By the time they found a place to camp, the moons were high in the sky.
A rocky outcrop provided some shelter from the wind, and Argolaith quickly got to work starting a fire.
Kaelred collapsed onto the ground. "I’m not moving for the next ten hours."
Malakar raised an eyebrow. "You mean until something else tries to kill us?"
Kaelred groaned. "You just love ruining my optimism, don’t you?"
Malakar smirked. "It’s a hobby of mine."
Argolaith chuckled as he reached into his storage ring, pulling out some fresh meat and rare magic plants.
Kaelred glanced at him. "We’re really doing this now?"
Argolaith grinned. "You think I’m fighting on an empty stomach? Not a chance."
Kaelred sighed. "Fine. Just make it quick."
Malakar sat back, watching them. "I do enjoy watching mortals cook. It’s fascinating."
Kaelred muttered, "You’re welcome to help, you know."
Malakar smirked. "No, no. This is far more amusing."
Argolaith moved with practiced ease, slicing through the War Beast’s meat, trimming away the inedible parts while carefully selecting the best cuts.
Then he pulled out several rare herbs—some with healing properties, others that enhanced stamina and strength.
Kaelred watched warily. "Are you sure that’s edible?"
Argolaith grinned. "Only one way to find out."
He seared the meat over the fire, letting it cook slowly, while the herbs were ground into a fine powder and mixed into a thick marinade.
The smell was unbelievable.
Even Malakar, who rarely showed interest in food, looked mildly impressed.
Kaelred leaned forward. "Alright, I take back what I said. That actually smells good."
Argolaith grinned. "Told you."
They ate in silence for a while, savoring the meal.
Kaelred sighed. "You know, if you weren’t busy trying to defy fate, you could probably open a restaurant."
Argolaith chuckled. "I’ll consider it if we survive."
Malakar smirked. "That is a very big if."
As the fire crackled, Argolaith leaned back, staring up at the sky.
For the first time in days, things felt… peaceful.
Then, he felt it.
A presence.
Subtle. Distant.
But watching.
His fingers tightened around his sword.
Kaelred noticed. "What is it?"
Argolaith didn’t answer.
Instead, he stood—gazing into the darkness beyond the firelight.
Then—a shadow moved.
Malakar’s eyes narrowed. "We are not alone."
Kaelred cursed. "Of course we aren’t. Why would we be?"
Argolaith drew his sword. "Show yourself."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—a figure emerged from the trees.
Tall. Cloaked in dark fabric.
Face hidden beneath a hood.
But the air around them felt wrong.
Ancient. Heavy.
And then—it spoke.
A voice like rusted metal scraping against stone.
"You walk a path that was never meant to be tread."
The firelight flickered.
Argolaith’s heart pounded.
Kaelred exhaled. "Fantastic. Another cryptic lunatic."
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Malakar grinned. "Oh, this should be fun."
And just like that—the peace of the night was shattered.
The fire crackled, casting long shadows across the clearing.
The hooded figure stood at the edge of the light, motionless.
Argolaith tightened his grip on his sword, muscles tensed.
Kaelred slowly rose to his feet, his own weapon drawn.
Malakar? He just smirked, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
"Oh, this is interesting."
The figure tilted its head slightly, as if studying them.
Then, it spoke again.
A voice dry as dust, like something long-forgotten pulling itself from the grave.
"You walk a path that was never meant to be tread."
Kaelred groaned. "Great. Another cryptic lunatic."
Argolaith didn’t lower his sword. "Who are you?"
The figure was silent for a moment.
Then, it took a step forward—slow, deliberate.
The air grew heavy.
A strange pressure settled over them, ancient and suffocating.
Malakar’s smirk widened. "That’s quite the presence. But if you’re trying to intimidate me, you’ll have to do better."
The figure ignored him.
Instead, its hooded gaze locked onto Argolaith.
"You are an anomaly."
Argolaith felt a chill creep down his spine.
Kaelred glanced between them. "What does that mean?"
The figure didn’t answer.
Instead, it lifted one hand, and suddenly—
Runes flared to life in the air.
An Unexpected Attack
Argolaith reacted instantly, dodging to the side.
A bolt of violet energy tore through the spot where he had been standing, shattering the earth.
Kaelred cursed. "Okay, so we’re fighting this guy!"
Malakar chuckled. "Oh, finally."
He raised a hand, and shadows erupted from the ground, twisting toward their enemy.
But before the darkness could reach the figure, it vanished—reappearing behind Malakar in a blink.
A curved blade flashed in the firelight.
Malakar barely twisted in time, blocking the strike with his own sword.
Their blades clashed, sending sparks flying.
Kaelred lunged, aiming for the figure’s exposed side.
But before his attack could land, he was flung backward by an invisible force, slamming into a tree.
Argolaith moved, sword flashing.
His blade met the figure’s, locking in place.
For the first time, Argolaith saw the reflection of his own face in the hood’s dark void.
And then—
The figure spoke again.
"I was sent to correct what should not exist."
The words sent a cold dread through Argolaith’s chest.
This wasn’t just another enemy.
This thing—this being—was here for him specifically.
He gritted his teeth. "You want me gone? You’ll have to try harder."
He shoved forward, breaking the blade lock, swinging again in a rapid flurry of strikes.
The figure blocked every attack with inhuman precision.
Malakar, still grinning, melted into the shadows, reappearing behind their enemy with a dagger wreathed in dark energy.
The blade plunged forward—
Only to be stopped an inch from the figure’s back by an invisible barrier.
Malakar raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."
Kaelred, recovered from his earlier throw, rushed back in, his sword burning with heat from a rune-activated enchantment.
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He swung down hard, aiming to cleave through the figure’s hood—
But before the attack landed, the figure vanished again.
Reappearing several feet away, its blade raised in warning.
"You cannot change what has already been written."
Malakar scoffed. "We’ll see about that."
Kaelred spat. "I’m getting real tired of people talking about fate like it’s already decided."
Argolaith exhaled, steadying himself.
He had to end this fight fast.
Argolaith activated a rune from his ring.
Gravity around the figure increased tenfold.
For the first time—it hesitated.
The slight pause was all he needed.
Argolaith surged forward, faster than before.
His blade struck true—
Carving through the figure’s side, cutting deep.
A dark, viscous liquid dripped from the wound—
Not blood. Something else.
Kaelred took the chance.
He activated a fire rune, his blade igniting as he swung.
The figure vanished again—
But this time, it didn’t completely escape.
Kaelred’s blade grazed its arm, burning away part of its cloak.
Malakar grinned. "Oh? You can be injured. Good to know."
The figure staggered slightly, its form flickering.
For the first time, it didn’t attack.
It simply stood there. Watching.
Then—
It spoke one final time.
"This battle is not over. The Grand Design will not allow you to exist."
And just like that—
It disappeared.
The pressure in the air vanished.
The fire flickered weakly, the clearing now eerily silent.
Kaelred wiped sweat from his brow. "What the hell was that?!"
Malakar tilted his head. "Something ancient. And very, very determined to see Argolaith dead."
Argolaith exhaled, his mind racing.
Whatever that thing was—it wouldn’t be the last.
And now, more than ever, he was certain of one thing.
He had to find Malakar’s contact.
Because if he didn’t…
The next time the Grand Design sent something after him—
He might not be able to fight it off.
The silence lingered long after their attacker had vanished.
The fire crackled weakly, the heat barely pushing back the cold of the night.
Argolaith sat on a nearby rock, still gripping his sword. He hadn’t sheathed it yet, as if expecting the figure to return at any moment.
Kaelred, still catching his breath, ran a hand through his hair. "So. That was a thing that just happened."
Malakar chuckled. "Indeed. And I must say, I enjoyed watching you both panic."
Kaelred scowled. "That thing nearly killed us, Malakar."
Malakar waved a hand dismissively. "Nearly. But it didn’t. And that’s what matters."
Argolaith exhaled, finally lowering his sword. His thoughts were racing.
They were being hunted.
Not by bandits. Not by wild beasts.
But by something tied to fate itself.
And no matter what Malakar’s contact knew, Argolaith had a feeling that this was only the beginning of something much, much worse.
Continuing the Journey
By morning, they were moving again.
The vast wilderness stretched before them, the sun barely visible through the dense clouds overhead.
Kaelred sighed as he walked. "So, how far until we reach your contact, Malakar?"
Malakar smirked. "Oh, just a few thousand miles."
Kaelred groaned. "Of course."
Argolaith was barely listening. His mind was elsewhere—drifting to memories he rarely revisited.