After the battle, Ron carried Sam to Paul without a word.
Sam's arm was clearly broken, and his legs had taken damage when he diverted the knight's final blow. Paul immediately began healing him, pouring every ounce of mana he had left into stabilizing Sam's injuries.
I didn't make it that far.
The moment the adrenaline faded, my body gave out. I sank down into the swamp water, muscles trembling, vision dimming. Blood loss caught up with me all at once.
Niles noticed and handed me a healing potion.
I drank it in one go.
The bleeding stopped—but strength didn't return. Potions could seal wounds, not replace lost blood. My legs felt weak, barely responsive. Standing was possible. Fighting again like this wasn't.
While I tried to steady my breathing, Ron gathered everyone.
Niles reported what he had found among the bodies.
The group we killed hadn't just been a patrol.
They were transporting monster eggs—hidden inside reinforced sacks, protected at the center of the formation.
That explained everything.
Monster eggs fell into two categories.
The common type could be nurtured with mana or aura to hatch mounts or labor beasts—useful, but replaceable.
The second type was rare.
When infused properly, the creature born would inherit the attribute used in its hatching. Fire, water, earth, wind—sometimes even rarer affinities. These monsters could become elite soldiers, specialized workers, or prized symbols of status among nobles.
And they were expensive.
Very expensive.
Reality set in fast.
We had killed sixteen lizardmen—one knight and two mages among them.
That still left twenty-six in the colony.
Including two more mages and another knight-level swordsman.
Worse, our condition had deteriorated.
Sam was healed, but Paul had exhausted nearly all his mana doing it. Ron had minor injuries. I had many—none fatal, but together crippling. Walking was difficult. Fighting at full strength was impossible.
Retreat was suggested.
Paul argued we should wait until morning.
Niles disagreed immediately.
"If we leave now, they'll tighten security. Patrols. Traps. Ambush routes. We won't get another clean chance."
The debate started to spiral—
Until Ron raised his voice.
"Enough."
He took a slow breath.
"We strike tonight."
I looked up.
"Why night?"
Ron met my eyes.
"Because they'll feel safe. They'll be arguing about missing patrols—not expecting an assault."
He laid out the plan carefully.
Niles would scout the colony again once darkness settled—watch patterns, locate guards, confirm mage positions.
When the time came, Niles and I would silently eliminate the outer guards at the entrance.
No fire.
No alarms.
Once the path was open, Maria would cast a controlled, medium-scale fire spell—just enough to ignite the wooden fencing.
Not destruction.
Distraction.
As the colony reacted, mages and the knight would be forced to focus on containing the fire and restoring order.
During that chaos:
Niles would try to hunt the mages from range, keeping constant pressure
I would stay close to Maria and Paul, guarding them while Maria recovered mana
Ron and Sam would move through the edges, thinning numbers silently where possible—never committing, always withdrawing
Only once the colony fractured would Maria unleash her full magic.
No reckless charges.
No heroic last stands.
A methodical kill.
Sam shifted slightly, jaw clenched as pain flared again.
"I can still fight."
"I know," Ron said. "That's why you're not leading."
No one argued.
The plan was set.
We relocated away from the battlefield, secured the recovered eggs, and settled into concealment. Niles vanished into the trees once more, already moving ahead of us.
As I lay back against a half-submerged root, exhaustion pulling at me, my thoughts drifted somewhere they shouldn't have—
To Rusty.
To Duracal.
I could already imagine the scolding waiting for me—if I made it back.
Night was coming.
And this time, we weren't hunting patrols.
We were going for the heart of the colony.