Chapter 24 ( The Child )
The next morning, we met back up at the Northern Gate. Unsurprisingly, Ruslan was in an even fouler mood—he'd woken with a hangover. Though he was uncharacteristically quiet, trying to compensate for what I could only imagine was a splitting headache. Evidently, Milos was the only one of the three unfazed by the previous night's ritualistic drinking. He'd helped wake and prepare both the Doctor and the Epistar so they could be on time. Even for me, Milos had too much pep in his step.
The mountain of a man, however, was just as awestruck as the others when we finally passed through the Dahondevi Gate. Beyond the door carved into the mountain stretched the tops of a wide, sprawling jungle. The sight never failed to impress, even me, despite having seen it so many times before. Though I will say Dahondevi has a much more arduous entrance than Ling Gu, being so high up the valley walls. We spent a full day carefully descending to the jungle floor alone, and another two days before we were able to set up our first base camp.
The air grew thicker with each step—humid, almost suffocating. The ambient Arc density pressed against my skin like a heavy blanket. I drew energy instinctively, cycling it through my channels to strengthen my barrier. I felt Yándi respond with a flicker of heat that spread through my limbs, warming me from within.
Behind me, I heard Zamir groan as energy radiated from him, his own barrier flickering to life.
"So this is a high-density zone, huh?" he asked, his voice tight.
"This is still the low-density zone," I said without turning around, not wanting to give away that I was a bit worried about him. "It gets worse."
"" Milos muttered from somewhere behind us.
I glanced back to see Sorina place a hand on Zamir's shoulder. "Breathe. Let your spirit adjust. Don't fight it."
The Epistar's face was mostly hidden by her silver hijab, though I could see her lips moving in silent prayer as she steadied him. When she raised her head again, her expression was calm, centered. Zamir looked more grounded too, though discomfort still etched lines across his face.
Ruslan, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement despite his hangover. He'd already pulled out his Arc scanner—a vertical device much like a thermometer, with a metal dial that slid depending on the density of ambient energy—and was taking readings.
"Incredible," he breathed. "The ambient Arc concentration is twice as high as outside the valley. And we've only been here for three days!"
"Stay alert," I warned. "Creatures are drawn to Arc-dense areas."
"Yes, yes," Ruslan said dismissively, waving me off. "We have the barrier stakes. We'll be fine."
He patted Milos on the back—the man who'd been carrying the stakes with him—and I bit back a retort. All I could do was hope he wouldn't have a reason to lose that confidence.
The first leg of the journey went easier than I'd expected.
We encountered creatures—Verasets that hopped through the underbrush on powerful hind legs, tilsands building elaborate nests in the canopy above, even a Jogan drinking from a clear stream—but none were aggressive. Most fled the moment they sensed us coming.
I took it upon myself to trap and hunt so we'd have food once our rations started running low. Milos proved surprisingly helpful, his bulk and strength making quick work of carrying game back to camp. Together, we prepared a decent stew from Veraset meat on the fourth night.
"You made me leave behind three members of my team for a couple of overgrown bugs?" Ruslan said smugly as we sat around the fire, eating. "I told you this was manageable."
I said nothing, spooning another bite of stew into my mouth. I knew better than to engage. Overconfidence killed more people in the valley than any creature ever could. These animals were passive now, yes—but for how long? How long until something bigger, something hungrier, decided to rear its fangs?
Zamir sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. He'd been doing that more often, finding excuses to be near. Part of me found it endearing. The other part knew better than to let it distract me.
"The stew's good," he said quietly, his voice pitched just for me.
"Milos did most of the work," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
"But you caught it." He smiled—that easy, charming smile that made him look younger than he was. "I'm starting to think you could survive out here alone if you had to."
"Let's hope I never have to find out."
He laughed softly, and I pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on me.
By the end of the first week, I was starting to get used to Ruslan's arrogance. It wasn't that it became tolerable—it didn't—but I learned to predict it. Every discovery, every reading on his scanner, every crystal formation we passed warranted a lecture on his brilliance. At least his enthusiasm was genuine, even if his delivery left much to be desired.
Sorina, by contrast, remained a steady presence. She checked on each of us daily, asking about our barriers, our energy levels, our comfort. When Zamir struggled with the density, she'd spend time helping him refine his technique. When Ruslan pushed too hard, she'd gently redirect him. And when Milos grew superstitious about certain areas—claiming he felt "bad spirits"—she'd pray with him, grounding his fear in faith rather than dismissing it.
I found myself respecting her more with each passing day.
By the time we reached the true high-density zone, our pace had slowed to a crawl.
The ambient Arc here wasn't just thick—it was almost , a faint shimmer in the air like heat waves rising from sun-baked stone. My barrier required constant attention now, a steady drain on Yándi that left me more fatigued by evening than I'd been in the lower zones.
Zamir was struggling. His barrier flickered intermittently, and sweat dripped down his face despite the cool air. Even Milos looked strained, his usual jovial energy dampened by the effort of maintaining his defenses.
"We should set up camp," Sorina said, her voice steady but laced with concern. "Everyone needs to adjust."
Ruslan checked his scanner and shook his head. "We're close. The crystal readings are strongest just ahead. If we push for another hour—"
"No," I said firmly, stepping in front of him. "We camp here."
Ruslan glared at me, his jaw tight. "I'm not paying you to slow us down."
"You're paying me to keep you alive," I shot back. "And you won't be alive if you push your team past their limits."
We stared at each other. The jungle around us seemed to hold its breath.
Finally, Milos stepped between us, his broad frame blocking our line of sight. "Ruslan," he said gently, placing a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Look at Zamir."
The young man was pale, trembling as he clutched his pack straps. His barrier had collapsed entirely, leaving him exposed to the raw density pressing down on all of us.
Ruslan's expression softened—barely. "Fine. We camp."
That night, I sat apart from the others, cross-legged on the ground with my eyes closed. I drew in the chaotic ambient Arc, pulling it through my channels in slow, deliberate cycles. Yándi stirred in response, her warmth growing steadier, brighter. The raw energy transformed as it passed through her, refined into something pure and usable.
Cultivation was meditative. Necessary. In Yugen, we learned this from childhood—our cores weren't just tools, they were living spirits, partners in our growth. To cultivate Yándi was to cultivate myself.
I felt someone watching and opened my eyes.
Ruslan stood a few paces away, his expression unreadable.
"What are you doing?" he asked, curiosity overriding his usual disdain.
"Cultivating," I said simply.
"Cultivating "
"My spirit." I gestured to my chest, where Yándi resided. "I'm drawing in ambient Arc and refining it through my core."
His eyes widened. "You're deliberately pulling in raw Arc? From the environment?"
"Yes. It's how Yugenese train. How we advance."
He stared at me like I'd just revealed the secret to immortality.
"That's..." He struggled for words. "That's . Do you realize what this means? If we can replicate this method, teach it across the continent—"
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"We've been teaching it for centuries," I said dryly. "It's not a secret."
"But it's not !" His excitement was almost manic now. "The Continental Academy needs to hear about this. I'll write papers—no, an entire of papers. This could revolutionize—"
"Do what you want," I interrupted. "Just don't bother me again while I'm working."
From that night on, Ruslan treated me differently. Not with warmth—he wasn't capable of that—but with something closer to respect. When he gave orders, he phrased them as suggestions when directed at me. When he theorized, he'd glance my way, as if seeking confirmation.
It was an improvement, I supposed.
We'd been traveling for nearly three weeks when we first heard them.
It started as distant movement in the trees—branches snapping, leaves rustling in patterns that didn't match the wind. At first, I thought it might be another squabble of tilsands or perhaps a lone predator passing through.
But then I saw the eyes.
Yellow. Intelligent. Watching.
"bondrills," I said quietly, my hand moving to my Arc cell.
The others froze.
"How many?" Sorina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"At least six. Maybe more."
"Should we run?" Zamir's voice was tight, but he'd already drawn the pistol I'd given him. His hands were steady.
"No. They're faster than us. We hold position and activate the barrier stakes."
Milos moved immediately, pulling the metal poles from his pack and driving them into the ground in a wide circle around our group. Ruslan fumbled with the control device, his hands shaking as he powered them on.
The stakes hummed to life, and a faint shimmer appeared in the air between them—an Arc field designed to repel creatures.
The bondrills emerged from the treeline slowly, deliberately. Six of them, each standing nearly seven feet tall with white fur and crimson faces. They carried crude weapons—spears tipped with sharpened stone, clubs carved from dense wood.
But it was their that unsettled me. These weren't mindless beasts. They were thinking. Planning.
One of them hurled its spear at the barrier.
The field flared bright green, and the weapon disintegrated mid-flight, reduced to ash before it could pass through.
"See?" Ruslan said, his voice shaky but triumphant. "It works!"
I didn't respond. My attention was locked on the largest bondrill—a massive creature standing at the edge of the clearing. It hadn't moved. Hadn't thrown anything. It was simply... observing.
"This isn't good," I muttered.
"What do you mean?" Milos asked, his knuckles white around the grip of his weapon. "The barrier's holding."
"For now."
The bondrills circled us for another ten minutes before retreating back into the jungle. But I knew they'd be back.
They always came back.
The attacks continued over the next week.
Small groups—never more than eight or nine—would approach our camp at irregular intervals. They'd test the barrier from different angles, throw objects at it, observe its reaction. Each time, they'd retreat before we could engage.
And each time, that large bondrill watched from the shadows.
"They're learning," I told the group one morning as we broke camp. "They're figuring out how the barrier works."
"Impossible," Ruslan said dismissively, not looking up from his scanner. "They're animals."
"They're animals," Sorina corrected, her tone sharper than usual. "Wuying's right. We should turn back."
"We're so close!" Ruslan gestured ahead, where his scanner indicated a massive crystal formation. "The readings are off the charts. We've barely scratched the surface of what's here. Just a few more days—"
"A few more days and we'll be dead," I said flatly.
"You're being paranoid."
"I'm being "
Milos's cautiousness, which I'd initially found excessive, was starting to feel justified. He'd taken to sleeping in shifts with me, never fully resting, always listening for movement in the trees. I appreciated it, even if I didn't say so out loud.
Zamir spoke up, his voice quiet but firm. "I agree with Wuying. We should leave."
Ruslan rounded on him. "Of course do. You've been terrified since we got here."
"Because it’s " Zamir shot back, surprising everyone—including himself. His face flushed, but he didn't back down. "We're in the middle of a death zone, surrounded by creatures that clearly want us dead, and you're more worried about rocks than our lives!"
"These aren't "
"Enough." Sorina's voice cut through the argument like a blade. "Ruslan. We'll take one more day to move forward and gather what samples we can. Then we leave. Agreed?"
Ruslan's jaw worked, but finally he nodded. "Fine. One more day.”
That night, they attacked in force. With the barrier partially set up, Milos and Zamir took special care to move each of the poles to expand out the camping area to give us more coverage. As they worked, I Ruslan disappeared, fuming into his tent, and Sorina sat with me on our own, furiously documenting our encounter with the Bondrils. While she focused on her work, I took care to get some rest.
The screech cut through the night like shattering glass.I was already moving before I fully woke, my Arc cell in hand, blue blade igniting as I rolled out of my tent. Around me, the others scrambled—barriers already active from sleep, weapons drawn.
"bondrills!" I shouted. "Defensive formation!"
They poured from the treeline—dozens of them, howling and screeching, weapons raised. The barrier stakes flared brightly as the creatures slammed against the field, their attacks repelled in bursts of green light.
But then I saw it.
The massive bondrill—the one that had been watching—emerged from the shadows carrying a boulder the size of a wagon wheel. It planted its feet, muscles coiling, and the rock with terrifying force.
The boulder slammed into one of the barrier pylons.
Metal shrieked. The pylon shattered.
The barrier flickered once—then died.
"NO!" Ruslan's scream was raw with terror.
They flooded in.
Milos roared, his green blade cutting through the first wave. Sorina pulled Zamir behind her, her blue barrier expanding to shield them both. And I charged forward, meeting the tide head-on.
My blue blade sang through the air, cleaving through a bondrill's chest. It fell, and I was already spinning, my movements fluid, practiced. Two more down. Three.
But there were too many.
A spear grazed my shoulder—my barrier absorbed most of the impact, but the force still sent me staggering. Another bondrill lunged from my blind spot, and I barely brought my blade up in time to block.
"Wuying!" Zamir's voice, desperate.
I turned just in time to see a bondrill break through Milos's defensive line, its spear aimed straight at my chest.
Time slowed.
Zamir threw himself forward, his pistol raised. The shot rang out—a burst of yellow Arc that caught the bondrill in the shoulder, spinning it off course. The creature's spear sailed past me by inches.
But now Zamir was exposed.
Another bondrill charged him, weapon raised for a killing blow.
He's going to die.
The thought was cold. Clinical.
And then—
A blur of motion. Small. Fast.
The bondrill's spear clattered to the ground, its wielder collapsing with a crude wooden spear driven clean through its chest.
I stared.
A A little girl, no more than eight or nine, covered in dirt and gore. She wore nothing but scraps of cloth barely held together by fraying threads. Her hair was a wild, matted tangle. Her hands and feet were caked with mud and blood.
But it was the way she that froze me in place.
She didn't fight like a child. She fought like a
One moment she was on all fours, scrambling across the ground with inhuman speed. The next, she was upright, driving her makeshift spear through another bondrill's throat. She moved with precision, with , her wild eyes tracking threats I hadn't even seen yet.
She tore through the bondrills with terrifying efficiency.
I could only watch, blade raised but forgotten, as she saved us.
When the last bondrill fled back into the jungle, she stood in the center of the carnage. Her small chest heaved with exertion. Blood—most of it not hers—dripped from her hands and face.
For a moment, our eyes met.
Hers were... wrong. Unfocused. Wild. Like looking into the eyes of a cornered animal.
Then they rolled back, and she collapsed.
Part 8: Aftermath
"What... what that thing?" Milos whispered, his voice shaking.
"She's a child," Sorina said immediately, already moving toward the girl. "A child."
"That was no child," Milos said, his face pale. "That was a demon."
"Enough." I moved past him, sheathing my blade. "Help me carry her."
Together, Sorina and I lifted the girl—she weighed almost nothing, all bone and sinew—and carried her to the Arc isolation tent. The structure was small, portable, lined with Arc-repelling material designed to create a safe space in high-density zones.
As we laid her down, I got my first good look at her.
She was emaciated. Ribs visible through her skin. Scars—old and new—covered her arms, legs, and back. Her hands were calloused, nails cracked and blackened with dirt. She looked like she'd been out here.
"How is that possible?" I muttered.
Sorina didn't answer. She was already examining the girl, her hands glowing faintly blue as she used her Gift to assess her condition.
"Her Arc signature is..." Sorina's brow furrowed. "It's Too dense. Too chaotic. I've never seen anything like this."
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know. But her body can't handle this much energy." She looked up at me, worry etched into her features. "It's going to tear her apart if we don't stabilize her."
Sorina worked quickly, fashioning a brace from one of our spare Arc inhibitor disks and strapping it around the girl's wrist with leather. When she activated it, the girl's body convulsed violently. Her eyes snapped open—white, unseeing—before rolling back as she went limp.
"She just needs time to rest," Sorina said, though her voice carried doubt.
We gathered outside the tent.
Ruslan was pacing, running his hands through his hair. Zamir sat on a fallen log, his pistol still in hand, staring at nothing. Milos stood apart, muttering prayers under his breath.
"What the is a little girl doing out here?" Ruslan demanded.
"How is she even " Zamir asked, his voice hollow.
"You saw her," Milos said, turning to face us. His eyes were wide, fevered. "She moved like a demon. Fought like one. We should leave her here. She's cursed."
"Oh, stop with your superstitions," Ruslan snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
"Epistar," I said, drawing Sorina's attention. "Can you check her core level?"
She nodded and ducked back into the tent.
A long moment passed.
When she emerged, her expression was stunned. "It's... high orange. Maybe touching yellow."
"" Ruslan's voice pitched higher. "That's impossible. No one with an orange core could do what she just did."
"It's just as I said," Milos said, his voice rising. "The girl is cursed! I refuse to be near this demon any longer!"
"MILOS!" I snapped, my hand moving to my blade. "If you don't shut your mouth, I'll cut you down myself."
He flinched but didn't back down. "You saw what she—"
"I saw her " I said coldly. "We wouldn't have needed saving if you'd all listened to me in the first place. If you hadn't been so overconfident in your barrier that's never been tested in conditions like this."
Silence fell over the group.
Finally, Sorina spoke. "How did the barrier fail?"
"I don't know," Ruslan admitted quietly.
"I saw it," Zamir said. Everyone turned to him. "The big one—the bondrill that was watching us. It threw the boulder. It knew exactly where to aim."
"Those damned creatures," Ruslan muttered. "How are they so intelligent?"
"That's not what matters right now," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "What matters is how we get out of here alive."
"We still need more samples," Ruslan said, though even he sounded uncertain now. "The crystal formation is so close—"
"You can't be serious," I said, incredulous. "You still want to push forward? After "
"They're more than just rocks," he said defensively.
"I don't care if they're made of solid " I shot back. "We have a half-dead child in that tent, a shattered barrier, and a pack of intelligent predators that now know we're vulnerable. We need to leave. "
"But we can't move her," Sorina said softly. "Not in this condition."
Ruslan sighed, the fight leaving him. "Then we wait. At least until she wakes up. Maybe... maybe she can tell us something useful."
I looked back at the tent, at the small, broken form inside.
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