The retreat from Voss's camp was a desperate, ragged flight through the darkness. They ran on pure adrenaline, the roar of the lab's destruction and the enraged shouts of the warlord echoing behind them. Draven half-carried, half-dragged the scholar, Elias, whose legs could barely hold him. Kara moved at his side, her bow in hand, her eyes constantly scanning the shadows for pursuit. Kael was a silent, silver-furred phantom, guarding their rear. They didn't stop, didn't slow, until the familiar, solid shape of their keep emerged from the pre-dawn mist.
Jaxon and the others were waiting at the gate, their faces etched with a tense anxiety that melted into pure, unadulterated shock at the sight of them.
"You're back," Jaxon breathed, his eyes wide as he took in their torn clothes, the grime and blood, and the trembling, unfamiliar man they supported between them. "By the realms… you actually did it."
They stumbled into the courtyard, the adrenaline finally giving way to a bone-deep, crushing exhaustion. Draven eased the scholar down onto a bench by the fire pit, the man's entire body shaking uncontrollably.
"This is Elias," Draven said, his voice a low, rough rasp. "He was Voss's prisoner. He's with us now."
Kara immediately went to work, her tactical focus shifting to a gentle, caring efficiency. She brought a waterskin and a clean cloth, carefully wiping the grime from the scholar's face. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice soft. "You're safe now."
Draven gave the rest of the team the debrief, his words clipped and brutally efficient. "The lab is destroyed. Voss's research is a crater. We have their lead scientist. But Voss and his summoner are alive. They know who we are. They know where we came from. And now, they have a personal reason to see us all burn."
The grim reality of their victory settled over the team. They had won, but they had also just painted a massive, unmissable target on their own backs. The war was no longer a series of calculated, peripheral strikes. It was now a direct, personal conflict, and Voss's full, unrestrained wrath would be coming for them.
After an hour of rest, and once Elias had been given a warm bowl of stew, they gathered again. The scholar was still trembling, but the haunted, broken look in his eyes was slowly being replaced by a flicker of fierce, intellectual light. He was the key, the one person who understood the true nature of the threat they faced.
"He's not just breeding them," Elias began, his voice a dry whisper. "He's trying to accelerate their evolution. The rift-spawn are… unstable echoes of other dimensions. They aren't meant to exist here. But Voss found a way to anchor them, using the Unstable Rift Essence as a food source and a flawed Stabilizing Artifact to control them."
He took a shaky breath. "But the creatures he's creating are not true life. They are living paradoxes, and their very existence corrodes the fabric of this realm. If he succeeds in creating a stable, breeding population, they won't just be an army. They will be a plague that unravels reality itself."
A heavy, profound silence fell over the group. Jaxon's hand tightened on his axe. "Monster-pocalypse," he murmured. "I was half-joking before."
"He cannot be allowed to succeed," Elias finished, his voice gaining a new, hard strength. "I destroyed most of my research in the explosion, but he still has the artifact. And he knows of one other place where the research could be continued—a smaller, hidden Enclave research outpost in the western mountains. It has the equipment he would need. He will go there. It is his only remaining option."
The new data clicked into place in Draven's mind, his exhaustion replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. This was no longer a war of attrition. It was now a race. A race to the western mountains.
Later, as the keep settled into a quiet, watchful rhythm, Kara found him staring at the map, his mind a whirlwind of new, complex calculations.
"You're already planning the next move," she said, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
"It's the only move we have left," he replied. "We can't wait for him to come to us. We have to beat him to that outpost. We have to end this before he can begin again."
She looked at him, at the immense weight that now rested on his shoulders. He was no longer just the leader of a small band of survivors. He was the first and last line of defense against a world-ending threat.
"You're right," she said, her voice a quiet, unshakeable promise. "And we'll do it. Together."
He turned, his hand finding hers. In her eyes, he didn't see fear. He saw the same fierce, unyielding resolve that burned in his own heart. The war had changed. The stakes were higher than ever. But looking at her, at the quiet strength of his team, Draven knew one thing with absolute certainty. They would not fail.
[World Quest Updated: The Rift-Breeder]
[New Objective: Secure the Western Enclave Outpost before Malik Voss.]