The shafeline lay on the ground, half-dead and bloodied. It screeched, a dying bird’s desperate attempt to hold on to life, but the sound was so weak that anyone except for them probably couldn’t hear it.

  Jer-kal-thuli-mal pulled a spear from her pocket space, a watery air eclipse—inventory, and drove it into the creature’s throat.

  Jim muttered, “Sorry we came so late.”

  She spat on the ground, her voice sharp, "There are still little monsters around."

  Lo’jul asked, “What about survivors?”

  “Check,” she replied, her gaze already scanning the area.

  “You lost something?” Lo’jul pressed.

  “Help me look for the kid. She’s a vlandos,” Jer-kal-thuli-mal said, before walking off.

  Jim raised an eyebrow. “She is…? Oh, that makes sense. But what about the survivors and the little monsters?”

  Jer-kal-thuli-mal was already dashing away, not bothering to answer him. Lo’jul turned to Jim, irritation creeping in. “Look around, man!”

  He shook his head in annoyance, then pulled out a mark-stone—a portable touch-screen device. He snapped a picture of the monster’s corpse, preparing to send it to the operator to confirm the mission’s completion.

  Lo’jul had almost forgotten about that. It was a good thing Jim had remembered, since Lo’jul was the one appointed as team captain for this mission. Not that Lo’jul was really functioning as one.

  Jer-kal-thuli-mal's fairy soared high above them, scouting the skies. Lo’jul sent out Goryu—the dog-gorilla-shark-like monster.

  Goryu began mapping the area. Lo’jul could sense everyone’s presence here—no monsters were alive.

  Wait…

  There was a foreign smell, unfamiliar and not human. Nothing Lo’jul could recognize.

  Do you know it?

  It didn’t. Damn it.

  Lo’jul concentrated on the scent. It was strong, but fleeting.

  And Lo’jul couldn’t pinpoint its origin…

  “Oh, she’s safe. T-that’s good to see. I’m glad she’s safe.”

  Lo’jul turned to see Jer-kal-thuli-mal talking to Natasha, who was holding a sleeping but very bloodied Vernisha in her arms.

  Natasha didn’t seem fazed by all the gore and she was unharmed. Maybe this wasn't her first time.

  'Move your damn ass! These survivors ain’t going to help themselves!' Jim’s loud-ass system call broke Lo’jul’s thoughts.

  'Give me a break,' Lo’jul responded mentally, a groan escaping their lips.

  It felt like a waste of time and energy to focus on whatever strange thing was going on here. Lo’jul had more important things to worry about, like giving Nub’ol an excuse for why she couldn’t make it for the date.

  Fucking hell. Everything Lo’jul had planned for the night had gone to shit.

  Whatever. Time to focus on the survivors.

  Lo’jul and Jim found all the survivors. Only twenty. Five men, eight kids, and the rest were women. One didn’t even have family. The kids explained that their fathers had been the first to die, trying to give the others a chance to escape, then the mothers died, and finally the older siblings.

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  It was a total shitshow. These guys needed their minds wiped. All of them.

  Lo’jul wondered how many would even protest, not that it would matter. What choice did they have? Go see a therapist? With what money? The hospitals wouldn’t pay for it, especially when the guild was footing the bill for mind erasure.

  Lo’jul looked at one of the kids.

  One little boy, no older than eight, trembled with every breath. His fingers shook, though not as badly as his father’s. He was scared of everything, the sounds, the world around him.

  Lo’jul felt for him. Trauma wasn’t something to joke about. He’d never experienced anything truly traumatic as a kid, or as a teenager. Maybe their parents’ divorce? Or how their mother’s mother always treated their father like shit because he wasn’t wealthy?

  Lo’jul’s upbringing had been good enough that those things were the worst he’d ever faced.

  The first time he saw real horror, the first time he fought a monster as an adventurer, he was sure there had to be devils, evil gods, or something just as awful. He just knew it. As cruel as nature could be, monsters couldn’t have come from it. Lo’jul had said it before and would say it again every time he saw shit like this. The mother of monsters myth had to be real.

  Some truly twisted bastard had to have created them, thinking, I’m going to make these evil fuckers because I hate people with a passion.

  Yeah, Lo’jul got it. It was punishment for humanity’s sins, but fuck off. Every living being had to pay for what humans did? That shit was crazy.

  These monsters could tell when you were new, when you didn’t know what the hell you were doing. They’d target you, tear you apart, eat you alive just for the fun of it.

  Being an adventurer either gave you balls of steel or sent you to an early grave, or left you a shell of your former self. Sometimes the fear never really went away. The body remembered it, maybe because of some monster skill or something.

  Lo’jul knew the first time he met a monster, he had wanted to run. No amount of money could make that worth it.

  Anyway, Lo’jul left Jim to tend to the survivors. He’d done what he could, but he was a Punchio. It was better for them to get comfort from someone they could relate to more.

  When Lo’jul reached Natasha, he saw Vernisha resting on her. There were bloodstains on the sides of her face. Her ears must’ve been bleeding.

  “How’s she doing?” Lo’jul asked.

  “Alive,” Natasha replied, her voice flat and emotionless.

  She was stressed. No surprise there. Nub’ol always acted the same way when something was bothering her.

  “Sorry we couldn’t keep her safe,” Lo’jul said, meaning it.

  “As long as she’s alive, I’m happy.” Natasha turned toward Jer-kal-thuli-mal. “Thank you, again.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m grateful to Vernisha, too. She saved my life.”

  “She did, huh? That’s good to hear.”

  Lo’jul left them to talk, then remembered they’d come with others.

  “Where are your other friends?” Lo’jul asked.

  Natasha looked into the distance where the dense grass and trees met. “One’s alive.”

  Lo’jul followed her gaze.

  He walked between the towering trees, stepping over wild vines and dead branches. Then he came across something that made no sense.

  The trees in one direction were completely gone. The soil was bare—no leaves, no sign of aging. It looked like something had blown the trees out of existence and replaced everything.

  Lo’jul saw a man, unconscious but alive. He walked over and shook him awake.

  The man blinked in confusion, his body slumped, tired. Lo’jul wanted to ask, What the hell happened here?

  But then he thought, Do I really want to deal with this? To lose more time with my wife? To get involved in whatever this is?

  He didn’t want to, but leaving it unchecked could come back to haunt everyone. Since Lo’jul was already here, he might as well get some answers.

  Lo’jul asked him what had happened. The man tried to speak but couldn’t. After a moment, he gave up, staring blankly ahead. “I don’t know. Can’t remember anything. Julus!”

  He forced himself to look around, panic setting in. “Julus!”

  Lo’jul pointed to the three corpses nearby. Their stomachs were exposed, their bodies half-eaten.

  When the man saw it, he was shocked.

  Lo’jul didn’t say anything to him.

  He didn’t break down or cry, though. He just stared.

  How strange, Lo’jul thought. The man couldn’t remember what had happened, not even a little. And somehow, this bizarre event had only occurred here. Since he was alive and the other three weren’t, something must have been protecting him—or perhaps he had been saved by whatever had killed the monster, for reasons unknown.

  Lo’jul tried to gather some clues, but there was nothing.

  Asking him questions seemed pointless. His monster couldn’t detect anything else related to the strange smell or the odd circumstances here.

  Maybe I really shouldn’t press further, Lo’jul thought. This is risky. I’ll report it to the guild.

  He returned to the others, bringing the man with him, of course.

  Jer was still standing by the woman and the little girl, while Jim wasn’t talking to the survivors. Honestly, they probably didn’t want to talk at all.

  The wind blew and the air whistled. The mission was done.

  Normally, Lo’jul would’ve called Nub’ol and told her when he’d be home, but he had forgotten his personal pyramid communicator at home. So, for a while, he just stood there, waiting. Then Jer looked up at him.

  'Take the family to the capital,' she told Lo’jul, her lips not moving.