The figure who stumbled into the camp, blood and mud clinging to his body, was Julian. The one who saved him from the beast's ambush was none other than Gumble, wielding the crushing weight of his earth element.
Without even realizing who the stranger was, Gumble stood shoulder to shoulder with Julian. Yet there was something… familiar. Only one other beside his master, Mondrik, wielded the wind.
His blade, forged of compressed stone hardened by mana until it rivaled steel, gleamed under the firelight.
Inside, Julian felt relief—had Gumble not stepped in, he would have been nothing more than prey.
Noel was the first to notice him. She pushed herself up, bracing against the ground, eyes wide. Harris stood frozen in disbelief, while Kable remained seated, lightning dancing lazily between his fingers as if none of this mattered.
It was Noel who broke the silence. "Who…?" Her voice trembled, cut short by the chaos of the fight.
The beasts emerged, their burning eyes piercing through the shadows. Two had already fallen.
"You led them here," Gumble said, his voice calm, cold as iron.
Julian, panting, his exhaustion plain, snapped back, "No—they were hunting you already."
"Whether you led them or not…" Gumble's tone remained flat, unyielding. "…I doubt I can avoid fighting any longer."
He stomped his foot hard into the ground. The earth answered. Mana surged beneath him, and a volley of stone spikes erupted upward toward the beast. Though it twisted away at the last instant, blood spattered the dirt. Wounded—but not dead.
The monster retaliated, opening its maw to unleash a barrage of jagged stone fangs. Gumble dismissed it with a single sweep of his stone blade, shattering the fangs midair.
Julian, meanwhile, gathered wind into his sword. He compressed it tighter than ever before, the blade trembling with unstable force. When he struck, it cut through the air like a tempest, surging straight for the beast. But the creature, as if mocking him, raised a wall of stone, and the winds broke harmlessly against it.
The backlash drove Julian to his knees, chest heaving, mana completely drained. His gamble had failed.
But before despair could swallow him, a searing bolt of lightning tore through the night, slamming into the monster's side with thunderous force. Julian's eyes widened—everyone's did.
The source was Kable. He grinned arrogantly, voice sharp: "If I can't paralyze it… then I'll destroy it outright."
Though lightning held little advantage against earth, its raw destructive force was undeniable. The beast reeled, colliding with another beside it.
Gumble seized the moment. Spikes burst from the ground again, impaling both creatures in a storm of stone. Blood sprayed, and the clearing fell silent at last.
Julian sagged, his body trembling. The chase is over… finally.
Gumble turned toward him, gaze steady, calculating. He hadn't spoken yet—until Harris's voice broke the quiet.
"Julian? What the hell are you doing here?"
Recognition dawned on Gumble. And with it, doubt. This weakling… this is the one Mondrik favors?
Harris scowled, adding bitterly, "I thought you were gathering cores for the lord."
Julian stayed silent a moment, then drew a ragged breath. "He told me to follow you." Another pause, then he muttered, "I didn't expect… all this trouble on the way."
It was a simple answer, but one that only deepened the silence.
Gumble finally said, "Rest. Then we'll talk." He had no intention of stopping—but if Mondrik had sent Julian, then there was reason.
Noel stepped forward, kneeling beside Julian. She held out a waterskin with a small smile. "Drink."
Meanwhile, Harris and Kable moved toward the beasts' corpses.
"Whoever kills them, gets them," Kable declared smugly.
Harris glared, voice low and dangerous. "Gumble killed them. So step aside."
"You're nothing but a sycophant," Kable sneered back.
Their glares locked, lightning flickering against fire. After a long moment, they turned away in silence, carving out the cores and—grudgingly—handing them to Gumble.
Each was chasing his own gain.
Far away, in Newsouth—capital of the Rox Alliance—the report was already written.
The fourth expedition team: officially declared dead. The Rox Alliance announced that they had perished fighting a powerful beast, parading charred and mangled corpses as proof. In truth, they lived. But the truth would never be told because nobody knew it, not when the Alliance's reputation was at stake.
At the graveyard erected for the "fallen," one stone bore the name Sandro, his likeness etched into the cold marker.
A young woman stood before it, her golden eyes shadowed by grief, blonde hair catching the wind. She knew nothing of the lie. Manuel had told her nothing, despite her being his heir.
And so she mourned, believing Sandro—perhaps even Julian—lay beneath the soil.