Elara rolled her shoulders, frowning as a dull ache radiated through her left arm. The aftermath of last night’s "sparring session" with the masked intruder at Raider Park still lingered, vibrating in her bones like a dull reminder of the hit she’d landed. She rotated her shoulder again, muttering under her breath. And that f*cker had the balls to run away after that!
Ahead, the domain entrance buzzed with energy. Raiders gathered in clusters, their guild colors on full display, and the air buzzed with a chaotic mix of camaraderie, posturing, and last-minute strategizing. Elara stood apart, letting the noise wash over her as she examined the shimmering portal.
A sharp whistle interrupted the din as the Domain Representative stepped onto a raised platform. She was a plump woman in a suit that seemed to defy the jungle heat, her every movement exuding bureaucratic authority. The crowd quieted instantly.
“Welcome to Raid #1125,” she began, her voice as sharp as the axe strapped to her side. “This is a Level 2 Domain. The highest recorded monster is a Brass Doomwing. They should pose no issue as long as you don’t approach. The core, as far as intel suggests, is not near their nesting grounds.”
Her eyes scanned the crowd, hard and unyielding. “The Domain is a ten-acre forest biome. Your mission is simple: clear the domain in one hour. Any inter-guild conflicts will result in immediate disqualification, a hefty fine, and a lifetime ban. The guild that secures the core keeps it. All other monster spoils belong to the guild that earns them. Clear?”
A ripple of agreement moved through the Raiders. Elara tilted her head, her lips curving into a smirk. No fighting between guilds? Sure, and Doomwings are secretly vegetarians. Multi-guild raids were rare and one this big was bound to cause some drama.
“Raid strong and clean,” the Representative concluded. “We begin in ten minutes.” A storm was brewing, both within the domain and among its eager participants.
Elara stretched her arms overhead as she flowed some of her healing ability to soak the area. Her mind flickered back to the random attack from the masked man the night before. His movements had been precise, almost calculated. Blocking him had been easy, but countering with a powered strike had left her arm buzzing for hours.
“It’s dangerous to daydream before a raid,” came the familiar deep, husky voice.
She turned to see Eryx, his imposing frame casting a shadow. He held something in his hand—a sleek black watch.
“You should focus on your own well-being,” she retorted, flicking her gaze to his shoulder. “Or has your ego convinced you that you’re invincible?” Despite him being an S-Class Raider, he had to be somewhat suicidal to enter raids in that injured state.
While Elara hadn’t been able to completely examine it, even from this distance she could sense the monster blood poisoning him. Though she was sure there was no other Healer stronger than her, she’d heard that the HQ recently acquired an A-Class Healer.
Eryx frowned as he suspected she could still somehow sense his injury. But ignoring her comment he held out the watch. “It’s for tracking. Green means the core’s been found. Orange signals a request for backup. Red...” His tone dipped. “...means someone within range is in life-threatening danger.”
“I thought the deal was I could handle this raid solo.” Her brow arched. I have no plans to waste my time saving your weak asses.
“It’s a precaution,” he replied firmly. “If you want to call it a leash, that’s fine. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Her lips twitched, a retort hovering on her tongue. Instead, she snatched the watch and strapped it on, the black band snug against her wrist. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to answer any distress calls.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, smirking as the Representative announced the raid’s commencement. Vehicles roared to life, and guilds piled into them, racing toward the portal.
He gestured toward a sleek black truck emblazoned with the Crystal Guild insignia. “Ride?”
Elara shook her head, her lips curving into a sly grin. “Solo, remember?”
Before he could respond, she was gone, a blur of speed that left more than a few Raiders gaping.
Her speed was definitely enhanced, and much faster than she had let on yesterday. Eryx measured as he watched her go, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.
The forest biome unfolded before her, vast and alive with danger. Towering trees clawed at the stormy sky, their canopies whispering secrets to the lightning that crackled overhead. The ground was a tangle of roots and underbrush, each step a calculated risk.
Elara slipped her earpiece into place, pressing the side to activate it. “Z, you there?”
The familiar voice crackled to life. “Babe! Love the sound of your morning voice. You should record an alarm—”
“Clock is ticking,” she interrupted. “Where’s the Brass Doomwing nesting ground?”
Z chuckled. “The system’s a bit glitchy, but there’s a storm mountain range in the northwest. If I were a Doomwing, I’d shack up there.”
The connection fizzled, Z’s voice cutting in and out.
“Z?” she called, but all she got was static.
With a sigh, she adjusted her gear and headed northwest. The forest was alive with movement, creatures stirring in the shadows. A pack of insectoids lunged at her from the underbrush, their mandibles gleaming like polished blades. She dispatched them quickly, her blade slicing through chitin with ease. Time was not a luxury she could afford.
By the time she neared the mountain range, thirty minutes had already passed. The storm clouds above churned violently, lightning streaking across the sky.
By the time she reached the mountain range, thirty minutes had slipped away. The storm above raged, lightning slashing through the sky like celestial swords. At the base of the ridge, she spotted the Crystal Guild’s truck, a smoking wreck precariously balanced on the edge of a ravine. Lightning must have struck it.
Only a few Raiders seemed to stay in the area to damage control, so she assumed the others must have taken off on foot, meaning she should have a clear shot to the Doomwings’ nesting ground without running into anyone.
Scaling the mountain ridges was no easy feat, but she moved with practiced efficiency. Her boots gripped the jagged rocks, and her breathing remained steady. Brass Doomwings always nested at the highest peaks—and the higher she went the more mature they’d be, and the stronger their feathers would be.
As she climbed higher, the air grew thinner, and the storm’s intensity increased. Lightning illuminated the path ahead, briefly revealing jagged peaks looming, their tips crowned with nests of twisted metal and bone.
She pressed her earpiece again. “Z, if you’re there, I’m about to crash a Doomwing party.”
The connection sputtered, but she thought she heard his voice. “Bring me a souvenir.”
Grinning, Elara drew her blade free, the black steel glinting in the storm’s light. Above her, a piercing cry echoed through the storm as a massive Brass Doomwing descended, its wings crackling with electricity.
“Let’s see if these brass beauties live up to the hype.”
Her grin widened, but then the watch on her wrist began to vibrate violently, the screen flashing a bloody red.
Which idiot got themself caught as Doomwing bait?
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