear," he hissed, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "Help me, and I can get you out of here. And I can help you stop that." He jerked his head toward the cage.
Draven's mind processed the variables at lightning speed. Probability of a trap: forty percent. Probability of a genuine, high-value defector: sixty percent. The potential gain from acquiring a high-level insider from the one part of Voss's operation he knew nothing about—the beast tamers—was a massive strategic advantage. It was a risk, but it was a calculated one.
"You have ten seconds to give me a reason to trust you," Draven said, his voice as cold and sharp as the blade at the man's throat. "My name is Leo," the tamer whispered, sweat beading on his brow. "I've been with Voss for two years. He was just a thug then. But a month ago, he brought in a captured scholar. He's forcing him to work on the rift-spawn. He's not just taming them; he's trying to breed them, to create a stable, loyal army of those things. It's an abomination. He's going to get us all killed."
The screech from the cage intensified, a sound of pure, dimensional agony. It was the confirmation Draven needed. This was a truth too insane to be a lie. He withdrew his dagger. "Get us out," Draven commanded. "You come with us. If this is a trap, Kael will tear out your throat before you can draw your next breath." Leo gave a single, sharp nod, his face a mask of grim relief. "Follow me. And stay in the shadows."
The escape was a tense, heart-pounding exercise in stealth. Leo was a master of his own territory, guiding them through the camp's blind spots with a practiced, desperate confidence. He led them along the back of the barracks, through the foul-smelling pens where the normal beasts whimpered in fear of the thing in the cage, and toward the western palisade. They moved like ghosts, a silent, three-person unit, Kael a fluid shadow at their heels.
They were near the wall when a patrol rounded the corner, their torches cutting through the darkness. The team froze, melting back into the deep shadows behind a stack of crates. They were trapped. But Leo, proving his worth, let out a low, guttural cry—the sound of a beast in pain. The patrol, their discipline clearly frayed, were drawn to the sound, their curiosity overriding their duty. The path was clear.
Kara's grappling line was a silent whisper, and in moments, they were over the wall and back in the relative safety of the forest, the sounds of Voss's chaotic camp fading behind them.
They didn't stop until they reached the keep. The Golem was a silent, unmoving sentinel at the gate, a welcome sight of their own power. Jaxon and Rico met them in the courtyard, their faces a mixture of relief and confusion at the sight of the new man. "New guy?" Jaxon grunted, his hand resting on his axe. Rico's eyes widened. "Leo? What are you doing here?" "Getting out," Leo said, his voice trembling slightly now that the adrenaline was fading. "Before the whole camp goes up in flames."
They gathered around the fire, the heart of their command center, and Leo told them everything. He spoke of Voss's growing obsession, of the failed experiments that had resulted in tamers being torn apart by unstable rift-spawn. He described the captured scholar, a man named Elias, who was being forced to work day and night, his spirit broken. Voss believed he could create an unstoppable army, a force that would let him crush all his rivals and dominate the realms.
The pieces clicked into place. The journal's warnings. The escalating aggression. The strange, unnatural creatures. This was the core of Voss's power, and it was a cancer that threatened to consume everything.
Draven looked at his map, at the network of outposts he had so carefully built. It all seemed so small now, so insignificant in the face of this new, apocalyptic threat. His war with Voss was no longer about territory. It was about the very stability of their world. Kara came to his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, a silent, grounding pressure. "We stop him," she said, her voice a quiet, unshakeable promise. He looked at his team. A coder, a mechanic, a defector, and a terrified tamer. And him. An amnesiac strategist with a pack of loyal summons. They were a ridiculously small, hopelessly outmatched force against a madman with an army and a laboratory of horrors.
But they had the one thing Voss didn't: a sane, logical strategy. His mind was already working, weaving the new, terrifying data into a new plan. A plan not of disruption, but of surgical destruction.
[World Quest Hint Detected: The Rift-Breeder]
[An unknown entity is attempting to destabilize the realm's veil.]
[Investigate and neutralize the source.]
The System had just confirmed it. This was no longer his private war. This was the main quest.